1878-12-13; Clare County Press

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">Ji*Tl*Tp*   ((jIHi M11 AfilRilrtlTiT^
BY PAUL HATNE.
TL*e children t ch the cfiildreirH, .•
Your innocent, joyous*- ones;   J.
Your daughters, with souls of sunshine;
Xosi*.fciioyimt and laughing soia^.
jiook long in theii* happy faces,
Drinfc love from their sparlcling: eyes,   .
JTor tlie wonderful charm of childhood,
7How soon it withers and dies 1 --    ;
A few fast-vanishing summers,
A season or twain of frost,
And you suddenly aslr, bewildered,
."JWhati? it my heart hath loBtS'*'   „    '    • ■
Bereh ance *giu see "by the hearth-stone
Some 3"uno, stately and proud,
Or a Hebe, whose softly ambushed eyes
Mash out from the golden cloud
Of lavish and beautiful tresses
That^wantoisiy floating, stray
O'er ihe white of a throat and bosom
SCore fair than blossoms in May.
And perchance you mark their brothers—
Young heroes who spurn the sod-
With the fervor of antique knighthood,
.And the air of a Grecian god.
But.where, sht where are the children, *
Tour household dairies of yore ?
Alack *!> they are dead, and their grace has fled
Forever and evermore I
—Harper's Magazine for MebemHer.
»:■?
»r.   .       ^i&^>>^     "      _»-*-J
•M CBEEI§TMAS ""BTE&HV
-if
The air was gtill o'er Bethlehem's, plain;*
As if the great night held its breath,
■When life eternal came to reign
©VC3E ■■& Tyarh*"* of 'deatlu ,
All nature felt a thrill divine.
"When burst that meteor on the night,
"Which, pointing to the Savior's shrine,
,. *ErQ(*laimed the new-born light,
light to the shepherds! and- the star
Gilded their silent midnight fold;
light to- the wise men from: afar,
Bearing their gifts of gold.
light to" a realm of sin and grief;
Light to a world in all its needs;
The light of life—a new belief ,
Bising o'er fallen creeds.
light on a tangledpath of,,thorns.
Thoug*h.lea'ding.to g*mai?tyrs throne;
A light to guide till Christ returns
In glory to His own..
There still'it shines, while far abroad
Th,e Christmas^choi** sings nowy and then,
*** Glory, glory unto our God!
Peace and good-will to men I','-
—T. SzickattanMdd.
Subscriptions 81.50 per Annum,      CLABE, MICHIGAN, FRIDAY, DECEMBER 13,1878. Single Oopiess Five Cents.
MCffilFg WIFE |
Oiy a " Good "Fellow's" Cliristaias Gift.
"When we hear a man mentioned as a
ion v-ivant, .we at once suppose lie is a
person of ttolimited wealth and unbounded leisure. We imagine Hm to
be a refined epicure, who quite properly
and elegantly prefers champagne instead of lager, and a delicate dinner of
turtle soup, broiled bird, and pate de
toi gras, instead of a banquet of roast
beef and the coarse accompanying side
dishes thereof. *
But t'jieyl^ae'iicanizGd "good fellow"
is quite "a different sort of a being, and
the appellation *is not an enviable one,
inasmuch as the "good fellow" is often a
"1happy-go-luc'ky,5j ''deYH-may-care,'- human conglomeration of impudence, and
ignorance, and indolence, gilded with
conviviality and a specious gayety of
speech that passes for wit among his
boon companions.
EicMeliee? had been a "good fellow"
from his birth, in school and college,
and social-and business life afterward.
He was thoroughly honest, and he was
neither a drunkard nor a spendthrift—
and he attained a salary of two thousand a year—still he was always in debt >
and always harassed with duns.
Eichie Lee was 31 wheil his**-father
died, devising him a fine building and
the control of the prosperous grocery
trade that was established in the-jyather
pretentious basement, store. *    .   '.
"I 'never saw a more convenient
house," he said to his wife, as they were
chvuh to *raove to the £ew'habitation.
Mtehen, scullery and closets will be" on
the second floor, with a family entrance
on the cross street. The store will
seem entirely separate, and we can
make a fine profit by letting the third
floor and attics. And then you and
the h"GyS**wiiI have, a charming space of
backyard full of flowers.
This fair, gentle-eyed wife smiled an
amiable acquiescence to all his 'plans,
and his two rosy. boys. were jubilantly
noisy in their delight.
Two'months passed.
It was then that Eichie Lee discovered th^t-his .-stock was not quite ade?
quateto-^ke^demands of his custoirierS,
and that his private expenses exceeded-,
his profits! " *
He never once imagined that his inattention to business had brought about
this dubious state of affairs.
"I wish I could raise $500 to buy a
sfoek of holiday goods," he said- to his
wife on1©- rii£*ht. "± could make a-d'<mble'
profit, and clear myself of some of these
harassing debtors." "
"It would be better to save than "borrow, Eichie," replied his pretty spouse.
"How, pet? " he laughed, as if she had
uttered an amusing jest instead of a
bit ofr5Psdom.
"You will be angry if I telTyou."
gusted   with  myself" and   the  whole
thing."
" Your old employer will give you a
position as salesman at $12 a week, you
say. Take it Eichie, until you are sure
of something better."
: "I t&mld sooner beg!" he answered,
angrily...
His wife flushed, and said ho more.
" To-morrow is rent-day," he went On,
after a short>tpause;. "an,d I'd "like to
know where I will get the "money."
'"Perhaps you cah borrow it,"
answered Susie,* suspiciously. demure.
