Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, January 04, 1883, Image 1
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VOL. 29. 7 T.YORKYILDE, S. C., THURSDAY, JANUARY 4, 1883. NO. 1.
? ?
mmmmammmrnmlmtmmimmmmmmm?mmmmmmm
<frtwted f0etrg.
THE NEW YEAR.
An old man totters on the road,
Bowed down with age and care;
His locks are white and float-about
Like snow flakes in the air?
The clouds are gath'ring darkling round,
The night seems settling fast,
The wind sends forth a mourning sound,
The owlets flutter past.
The old man halts along the road,
He sees the gath'ring gloom?
' No hope has he the power to stay
His fast apuroaehing doom..
He sees the cnildren pass him by,
Anu sadly turns his face;
He knows full well that he must die,
The New Year takes his place.
He hears the children clap their hands
And shout aloud for glee,
He marks them hasten on their way
The glad New Year to see.
And then he hears the midnight chime Ring
out his fun'ral knell;
His life fades fast?he rests at last,
The New Year breaks the spell.
A little child now leads the y>ay%
His step is light and boldy- ~
His hair is bright and floats about tl
? Like threads of burnished gold. f
The clouds are passing swift away, ^
The moon seems soft and clear", ,
The night has passed?the sun's brigt ray ,
Brings in the glad New Year. "
Farewell, Old Year! Your work ifdone,
A new one Alls your place;
The darkest night will pass away, '
The morning dawn apace ! t
We cannot bring the dead to life fi
Nor wasted hours recall-;
But in the coming year we may, 1
Perhaps, atone for all. " s
leHir. j
HARRY'S WIFE.
, (
A LESSON FOR THOSE WHONEED IT.
?
BY RALPH DOUGLASS
The sewing circle w<ts to meet at Deitcon
Simmons', and you may safely *y that for
once there were no tardy ones, foiMrs. Hale,
Senior, would of course come accimpanied by
Mrs. Hale, Junior, and it was bis younger
Mrs. Hale that every one in thecountry village
was so wild to see and meet To think,
with all the blooming lasses in ^leville, that
Harry Hale should have gone toihe city for a
wife ! Doubtless some silly, ilsipid, white
faced girl who would make a totil failure as a
v wife for a hard working farmer. Already young
' 1 -S" ? "rvrv/I _ fnr_
Mistress Hale was put aown a? ? JJWU'lVi - I
naught in the minds of most of the matrons
and maids of Valeville.
Harry Hale was a fine, jolly young fellow,
who had paid court to almost every cherry
-cheeked girl in the village, and really there
were more young hearts than one that felt a
pang as the word came from towc that the
dashing fellow had stolen a march on all Valeville,
and was coming home with a wife. It
was all true. Harry had gon8 to town some
months before to visit a friend. The two had
gone to a church fair, or sociable, or some such
"kink," and this girl?Ilettie Stone?had entertained
them with music.
She was a music-teacher, and Harry was
completely captivated by the full, rich voice
and flying, fairy fingers. She was good to
look at, too, round and graceful, a complexion
the perfection of pink and white, rosy red
lips, and dark clear, clean blue eyes. A tidy, I
trim girl with a waving.abuptencp. of gnhL,
' brown hair, and a good, clear,aipoiainTo^"
back her. hil
Harry was introduced : liar was infatu- .
ated. He came to town at ey excuse he i1."
could invent, and friends begjo tease Miss
Stone about her country lov Miss Stone
was no fool and fully appre<?d the difference
between an honest loveprn and bred
under pure wholsome countryfluences, and 11
the deceiving, fickle vows ofty bred men. se
And so when Harry Ilale sa* to
"Ilettie, I wish you would my wife?will sh
you 2" She had replied canj: cc
"Let me think about it. ';T . w
She was sitting at her pa* and while he
sat by almost holding his >nfh, and yet full ?"
of hope, too, her white, sib lgers had wan- ?o
dered in and out amongst leleys bringing to ?
life sweet, solemn slow cl&of church like
music. 111
aYou have a home of ir own ?" j*
* "A good home, Hettiffhere you shall be
sole mistress, and I will a good husband, ai
too." <" J w
More of the soft, slow isic, in fact a very j1
sweet, sad dirge, it seeraecTruth to tell, Ilet- n
tie Stone had already givall her fresh, first,
beautiful passion, and thian whom she had S1
loved with youth's wild a>r was resting in a
green, violet-decked gravfar off in another "
city. But that sweet, s^ast, was?ever so d
far past, she told herselfHere was a man b
whom she loved and like? be with, only he
was wholly different fromat first divine lov- :j
er ; they could be happy gether, he adored "
her, and she knew there s no man living to
equal him in her eyes anetimation. ^
He wanted her to ma him, she had no 1
objections, and in time, rhaps, Carrie, her
proud, independent sisteiould be persuaded >
to give up her hard, busye, and come to a *
sunny, happy country ho. *
"Very well, Harry, ifu are sure you love
me, and want me, and walwavs be kind to 1
me!" 1
And the fellow gavesr a rapturous em- 1
brace and thought hielf the Happiest of
men.
And so one lovely Mt morning, a proud,
bright-eyed, hopeful loaig young man, led
to the altar a calm-facedpen-eyed young woman,
who looked more ssible than bride like
in her neat grey gown, ih a cluster of big
blue violets upon her boti.
And our demure littlmusic mistress became
Mrs. Harry Ilale nd the happy little
couple drove out to Hay's home tnat aneinoon.
The skies were right and soft, and
like a blue 3ea were dot! thickly with fleecy,
pearly, shifting little hkI isles ; the trees
were clad in new vendui the fields and hills
rolled in cool grassy wax. the birds sang and i
played, and builded, anover all, the spring
sunshine fell in a cheerjolden flood.
It was their only wedng trip, a long, slow
delicious drive from b:ks and stones and
paves, from bustle and sli and hurry of the
city, to cool green couny, rest and peace, and
joy and love.
# "O, May! the sweet ennonth of all the year,
Of song, of sunshinojlooin and cheer.'
Buds and blooms, al birds and emerald
swards !
Oh ! how happy theithis young couple !
Love and life lay allefore them like the
green, smiling, blossomg summer opening
just ahead, and their sds sailed away in a
sea of bliss.
Just as the western ky was gorgeous in
crimson and gold they; tered Valeville, and
Hettie Hale was charmi with the fresh rural
appearance of the place
She was always glad' remember that not
one single wee bit of a loud had crossed the
pleasure and joy of ti t long spring- afternoon's
drive from the < y to tne country, foi
alas ! poor girl, the clotfc gathered thick anc
fast enough across thifchimng face of bei
hope after she reached jjr new home.
