Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis m. grist, proprietor, j Jnbejpbwt Jfwnilj fjtcfospapcr: $nxtjjc promotion of f|t political, Social, ^fricitlfaral aab Commercial Interests of fbe Sontj). ] TERMS?$2.50 a year, IN advance!? VOI.j. 33. 1 * YORKYILLK S. C? WEDNESDAY. JANUARY 12, 1887. ^O. JMected ? flrtrg. A MOTHER'S VOICE. There's music in a mother's voice, More sweet than breezes sighing; There's kindness in a mother's glance, Too pure for ever dying. There's love within a mother's breast, So deep 'tis still o'erflowing, And care for those she calls her own, That's ever, ever growing. There's anguish in a mother's tear, vv Den rarewen ionaiy ratting, ? That so the heart of pity moves, It scarcely keeps from breaking. And when a mother kneels to heaven, And for her child is praying, O, who shall half the fervor tell. That burns in all she's saying. A mother, how her tender arts Can soothe the breast of sadness! AncUhrough the gloomyf^Hfe^ojqce more BEAUm SECRET /. i BY ALAN MUIR. CHAPTER VL IN WHICH LADY BEAUTY HAS HER PORTRAIT PAINTED IN PRINTER'S INK. [Shall I tell you why I have written this story? It was because I met Sophia Temple, then styled "Lady Beauty," in her fifty-third year; and her power to charm (at an age when charms are commonly supposed to be dead and gone) led me to ask, What is this t woman's secret? And having searched into her life and character, and noted her ways, I venture to offer this imperfect record of her life, and this still more iriiperfect picture of herself, for the study of her sex generally. I wish to convince women that it is a great mistake on their part to suppose that their power to please departs with youth. At all times I have noticed that men of sense seldom admire?or, if you like, grow enamored of? women for beauty alone, but for chaWter, manner, taste and conversation. Now?- while beauty (we must admit) lessens with time, character, manner, taste and conversation may each be refined and enriched; and these, I believe, by their improvement can quite compensate for the loss of personal cbarma Mere beauty is but one brj&ht, uuchaugiug beam?it will grow even wearisome; but wit, sense, courtesy and humanity are forevei casting forth new and unexpected rays, and enlivening intercourse with agreeable sur prises. And so the story of Lady Beauty L written as a humble attempt to encouragi women to try to be charming to their latesi day. For they can do it if they try.] Sophia was without question far inferior ii physical beauty to Sibyl, and I think mos people would have said that she was not s< handsome as Caroline. Her features wen regular, her nose straight and fine, her com plexion delicate and rosy; but still, iu he: fade she was no model of womanhood. Hei expression?and what is expression but char acter fixed in the countenance??made Sophii what she was. Her delicate upper lip, witl the hint of firmness iu its fine line, told o resolution; the soft hazel eyes, with their up ward glance, Had a look ot aspiration; tn; mouth was full of tenderness, ready to mole itself to every affectionate feeling. But wha was this after all? Sophia's nature in So ; if lihiAMTA&l " -r-*; ' ?* She was the best dresser I ever knew. J. color, either by study or natural gift, sh< was a perfect mistress. Accordingly her ap pearance pleased " umbers of people befor* they saw her face; and many a time as sh< went down the street the curiosity of thosi who walked behind was aroused to see wha might be the face of the woman whose gowi and mantle were so striking by the harraonj or the contrast of their hue. Flowers, rib bons, brooches, all that sets off dress, she usee with the most unerring taste. And she man aged through all the changes of fashion to re spect herself and her own figure and face; ii the fashion she always would be, but still sb modulated it so as to be the queen and not tb slave. No doubt . fophia must have pai< - great attention to her dress, but I scarcel; think she could have achieved such constan success, or so complete, had she not been i dresser born. Then her manners in society were cap tivating. Here I think the little mother' homilies were useful, indeed. With what i graceful attention she heard what you had t say! How modestly she gave her own opinion! She was well read, and could tak her part in most conversations with ease and now and then she could deal out a witt; stroke. Indeed, Sophia had a great deal o humor, but seldom gave it the rein in society Night was her time, with Car and Sibyl; an often the two more brilliant girls, as the; laughed at her comical reminiscences of th day would feel how easily Sophia could oul shine them if she tried. She loved the world. Here again the it fluence of her mother was perceptible, wit this difference, that the world in her mother language signified society, and nothing raon while Sophia would have included in it lb whole of nature and life. I do not think ever saw any one who had such a simple an unaffected enjoyment in living as she. i walk in the woods was enchantment to hei and, on the other hand, I have seen her o the tiptoe of pleasurable excitement for balL She was no poetic recluse; she neve shunned society or its pleasures, but rathe sought them. There was not a particle c affectation about her; indflsd, she retaine her girlishness and her love of girlish amusi inents for an unusually long time. And she certainly remembered teaching in anothei-naj^i^ftvfsbe tried ^ , please.. ^l^akn^wYnata women ought to 1 an object of admiration and affection, at she ruled her whole life with this fact view. But Sophia understood the art i charming, which, with all their grac fulness, few English women entirely d Perhaps Nature feels that she has give owe English women enough already, an mindful