- He looked at her a moment and then
laughed bitterly.
"I am another Timon, just as you
predicted," he said.   "By the way, don't
you think you could dispense with your
.. diamond* .set: for a while?   We might
pawn thorn*, you know." *
«" "I would'never pawn anything," an*-,
swered Susie, impatiently, not air- all
pleased with the manner in which her
".good fellow" was dealing with his
troubles;**"and-:have already sold the
diamonds." v »
"The deuce you have!" muttered her
lord.
"The boys  needed overcoats;   and,
Eichie, -have yoTi never wondered where
the rent and food came # from these two -
months* back •? *
"I have had something else to think
of," was the ungracious response.
sure. Had she1 not thought about it in
weary, wakeful hours while he lay
sleeping?
" If I should suggest something not
agreeable to your desires, would you do
as I wished you—f or love of our boys
and me, Bichard ? "
" I will, Susie," he answered, earnestly.   ""What is it I shall do?"
"First, then, go at once to your old
employer and accept his offer. Steady
work will make its way, dear, always.
And then, Eichie (you won't be hurt,
dear)" deny yourself a luxury until you
can enjoy it without debt. I will help
you, my husband, heart, hand and
soul."
For a moment he sat silent. Then
he took her in his arms and kissed her
with passionate fondness .on lip, brow
and cheek, and then, without a word,
left the house.
He kept his promise faithfully, and,
as months went on, began to wonder if
toil were .Hot sweeter than idleness>
after all.
"How much have we to spend for a
Christmas dinner, pussy?" he asked
Susie on Christmas eve.,
"Plenty, and quite enough beside for
gifts for the boys and their father, too,"
returne4_SuSieJ with an .odd little smile.
"My-ctear, wife,-' The sgit^as he s#
SABBATH EIllBK&o
friends who have
can,
five
'Hot I, Susie. Tell me, if you
how I can save that amount in
weeks."
"Well "began ihe little woman, nerv-.
ouslyj ^'give up your wine parties, "billiards, the theater, smoke fiye cigars less
a day, discharge the man in the store,
who, I am sure, is not honest, and sell
your goods yourself. I will dispense
with :my, servant and do my own work,
beside helping you when you require
assistance." . .        .    -
"What a, wise little girl she" is," he returned, playfully. "I will think of your
advice, Susie."
But it was long after before he
thought of it seriously.
In the meantime: he had borrowed
the $500 and several more hundreds,
beside, bought largely on credit, and
lived just as extravagantly as before.
As an inevitable' .consequence, before
the end of three years, a crowd of clamorous creditors pounced upon his comfortable property, and everything was
sold to satisfy their just demands.
"Nevermind, Susie," this unfortunate
"good fellow" said to his wife; "lean
go back to my old employment, and
$2,000 a year will give us a reasonably
fair living." " '"•>
"It will be difficult, I fear, for you to
get such a situation and salary these
times," answered the more wise and reflective Susie.
"Oh, well, I have a jolly good lot of
riend&, and they will let me have something now and then until I get a position." *
"You will find, Eichie, that these jolly good friends, who helped you spend
your money, will treat you as Timon, of
Athens, was treated."
Bich&rd ~h.ee did not .answer. He
began to fear the future, and to wish
tbat in his prosperous days he had
heeded the counsel of this little woman.
Two -months went by.
"He came in one evening more Weary
jmd. harassed than;he had ever been in
his life befosB.
"TMs isdeucedly rough, Susie," he
exclaimed, hotly. (It is astonishing
how easily these "good fellows" lose
their courage? patience and temper.)
"I have advertised and answered ad-
-yertisemenis until I aril tired of it. -" I
lisve made personal applications at
"fenadreds of stores, until
Susie*-watched Trim with deep anxiety
in her pretty blue eyes. 7
Poor Susie! She had" a secret ih her
heart that it was very hard to withhold
from the husband, whom she devotedly
loved in spite of his grievous faults,
: Hichie had never suspected that this
wise little woman had a handsome sum
laid away,..thai":-he a*p.d. his- bright boys
might not -know** actual privation: He
never guessed that she had a large class
.of pupils in music, nor that the exquisite
embroidery, wrought night Rafter night-
by _ her _tireless_. .fingers,. Vas* work for
which she was handsomely paid.
" "Eichie will never be prudent until
he has had a hard lesson," she rightly
thought; "and-he had better-have that,
bitter "-lesson mnd- than1 after he had
spent all the money, which he would be
sure to do if he knew about it—the poor,
dear, good fellow."     " ' ■■*   " ;
One sleety, biting night, Eichie came
home late, shivering with cold, and with
an odd; abashed look on his handsome
face.
/'Why, my dear, where is your overcoat?" inquired Susie.
"Welly loye> you won't -be hard on
me if I tell you," he answered, coaxing-
ly—caressing her pretty brown head.
"You see,. I. met. an old--friend,, and I
had to be civil io hiia.   Of  coursfe I
.l-"^T*.I'*ll ^Otl- Vjdl~=. <hi*~-n "^0"^"LO-^**v--Ga3S2™3^!?i3b34S2^-.
state of circumstances, so I got a little
money on, My'^'at,'* and took him 4o a
cozy little dinner."
"Private rootn in hotel—oysters, turtle soup, ,and. .champagne,"- observed
Susie, in 'dismay. * "How much did it
eost.you?" .
"■Never mind the cost, pussy. It
will be all righib when I get something
to do."
Susie felt her angry tears coming
fast, but she kept them back, and said
■"nothing.