Mrs. Hale, senior, w* ? plVJUUIWvt)
bed, interfering old ladf Sbe was very angr;
that her son should hffc married a city girl
Regardless of the fact Ipit the city girl \va
the only woman he waafd to marry, that sh
loved him and was aa&kely as any one t
make him a good wife, ,jhe old lady was eve
bewailing her son's "nhtake" as she terme
it. More than once p<A Ilettie's face bun
ed red at the rude assails upon her helplesi
ness, uselessness, and Aneral city bred wai
and manners. "i
Poor Hettie! "Love* young dream" w:
being rather roughly ffiweu up.
One June evening sMAat alone in a sha<
^rner of the olik poftff The yonng in or
|^but a faint light, ghough the stars gli
like diamond#!" all the roses droopii
nByine and about ?r filled the soft nig
JgKBgranee. Theism tears were drippii
slotf over Mrs. Hale's face, and she was
glatff the shelter of the rose vine. Her husbaipune
to the dooi.
'fcttie! oh, I could not fancy where you
we gone. Why are you here all alone V"
. 4arry, come here, dear. Maybe I came
heialone, in hopes you would come to me."
^ that he boldly lifted her from her chair,
an<aking the seat himself held her in his
ari as though she ' had been and infant.
Ai he kissed her as fondly as though the
foPh old meddlesome mother was not forevscouting
the idea of affection and caressesstween
them,
ettie gave one little sob, half joy, half
gl,
iTou would not dare do that if you thought
slwould'see it!"
e knew it was true, but with another of
tridiculed caresses said :
"Never mind mother. Ilettie. She always
^ queer and kind of disagreeable. I know
t tries you terribly, but we'll manage to get
jng, some way."
He dried her tears and soothed her like a
ieved child, and she was so ylacl to have
m comfort her that she soon cheered up,
id there they sat in the rose perfumed shades
ggd. listened to the frogs singing over in
le pond in the field.
"Bleat; you, my little treasure," whispered [
le easy-going young husband, "I'm afraid,
;ar, yon are not just as happy as we meant
i be, hut you'll get used to motherland her
ays by and by, and then we'll all be'happy."
Nettie's arm tightened round the farmer's
tck as she nestled on his fond heart, but at
le same time her lips shut-together pretty
anly.
Hettie Hale was waking up! IShe did not
ile to face the truth but there it stood gaunt
id grim. Her husband was somewhat cowirly;
she found him a little lacking in the
nnliness she had foudly attributed to him.
5h often found herself wondering, would she
lae been just so disappointed in the man
ivl> was dead and gone V and she did not like
>ui thoughts to intrude upon the first months
Dfer marriage.
Harry," she said very soberly, stroking
hibearded cheek, "Harry, do you think you
hae made a mistake V"
Why, my dear Avife, you grieve me with
sui a question ; do try and let your strong
gel sense have play and don't pay any heed
touch speeches. The only act I don't regret
de, was marrying you. If you love me,
Iltie, don't ever call our marriage a mistake
agn."
Ynd yet, my husband," she persisted softly/ou
havt made a mistake! We ought to <
gco a home of our own, alone, and then we <
wld be happier."
le was very eager, but lie answered
li?ly?almost indifferently :
Veil, well, we'll see dear!"
ud so a few months more rolled on, Harry
bfving, and Ilettie hoping it might all come
rij;, some way!
rs. Hale dismissed her one maid-of-allwt
and decidedly called upon Mrs. Harry to
leia hand.
ittie's eyes opened wide, but as Harry
me but feeble protest, she said 110 word <
aiquietly yielded so far as her strength would
peit to being made a servant maid. She
usto go around with a line scorn upon her i
pal face, for as the color drifted out of her '
facontempt for Harry drifted in.
led a comfortable, happy enough life as ]
tlnittle music teacher when I lived with
Cae. This slavish drudgery I knew nothing
of.' made all the money I needed?I seldom ]
see dollar now?how long does Harry Hale j
far I will live this life?" she used to say i
I to :self. Nevertheless she bravely did her ]
bes She washed, and swept, and ironed, ]
bal and brewed until her girlish prettiness ]
WMlg^^*fr^ft*-h;irdeii ed, her sou??8w-?t
ttered. ]
And through all, over all, under all, and ]
out all her days, and worries and labors and j
oughts, the old lady's pen>etual fault finding 1
id interference, ran like a sharp steel coru. 1
ie end came.
One day Hettie fainted at the ironing table,
very hot fierce day in September. Harry was i-i
nt for in hot liaste, and for once found a
ngue and a spirit, and curtly told his mother
ie had better recall Jane ; his wife was in no 1
indition to work in any 'kitchen, and what
as more she should not!
All that night Ilarry held his wife in his
ms, alternately praying for her pardon and
ve, and promising a better state of affairs in
ie future.
Hut from that time Mrs. Ilarry Hale was
lother woman. She had waited for her husrnd
to defend, protect and care for her. He
ad failed ! He hnu" brought her from peace
ml happiness to turmoil, to an unfriendly
oman, and he aad stood quietly by and be
eld her turned into a drudge, she the woman
e had sworn to ?herish and love.
Ilarry had failed her, in manliness and in
pint. Hereafter she would care for herself.
Harry was worried by the change, the hardess
and indiffert-ice that came to her. In a
ay or two old Mre. Hale called on her for
elp agiin.
"]So,mother" answered llettie, "I am unccustoned
and unable to do as I haye been
ioing, and you will have to hire Jane again.
iou ned not look to me for assistance. Anyhing
ii reason I will do?what I think uneasontble
I will?not do !"
"Wei, young woman, one might think you
vere tU Queen's daughter ! I guess if you
ire hen to be fed md waited on too, you'll
hid you mistake? "
"Hua," broke in the desperate daughter-inaw,
"Ho not desire you to wait on me. I
will nfl wait upon you, and as for my daily
bread, have God and a husband to thank for
it, notou ; that settles it."
Opeire bell ion brought 011 a storm of words'
and cmplaints, but Harry upheld his wife and
the ol lady had to subside. llettie Hale
tliauki her spouse for his assistance in the
wordyvar, with such chill ceremony, he could
not diw her to his breast as lie had intended.
She as becoming so chill and distant with
him, al somehow in his soul he could not
blameier, that he was becoming quite unhappy.
"Crfound it," he would say, "if mother
wasn'so old style and?and?cranky, we
woultbe happy as-wo- were at first. The old
lady >uld just fret herself to death, or I'd
get a huje alone just to humor the little woman.
lut I guess they'll get along better, byand-byiings
will come right some way."
