Rensselaer Republican, Volume 16, Number 21, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 31 January 1884 — Page 6

THK SCHOOL-MARM’S STORY. BY WOLBTAN DUET. A frosty chill was in the air— How plainly I remember— The bright autumnal fires had paled. Save here and there an ember; The sky looked hard, the hills were bare, And there were tokens everywhere That it had come—December. I locked the time-worn school house door, The village sests of learning, Across the smooth, well-trodden path My homeward footsteps turning; My heart a troubled quest ion bore, And in my mind, as oft before, A vexing thought was burning. • “Why is it up hill all the way?* Thus fan my meditation; The lessons had gone wrong that day, And I had lost my patience, “Is there no way to soften care, ftnd make it easier to bare Life's sorrows and vexations?” Across my pathway, through the wood, A fallen tree was lying; On this there sat two little girls. And one of them was crying, I heard her sob: “And if I could, I'd getmv lessons awful good: But what’s the use of trying?” And then the little hooded head Sank on the other's shoulder. The little weeper sought the arms That opened to enfold her. Against the ypung heart kind and true, She nestled close, and neither knew That I was a beholder. And then I heard—ah! ne’er was known Such judgement without malice. Nor queenlier council ever heard In Senate house or palace I—“I should have failed there, I am sure, Don’t be discouraged, try once more; And Twill help yon, Alice.” “And I will help yon. ” This is how To soften care and grieving; Life is made easierto bear, , By helping and by giving. Here was the answer I had sought, And I, the teacher, being taught The secret of true living. If “I will help you’ were the rule, How changed beyond all measure Life would become! Each heavy load Would be a golden treasure; Pain and vexation be forgot; Hope would prevail in every lot, And life be only pleasure. —Treasure Trove.

MR. SPARROW’S CONFESSIONAL.

The Rev. Mr. Sparrow sat down to consider. He planted his elbows firmly on the window-sill and his retreating chin firmly on his hands. The harvest moon shone in and made of him a pleasant sight, not unlike a short, plump Tom Pinch of immortal memory. Most of his hair had been a thing of the past for a long time, but, as far as appearances went, his mild blue eyes and expressive mouth made ample amends. He was clad in the severest of severe clerical garbs, and wore about him, in spite of that superabundant plumpness, the unmistakable ascetic air which constant prayer, meditation, and frequent fasting can give to any face or physique. The room, now softly flooded with the moonlight, was as bare as the necessities of life permitted. A small iron bedstead, a little table holding some books of devotion, a crucifix on the wall, a modest chest of clothing—that was about all. A man of small •wardrobe and large charities, of pity for all except himself, of enthusiasm, hope, and impracticability—that was the Rev. John Sparrow, rector of St. James’. He had found this parish five years ago what in ecclesiastical phraseology is termed rather “low.” In fact, he was rather “low" then himself. He and the parish had risen together. One startling step had followed another so fast that the conservative members of the congregation had been too stunned to remonstrate. The bowings, and crossings, and altar drapery were a sight to behold. A taste of a high ritual acted as an appetizer to the longers for an attractive service. A boy choir, consisting of seven somewhat stolid urchins from the charity school, served to satisfy for a while. Now, they and their cassocks and surplices had palled upon the taste. Serena Sherman had been known to firmly and unreservedly declare that she really did not see so very much out of the way in the Papal infallibility, while two bright and shining Vestrymen had been detected m the act of surreptitiously visiting the Roman Catholic church around the corner. The line must be drawn somewhere. Mr. Sparrow drew it at Rome. The lambs of his flock must have a counterirritant.. But what? Some clouds were flitting over the face of the moon, so these queries and perplexities seemed to obscure this little man’s visage, ordinarily so serene. —■ An door =nfftde him start. -It wag.^lris’ l " hardsfefttureif housekeeper. He~had selected her out of a drove oßapplicants as being of the requisite age and ugliness. She handed him a card on which was hurriedly penciled:

“Will Mr. Sparrow see one of his people for a few minutes on a matter pertaining to the safety of her soul?” “The safety of a soul!” He would have risen from his dying bed at \that plea. What mortal sin had she been committing? Thoughts of battle, murder and sudden death careered through his mind. He brushed his scanty hair, and brushed it rather crookedly, what there was of it. He had about him no such panderer to vanity as a mirror. Miss Sherman and another young Woman awaited him down stairs. As a general thing he would have frowned upon this untimely visit, as much as the Bev. Mr. Sparrow could frown upon anything; but the spell of the beauty of the night, or the reverie at the window, was still upon him. Miss Sherman, addressing him as “Father,” made known her errand at once. The ritualistic mania was visible in her words and manner. “Father, I should have waited until morning,” she said, “but I could not. I might have died in the night with this matter weighing me down.” Mr. Sparrow shuddered, but secretly resolved that even if it were murder he would be her friend. ~ •- ■———— “Free your mind at once, my daughter.” He tried to look as indifferently m a well regulated celibate ought upon thia pretty, troubled face, but did not succeed very well. And this companion—was she an accomplice? Well, he would stand by them to the bitter end. We are all miserable sinners, “It is a doctrinal point, Father.” He drew a long breath of relief, and yet it would not have been a thing without compensation to have consoled this beautiful woman if the world-forsook •»© r •

“I have been reading upen the dootrine of confession for a long while. The last book has settled my views forever. lam convinced, and do believe (she spoke as if reciting the,Creed), that it is necessary to my soul’s health to confess my sins without reserve. And Mr. Sparrow [it .struck him ns fatally ominous that him thus] if I cannot have this help otherwise I must go where it is to be found.” Mr. Sparrow flew to arms. “Oh! my dear young friend [she was five years his junior ]do nothing rash! I see your doubts and longings, and I admit that they are not groundless. In fact, I have had them myself." He spoke as if he referred to the measles. ‘‘Yes, I have had my struggle, and have come to the conclusion that unreserved and systematic avowal of our sins and the proper absolution or penance is not only salutary but needful. Indeed, when called down stairs just now I had about decided to establish tins ancient and apostolic custom as soon as practicable?’

Miss Sherman clapped her hands rapturously, and was speechless for several moments. “No, I will not be rash, Father, but be brave and wait. You know that lam at heart a true Anglican. It is only a sensative conscience that is driving me." She forgot that pluming one’s self upon an irreproachable conscience is hardly the proper thing for a yearner after holiness. ■ j But Mr. Sparrow was blind. Her pretty, egotistical chatter of herself and - her opinions was music in his ears. There was no excuse for lingering longer, as pleasant as it was to both. “Come, Jenny,” she said. “And it’s your shawl you are forgetting, mum,” answered Jane, the Sherman kitchen maid, who had been brought along to lend propriety to the interview. The rector- was disturbed. Had he been talking of things spiritual before one of the Pope’s emissaries? Well, at least he hoped that what she had heard had been to her superstitions mind a benefit. e He bowed his callers out and went back to his window, but the former train of thought was broken. Instead of the sacred themes upon which he had been dwelling at the favorite meditative hour was the vision of an earnest month and two melting eyes. He rose in pained chagrin, went to his driest theological books, and in them at last forgot all feminine graces, and even, for the time, the soul’s health of Serena Sherman. ' » . * M- ■ —* The new departure was announced to the congregation the following Sunday, and was received with different degrees of scorn and approbation. Two malcontents got np and strode out of church, but to the worthy man in the -surplice a radiant face in the Sherman pew was for this insult an offset. So he had officially announced at last that penitents would be received from 3to 9 Saturdays! A little flurry of conscious heroism made his cheeks tingle. He really felt like a soldier on duty, and, while making an allusion in the sermon which followed to the sentinel found at his post in the Roman ruins, mentally compared himself to that time-honored and tiresome individual. He afterwards dined with the Shermans in a house hardly redeemed from the commonplace by Serena’s olivecolored embroideries, sprinkled around without method. They chatted for a short hour after- 4 ward while the 'father of the family dozed unblushingly and the mother guiltily took short and sly naps in her chair. It was a golden hour. 1 ' A thin religious veil drawn over the conversation seemed to make it harmless in the eyes of the rector who had all but vowed to lead a single life. One subject predominated. “The people will say harsh things,” said Serena. “Let them; I do not care. When they realize the worth of the confessional and see what a help it is to holiness, they-will gladly give the commendation they withhold at first.” He, as they say in novels, drew himself up to his full height, which was not very high, and beamed like a martyr at the stake. “But they will laugh.” Ah, that was different. . Persecution js__one—thing, ridicule another. He flushed. “There will always be those who will liiiigh at the truth. But,' ifiy dear friends, if I can be sure that there is one person who sees the matter as I do, one heart which beats in sympathy with iuine, I shall have strength to go forward.” “You may be sure of that,” she answered pointedly, and then, the snores indicating that the parental, siestas were still in progress, a soft hand stole iiito his and was not repulsed. So this pair of unconscious lovers twittered away about the state of th'e chul-ch, the last new quirk in vestments, and the Christmas music. The next morning the incumbent of St. James might have been seen in close and confidential confab with a cabinet-maker. He was not going to do any half-way work, not he; no retailing of peccadilloes in the open church before the eyes and in the ears of waiting penitents, as was the custom in “high” circles elsewhere. A structure not unlike a commodious wardrobe was planned and ordered. All the week was required in w hich to make it. It could not be done in the church; the pounding would interfere with daily matins and evensong, and shavings strewn about are, not conducive to an exaltedreligious state. Saturday morning, before the earliest risers were astir, a mysterious-looking object was deposited at the church door. Men and boys of the “tin-pail brigade” going to their work heard pounds within the sacred edifice, and wondered “what the crank was up to now.” Mr. Sparrow went to his bachelor breakfast, his air of bravado still upon him. At “matins,” at which were present three women and a small boy, he did not flinch. There were stealthy looks at the confessional box, and the small boy giggled, but was instantly silenced by his Aunt Serena, who had him in tow. By dinner-time the pastor was nervous and had no relish for the indifferentlycooked meal set before him by the queen