of the limitation which ought i mark all mortal things, has withheld thi one gift which would make them irresistibl Sophia knew that face and figure are n< everything.. She understood that it is tl woman a man admires, not her eyes or na or lips or waist; the whole woman?persoi dress, manner, talents and characte Frenchwomen are in this respect more fa sighted than our English ladies, but ev< Frenchwomen do not fully realize this grei social truth. A woman who knows that h< dress is tasteful and her expression agreeab and her conversation lively will be little di mayed to hear of crows' feet round her ey lids or gray hairs on her temples. Her be ter part is blooming amidst the gentle deca of more material charms. You will laug when I tell you before the story ends ho Sophia Temple, Lady Beauty, at the age < fifty-three, had a new lover, and what lover he was. 7 One touch I must add to this pictun Sophia was in the best sense of the word religious woman. ''Without love," cries great novelist, "I can fancy no gentleman A little diffidently I should add, without r< ligion I can fancy no lady. Sophia's piet was in no way obtrusive, never puritanica never ascetic, but gentle, animated an humane. It <;uito saved her from her mott er's narrow and heai+loss and merely spar! ling worldliness. Sophia loved the world, bu bad a hope beyond it, and her religion gave richness, a sweetness, a seriousness to all he charms. I must admit, however, that many of Lad Beauty's own sex ueciarai uer to De notnin particular. That men admired her was nc to be denied, but women would often as dryly what it was for. When I knew her wel enough to take such a liberty, I ventured t say to her one day that, greatly as she wa praised by our sex, her own appeared to de dine to accept her as by any means renrt sentative. She laughed with much gayety. "Some of us," she replied, "admire in out selves what is forcible and striking. I believ you said to me yourself one day that Lad Macbeth and some other eminent ladies of thi imagination, whom we remember, made a sui ficiently vivid impression to satisfy botl sexes. You added something like this: somewhat doubt if Lady Macbeth would fc \ altosether a success in the drawing room.'' i [ - 1"What, then, is your idea of a womanf I asked. v-, . ?| "I have drawn up i. set of beautjr rulea,n"| she replied, rising and going tc/bmrdeifc. "They will be the best answer to your qnes- ; tlon." She laughed with great tportircneas, so that I could not tell whether she was j?st- ^ ing or in earnest J& ^ So she gave me her beauty ruto* there and then. But these I reserve for*be last chap- { ter of this story, when, in parting with my . readers and my heroine,.! shall narrate two ( curious illustratioas pt>wer to please. j I repeat, this story ^written tot' the in- s struction of the ten* ell thousands of Eng- f lishwomen who can ba Use Sophia Temple if ^ they try. Whoever W W? fair readers will follow this amiatde;?M|Bpleahall be relieved bf the anxiMy of. ^nchag.onrer her shoulder t EJT geauly ui jaurr W* be coming up . trtctions of youth uch a woman; , ' Her knowledge | world, her fam- j 1 se, together with j , and the dfc^re tp ictory over time. . , she, too, shaN be t Tit ^ TCH. 1 not far from Ket- 1 irtunities of meet- 1 id been the little" 1 he might renew ter a time, dratf < elf. He made no < enough it seemed i have no further t at last?at the < 'ercival's depart lover came upon < was the only son tired merchant of i ents were geuer- 1 hat he had some- t The Dories were i 1 ; and having re- * rentv years, and ar town "society.s ved in companies , they dared not f i never forgotten ; ether one of u& 1 lake inquiry con- 1 d generally be in ! y old fellow, and ou want a sub- i lse, go to Done. ' id rot the least 1 e had something last clause was a I faithfully as if it was a The. vwgyfrfthe Dones being not of Mrs. i T*rfa*n*tt?>s kiud~Piety and oliarity f^wEBBI her regard anybody with i>VW kW*"Wr ?rigin and manner being 1 MbppM^ever liked them. Indeed, at not ridicule people in com5 A* WBM sometimes say to her daugh> hljllilll linthflf could ever be made of those t kfcMlMttnRlHteople. Then, with a characwirtih'fy*Ti iflga too sweeping assertion, she 1 j woh^saR: ,?*?3t?ept sometimes, dears?ext cept Mai4tUBM.n "You know, girls," she } said gay style, "it is a pro3 verb tbatitbwe k nothing like leather; I don't 1 . think flwjek." # fcich she delivered with one p of her Frenchifiedfaces of dislike, which alr wajq jet jba girla laughing. The plain Pones . dreaiad the witty, dashing, fashionable Mrs. a Barbara Temple; and Mrs. Barbara Temple 3 regarded the plain Dones with repressed, but f not invisible, acqgn. , There frtt* John Done the first, and John , Done tho second. As is very often the case 1 with adte of self-made men, John Done, t jttnjm^SlWtelaCking hisfather'snative sense . . and birihess^tfergy, had inherited a double ? l^j^^iilljitfliiiijiUnmelinoas^jmade quite iptoler; ^va^WktWMky assurance and a disregard of 3 ctbarpaoptoh feelings, which indeed amount. ed toan anxiety to inflict pain, wherever be , couldj flt jjjfciiolJbe. had been hated for a 3 tyrant and a bally, and it was also known , among* the boys that he would tell a lie?and I that-nit a schoolroom lie?whenever it suited 3 his gataf. Percival P. went to -school with biny^ngjusQb*^htfH|taflflfcL j only they mill, lowed, . i..'^^Hnn the s gave li^BB^H^H||B hi^M^^HB|HBn| to the Done >n>p,i^DHHHHH cepB d ci; to eum^nnn| i, ni^^BBM nnBHn n nc^^HBHHH * iitti^nM^BHBDB rnflH^HHI flew rapidi^^^^^^^^^^^^H^vas the litn^B Done jj oughly^^^^^^^H^^'Miller'' knew his rt. busines.