And) the careless fellow let his happiness
drift o of his life, trusting always to time
and lu to make crooked ways smooth in
*some v,\ lie noticed, too, that though his
motheicaustic speeches might make Hettie's
very li turn white, she never turned to him
for coDrt any more. And how patient and
quiet s kept, poor girl. She had really more
genuinrespect for the woman as his mother,
as an olady, than he had himself. Often a
sharp r>rt or ungenerous sjieech would flash
on his ?s, when Mrs. Hale aggravated him
beyond durance, and it was ever his wife's |
cool fin-s that slipped over his lips to hold
back tliempery words?his wan, white wife,
J who wl)ered in his ear :
"He jeful, Harry ! she is old, and you will
regret iome day, may be."
()nce caught the hands and drew the little
| womanpon his knee, right under the old
! lady's e.
: "Noflnok here, Ilettie, yodfce always
I cautioi^ me to "be careful, be careful,"
r when Uier is in one of her^mtrums, and
all theme I care most onryour account.
- J>he has business to pick on you the way
i. I ulio ilriPml vuf vnii'fo iint vvillinrr I sllOllld
[ tell lierl What a,? I to do
s She |ed forward and brushed his foree
head w'her lips, regardless of the gasping,
o angerefl lady. "My dear, 1 told you long
ir ago wl(o do about it. Take me away, let
d us bav^ittle home to ourselves. I care not
i- how pojnd plain, so that it can be in peace
i- and luHiy ; and I urge it once again, and
,'S ! earnesteseech you to heed me-?'before it is
j too late
is I A daious, determined gleam in her dark
! blue eytjikened a deal of worry in Harry,
ly but his;her broke in excitedly?
hi "That, that's it! that's what comes of
it- marryir! linifed city woman, to have her
ig setting ior two establishments ; anything,
ht anything waste and spend more money,
rig Anotheme, indeed 1 as though this house
was not big enough for Harry's mother and
wife, too."
Hettie's big blue eyes looked eagerly into
Harry's ; oh, with what longing !
"Harry, what do you say V"
"Oh, Hettie, she'd raise such a row ; wait
a while ; things will be better by and by."
Hettie Hale rose from his arms and walked
out of the room, and the old lady fussed and
fumed. Harry, feeling that he had not done
right, half vexed, half grieved, caught up his
hat and hurried away. For days he was
haunted by that gleam in her blue eyes, and
felt oppressed by a sense of impending evil.
One noon as he went back to the fields, Hettie,
pale and peaked faced, followed him out
on the rose-covered ]>orch and with unwonted
tenderness, put her arms about his neck and
kissed him, eagerly, ardently ; and he paused
awhile to pet and caress her.
"Hear little wife, what would I do without
you ?" he asked, in loving idleness. A little
splism of pain crossed her face, and she laughed
dismally.
"Oh, you'd get along?some way." "Really,
he did not see the faint sarcasm, and, kissing,
her again, went off to his labor. He came
home at sun down to find his mother white
and frightened, and his wife?gone. In her
room lie found a tiny note :
"Hon'tbe angry dear. I feel ill and weary,
and a longing for sister Carrie, and,her honest,
loving heart. I shall stay with her till baby
is born, and then?the future we can decide
in some way. I must have peace and calm.
You will have plenty of time to decide whom
you prefer, your mother or your wife."
Great heavens! Hettie gone! .No wonder
the strong fellow turned white, and felt as if
the foundations of the world might be swept
away. He fairly flew to the city ; that is, as
fast as steam and iron could carry him. He
found her with her sister Carrie. She was se-;
as stone.
"No Harry, I will not go back. I have
urged and begged you to do the right, while .1
could still feel disposed to. No, I did not
want you to quarrel with your mother, but I
wanted you to be just to your wife U That
you have not been. To tell you the truth, I
have about lost all respect for you?harsh as
it sounds, my poor husband"; do you fancy I
would have stood quietly by and seen all your
days embittered by an old lady's unreasonable
dislike, and made no effort to have brought
sweetness and peace to you ? No; a wife will
leave home, sisters, parents, brothers, friends,
youth and everything; will go amongst strangers,
illness and poverty, if need be, to make
home happy for her spouse; and when you
can be a little less selfish, a little more considerate
of my peace and joy, can get a little over
your cowardly fear of your mother's quarrelsome,
unkind tongue, we may talk of living
together again. Meanwhile, I shall stay here,
and rest safe in sister Carrie's tender, protecting
love, and you may go home?and
think ! Think of the joy and gladness you
promised me, and of the miserable failure you
have made of those promises !"
I tell you the fellow quailed as she showed
him how dismal and wretched she had been ;
as she showed him, too, how nearly the foundations
of their married life were worn away.
TT * ? ? ^-'1 TTJu
lie ueggeu, aiiu pieaueu, miu jmo
wife was stone. She luid waited, she said,
lis long as she would for him to come to his 1
senses. lie could take his time, now.
He went home desolate and desperate. lie
bad bitter enough reflections on the way home.
What a bright, happy, hopeful little lass she
was when he took her to his home ; how happy
he had been with the young wife. How
;ently she had insinuated it would be best for
them to live alone ; what bright pictures she 1
bad drawn of a little home all their own, and 1
now?could it be she was turned against him, .
tier heart cold ? and was never to come to him
tg'anry" lie wricuei3;nTtl nYGTtnca as iurwvw
bow nearly his mother's sharp tongue had
ruined all his hopes and prospects. But he
found one wee ray of hope to cheer him. May
be after baby came, and Ilettie had been from
bim a while, and missed him a little, she
would relent and come to him again.
But days grew into months, and Hattie
Hale showed no signs or desire to return, i
Harry went into the city four or five times a
week and wrote her many letters beside.
Sometimes she replied, and sometimes she did
not. lie, poor fellow, was growing thin and ;
worried, and white, as the fear grew on him ;
she meant never to rejoin him. He had one
long, serious talk with his meddlesome moth- j
er; convinced her, too, that she would have to ;
treat his wife with consideration and courtesy,
or, in short, find another home. This he told.
Ilettie, whereupon she blazed forth at him.
"Well, I believe, Harry Hale, you grow
more a fool every hour you live! As a husband
you have proved yourself cowardly, insufficient,
and absurdly nimby-namby. How,
as a son, you will even be unkind, ungenerous,
and I should say, absolutely beastly ! Do you
think a son of mine would turn me out of mil
home in my old age V For shame! Let the
old lady alone. That is her home, has been
all her life, before you were born. Let heir
stay there, and?let me tell you one thing!