"The foolish fellow must suffer or he
will never be sensible," she thought;
"pooivpdor,- * good * Eichie."
Half a year went by, and still no employment of his own choosing could
Bichard- Lee find. t
• " I cannot live in this way any longer, Susie," he declared one day to his
patient wife.., "Xiook at these rooms !:—
only fit for a pauper."
"I think they are very nice," replied
the cheerful little woman, glancing at
the bright carpet, the exquisite and
spirited chromos on thejpretty, tinted
walls, and the large stand of blooming
flowers at the window. Susie did not
know* that her * own brave and comely
face would have_made even a darksome
cell a place of* brightness.
" And our food is simply execrable,"
went on^ the .dissatisfied man, remembering ifceSh^iriojiS. table to which the
had always been accustomed.
"" We have a wholesome plenty," re-
. turned Susie, losing, for an instant, her
divine sweetness qf temper.
Instantly the " good fellow " became
amiable, for, during this trying time, he
had begun to comprehend that this
gentle creature had a stronger will and
better brain than his own, and that it
might be good for Tiiirt to bend sometimes to her wishes.
"There, pussy,"' le -Jaidj lovingly, "I
did not mean to anger you, but this
trouble is mighty rough, you know."
"Bichard, dp you love me?" asked
Susie,a"bruptly^ ,* 7
He opened his big, handsome eyes and
gazed at her in amazement.
"Love you*, Susie? I would die for
you, my darling—gladly, willingly, if by
that you and our boys might be happy.
Susie, when -I married you I had but
one purpose for the future. I meant,
my love, that you should have every
ease and pleasure of lif e. I meant that
all women should envy you for your
home and your husband, for your jewels
and fine^ggrments, your carriages and
horses.^Btir I hate failed in. everythihg
—miserably failed." ,_ _       ... . , ..
He bowed his; head upbn iSusie's
knees, and she could feel the passionate
quivering of his frame and his hot tears
on her hands,,,.       ,*.     <   .
AfteraThoment he raised his head
and continued • ,.
" You may»"blamemeformuch^ Susie;
but, beUeve me, my greatest grief is for
you and the boys. What you think my
fatal fondness for the luxuries and refinements of life was* taught me by my
father, whom I believed to be exceedingly wealthy, although he required me
to supjiorfi. an^self when my college days
were over. I knew nothing of a grocer's business—why should I not- have
failed ? I*6tfgh%: "to have been satisfied
with the rent of the place, and retained
myposition and salary.".   • .    ,.-
" Yes! " assented Sttlie.
" Susie, I believe, if you would think
about  it,    you   could    suggest  some
means by which we might get out of
this trouble"* i   ■ ■■■>
Think about it! What a blind,
stupidj "good fellow" he was, to be
down fo - that Ohri$tiijas. Sinner, " never*
aUow a*p^hoi$y toCaJIme a 'good fellow*
again.^,.*3?he*'term is synonymous with
a sort of lif<"S*! should ftever c#re to live1
again. Even should I havo as large a
fortune* as I onee expected to receive
from my father, I should bo just what
you have taught me to be, Susie—a
busy, saving, prudent man."
"Ahd-here is a slight acknowledgment of my appreciation of your efforts," said Susie.
And, standing there behind with her
about his neck, Susie laid the gift before Trim—a check for m.ore than the
amount "of $4,000, payable to his own
'astonished self.
"You never received all this for those
diamonds, Susie ? "
• "No, nor the fourth part of it. Those
are my savings of a few'years."
"Then why did you dispose of your
ornaments, dear?"
"They were too grand and fine for a
music teacher and <■ needle woman,
Eichie."
He understood then what those daily
absences, and long night hours of ceaseless needle work had meant, and he was
glad of heart that he had made himself
more worthy of the brave and devoted
wife.
"And here is a present from your employer, dear." ', -
>; Itwa& a brief note.   ' ..-*" ' •"     'V -,
deredaweekof rest/and for his commendable services and conduct will be
with the beginning of the new year
given his old position and old salary."
"I don't deserve so many blessings,"
murmured the man brokenly, agitated
to tears.
He arose and clasped Susie in his
arms. . •
"My wife is the gift whom God gave
me, and the most precious possession"!
have."    ■'.    *
^Ehat Christmas day was but the first
of a life-long season of happiness and
prosperity. A year later he learned
tfiat his father did possess a large fortune, and that* knowing Eichie's proclivities for a spendthrift life, had withheld it from him by will until he should
learn by bitter experience the lesson
that Susie so lovingly and effectively
taught him. Bichard Lee's unexpected
wealth was not detrimental to his moral
welfare. He had reaped the whirlwind
once, and had no intention .of sowing
the wind again.. And Susie is happy,
as most such incomparable wives always
are sooner or later.
^ Our DLq**-
They never quite leave us.
passed
Through the shadows of doth to the sunlight
above;     .    .   - ,.   ■*   -   , - - >,. ,/t> .^
A thousand sweet memories ai"" Iioldipg the^J&ej*;
To the places they blessed with their presence
and love.
**-'*-._
The work which they left and Uie boots which they
read
Speak mutely, though still with an eloquence
rare, *      ■*"
And the songs that they sung, cid' fle-fy words that
they said, ' '
Still linger and sigh on the desolate air.
*~.
And oft when alone, and as oft In the throng.
Or when evil allures us, or Bin draweth nigh,
A whisper comes gently, *' Nay. 7g not the wrong,"
And we feel that our weattK*. -'is pitied on high.