<^^^HP^have been proud of his jj young nBBrhiid he been there to see. At a last I)er^"'?eariy\blind with blows and rage, nlade oner grand effort to destroy his eneiny with-tin agpearancfe of ease. It was fatal to a him. BrenV. was really wann to his work, a and* not like^Mfftniaaan opening. In rapid it succession he managed toplant three blows ^ just tiloder Doue's left eye] the last delivered ' with such force that itsent, the lumpy fellow j to grass, where . he lay vanquished, Brent (J standing over hftn witJ^ fl^ts still clinched, i_ and burning, it aeemed, ifov ailittle more. .. That w*s adiieeny years ago. John Done, j junior, wa? now a rather buQcy young man, with a white flat face, very small sunken eyes, a smile which expressed a narrow mind satisfied with itself, and Unprepossessing ,, manners. HJ? habits; too, had1 not been the best, and it was knowtj in Ketttewell that he ? was, in his sly way;'a O^Ui of dhsolute habits, j. He bad now b^en absent, off and on, for I nearly four yei?*; but when he returned 0 home he happened to hear of Sojtoia Temple s and her little affair with,PercivtR Brent. By 1 a curious chance^ he Bad met \Brent iu j. Australia himself, and, nlttough outwardly civil to him, he rcm^nbered with a grudge the thrashing of yearagone'by; lor his nature e was of that sluggish* sort, -Where revenge burns long and sullenly, like ^uel in a *slow B combustion stove. When be came homeland beard about Sophia, the thought struck him j, what a nice girl she w as, and what a fine j thing it would be to marry the woman for e whom his former foe was woHdng now in another hemisphere! He jrajdered. Hi?' A i lye* lit wi*i their half-animal gleam. He li aid: "I ran manage it." f ? I CHAPTER VIII. I toRS. TEMPLE DELIVERS A SERMOX. 1 Mrs. Barbara Temple was sitting in her d 'avorite armchair, and the sunshine of a p >rigbt October morning was shining in the oom. But that pleasant light revealed clearly j he signs of time, which had for long enough jeen more or less manifest in the old woman's * ace. She either did not 01V could not any * onger dress herself with thetaune deceptive G kill as in days gone by, and now in every p eature of her face any eye could see that she f vas an old woman?a very oldt woman, in- B '--'1 OUa Anf si'tHi ntwl tin r>a tVifiillir in #1 ICCVti ?JUO DCfcU up VUlbllWIJ <U U L ipepdid Indian shawl, and a fire 'blazed on ;he hearth; and she looked .cold and some- 1 vhat lifeless, although her vyes were still might and her voice strong. Sophia, who ;tayed always with her, was reading The Morning Post to her, bdt the old woman did lot listen with her acdostomed attention. "Sophy," she said 9t last, "I hod a visit from ilrs. Done yesterday." "Indeed,unamma," Sophia replied. She bit ter lip, and so hid a smile, spirited and conemptuous, with a dash of amusement in it 'And wha$ does Mrs. Done want, mamma?" "She ?*jw her son is in love witty yoa." "Delimtful, mamma!" Sophia replied, now. vith op^u amusement on her face. So ho las thrown his handkerchief at last. He may tick it up agaiu, mamma, and' put it in his socket!" "Now, Soptya, don't talk in that hasty, insonsiderate Way," the old woman said. "In ill those'cases we should consider, dear, there s nothing like " "Leather, mamma!" Sophia cried, merrily, etching up her mother's old mpcking phrase. Hie bright October sunshine anil some whim if her own feelings had put her in good spirits hhat mornimr. i "Very pleasant, dear," the little mother renarjiftd, shaking her head soberly. Somehow iex' whole style of speech was relaxing in hergy; her words were pitched low; she did lot speak with her former decision. Presently she said: "You must remember young Mr. Doan was never in trade; and beside, Sophia, he will settle twenty thousand pounds on you!" "Can't be had under forty, mamma!" Sophia seemed resolved to treat the..matter in this . jocular way. It was plain that she realized that she and her mother had changed padtions; she wat, virtually mistress now-rtbere might be argument, but 110 struggle^of wIIL "ShaVtcry 'cherry ripe' uuderibrty tfccnfcsand pounds, mamma!" And ?opl|i& tossed her head and looked saucy and engaging, nn.lt cheap at doable the moneys' + "Now listen to me, jdophia, " her mother Iv said. "You will neyeh have fflich another offer?from a money point of view." ?\ "Well, mamma, I will be serious," Sophia answered, suiting her free to her wprus. "I would not many thst man for anything he could give me. TVhegln with, P" know what \ bis life-fcms beep^' / "JWw, my^ar Scpbta,"/ner mother said, with a deprecating gastpnj, "I will not bear anything about his mtnner of life. The men Bi-e all in fault in that way." ("One I know is rot!" Sophia tenderly thought, clasping her darling's memory to" her heart.) "All are in fault that vay," continued Mrs. Temple. "Some let us inow it, others man- s ago to hide it Iu fact, dl are alike. And, indeed, Sophia, better maTy a man who, before marriage,,, has?has-seen the uorld, s than one who will make y>u unhappy after. c The wilder the bachelor, tfe steadier the bus- t band, so I often have foundit" c "Now vou don't mean t, mamma; you s know you don't.'