I will never go into that house, be your mother
alive or dead, to make a home for you
there! I have been too unhappy there, and
have lost respect for you tnere, ana sunereu
too much in consequence, to ever regard that
house as home."
And she curled her lips in scorn. The poor
fellow fairly tore his hair and cried out:
"Well, Ilettie, what am I to do then 't
IIow can I please you V I want you, my wife.
I love you, dear. I am not happy without
you, and yet I can devise no plan that pleases
you. Tell me, for God's sake, what to do !"
lie looked at her so beseechingly, with
fairly tears in his brown eyes, that she went to
him as of old and sat on his knee, with her
arm about his shoulders.
"My dear, old, stupid Ilarry. T told you
long ago?I will tell you once again. As I
begged y*u such ages ago, back in the Summer
starlight, if we are to live together and
be happy?and, my dear, if we can't be peaceful
and happy we will not abide together
another day?we must have a little home of
our own, where you and I can rule together,
subservient to none but ourselves and love,
and free from other associations. You can
never be a brave, bold man in a house where
all ymir .years you have been yielding, and
dodging, and shrinking to avoid a fretful
tongue; nor can I be happy where in every coi ner
springs a ghost of some sharp speech to stab
me over and over again. Your mother will
always be welcome in your home, while she
minds her own business, bfit in your home
and mine?in our home, 1 will be mistress, or
not there at all!"
Then she fondly kissed him, and having;
shown him the plain path, bided the results.
He went back to Valeville, the veil lifted
clear from his eyes. To re-win his wife he
must do as she said, and, yes, he believed she
was right. What else did the Holy Writ
mean when it said, "A man shall leave mother
and father, and cleave unto his wife V"
Harry was not a king bee at quoting Scripture,
but he had certainly learned, at bitter
! cost, one of the Scripture truths. He said
nothing, but quietly and hopefully set about
winning his wife over again, lie bought a
cunning little cottage and a snug little lot
about it. Jly his father's will the old farm
was his, and he would have it attended to.
Then he took sister Carrie into his confidence,
and begged her assistance in furnishing the J
cosy little nest he designed to have. She, a
cool-headed, sensible woman, was delighted j
with him in this sensible state of mind, and :
told liiin so. 'Together they worked and the I
six pretty rooms were newly furnished in a |
bright, light, inexpensive manner, though
Ilarry candidly said he did not mind the cost,
if he could only "make up" to Ilettie what
she had endured.
"Then, Ilarry, buy her this," and Carrie
pointed to a pretty, neat, upright piano. "Yon
men are so thoughtless, without meaning unkind
ness. I shall never forget how Hettie
cried and cried over ray old piano when she
came back. She was absolutely heart hungry,
home sick and blue for her beloved old piano
while she was with you. Think what a constant
companion it has been to her since she
was a little girl and had to be spanked to make
her practice. Think of the years it earned
her lier bread and butter. Ilarry Hale 1 have
more faith in you than lias your wife. I believe
you fondly love her ; but you are a great,
kind hearted, blundering sort of a fellow, that
needs to think hard ev?ry once in a while.
How long do you think jjoa would have been
thus patient if she had deprived you of your
chance at smoking ? "And there is always
something in a woman'sjlife to take the place
of tobacco in a man's. Remember that, and
you will both be happier;"
Poor old Harry ! if hehad only known, she 1
might have had a dozen juanos, he groaned. :
"Yes, but you must remember," said his 1
sister, that a wife has wonderful delicacy of j
feeling that perhaps no taan can understand, ]
about asking her husband fortius or that. In .
the first place, he has, iis1 a lover, trained her J
to see and think he can Anticipate each desire j
she has, and then?he has vowed to be (?ver
as attentive and careful as in those days of
wooing. And then there is a something that j
no words can convey, that withholds a sensitive
woman from asking for means or wants, ,
that an attentive, right minded man would of
himself see she needed, and that they were ,
supplied." . J
Ah, Harry Hale learned a good many need- {
ful lessons during that winter season, but lie ,
was willing and loving, and meant right, so he !
thankfully received the' ideas Carrie gave, and "
the strong facta ITettic>*?^ght. \
When the next Maycame", he took" |
his dear wife and wee little daughter to the .
new home. A pretty little home in roses and '
honeysuckles, carefully arranged by the loving j
hands of Harry and the good sister. At sight j
of her piano she cried like a baby, and Hung
herself in her husband's arms.
"You darling. Forgive nae for every unkind
word and thought, JIarry ; this repays
me for every sorrow."
Tears stood in his honest eyes as he looked
at carrie.
"Girls, I am so stupid and ignorant of women's
ways and minds ! If you will only give
me a hint once in a while what I ought to do,
I will really, on my honor, be the best husband
and brother in Valeville." And he meant it,
and once in a while, good Carrie would give
hfin the reminder, and after all, peace and harmony
settled upon them. In the soft, sweet
evenings, Ilettie would so charm and rest her
spouse with melody from the simple little upright,
that he said he wondered that he had
ever lived without one.
A couple of cows came over from the old
farm, some pretty broods of chickens possessed
the back green lot to delight the wee "Caroline,"
strawberries, and roses, and fruits, and
flowers went to make the new home delightful,
and Ilettie Hale caressed her husband and
baby, and said no happier woman was in the
world; and sweet love-lights gleamed in the
eyes of the farmer and his wife. The neighbors
loved her, and none regretted Harry
had married a city girl?but one. The mother
! Only once she gave way to the old demon,
interference.
"I think it's wicked and wasteful for Harry's
wife to keep a nurse girl and a kitchen
girl. She'll ruin the man yet."
"No, mother, I won't. I have now two
little children and doubtless Ileaven will send
more. I must be neat and tidy and rested to
keep my own respect and my husband's, and
I cannot do the kitchen's busy, heavy, perpetual
labor, if I am to be a decent companion
for Harry,?am to educate and raise our children
as we see they should be, I am not to be
his drudge, nor housekeeper, nor cook. He
can hire a different style of woman to be all
that for home. He cannot hire a wife, a companion,
and a loving, faithful friend. He
married me for his wife, the mother of his
children, not ror a servant, aim it is not just (,
nor reasonable to expect me to be all and t
everything at once. We can afford help?con- ^
sequently we will have it!" s
And the quiet determined little woman a
became a power in the village. She dispersed a
ideas of refinement. imm:ovement_anil chair- a
ity, as the sun does ligrlt and"rwarmth. She q
was never too busy to be gentle and kind; s
never too warm or wearied to give heed to the ?
poor, the sick or the suffering. If a Vale- ^
ville girl wanted advice or assistance about s
a new recipe, the cut of her gown, or sympa- v
thy about a lost friend or a moulting bird, or v
a fickle lover, she knew a kind heart to help q
her lay in Harry's wife's bosom, and Mrs. a
Hetty was in great demand. Harry's wife ^
was the resort and rest and hope of every one v
in every trouble or joy. She took such a r
stand in the church, and various "circles,"
that eveii the old lady was forced to feel n
proud at last of Harry's wife, and the older
and more disagreeable she grew, strange as
it seems, the fonder, and prouder, and louder
in praise she became of her son Harry's wife.?