In the dew-threaded niorn and iL.e opaline eve,   .
When ^the children are merrj' "*"?■ crimsoned-'with
sleep,
We are comforted, even as lone :y we grieve.
"For the thought of their i'l.^ture forbids us to
weep.
We toil at our taslf in,;ilie bui'df,.
Of life's passioriate noon.   '_
peace.
It is well.   We rejoice th at the!,*
And one day for us all the bi".
We, too, will go home o'erfl'c
As the strong and'tlio lovely^
Our sun will go down in the or
To rise in the glory that circ!
Until then we arc bound by {k.
To the saints who are walld:.
Thoy*}iavepass,ed.,beyqiid ijig!*"
. death,      **
\ But they live like oiu'selves,;".
—■Margaret E. Sangster, in ihe .
in
euUieat    -i
';&y are folded
leaven is sweet,
r will cease.
"iT-of rest*..,.   0/?
iose us have%o66.
*.":iful west,
ihe throne.
Jove and our faith
-.j Paradise fair;
■"; tlietoucliingfof'
'tod's infinite care.
'.hoSist.
' i Mr. "M. took the box of coins and
showed it to a rich lumber-merchant,
who never cared anything about religion. The merchant at once offered
to give lumber for building the church.
Other people who saw the box and heard
its touching history gave money; and
very soon the pretty mission-church will
be finished. The poor Christian child's
lamp will grow into a.large light-house
to guide many souls to heaven.
No person can tell how much good
may come from loving, yet apparently
insignificant, acts. The lamp *tney light,
even if it is small, may grow into alight-
house, and shine long after they are
dead.—Bev. Theodore L. Cuyler.
S
IKE1[EIB0"0S" "ERAeEBYo
The
1-eft In-God's XI-
At the point where o*"*.
-effort stop exhausted
love becomes glorifiec"
Of all the praying souls-
racey there* fee a crdwne.
tient waiting on God to&'*
of prophetic trust. To \
longs the devoted mother
One such mother, Iiv
'"•"tUg.. (- _      ^  .
iaary faith "and
id in despair,
ahd hopes on.
"■>£ the human
sew whose pai-^
.os the sublime
*.it number be-
: W-
*o<_.
-ze away from
had a son who early bf
the restraints of home t.;*d began a career of dissipation.   Ifr: ii tliis single
exception the woman wa blessed in hep
children.* Her "tfhole   <.5art,"h6weferj
went out after the prodir\>1.
"For years she prayed7*.*r him, nursed
him tenderly when he vrs sick- and dis**;
abled by his excesses' un'\ Relieved "that*'
her love would win hiii„ at last, but he
remained incorrigible.
„ All tl16 sad hours, the v/akeful nights,,
she spent in weeping ami Wrestling 3nt
secret for that ingrate so:? .she never told;
but, when her heart was."nigh to breaking, a change came. "I7;en followed a
sense of- the, infinite gr-' itness and lov?
ing kindness, of Him 7ith whom all
things are possible that iJled her with a
strange peace. She eo. Icl not reform
her erring child, but Co" sorJd. , *, - .
One -day another- ac 5 elorgyman
from the West, camo J*r to vidfe her,
and, after c ivyirr'      .;" _' 16co fconce
Bnnset Cox's Humble Admirer.
Gov. Tom Browne, of Indiana, tells
a good story on Sam Cox; or, rather,
repeats it from, the genial Samuel, who
tells it on*himself v   •    »■" ',- 7:" \'if-t-
One day, shortly after election, Mr.
Cox was seated in his study hard at
work, when a card was brought in.. It
was rather a rough-looking piece of
pasteboard, betokening that the caller
was not exactly of the cultured classes.
" Show -the gentleman in," said • Mr.
Op's.', vwhereupon there appeared a
rough-looking customer, clad in the
garb of a workihgman, who, without
waiting for cere^on^^Een^aJlfdi^inter-
•arogatively:    *"''.' " ~~, '.    . .  ,
i  "Yoto name is Cox?»' *   '
"I have the hondi;v *   *"   *
"S. S. Cox? "
. "The same."
- is ?"Sometimes called Sunset Cox ? "
"That is a soubriquet by which I am
knowii    among   my    more    familiar
friends."
iniBoftpmtjjipd'Jo'11 formerly resided in Columbus,
"That happiness was once mine."
"Eepresented  that district in Congress?"
"I enjoyed that distinguished honor,
and, I -may add, at a. somewhat early
age." '
. ''After awhile, they gerrymandered
that district so as to make it a. bad district for an aspiring Democrat ? "
" You have evidently read the political history of the country to some purpose, my friend."
"Then you moved to "New York,
where there was a Better show for "a
Democrat?" „ .,. „7
-'Well, my friend, your premise is
correct. I did move to New York. But
your conclusion is hardly admissible in
the form of a necessary sequence. My
reasons for moving to New York were
not wholly political." *
"We won't discuss that.   After -un-
\-y
wH»*
*   "PuncWs Advice to Travelers.
. On entering a railway carriage kick
any parcels you may find in your way,
and, if possible, seat yourself upon a
bonnet-box.
"If ladies are present insist upon lighting a short pipe, and close or open the
windows at your own sweet will, and
with regard to no one's comfort but
your own1-
On board the steamboat make yourself a nuisance to your fellow-travelers
by indulging in silly practical jokes and
smoking bad tobacco.
- (*>n arriving at:a hotel force your way
out. of the omnibus before any one else,
and. -in your selection of a room be as
unobliging to your fellow-travelers as
possible.