.' c "I do mean it, indeed, dar; aud, besides, t whose fault is it if men are "ild? Ours, my ^ dear; ours alone. We are o fond of conquest and iinpression that re never leave them alone. We get them in'c the habit of mind, dear. Have I not waMk|^cn! " More especially it a man is a we long to make an My dear Sophia^^j^H^^^^R^RB^Hj ever lived is single, the the rich them no financial aid, always niece and her aunt to spend the his house. As the Christmas of near thd two impoverished gentle^HH^H| gan to fix over their bits of flnery^^^^^^H pectation of the usual visit to Instead of the anticipated im ceived a very polite note from^^^HH^^J iug that "the coming so far been a tax upon them," "would^not again press softened the with best wishes and the son. was a reason the two disappointed Brvoons there they Uonoi^B te a 'Christmas guest. Aunt 'Margaret had ! tal ondly dreamed that Sir Edward cared for ' mJ lonor, whom he had met more than once at 1 fncle Bryson's. But when she heard that he ^ pas about to propose to Uncle Bryson's laughter Amelia she hoped that Honor did nu lot care for him. lot The first impulse of Aunt Margaret and ) ao lonor on receiving Uncle Bryson's check was ^ o send it back. Second thought persuaded fG1 ' ' ~r t? W( hem to Keep it ana use every jkiuij ? ? u. ; ,iving a Christmas party themselves?not a i ^ arty for the rich and prosperous, nor even |, to or their financial equals; but a party for the as ;ood and kind among their neighbors, the in- 'be labitants of Paradise How, humble souls, to m rhom all pleasures were rare. M They took Mr Redmond, the incumbent of he new church in their district, into their ^ onfidence, and he was greatly interested in tii he plan, and promised to help them all he in ould. He was the only friend the two ladies wl >ad made since they went to Paradise row fr o whom they could say anything about their tij iast lives. He often looked in upon them iter their day's work was done, and it seemed. m ilain to Aunt Margaret that he took great in- K erest in Honpr_ Sometimes Aunt Mprgaret ^ _m hid to herself that the match would not be "In o undesirable, although be was a widower, ?t' vith a grown-up daughter, and a little too >ld for Honor. ?t They bad a busy time preparing for the ! east. They felt in duty bound to spend every ; tj1 >enny of the money. In addition to the sup- j ^h >er, every guest was to have a "present, and j everal sick ones were to have presents sent : ar hem. They called in "Old Nannie" to help iei ihe maid of all work get the feast ready, and, n her language, the house soon "smelt as ; ;ood as a cook shop." Old Nannie was to be 1 ^ >ne of the guests of the Christmas party. She ' ]j, lad been in charge of the guardians of the d, ?or; but bad managed to have her "'low- w inces," sent to her lowly lodgings, and never ht jot into the dreaded "bouse," where the poor I ** ire taken in the last extremity. j I31 Among tho other important guests were J ^ the "little tailor and his wife," "Sally's grand- I pi nattier," "Johnnv and his mother." and the ^ "poorlodger." Sally's grandmother was in ty the receipt of parish relief. The "poor b< lodger," is the neighbors .called him, was a poung man about whonk no one knew any k* tnoretfcan that he did not appear to have a *c Mepd in the world, and that he had been in j jt? josperate need, having just struggled through : l Ion# illness in an attfc of a* bouse where j cc odged Johnny and Ids mother. The latter, ; d< l sailor's widow, only just contrived to keep : tb >ody and soul together by worljinguor the : ity warehouses; and the little tailor and his ai vife got their living by patching and) botch- ; 'f ng for people as poor ai1 ttpoaaelve^ ^ Although every one else jepted 'attoat the ! ^ ittle tailor and his wife dinging i? the Relief , di hat they would again sep tiKSir ecu, whdt had i lii ;one abroad to seek his fortune, and had1 npt i it; >een heard of for 3'cars, Honor did not. The j >elief helped them to bear their privaU^ns ! ^ letter than they might otherwise, hat? do^e, ! ? And there was Grace Fairiit,'ttM^natiooil V ^Bhool mistress, a gentlewoman, whejhad been ^ ^Buite alone in the world sinoe ber/matberV ^ ^Heath; and poor little Annie* tiW.drtm&sn ft ^Bobbler's daughter, and the gockthafcond old b ^Holdier, with the bullet in his leg.'Who helped S ^Bverybody. The ladies were Mnbek afraid ^Bhey would be obliged to send afseparsfc? hi- ^ ^Bitation to the bullet, it was each ai> Ittipar^Bant factor in the old manh life. I si I Then, there was Mrs. Parne^l "ho iras ? Hgenteel." They were uW*rtaia|"Jw0Wf'she tt ^Bould come, for,tb^ if ^^^rannendation of "beinif, poor and JTonely, h \ otier: late ^ ^H|BI^B^vl)ich, Pi i rad ise She keeping up the g t h e ^^ ^B^^BBB: 0 u B^^n^nBjH|^^Bnd MHMMHi,, ChristBirepared. ^^ DB^BB^^H^&the curfor HHBHHbk si ilor and his wife?neither of them milch >re than five feet high?were ushered Inrhe pretty, fair-haired school mistress, in sp mourning, was welcomed, and bet me Johnny and his mother. No one seaiped think of calling her anything but "Johnny^ )ther." With them came the "ppoi iger," who had not been easily induced t< pept the invitation, and who was looking ry doubtful and Reserved, and on the jde jsive, so to speak, as though tlielr motivi is as yet not quite clear to him. ' J~ But Honor's diplomatic little aside, wild d answered so well with the others, sedl led jipceeed with him also; at any rate, so fai disarming his suspicions went In repi rfct iwed low, with a few words about his sti ation of the privilege of being allowed ^t< list Miss Bryson in any way. But it(W?i ough to show that he was a gentleman,[hac i not, evidently weak as he was, sod appre itive of the comfortable chair aaugnefl t? m, so courteously endeavored to decliile ii favor of others. The threadbare clqthe hich hung so loosely about his tall, giunl Bine contrasted piteously with his id(3 iguished bearing. At the same time toer< as no trace in his countenance, whlchVwa at of a refined thinker, of any tftoewfaic] ight have brought him so low in ,tb4 ttfcin fde as to desire to conceal himjelf ^'^thi isera^la attic of .one,of the.meai^;toWse the street, whqro the mosj^ljRw^ rickeu gave him the name of the fpoo Iger." v#" -X. The little tailor's aside to his wife: "Xbfm is swell clothes once, mother, and. Bofhinj ill get the gentleman out of then* afty jtao*!1 an it will out of him," Bhowed that other ought as I did. Then came the old soldier, brisk and! nea id upright as a soldier with a buUet fn hi I could be expected to be. Bnryjthini >out