Portland Transcript. "
t
THE ORIGIN OF MUSIC. j,
In the theory of Helmhotlz, music express- a
es different dispositions of the soul by imita- t
ting characteristic peculiarities of movement in J
space, and by thus., translating the forces and t
impulses that produce the movement. When
he admits that it may have been at first only I
an imagination of the instinctive modula- g
^ nAvnaaimn/lithr wifli fho rl 1 fP- V
1-lUlia Ul 11IC vuiug TTIVU VIIV
erent states of the mind, he does not consider a
this fact contradictory to Ins definition, for li
the natural processes of vocal expression are t
being capable of being traced to the same el- c
ements. "ltythm and accentuation express e
directly the rapidity and vivacity of corres- s
ponding physical movements; a vehement effort
causes the voice to rise ; the desire to pro- e
duce an agreeable impression on another t
prompts us to select a pleasant tone ; and e
thus the efforts to imitate the involuntary i
modulations of the voice, to enrich and make t
more impressive the recitation of words, may c
very properly have guided our ancestors in t
seeking out means of musical expression."
This is probably the real origin of music; e
and it is in this direction that we should look t
in investigating its nature. s
Two elements closely connected, but quite 1
different and having each its peculiarfunction, \
may be distinguished in the analysis of spoken
language?the intonation and the articulation 1
of the emitted sound. Xo doubt they are i
the interpreters of the two great human fac- r
ulties of intelligence and hearing. Speech, \
then, is a complex physiological resultant,
the double image of a double inner condition, i
The elements it represents cannot be conceiv- f
ed as isolated from the other, any more than i
we can conceive a hunstvu organization a pure <
intelligence. We all know the important part 1
intonation plays in conversation, and how by it I
the general sense, the whole expression of the i
spoken words, may be varied indefinitely. I
Having thus found the origin of music in
the imitation of these instinctive modulations (
of speech, it should be easy to draw from this 1
an exact idea of its nature: for without doubt, '
to read verse well, to declaim with warmth :
and conviction, is only to perform in advance
the work of the musician. We have now a 1
whole class of musical phrases which are only !
exaggerations of spoken intonations; they are 1
our recitatives. The music of uncultivated
people is mostly recitative ; so also was a 1
large part of the music of the middle ages.
The rules and grammar of music and its particular
features are the growth of modern times. :
The conception of music and the language of
sensibility permits us to explain the characteristic
features of its own action. We must
consider, first, that this language, like its twin :
sister, the language of ideas, has suffered a
progressive evolution, and has with ns reached
a great perfection, and consequently a great :
complexity in its laws and processes. Among
nriinitive neonles of few ideas, whose feelings
show variations of shade in expression, music
is almost wholy coiilined to a few modulations
expressive of the principal divisions of feeding?love,
joy, sorrow, and warlike ardor.
Civilization with its refinements, has produe- 1
ed a music that has grown constantly richer
in shades and means of expression, to the
! point which has been reached by the great
masters of our age.?M. Jlericourt in Popular
Science Monthly for December.
Will Head Eithek Way.?Our young
1 friends have heard of palindromes?words or
| lines that read and spell the same backward or
[ forward. The following sentences, printed in
; the London Truth, simply make sense read
' word by word either way :
"Solomon had vast treasures?silver goldthings
precious. Happy and rich and wise
was lie. Faithfully served he God.
"She sits lamenting sadly, often too much
alone.
gfistcHaucous Reading.
For (he Yorkvllic Enquirer.
THE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM.
The greatest force may become diffused so
extensively in its application as to be practically
powerless. The merest tyro in the field
knows that some guns scatter so badly that no
game is brought down, though charged with a
handful of shot. An estate may be so split up
as to be of no substantial value to any inheritmt__
i - 1- Ivrt on ar\1 i n f nrrwl ???
Dr. J. lie Jillgfat UUtV 1UUJ UC ow apiMin/ivu ...j
to become as weak as the smallest broom-straw.
We must guard against excessive diffusion
with the same jealousy that we watch centralization.
Power distributed, but not broken
into the smallest parts, redounds to the best
nesulls.
Since, as Col. Thompson says, "Popular education
in South Carolina is no longer an exleriment,"
this communication briefly implies,
whether the system might not be very
jreatly enhanced in its good attainments, by
i more concentrated employment of the funds
ind agencies of this important department of
>?r civilization. To borrow the language of
msiness men, "Are we not attempting to run
i business too extensive for our capital
The present policy seems to be to locate a school
n every neighborhood. l)o the best attainable
results accrue from it ?
Many difficulties intersect this plan and bar
)ut the true success desired by the friends of
education. (1). It necessitates the employnent
of teachers who have not a tithe of the
nullifications. The average amount devoted
;o the support of each school, last year, was
514-2.30. This salary is not largeenough to atrmetA
man with?well, second-class gifts, for
;he position. (2). It results in holding school
sessions too short to nc?<unplish any real ^tnd
asting progress. The average session. last
rear, was four months. (3). Consequently the
ihild is discouraged and resolves to euter upon
tome other employment as soon as parental
lutliority will permit. (4). Or the parent, seeng
this spasmodic study to issue in little or
10 advancement, concludes his son will be
vorth more to him in the field, and so withIraws
him to follow the plow. (5). The sysem,
while doing so little to implant a higher
cnowledge, crosses the pathway of the subscription
school, where a first-class work is
lone. The best teacliers are, consequently,
lisappearing, because the State is taking their
radefrom them. (0). The whole winds up in
he masses acquiring but a smattering of true
-i 15 ?1.21^ i-lwx fdn?,/ln? /! rlntrn nil
,'UUUHLIUII, Willie UIC Sliviiuaui jjuw uunu iu.
he time.
It is cheerfully conceded that the system is
it fault solely for the want of money. But
hat farmer who attempts to cultivate a liunIred
acres of land, where lie has the means
inly to work fifty, is pronounced unwise; and
vhy should a State, attempting a similar thing,
>e exempt from the same judgment ? Last
ear the public school fund amounted to $452,K35.44,
and there are 34 counties in the State,
f distributed equally among them, each couny
would be entitled to about 813,322.50. If
his amount were employed to found and mainain
first-class academies instead of being disributed
out to 03 schools?the average numier
at present in each county?much more satisfactory
results could be obtained. As much
mphasis should be laid upon the quality of
liese institutions as the number.