Lounge about the hall smoking your
favorite pipe, and stare at every lady
who enters or leaves the place. If you
find a lady away from her father, husband or brother, grin at her.
* Bully the waiters at the table d'hote,
and if you find a kindred spirit indulge
freely in a conversation of a strongly-
seasoned character.
On your return to the hotel late at
Bight shout at the top of your voice to
your companions, to the great disturbance of those who have retired to rest
before you.
]If -you are fond of fun, alter all the
bolts at the doorg and change the numbers and hours of the "waking-up slate."
If you have to catch an early train in
the morning, be careful to arouse, by
your noisy conduct, all the other inmates
pf the hotel.
Touch everything in the museums
and picture galleries, and declare in
' broken French, bad German or imitation Italian (according to the country)
that the South Kensington treasures
beat all the foreign collections hollow.
In fact, behave like a selfish, underbred, ill-conditioned cad for a month or
sixifeeks, and then return to England
to lose /Our "individuahty in some small
city office, or,post of a menial character,
uhtilthe time arrives for your annual
outing next year. .     .
By the death of Cardinal Cullen, the
number of members of the Sacred College has been reduced to fifty-eight, viz.,
six Cardinal Bishops, forty-three Cardinal Priests, and nine Cardinal Deacons.
The last language spoken on e"artb
will probably be the Finnish,
to her, ""ly.6icusJ:x.;--*.o*./
you, endure this ?"
"I have enduredit iff great while,"
she said, calmly. "The" trouble lay on
my heart till I found mkt it w?i*3,worrying m6 to death. Then I said, ' Oh
Lord, my Lord, I cannot bear it any
longer! Take care of my son, reform
him, bless him, save him!" and I rested
the case there. Tdo not worry- any
more. I have left him in, the hands of
God." ' f
The next day this eld'eir son, finding
his dissipated brother at a. sober mp-'
ment, said to him, "John,your position
is a critical one now—fearfully so.
There'll soon be a change for better or
worse."
"What's the matter?" Anything
new?"
"Mother has left you in God's hands,
she says. She doesn't pray for you any
more" *s
The young man went away uneasy and
thoughtful. "For the first time he felt
himself alone with tlie Almighty, and
his conscience was stirred^ ^licl^not
contend with God," he said. " I will
drink no more."
He reformed, became a lawyer, and
went to live in the city of St. Louis.
There, at a complimentary banquet,
he offended his new friends by refusing
champagne. He told them the story of
his mother, all the history of his former
degradation and rescue^ arid then said,
" Shall I drink? " and with one voice
they all cried, "No!"
An eloquent preacher narrated the
above in a recent sermon on the
words, ""Fret not .thyself." "The:<calm,
victorious, surrendering trust of that
praying mother was on^-of his strongest
illustrations. r: 7.7
Did the lesson in that beautiful
psalm-text ever pass a severer proof?—
Youth's Companion, . - y**"'.'
^SS^^li^lSt^Si  ^presented him with onlythecfeybe-
tUIOiaearo^iil
Tlie lamp and tho light-House.
A Scotch 'fisherman, while out one
night in his smack, was overtaken by a
terrible storm. He could not tell where
he was, or how to find his wayto the
landing-place. At length, his son caught
sight of a small light ghmmeririg
through the wild darkness: He* set sail
toward the light, and soon found himself right before his own cottage, which
stood on a cliff above the sea.
AVhen he got home, he found that his
little boy had set the lamp in an upper
window, by whose light both father and
brother had been saved from shipwreck.
Every stormy night afterward that
same lamp was set in the window to
guide other fishermen who might be
caught out in the thiols darkness." By-'
andrby it was determined to build, a
light-house on the cliff. But the big
blazing brimer grew out of the little
boy's lamp.
A. poor child in Philadelphia, the
daughter of « very poor widow, died a
year or two ago. During her long sickness, her heart was full of peace and
Just before she* died, she put into the
hands of her minister, Eev. Mr. M., a
small paper box that had contained
some 0f;"her,"iriedicirie..■.Jin■ .th^ybox,
were fifty c-cent pieces, which she had
been saving up for a long time, and she
had earned each piece by hard work.
She said to her minister:
"After I am dead, I want you to take
this money and build with it a church;,
for the poor people in the neighborhood."
The minister gotttcl not keep iMeTft Ms
tears as the box was given to him; and
I could not, eithey, when I "saw it last
Bummer,
to move into his district? " -
"I moved into the district formerly
represented by Hon. James Brooks, but
again I must dissent from your conclusions."
"Let that pass. You were elected to
Congress from "Mr. Brooks'former district?"
"I was. But let me remark, my
friend, that my time just at this moment
is very much occupied. Your resume
of my biography, faulty as some of your
deductions are in point of logic, is
deeply interesting to me, and, at a time
of greater freedom from pressing engagements, I would be glad to canvass
»the subject with you at length. But,
just now, being unusually busy even for
me, I must request you to state the precise object of your visit, and, let me
add, that I shall be glad to serve you."
"I have no favor to ask. I am an admirer of yours. I always vote for you,
and always desire to do so. I called
this morning merely to inquire if you
had selected your next district!"—
Washington Post.
What tlie Birds Accomplish.
• The swallow, swift and night-hawk
are the guardians of the atmosphere.
They check the increase of the insects
which otherwise. would overload it.
Woodpeckers, creepers and chickadees
are thl' giiardians of the trunks of
trees. Warblers and fly-catchers protect
the foliage. Black-birds, crows, thrushes
and larks protect the surface of the soil.