him, from his clear, keen s carefully brushed and mended tWlj' an ell polished boots, bearing witneapTlO B lif discipline. By the hand he led^M >? til xle motherless girl, whose fa$jp i til unken cobbler, lived in the 'sanrt boos ith him. Hei had done what he coul d to >r in the way of adornment, brisking th lautifnl golden hair and tyin git ?p with i ece of string into a funny little knob fU th p of her head, brightly polishing nenpoo? abby boots, and presenting her with!a ga; ctured pocket handkerchief to carry [in he pid; and he had f?aid respect to the peaso if pinning a tew holly berries in the front o ;r thin, worn frock. As they entered the room she hung back inging nervously to him, and looking o ared as though she Expected she was coin ' he beaten. Honor had some difficulty i ducing her to loose her protector's hand an .ke the stool proviHed for her )tkm wjarj; irner near the fire/ When she at lengtft sa >wn she shrank timidly against the Wall, a ough only desirous to escape-ijotioe, . ; All felt that little Annie needed tfAmtli; id kindness more than did any gu/ist there the soul was to be kept much longer in th eat mournful eyes. Most pitiful of all WB ie old look in the pinched-, whitefradifc Sh emed to regard us with a kind of cdlin in jlgence, as grown-tlp children play big a Te, which she had long keen the sad rea y of. J: ' / All went wefl,and witb/music-and cbattin ie time wj? spent Tfry bappi.y until clock. Then, befc 1^; thev queer compan as seated arouiKl tbetobje, Ho*0r propose lat f&ch one relate' thC history of the haj .est moment of hia'dfe. The happies^m-^rner)t' There was a pu: ed. fealf dosfbtful expression in some of ti ton as tlvdught traveled back into the pas' trt'Jt5?rne?itfy/di.sappeared, and there was idle more or Jess expansive upon every ono ion Even the poor lodger had a reticer nile upon his lips, as he turned his eyes me< ativaly toward the fire. ^ Johnnie led otr. He admitted withoi jams that the happiest moment of bis lil ras when he had been invited to the part] nd Sally had assured him that there woul e all the turkey, mince pie unc\ pudding tin e could eat. His mother blushed over h ery materialistic idea of happiness. H< wn story was this: "I think the very haj iest moment I have ever had was when tt lanager at the warehouse promised to gi\ ie a shilling a dozen extra for making tl lirts, for," she added, looking round with epr&catory little smile, as though to apoli ize for the homeliness of the cause of k( appy moment, "growing boys are a'mof I ways hupgry." Miu Parnell, when c$ljpd upon to relal er story, coughed meditatively behind ht in for a .moment or two, and then graciou , : -id that the happiest moment of her lil as when she danced with Lord Langland i le tenantry ball, when she was just 18. Grace Fairlie and Honor had some difficult i keeping their countenance* as they e: langed glances. Even tho "jjoor lodger as evincing some signs of having once know ow to laugh. But the ethers appeared suff ently impressed to satisfy Mrs. Parnell, ha 10 had any misgivings upon the point Sb as gazing complacently into the fire. Sb ad simply related a fact, and was too muc bsorbed in tho pleasant recollections it ha illed up to notice any one's face. Old Nannio thought the greatest amour f bliss she ever experienced was when sb atwitted the poor guardians and got ht 'Iowance out 'stead of going into the house, he old soldier described how a feelin lat his mother was near him pulling hu way from a trench during a battle, gav lm bis happiest moment, because just as b as fairly out a shell burst in the trench an b know that he had been saved from certai eath by the watchful spirit of his dea lother. . "But why didn't you have unotber drew > tell you to put your leir out of the wa [hen the bullet was coming?" as .red Johuni "I chose to take it into the way, riiy lad, imewbat absently replied James Brooki resides, that did me no hurt." "No hurt to be shut?" "Well, my boy, there's different ways c eing hurt, as perhaps you'll find out as yo et older. I'd had my lesson, you see, an idn't need to be taught over again." "But ain't you going to tell us how you gt ie bullet in your leg?" persisted Johnnii you didn't have that through the dream?" "Well. I irot. shot while I was fetching oi young"? Ho paused, ruffling up h anty hair. ;'But I am no hand at tcllii: lem sort of things. It isn't for me to sa by I'm a bit proud of the bullet I carr xiut with me, ladies and gentlemen. Perhaj will be enough if I say that it brought n ?is," touching the cross upon his breast, or ither shyly adding: "It was a French ofl ir that was saved, an only son"?bei 5 gazed afar off dreamily and out short h ory. The "poor lodger," when asked to tell h ory, begged to be excused for a little longe id gave way to Sally, who, after son ammering, said, in high delight, glancii lyly round: Ut was last night, then. He met me fete! j^Hie supper beer, and he said he'd g< for a tidy bit of furniture, ai for a rainy day, as well as re, there was no call U> wait." |^^^^^^kangrcrtuia^<^juljy, and Aui be< ' ttift night when we was 'scrouging' to see the 'lUrainations,' and ' she said she'd sooner a S. clehl have me to take care of her than Steve f.-Jpckson; for Steve was well to do ,in'the | J 1 World?set up for himself, with a horse and j I chrt and all complete, in the green grocery ' liie, a master man. He was a better figure > of a man to look at, too, for it's no use in* \ trying to make Itelieve as I was ever so hun. 3 * some as she thought me." J * iMrs. Peebles was next asked to speak, j Jpst then Sally beckoned Honor out of the \ 1 rdoin, and when 'she reentered, which she ( I did before Mrs. Peebles began to talk, there i ' was a look on her face telling that something . ? unusual had happened. She put her hand on * tue back of a chair, as if to steady herself, and lr . u\a%*o PaaKIao iT +Mntr HiprA i<a snm^hndv j lu re who can tell your sto^ you."