Supjiose the idea should be to found and perietuate
one good, first-rate academy in each
ownshij), with money enough behind it to atract
a competent teacher, York, with her 10
ownships and $13,322.50, could have two such
chools in every township?one for the whites
nd one for the colored people. "With such a
proposition laid before them, the people would
ho'vw l>y ? nrmnmtf j
?he teacher, having a permanent and adequate
upport guaranteed to him, could endeavor to
ive character to his academy. The people,
ehokling the good work done therein, would
end their sons and daughters. The schools
muld acquire reputation, and would become
aluable feeders to the University and colleges,,
^his plan, roughly drawn, appears feasible*
nd there cannot be two opinions about the '
enefits of it over the present diffusive system,
vitli many schools, poor teachers, small sala- j
ies, short sessions and poor work.
May this dream of high education for the
aasses some day, some how, be realized! IV.
ELECTRICITY.
*? * ^ i\Lvo}/?nl imotif ua m<irVial.
jl neie is nu utnci i'hjoivtti 05^111/ ^.v . v< |
us in its operations as electricity. The unions
of antiquity believed their gods spoke in j
he rattling thunder, manifested their wrath
n the ruin wrought by the lightning stroke ;
nd among the Hindoos, after Brahma, India,
he god of thunder, was the chief deity; while
upiter is generally represented brandishing
huuderbolts.
Of electrical phenomena, none is more tcrritly
grand than a thunder shower. "Terribly
;rand," we say, from the admiring wonder
vith which one watches the dazzling lightning
s it shoots from cloud to cloud, or from the
leavens above to the earth beneath, and listen
o the frequent "reports," now booming like
annon, anon cracking like musketry, is never
utirely free from fear as regards personal
afety.
This may well be the case. Apparently govrned
by no known law, no sure means of proection
against the effects of lightning have
iver been devised. In a loose sort of a way,
t is supposed that certain substances attract,
hat others repel, lightning ; but facts tend to
:ombat the theories based on such a supposi,ion.
In 177U, in Birmingham, England, the cov rlet
was torn from a bed, by lightning, with
* ' " ..4.? rn
>ut injury 10 lis occupants. jlww jraia win,
it Harrogate, a gentleman was killed by l'ght)ing
while asleep on a feather bed, though his
vife, sleeping beside him, was not awakened.
In 1844 a flash of lightning struck a boat
lear the Shetland Islands and completely demolished
the mast. A man sitting near the
nast was unharmed ; a watch in his pocket
,vas melted.
In 1808, five children were sitting on abench
n a Swiss cottage that was "struck." The
irst and hist were killed ; the others were
slightly "shocked." A lady whose residence
ivas nt a little distance from Madrid, Spain,
vas swinging in her hammock one afternoon
in July, 1840, when she was killed by lightling.
The sky was entirely cloudless, but
there was a severe shower forty miles away.
Hid you ever hear of "lightning pictures V"
On the neck of a young man killed by lightning
in Cuba was found the image of an iron
liorse that stood a short distance from the
spot where he was stricken down.
A woman in Maine was standing at a winlow
when a tree directly in front of her was
struck by lightning. She was stunned, and
on recovering her senses complained that her
back seemed on fire. An examination disclosed
a perfect likeness of the tree between
her shoulders.
A peasant woman of Seine-et-Marne, in the
nrirfiiovn iMirt nf France, in September, 18/37,
was struck by lightning while watching a cow.
The animal was killed and its mistress lay motionless.
Prompt attention restored consciousness
; but on removing her garments, an
image of a cow was found on her breast.
The physiological effects of lightning are
frequently very strange. In 1838, at Vic-surAisne,
three soldiers who had sought refuge
under a lime tree were killed by lightning.
Hut they remained erect, as if untouched by
the electric fluid, for several minutes; then
they fell a heap of ashes.
Certain persons, from unknown causes, are
electrical to a wonderful degree. Mademoiselle
Angelique Cottin was weaving silk gloves in
the evening of January 13, 1810, when the
loom at which she was working began to sway
to and fro so violently that she lied from it in
alarm. When she was at a distance from
the machine the movements ceased; they
were renewed as she approached it. Her
parents sent her to the priest, that the demon
with which they thought her possessed might
be exorcised. He took her to a physician, who
was unable to account for the mystery. Ere
long she found that whatever small articles
her dress touched started from her, and persons
near her received quite powerful electrical
"shocks." The case was carefully studied
by medical and scientific men, and the phenomena
attributed to her "corporal eleetrici
ly." From that time she was denominated as
"The Elective Girl." If
Mademoiselle Cottin had lived at Salem,
Mass., in the days of witchcraft delusion, in-;
stead of being a resident of France, about the |
middle of the nineteenth century, she would
doubtless have fallen under suspicion as a
witch, and been subjected to the fearful torments
indicted upon suspected persons. And
it is more than probable that many "spiritual
manifestations" are referable to causes similar
to those producing the above described phenomena.
Such are some of the "didos" that have
been cut by the subtle fluid?when uncontrolled?which
the Genius of Science has compelled
to print our books, to illuminate our
cities by night, to carry our messages round
the earth in a far fewer minutes than the
fairy Puck required for girdling it. Its realm
is already a mighty one, but we are conlident
it, has not annroaehed the zenith of its power
itiul glory.?Christian Union.
i) etecti x (Counterfeits.
It is ;i good rule in receiving bank notes to
carefully examine the general appearance of
the note, the geometrical lathe work, shading
of the letters, ruling engine work, vignettes i
and solid print, carefully noting whether they
compare with standard work. The ink, printing
and paper must be considered. The character
number appears on all bank notes issued
since 1875. All national bank notes are signed
by F. E. Spinner, treasurer, prior to 1875.
All genuine notes of the United States treasury
bear check letters, A, B, C or D, and are
numbered consecutively, commencing with
one, thus : A is 1 ; 13 is 2 ; C 3 and I) 4 ; or a
number, which if divided., by four, will show
the number to be even'.
Genuine bank note/are usually p&ntedj^jrj
paper of good quality, though vaifwjs^fiuch-!
in thickness?some' being qdite tWn.* It i^
not impossible for coiiaterfeitere to procure ft
good quality ca paper, yet counterfeits uouaij
have a smooth, greasy touch,, while the genuine
note has not, but will cleave to the Sneers.