Snipe and. woodcock protect the soil
under the surface. Each tribe has its
respective duties to perform in the
economy of nature; and it is an undoubted fact that, if the birds were all
swept off the face of the earth* man could
not live upon it; vegetation would
iwither and die; insects would become
so numerous that no living thing could
withstand their attacks. The wholesale
des"tiuction"*occasioned by grasshoppers,
which have lately devastated the West
of the United States, is caused by the
thinning out of the birds, such as
grouse, prairie-hens, etc., which feed
upon them. The great and inestimable
seirvice done to the farmer, gardener
and florist by the birds is only becoming known by sad experience. Spare
the birds anci save your fruit; the little
corn and fruit taken by them is more
than compensated by the quantities of
noxious insects" they destroy. The
long-persecuted crow has been found,
by actual experiment, to do far more
good by. the vast quantities of grubs
and insects he devours, than the little
harm he does in the few grains of corn
he pulls up. He is one of the farmers'
best friends.
^gh&n Campaign of 1848—How the
Englisli Arrny "Was *Destxoj*ecI.
"'"' ■ [Froni 'the Cincinnati^ominercfal.]
B'OtK the English afcd Af ghans have
good' 'reasons for: remeMbering each
other;. In 1837 the conduct**of Eussia
in connection with the Persian, siege. of
Herai; excited an uneasy feeling in the
minds of the Indian English Govern-^
ment, and BurneB was sent by the -Governor General as resident to the Anieer'S
•.Court $t Cabul. "Post Mohammed and
the English disagreed upon terms, aijd
the English determined to attempt to
re-establish Shah Shuja," who had long
been a refugee in British territory.
TheKingof the Punjaubpledgedhis cooperation, but afterward refused the
English permission to 'cross" liis * 'territory.       ... i -'■■ _i; *    . - .**..
The Army Of the* Indus numbered
21,000, •, They, assei&bled » at' • ■ Upper
Sind in-March, 1838, arid advanced? under the" command of Sir John Keane.
They* niet wiih little opposition, but
suffered great hatdslfips. The E&hri of
Kandaharfled* to* Persia, arid in April,
,1839j ;the city *$?as, occupied, and - Shah
•Shuja and.his English illies.-continued
their victoiious inarch,^ and-finally,I Dost
Mohammed1 a*ttd'his attny being com-^
pletely vanquished,** they^eritere'd' the^'
capital.* -The w&r was thought' to* he .at
ah end. . (Sir-John "Keane, who swaf made
a peer,^returned..tp.India with; a, large
part of his foifce, leaving behind,, besides^ the Shah's force, 8/000" lheh*. ! Sir
W. Macnaughteri-: remained as envoy,
andSir A- Burnes as hjs colleague.;*   ' -
Dost Mohammed ..sixrrenderedin November,* 1840, and. ^was sent" to," India.
Shah Shiija and hfe allied re^aitiedpbs-
sessiori 1 of-1 Oabttl- «*an'd ^Kandahar two
years;. - Mearitime, -in^iu'rections against
the ngw (^pvepuaentwere frgquefti*--. but.
the "authorities, "confident ,"'of t theii*
strength", paid*little Or no heed* to these,
wamffigs'"s Novi % 184i; a violent revolt
broke!tint' at; Babul*.and Burnes and
other; officers .were paasgacpred. :.■. The
commander .of the»British army, Gen.-
Elphihstorie," .was'. shattered, in health,
and*in: poor • Condition to direct resistance to such a host of inaddened men.
Besides, the position of the British
camp, its conij.ection with the,-citadel,
and the location of the stores, were the
worst possible, Disaster followed disaster. "'" "*•**'      ■■■■-■■■    ' * *   3 •
After- the capture of Dost Mohammed-.his son, AkbartKhan, took: the-lead.
With him .a, conference was * arranged
for the 23d" of-December, at which the
envoy,"rMacnalighten, was foully mur:"
dered by Akbar's own hand, and-with a
ball from'a -pistol Twhieh Machaughten
"*    *     - *"• XQAS'SBG'i'VXK'C
■   -       -   T—"	
. BZ 3. P. 6HIL1-.A3B2B, )
Many and bright are the scenes thefc are plGnrctl|
Many the liearts that with gladness es-pcBsI,
Many the hopes "with fruition tit hand,
And the voice of the turirey is jheard in the Itmil;
*For Thanksgiving day
Is welcomed .alway-
'k heart-warming, glprirDus^gep&l-'jer-SQ*'', -•* ■
When'the*feeHngflrrep*:essea  .. -  r
By traffic's behesf,
-? On one day atleast, for dominion contest,
And stave, as of old, to be specially blest,
While care is "a species of-treason.
The city sbuts. np its shop for tlie dsy,
The oldest and youngest play or pray;
The churches are open in the ancient way",
iTTor preachers to utter whatever they may,
TVith few ta listen to what they say,.
" While all the chaises and carriages
"Are dashing around with their merry loads
Of babies dressed in their prettiest niodesj
To dump at the doors of liindred abodes— _
Or filled with those of still happier nodes   *
Who rust to try that best of codes
Which binds ns up in marriages.
The horse in the stall, the dog at the door?
Are loved and caressed and Irissed onee moraj
And smiles a*e joyously beaming. '   -
And the pullets, destined for them to die,
£ool*:ign_the scene with ajcheerful eye,
: In^sympadietic"seeinirig.