^ ^ j j I, Civ SAD FACE6 LITTLE ANNIE. ? The little tailor rose, with his eyes shooting from his lieacl and hi.4 face as white as the dead. Mrs. Peebles gasped, but could not speak, for lo! following Honor into the room ?was a tall, goal lookHlg young man with frank blue eyes, brown ifeard and bronzed r face?their own Tom, the long hoped for, long absent son, who had returned on Christ mas night, exactly as absent sons frequently do in books, but very rarely in real life, He V. fell on his knees before Mrs. Peebles, sobbing T in her lap, while the little tailor was wildly r shaking bands with everybody. The happi11 est moment had come for all three of the , ' Peebles family. Their story had told itself. Grace Fairlie, the little schoolmistress, said: "I nm obliged to acknowledge that I -s owe the happiest moments I have ever expe? rienced to the receipt of a letter that came 11 to me one day when I was terribly in need ^ of the help it brought." Over the poor u lodger's face stole an expression of almost >t angelic joy, but only Aunt Margaret noticed 9 JL/ " .'/Then they all turned to little Annie?feeble, f prematurely old, sad faced little Annie?who hi sat gazing reflectively into the fire and then P said: "I 'member once father said he would 3 give me a worse hiding than ever when he 6 came home, 'cause I waited for him outside l* the public, and when ho come he fell asleep t and forgot to give it me. If that will do, miss?" Little Annie! Poor little Annie! How could she know that this story which she told ^ so simply in so few words was the most pay thetic that had ever been written? d Then it was Honor's turn to talk. She had >- just begun her story?& fairy story?when, glancing up, her face expressed astonishment z~ confusion and happiness, all in an instant.^ ie There, standing in the door, unannounced, t; was Sir Edward Dusart. Anyone who una deretood tho language of faces would know at 's once by a glance at Honor's that her happiest >t moment had come; that her story, too, had told itself, for only one thing could have brought Sir Edward Dusart to her from J1 Uncle Bryson's on that Christmas night. And ;e wasn't it curious that the scheming of the f1 Brysons to keep him from again meeting d Honor had brought about the very thing it . tbay had tried to provent? And .isn't it alls ways so? Behind Sir Edward came Mr. Red!r mond, who, after greeting everybody, said something to Aunt Margaret which seemed 10 to make her face radiant and caused her to r0 tell the story of her happiest moment with 10 her eyes only. She it was, not Honor, who a had been the cause of his visits there, and in > the fewest words possible on that Christmas )r night he made this plain to her; and later, *t when addressing a few words of good will and good wishes to all before the curious te company rose from the table, he said this was }r one of the happiest moments of his life, f" But just after he and Sir Edward had be"e come one of the company, Mr. Williams, the 't poor lodger, wo3 seen making his way toward the door holding his handkerchief up to bis y face. He was telling Sally to oxeuse him to c* her mistress, as a sudden attack of neuralgia ' obliged him to leave rather abruptly, when 11 ftii* UMwn**/l oniifrhf ciflrlif. rvf Viim nns? i" called out: "Elston! Is it? Why, Elston, old fellow, where on earth have you sprung ie from?" The poor lodger moved on toward the ie door, making no answer. Sir Edward sprang 11 after him, and with his arm around his neck, d school boy fashion, went with him into the hall. When they both returned Sir Edward introduced the poor lodger as the best friend ie he ever had, anil one of the best scholars of !r his own university. The little company was " gjeatly astonished to learn that ho wasn't C Mr. Williams at all, but Mr. Elston; but 11 they were stiil more astonished some weeks e later when they learned that he and Grace ie Fairlie were married?they became engaged d that very night, and were married as soon as 11 he was established as a lawyer. So his stoiy, rfthb, was not told, but told itself. The little tailor and his wife are as happy 11 asthey Could desire. Mm Parnell is better y offand with Lady Dusart for her B- friendt\nK>re "genteel" and exclusive than > ever. When any one refers to that niemorable Christmas night she says there is an advantage to lie derived from an occasional mixture of classes. James Brooks, the old soldier, is iil receipt of a pension, which finds its way to Bim, he imagines, from France, and is a freqpent visitor at the hall, where Sir Edward and Lady Dusart are always 5 glad to welcome him, and to the Rectory, a mile away, where Mr. Redmond and Aunt Margaret are hdst and hostess. There is a ! pretty cottage in the village, of which !S Johnnie's mother is the mistress. There old ? Nannie's last dayt were spent in comfort, y Johnnie became ft Sailor lad; but after some y years of seafaring, came home and "settled ^ rlnttwi" in flu vHlftma tt'ifli Im'c nmtltni* P/VM? UV"U Iiiuu WW A WW* I ^ little Annie. Not alt tbo love and careofJflM | kind friends could keep her long withj^^^J The tired little spirit linearly fron^H^HB fouiul ci v i li ie negroes," ods of Gen. Lord fix IpSttUatttous Reading. . THE GREATEST Of GREAT WALLS. Says a/correspondent of the Milling World, who has recently been traveling' in China: Of course we had to go to the ?reat wall of China. The country abounds in great walls. Her mural defenses were the mostextensive-r-walled country, wall- [ ^d cities, Walled villages, walled palaces I ??'1 l/Ntv?r\l/\n ???A 1 1 > n fkr.M* mn 1 1 am/4 llfnll 1 ttiiu iciujjjca?