The paiwr, though important in ques
tion, is not infallible, and it will not do to rely
too much upon the quality. All notes in
the United States are now printed on liber paper,
the liber consisting of silk threads which
are in and form a part of the substance.
The government are now also manufacturing
the note paper, having two silk threads which
extend the whole length of the note, one a red,
the other blue, which are discernible by holding
the note to the light. These the counterfeiter
has endeavored to imitate, by drawing
two parallel lines on the surface. This will
be found in the counterfeit United States silver
certificates.
"Water and sky, when done with the ruling
engine, cannot be successfully imitated. It
is rare to see fine vignettes on counterfeit
notes, yet many very dangerous imitations
have been produced. But, however perfect, a
counterfeit cannot be the same as the original
or genuine.
Then there is the geometrical lathe work.
All designs, such as circles, ovals, squares,
etc., and upon which the denomination is
usually placed, composed of a net-work of
fine lines crossing eacli other at such angles
and distances as to produce the desired effect
is called tiie geometrical lathe work, and is
produced by the geometrical lathe, a wonderful
as well as beautiful machine. The patterns
produced by the lathe are of every conceivable
variety of form and shape. The
fine lines is the characteristic of this description
of engraving, and in the genuine note
can be traced throughout the design, never
breaking or losing itself in another line, or i
liiivimranv irregularity whatever. The line is |
usually white on black or green ground,or sometimes
red, but may be a black, green or red on
whit*. In tho conntefeit engraving the design
is engraved upon the plate and fails in
various ways. First, it is impossible to produce
the perfet line as in the genuine, and
the effect to the eye will be more or less dull
or sunken in appearance as well as havm#-*- '
scratchy look. The design will also be darker
or light in spots, as the lines are sometimes
heavier and sometimes lighter, as well as the
spaces between are sometimes wide and again
near together^A*ring irregular in size and ;
sometimes Dioken. .Second, it is impossible
?o*?tfie counterfeiter to produce two designs
exactly alike. As the counterfeit is engraved
by hand and separately, 1t is impossible to
produce two exactly alike. On examination
of the genuine bill the design of the geometrical
lathe work will show the beautiful clear
raised impression produced by the correct and
regular lines in the engraving. Sometimes
the whole face of a note except the vignettes
and dies will be tinted. The tint is composed
of line curved or looped lines running across
the whole face on the bill.
Genuine bank notes are always printed with
great care. The plate is covered with iiik,
which is then carefully wiped off, except what
remains in the lines of the engraving. The
engraving is then taken with a powerful press.
Should any irregularity appear on the note it
is immediately canceled, and not issued.
Thus all genuine notes have a clear and beautiful
impression, which is very unusual for a
counterfeit. The ink used in bank-note printing
gives a clear impression, without any smutty
appearance. The g4een ink, and also that
used for the numberingof United States notes,
is with great dilliculty produced by the counterfeiters.
The ink usually used by them for
printing counterfeits has a heavy, dull look ;
wime uie numuernig nas a um nj ciy|>c?mn?w. >
THE BUIIIED CITIES.
A tourist, writing to the Paris lteijister,
from the vicinity of Mount Vesuvius, describes
a demonstration which he met in that
region, of the way the cities llerculaneum and
Pompeii were destroyed, lie was proceeding
by railway from Torre Annunziata to
to Torre del Greco, and had gone but a short i
distance when the locomotive was suddenly j
brought to a stand-still by an immense quail- >
tity of volcanic ashes and pumice stone, packed
over the railway track to the height of
many feet. It had been hurled there by the
rushing torrents that were literally sweeping
the slopes of Vesuvius. There was no getting ;
through, and it was not until after six hours, 1
that with a force of hundreds of men, any j
train was able to pass. It was by a similar |
storm that the burial of the famous Human
cities was effected. First there was a fall of
pumice stone and line ashes ; and immediately
succeeding came a drenching Hood forming
torrents of fine ftshes, like a liquid mud-paste.
This was hurled like rushing rivers not only !
upon llerculaneum, Pompeii and Oplonto, but I
upon every side of Vesuvius. This mud flood, j
now of course dry and compact, can ever be !
seen 011 the plain between Pompeii and Stabiie,
the modern Castellamare. llerculaneum was 1
situated on the sea, and nearer the new crater j
termed by the Vesuvian convulsion of 70 A. 1).,
and the slopes of the mountain above Hercu- J
laneum being steeper than elsewhere, received |
a far greater quantity of torrents of fine mud- i
ashes than Pompeii, which in a direct line,
is five miles away from the present cone, which 1
occupies substantially the same position as j
that of the cone shot up in that memorable j
4 ' -i n i?? 1
lllgUL uescrioeu uy mc juuu^ci inuj, .
side, the inclination of the mountain towards I
Pompeii is nearly gradual for half the dis- |
lance, so that the interment by the pumice
stone, and afterwards of the mud flood, was
not nearly so deep as that of her sister city.
The pumice stone and the coating of liquid
mud (which latter perhaps dried almost as
rapidly as liquid plaster of Paris) covered Ilerculancum
to the depth of sixty feet, while j
Pompeii was only buried beneath twenty-four
feet. In the year 1030, A. 1)., lava, for the
first time in the records of man, burst forth j
from Vesuvius. Of course, in pre-historie j
times, it had rolled down again and again j
from the mountain to the sea, and Pom-1
peii itself, built before the foundation of j
Itome, was constructed on an old lava bed
iust on the edge of the plains of tfonoro. j
Then in 103(5 A. 1)., Ilerculaneum, buried for
nearly a thousand years beneath die layer of
pumice stone and dried, compacted line ashes j
(the once liquid unid), received i he first layer j
of lava; and in the centuries up to the discov-!
ery (1<>S1), perhaps as many as six eruptions!
poured their millions of tons over the spot I
where the devoted city lay. 1 mention six I
lava deposits because Torre del Greco, which, ]
with llisini, is built over the sight of Hereu-i
laneum, lias been clestroyea nine umes uy
Vesuvius since the eruption of 79, thus covering
Ilerculaneum to the depth of one hundred
and twenty feet from the original level.
The pumice stone and the dried mud (? use
scientific terms), being non conductors preserved
the statutes of bronze and marble, the
frescoes, the papyri, and even such perishable
articles as honey. If lava, in the ordinary
sense of the word, had overwhelmed Herculaneum,
nothing would have remained of the
city covered in 79. Hence it can be seen how
absurd is the story told-by ignorant guides and
by many a letter writer, and I am sorry to
say, in many books, that Ilerculaneum was
destroyed by lava.