The land is vocal -with psalm snd'prayer,** » ■   *■*
4nd joy's glad note sounds everywhere,
.   .       A festival oblation,. .
And.Savory streamsliRe clouds1 arise,"    ,   .    ". *
To ^cMe. the.palate[and jrfad the eyes ^ _ .   *
Qf lovers of virtue andpuinpidnpies,"
Where grave and gayv and dull-and wise,
Pay tribute £0 gustation.
J
,J?ITH MD "POMTo
business—"The.   hz
copy   of , female
Something to Tbe TlmiiMul Eor.
People who think they ha*ve nothing
tQ he thankful to Providence for ought
to consider how a pig gallops, and be
duly grateful that they do not have to
driyO pigs instead of horses. Every
time a pig gallops, he goes nearly heels
over head, and, if any one were sitting
On his back, they would find great difficulty in holding on. Now horses might
have been shaped like pigs,ftgnd then
hdw unpleasant it would have been to
ride. Persons who don't have many
opportunities of riding may hot look at
this view of the subject *with much personal interest, but, as tMngs are now,
they can imagine that there is some satisfaction init. ^Pheyhave, atleast, the
pleasure of invagination. This is about
as much as some have to he grateful for
on Thaaksgiving day.
flLo'^H^^'^ftked gnd mutilated body of
bazar, and fef^dOTiT'expoSfca^u-^a^^ro >-
of the rabble. As the same time Mac-
naughten was killed, the chiefs with
Akbay made an attack upon the staff of
the envoy and nearly all pi them were
cut down. The scuffle w&s seen from
the English camp, and when those who
escaped repOited the murder Elphin-
stone was solicited to attack at once and
destroy the city. He only secured a
small quantity of grain, and this after
hard fighting.   *
In -a short time, however,*Elphinstone,
whose force had been much reduced by
the departure of several regiments to
secure communication with theKhyber,
saw that something must be done. Snow
had begun to fall and food, was scarce.
Fires" and fighting occurred every night
and during the day. Instead.of fighting
like a soldier, he opened negotiations
with Akbar. The terms finally agreed
upon were most disgraceful. Only the
ill-health of Elphiristbne can account for
sueh* evident imbecility. The army,
after handing over "its treasure, was to
be permitted to retreat unmolested on
condition of never returning, and of
forwarding a certain sum of money from
India. That army was never given an'
opportunity to return. *For7 the -fulfill-*
ment of the terms, the women, and children were handed over to Akbar. The
retreat began. Bx>w many there were
is not known. Probably between 50,000
and 75,000, most of *.them camp followers. They had hardly left, the* cainp
when fires, shots and cries of anguish
showed how the promises of the Afghans
were to be kept. Erom every rock and
bush bullets were fired into the retreating hosts, and the panic-stricken followers continually impeded, their progress.'
A rush was made for the Khyber pass,
which they imagined, a harbor of safety.
When they arrived'they found it occupied by numbers too great to overcome.
To the thousands of bloodthirsty Afghans who followed* them were added
thousands equally savage. Still an advance was ordered, until only one gallant regiment *Was left. Of this one but
350 had gone that far, and there, the
next spring, when the avenging army
passed over the ground, were found
their whitened skeletons, lying close to-*
gether. Only one mounted officer escaped, and even this is thought to have
been purposely permitted, that ho doubt
of Akbar's vengeance might be_ entertained.
When Akbar heard of the approach
of the avenging armies he started oft
with the hostage women and children,
Lady Macnaughten among them. They
were rescued from an awful fate
by the rapid advance of the English
cavalry.
The English have not forgotten these
things, and will take pleasure no doubt
in further vengeance, .
flie Wicked little Boy.
A little girl, whose parents lived on
Beacon street, gave a children's party
one day last week, and, as no pains
were spared to make the "party " portion of the entertainment go off with,
eclat, the; choicest ; confectionery was
prettily arranged at the plate of each
little guest, besides a liberal allowance
of cakes and ice-cream. Fancy the
horror of the spqalj hostess and. her
mamma when, just ."before supper was
announced,- the -enfant terrible of the
house daaces intothe drawing-room and
informs the company that he has been
Into the dining-room and licked every
piece of candy on the table. "So now
jjpbody will waat any, you know I"'
Suspending
.mali'-s.   .
. Miss-takes—The
type-setters.^ *  -
* A bouquet is agood scenfcer piece for
the diriing-table.
, . O'oBiris Mug!   Yes, corn is ceinag
most of Ihe'time.       7     ". *' "- -..".
..-. GA.*U&M;-Tin the"pct-^An ack>r arrested .
dprjngtbe^ogress*: of the .play.   *
., THEBBis'siorparfcof -arman wMchmli
stand: go many blows as his :noses     -. .   ,-
, Wbi|ij Boreas rushes round the cor-. ,-
1 tier, does he go." io. see a tiisin ? "    .
The man who " caught the transient  ,
hour" had never been vaccinated."'