>vini aiFci wan uuu wan i within yvall. But the greatest of all is the great wall of China, which crests tne mountain range and crosses the gorge from here some forty miles away. Squeezing through the Iastdeep gorge and a,deep rift in the solid rock cut out by ages of rolling wheels and tramping feet, we reach the great, frowning, double-bastioned gate.of stone and hard burned brickone archway tumbled in. This was the object of our mission, the great wall of China, built 213 years before our era; built of huge slabs of well hewn stone, laid in regular courses some twenty feel high and then topped out with large hard burned bricks, filled in *>vith earth and closely paved on the tppfvith mor?:dark, tawny brick?the ramparts high a^d thick and castellated for the use of arms. Right and left the great wall sprang far up the mountain side?now straight, now curved, to meet the mountain ridge, turretted each 300 feet?a frowning mass of masonry. No need to tell you of this wall; the books will tell you how it was built to keep the warlike Tartars out?twenty-five feet high by forty thick, l,200miles long, with room on top for six horses to drive abreast. Nor need I tell you thai for 1,400 years it kept those hordes at'bay, nor that, in the main, the material used upon it is just as good and firm and strong as when put in place. Twelve hundred miles of this gigantic work built on the rugged, craggy mountain tops, vaulting over gorges, spanning wide streams, netting the river .archways with huge hard bars of copper, with double gates, with swinging doors set thick with iron armor?a wonder in the world* before which the old-time classic seven wondefs, all gone now save the great pyramid, were toys. The great pyramid has 85,000,000 cubic feet, the great wall 6,350,000,000 cubjc feet. An engineer in Seward's party here some years ago gave it as his opinion that the cost of this wall, figuring labor at the same rate, would more than equal that of all the 100,000 miles of railroad in the United States. The material it contains would build a wall six feet high and two feet think ritrht straight,urnnnri the o4nhe_ Yet this was done in only twenty years without a trace of debtor bond. It is the greatest individual labor the world has ever known. ? OUR GIRLS. The following from "Gilderoy" in the Wealeyan Christian Advocate is too good to pass by. He says: And wJiy not let our girls and women do much of the lighter work our boys are now doing? They can cfc> this work just -^s well, or better than any of the boys. It-w.on't hurt our girls, won't make them less sensitive, less modest, less religious, less prudent, less lady-like. It will make them healthW wealthier, wiser, stronger, more independent, more self-reliant, more economical?they will be better women, better wives and mothers and better members of society everyway. Girls of this kind will make good t?elpmeets, rather than helpeats, when they get married. Indeed they will take care of themselves and not marry at all unless the boys move up a 'car length or two.' I confess to yoti," Doctor, the outlook for worthy husbands is not very promising in some parts of this country, "if some of the young womed marry, at all, they will" have to marry 9 nothing?a nobody or next thing"to it. Some silly girls stick their hands (n a 'jughandle' and call it 'husband.' A nicm, pure woman can't be happy in the relation of wife to a lager beer keg?she cap't. A woman?a wife?ought to reverence her husband, and she will too. She will'reverence him next to God, if he is a clean, nice man worthy of it. It is against nature, against the nature of a good woman? to reverence an impure, worthless, besot ted sort or man. mat some gooa women are gentle and kind to dissipated, worthless husbands, grows out of the fact that they hope, down to the last day, that some change for the better will come over the men to whom they have tied themselves. They sit and long, and wait and pray for a change. Some of these prayers are answered while the wife liyes, more are answered after the wife dies, and some not answered at all, neither in this world nor in the world to come. God will answer prayer, but God can't force a moral agent. That our sons and husbands, for whom we pray are not saved is not because God is not willing, but because they are not willing. No power in heaven, earth or hell can force the will of a free agent?not even the power of God, nor the power of a good woman. This is one that is not controlled by power. This wife is willing and anxious for her husband to be saved, and God is willing and anxious to save him, but the husband-'will not have the man Christ Jesus to rule over him.' The trouble, the obstacle, is the man for whom Christ died and for whom the wife prays. ?>?>? PLAIN' TALK FOR YOUNG MEN. Remember, my young friend, that the world is older than you are by several years; that for thousands of years it .has been full of smarter and better young men than yourself; that when they died the old globe went whirling on and not one man in ten millions went to the funeral or even heard of'the death. Be smart as you can, of course/^l?D8W as much as ^ou can. Shed the light ofNyour wisdom mad in the world, but donfy try to dazthe people wifh It. And is so simple because it il? Don't bt he knows smarter tnTtC ^ H^H^young fit mBSSHflH^n; the; \aa K^HDB^^^B^H|^^^hione( y01 nHHHHkh.ff mat half a mile off shore, on a bar, and bein^^H rapidly broken to pieces by the heavy^HB seas. The boats were washed away, and^^n the crew could be plainly seen signalingHH for assistance. When the lifeboat wnH ready the inspector insisted upon goin^^H with the crew. He took his seat, anc^^H when the boat reached the wreck he wenflH down into the cabin to see if there wai^H nnv nnp hplmv. Tn t.ho hnrrvnnrl ^ * ?7 ? :the lifeboat left the~wreck with the crev^^B and it was not until they had landed tha^Bfl the absence of the inspector was discov^^B ered.