I am informed that the destruction ef property
on Vesuvius is often very great at the
present time, on account of the pumice stone
and ashes carried violently, and in torrents,
down the mountain side. A Hood of-ashes
and water commingled descended on San Sebastians
during the eruption of 1822, and no
less than seven men were engulfed in this
iluicl mud, and lost their lives in a moment,
the material enclosing the bodies just it did
those of the unfortunnte Pompeiaus who perished
eighteen hundred years ago.
HOM.E, SWEET HOME.
In an interesting sketch of John Howard
Payne, author of Home Sweet Home, the Baltimore
Sun says : These verses touch the universal
heart by the tender memories they invoke
more profoundly than any 'others in the
English tongue. Por nearly sixty ye&rs
"Home, Sweet Home" has been the one favorite
song among English-speaking people in N />?
whatever country they might be found, and
it will last as long as human affections cluster
about the household hearth. The song oi RobertJBurns
that is oftenest aung bykis country-.
men is "Auld Lasg < perhaps
w> .it' and striktn/T a awo> ; ftdfcer mfl|
3i tc of
should he ihacribed. on Jiin-tomb* *'lHe wlrafe} -v
ters have long been recognized as the best in
the world. Hunting songs, sea songs* sentimental
songs. convivial songs, and songs. r>f
the affections abound ; yet in the whole collection,
admirable as it is and of high poetic
excellence, there if not one that strikes with
so sure a hand the key-note to which all hearts
respond as the "Home, Sweet Home" of the
* * * * s? a l.u
wandering Americen?wun nis genius mm mo
Bohemianism, his vicissitudes of fortune and
his attractive conversational powers?John
Howard Payne. As the young American
Iioscus who crowded our theatres three-fourths
of a century ago, as the author, translator or
adapter of a number plays, comedies and tragedies,
very few of which are known to the
present generation, his fame would have been
as fleeting as that of the young -English Rosci
us, blaster -Betty, or the thousand and one
playwrights whose names are in dramatic bibliographies,
but whose works, more or less
successful in their day, the present generation
of play-goers rarely ever hear of. The memory
of John Howard Payne would have soon become
a thing of the past but for the one simple
song which outweighs all he has written.
Out of the poverty that had driven him for
refuge to a Paris garret, came the song that
has immortalized his name.
It is the expression of sadness and yearning
which, in his hunger and wretchedness, he
felt for the home in which he was born,
three thousand miles away. As a literary
production it may not bear the severer tests
of criticism; but the very essence of home
longing pervades it?a longing for old familliar
scenes, old familliar faces, the mother's
love,-the father.'s care, the friends we once
knew; all clothed in the^ soft and gracious
light which lends itselfto^fonfl recofectioms- *.
and to whicli distanc^^S*** enchantment.
It is little ??nwcr'tnat such a song when
fir?t -?*ng should have taken aR England
ny stOrm ; or that it should touch the popular
feeling as deeply to-day as it did half a centu
ry ago.
For the good which this song has done John
Howard Payne deserves to be honored by his
countrymen. Ilis life, like that of Poe, was a
broken one. After twenty years of exile he returned
home, poorer than he was when he
went; abroad. His immediate needs were
supplied from the proceeds of a theatrical benefit,
and he was thrown once more upon his
own resources until friendly solicitation obtained
for him the poor position of the remote
consulate ol' Tunis. There he died ; there his
remains were buried, far from the home to
which he turned so sadly years before in his
Paris garret. There he would still have been
left in his obscure and unhonored grave but
for the generous act of Mr. Corcoran, who has
undertaken to have the remains brought back
to the United States and interred with fitting
ceremonies in Oak Hill Cemetery, near Georgetown.
Over his remains Mr. Corcoran proposes
to raise, at his own cost, a monument
which shall mark, for many years to come, the
last resting place of the author of "Home,
Sweet Home."
In connection with the authorship of this
favorite song, II. W. Grady writes: "What a
precious possession is that of the elderly lady
in Athens, Ga., who owns the original manuscript
of Tlome, Sweet Home,' as written by
John Howard Payne. The words of the poem
as first written are all interlined, with here
and there an endearing expression from the
writer to the lady who now holds it. In the
old days Payne was devotedly attached to her,
1 1 1 ? +h.\f ovn
unci SMC IlilS llUWiy U1 JUS ICILCIO tlluu 11U v;u
save hers will ever see. She is a noble and
high-minded woman, and a fit legatee of the
memories of a true poet, and the manuscript of
the best known American poem. She has been
offered a large sum for the manuscript, but of
course no money could buy it."
?
Genius anjd Its Apes.?In all this world
there is nothing more beautiful, and, in the
long run*, more practical, self-centered and
worthy of respect, than true genius. Whether
it invents a pin, a match, a steamboat, electric
lights; writes such prose or i>oSms as captivate
men's souls, or, rising still higher, utters
such moral and religious truths as becomes
the centres of new revolutions and systems
of thought, or dies of martyrdom that
such truths may not die, it is everywhere and
in all ages the divinest thing this world knows
anything about; has for the basis of its own
life a profound and simple sincerity in all
things, and at the right time'issure to be honored
for what it is really worth, perhaps worshiped,
but never eventually despised. And
of all things known to mankind nothing is
* 1 "? j
quite so ciespicauie aim unenuurnuic aicmo
apes of genius ; cranks in knee-breeches and
long hair or what not, that have only their
silly external idiosyncracies to make them noticeable
among their fellow-men.
Dreams.?The British Medical Journal describes
some interesting experiments on this
subject that have been made by M. G. Delaunay.
According to psychologists, dreams are
generally illogical and absurd. M. Delaunay,
however, by covering his forehead with a layer
of cotton wool, rendered at will his dreams
healthy and intelligent. According to his experience,
the dreams which people have when _____
lying on their back, are sensuous, agitated and
eratic. Those which occur when the dreamer is
lying on his right side are changeable ; full of
exaggeration, absurd, and relate to old recolectio'ns.
Those which occur when lying on the
left side are intelligent, reasonable and relate
to recent occurrences. People often talk during
the last mentioned dreams. The author
considers that dreams intelligent or otherwise,
eratic or sober, can lw induced by causing variations
in the cerebral circulation, and by
the nutrition of the various regions of the
brain, either by the elevation of the cranial
temperature or by decubitus. They, therefore
form an interesting field for psychological re
OUUV/II.
$55" It is stated that there is an old gentleman
living in Georgia, who has been married nine
times and lias had fifty-three children. His
descendants, to the number of two hundred,
were recently present at a reunion of the family.
US" A man weighing 124 pounds started out
to whip a man named Cabin, at Athens, Ga.,
but after seeing Mr. Cabin lift a barrel of whisky
and drink from the bung, concluded to let
him escape.