•* The whisper of "a beautiful woman ^
can' be heard1; further than- the loudest *
yell -ot duty..  ' £  .     .'.-■. .-•. - y
Whaxebo*M. has.-gone *ap in.='PEics|'-'7
.and yet littleslke insists^that, Jiis-fathe? .
does . as, much whaling. jast evec,. though . -
he secures nothing but "blubber.*      *      7
The. Columbus Jo'urnqls dfesci-ibisg: 7
•an  Ohio "ppliticiaii, says:' "He"is*-an
hpnest man -by jprof essicis," and fie eaffins
his bread by the swent-olisis.'j'a'a.-'';- ,-> * -*:
Wfi'i'ji'H arfethe3^test.m$n%*'Kis'hjmiBa£", ■;
Scotchm|3npr-Enghshmen*?.. 'In IreLajd -^
Were are-men of Cork, in Scotland there "
rai?o Inen of Ayr, but -on the Thames are':>
lightermen. • ..    --■--:-'      ■*
7;" Why don't men swear when"they
a^e'alone?'" asks: Br; .Talmage:.  -Did *
T>r. .^hn^ge   ever- lay ■ ground:, the - -
fence.7ftorn.ers and - see a,.lone  farmer -,
pick iip a bumble-bee?   WM" didffia^ ,'
faimefsayf'   .'"**'"''     '   --"""*"*"•■""
• :. *A- "CgifcAGp pirblisher has  issue3*a :
book entitled " How to Become ■Blum-p?': "
The dd* wiayy you remember,* was*-to*   '
lean ,out of a third-^tory window and
come down pluinp.   The. new method :
is less dangerous, but not so certain.*
NOw'iibolstheox from out ids stall   - . *
.. The farmer man to see*-        "   - •   *
As quici he spreads upon tlie floor " ■*   *
-  Th'e.s^iij'so.teinptingly.. -■ ■ .      •
yThen sings»around. the ancient bam   •   ,
•.    5! =The lively- autumn gale, ''        '.
.And while.the farmer taps las flail .   .
„:      ' Tlie bovine flaps Ms fail.
—Yorikers Gazette. 7 "   -
A young fop said to an Academician,
"Ought I to say, 'Fetch me_the water,'
or 'Bring me the water/ if ±
.*\G'
r*!?*?"D?'* ?"     "N^'^-llP'iV' ■rp^-r.CV.'
Otl"^JDtV~ u5>~tacvjy-,-'——.-.'^l^,—_^ _--   -
or ' iead"me to the water.'"
" Whatis a junction, nurse ? " askeS a   *
7-year-old ffeiry the   other day of an
elderly lady who stood by her side on a
railway platform.     "A junction,  my,   .
dear,-' answered the nurse, wiih. the air.
of a very superior person indeed, "jwhjv  7
it's a pl&ee where two roads separate."   f*' ■
The- wife of a, distinguished official'* :
saw tiie* Captain of a vessel, recently^ on "• *
'business; .At the conclusion of the in-. .
terview the lady said: "And. now, €*apt% •
Jones, what will you take ?^*tTo. which* *
the ancient mariner replied:" "Oh, 1
ain't particular, marin, so as it^s Mm.'1  *•"-
" Sound," said the school-master, ~5- iB"■''■'•'
what you hear.   For instance,**you*can-
not feel a sOund.".  " Oh, yes, you can,"   ^
said a smart Boy."   " Johri Wilsori," re-" '
torted the pedagogue,  "how  do you    *
make that out ?   What sound ean feel ? "-:
" A sound thrashing," quickly replied
the smart boy- * 7  - • s . ,
Little Charlie, a bright 3-year-old,- r,
has often heard his mother dilating on
the ravages of the moths." The other
day he came hurriedly toddling out of .
the pantry, dragging a sieve, to the boi-*"
torn of which he pointed; as he. ex-•
claimed, *" Mamma, mamma! see what,
'mothies"- have doneI" "'...•'"■'.."
"PeisONeb  at  the  bar,"  said, the ,
Judge, " is there anything you wish'to
say before  sentence  is. passed upon
yOu?"   The prisoner looked "wistfully' 7
toward; the door, and remarked that he
would like to say " good-evening,!' if it
would be agreeable to the company;   _
But they wouldn't let him. * -.
"SWEET SIXTEEN. *' :"
AsPeter sat at Heaven's gate,
A maiden sought permissioh,
And begged of him,-if not too late,
. To give her free admission*. ...
**Whixtjilaim-baskihoiTto enterihere?»-
He cried, Avith sternest mein.
"Please, sir," said she, 'hvist hope and fear,
" I'm only just sixteen.",
" Enough!" the hoary guardian said,
And thegate wide Open threw; . ;
"•S-hatis the age, when every maid
Is girl and angel, too!" " *      -• "*
Scientiftc lelfemce mi Sofip.
Dr. Bichardson lectured'recently in
this city on the germ theory of disease.
He acknowledged his obligation to Tyn-
dall for his microscopic investigation on
air dust, spores* and other comforting
and salutary topics. It is worth while
•for common people to learn that 60,000
typhus germs* will thrive in the cireum*-*
fer ence of a pin head or a visible glob'
ule. It.is iTOith while for them to jaote.
that these germs may be desiccated and
be borne, like thistle seeds, everywhere,
and, like -demoniacal possessions; m'ay
jump noiselessly- down any.tiiroat. But
there are certain things spores cannot
stand, according'to the latest ascertained
results of science. A water temperature
of 120 deg. boils them to death, and '
.soap chemically poisons them. Here
sanitary and microscopic science come
together.. Spores thrive in low ground
and under low conditions of life. For
redemption, fly to hot wate*? and soap,
yO who live in "danger of malarial poisoning. Hot water is sanitary.* Soap is
more sanitary. Fight typm**-*.* smallpox, yellow, fever, and ague "with soap*
Soap is a board of health.—Philadelphia Tress:
A Toronto magistrate decides that
button-holing a man in the street is * assaulting him, if he objects to being but-*
ton-holed.
""Ensteab of bridesmaids, .fusMoa ia
Fraace mm pseseiifeeS two Ma;*** jages*