< ."It so happened that the.lifeboat ha(^^B been injured and would require some tim^^B for repairs. It was winter, and they fear^^B ed the inspector would freeze or be drown^^H ed when the wreck broke up. Meanwhil^BB the man on the wreck came on deck anf^^B found the boat had left him. He wa^H trying to devise some means of get^^B ting to land when he heard a dog whinBH ing in th.e forward part of the wreck. AHB the risk of being washed away he wenHB forward and loosed those two dogs yo^^B see following him nqjv,.and as he was sig|^B naled by the station people to wait untiflH the boat returned he got the dogs back i^^B the cabin and laid down with.them, an<HB in that Way prevented being frozen death. It took two hours to fix the boafl^B and when he got ashore the captain of th^BB wrecked schooner made him a present c^^B the dogs, that have followed him eve^^H since."? Chicago News. . SjflM CURIOSITIES OF ICE. Some vpars acrn. ft npichhnr hrnnoht. tl^^H the writer's study a cake of ice which hBB! had cut from a water pail. Its tobwa^JB like all such pieces of ice, but it had ^Bb horn of ice growing from it, and turnin^^B it over, the under side showed that th^^B horn was hollow, and was filled with wco^B ter when the cake formed. It was broughHB as a "freak of nature," but a careful animation showed how the horn wsH formed. The pail of water stood-ia^^^fl chair near a stove, while the horn point?^^B directly towards a small hole in the wa^^B opposite. A current of air had swef^^B across the pail and so weakened the at that point, that in expanding it ha^HB burst at its weakest point. ^^B Ice is a crystal,or better, a great mass <^^B crystals. The little bits of Ice grow trfl H gether in one definite form, that of th^BI six pointed star. A complete crystal isHH beautiful star*. But most crystals are ver^^B incomplete, being,broken up, orej^ase>^^B eral frozen together into, a irfhgfe ipasBBfl The form of these crystals can be rejcdil^^B seen by looking at a pane of g'ra9$ on fl frosty morning, or by catdilng a/ewfeuflB flakes upon a lur collar. Now, snow crystals are not simply es of frozen water?they. are . mocn le^H| solid. They are formed When vapor co^^B denses in the upper regions of air, ucuu^^B as dew is formed upon the earth's surfac^^B and they are frozen directly from the por. Many reasons tend to show that the light, fleecy clouds, seen at grei^H| heights, consist of these snow masses stfl^H floating in the air. So if any cold obje^BB is placed before the vapor, a mass of snoflH forms upon it. A board before an gine's escape pipe on a cold day soon b^^B comes coated with snow or frost, and t^^B| layer grows as long as it continues colB^H The ice often forms long spikes, all poin^^H ing towards the escaping steam and gro^^H ing towards it. Such masses of ice fort^^B ed upon posts and stories on top of Mou^H| Washington, in New HamDshire. son^^B years since, four teet Jftjpg. A-stroiMM northwest wind was blowing at thetiaiB and the air was remarkably damp. Sccfl , after it commence# every otifee/hAoarfl coated with ice, and ou all the more prow inent points cmtinued to ^row for days.B The beautiful coatings of ice whiclrco^^B er trees ao<? bushes in the winter&reTorrBBJ etomearYv theaame way. They come wht^BB t ibe bushes an<l trees are cold, while tiHH .'Air is a little warmer and lull of moistur^^B Then the branches and twigs quick^^H coat, the frost often accumulating un^^fl the.tree carries a load ol tons. Thousan^^B of forest and ornamental trees were br^^H 'ken last spring in the Eastern States, t^BE such a load of ice. Though called an storm it differed from many other storc^^fl only in its greater severity and long|HB duration. 9H Perhpas the greatest curiosity in way of ice formation ever known was tl^H| loading of the telegraph wires in Siber^^fl a few winters ago. Such an ice storm o^H| curred there, and the wires were all coa^BB ed. Then a rain followed, and long icicl^^B were formed, hanging from the wirt^^B Soon the sun came out and melted t^^H ice on top of the wires so that the io^tnr^^B ed around the wires, making the icicH|^^H| point upwards like the teeth of a Then the ice again froze to the wires, biHB there it remained for several days, un^^H finally a strong wind shook the ice o^^B All these curious forms result from diffe^H| ent conditions of condensation.?/vi/?o?/.^^B Griffin, in Chicago Current. 9^B QUAKER SHOPKEEPERS. SB A cause which brought much suffer!t^EB on the quiet people must not be omitteti^^B their founder insisted on the strictest ho^^B esty in all commercial matters. In tflH earliest days if a Friend kept a shop^^B was avoided as if it were a charnel hou^^B and an artificer who professed thesan^^B creed might reckon on being witho^H| work for an indefinite period. Many tliucn iinhnnnv nonrtlo irmaf have ho^HH starved to death had it not been that iHfl most from its very foundation the sect h^^H been organised into what can only , described as a huge friendly society, up<^H , the funds of which any member could f^BR back in timeof need without feeling hii^^R This, however, did not always suffiiflH as numbers of the more bigoted Purih^^B , refused to sell thein food, and the Frier^^B had frequently to walk long distances j^^B fore they could get so much as a love or money. Pox rfe1ate^^M|^^B| j feund'th'at K nay was nay; that Jhey ?m?jiW word^B r dealings andPthat fna* %?uld iSD H-, cozen nor cnwt ttte^ HL' sent a chiMto thtir sham K they wea^Bwetftfeed aa if they lH^Bffl L Jhejn^^^Bien fMoata Altered ^HHB ^EHH|^HH^B\va.s where was a dB^^Hfl B|^^H^H^^rt<ii]orV shOemt^^^H that a had more B haB BsB