of the kitchen. At 2 o’clock he was at the church waiting. Three o’clock came and his heart was a trip-hummer. Four o’clock; not a soul. Five o’clock ■ —he shut the church-door with a perceptible slam. Evidently his experiment was a failure so far. He would not admit; even to himself, that he was disappointed because Serena had not come. Each person was w-aiting for some other to take the initiative, possibly, but it was discouraging. At his house, lying on his table by the side of his worn volume of Thomas a Kempis, he found a letter. On the envelope was wirtten “The confession of Serena Sherman,” The pudgy fingers trembled as they tore it open. Far be it from us to pry into such a confidential epistle, but we know from subsequent events that in it Serena placed herself, her heart, and her embroideries at the feet of Tier plump pastor. •• It was intimated at the begining of tliis modest tale - that Mr. Sparrow possessed a weak chin. At any rate, a marvelous change in his opinions was born that minute. Celibacy seemed so drear a thing, so useless a thing, so worse than useless, for a wife could be of infinite helpjin the work of the church. Then he went and borrowed a look-ing-glass of his housekeeper. It was not a good glass and made his face look awry.but he did not know it. He thought with shame of the funny box of which he had been so proud in the morning. He brushed his long-tailed coat and betook himself Serena-ward. She saw him coming from an improvised watch-tower up-stairs and ran to meet him. Then this disbeliever in a married clergy took both her hands and kissed her. “We have been making a mistake all the while.”

“Yes, John; and you truly, truly, truly, do not think me unmaidenly ?” “Bless you, no; you were an angel sent to open these blind eyes. But I cannot help but wonder, dear, at this sudden change,” indicating doubtless some remark in her letter; “Oh, John, after you really got-the confessional it did seem so silly.” The Rev. John looked sheepish, but happy. “There is time yet to-night to take it away.” “And don’t let us ever say another word about it.” Late that night the sound of hammers was once more heard in the Gothic edifice on C— — street, and a bulky and strange object -was soon stored in the spare room of the rectory. That was ten years ago. The parish of St. James is called rather “low” again. There was a lack of closetroom in the minister’s house, and Mrs. Serene keeps her silk dresses and little John’s Sunday, suit in Mr. Sparrow’s confessional.—C/rtcngo Tribune.

Whittier’s Kindness to Autograph Hunters.

Like Mr. Longfellow, Mr. Whittier is more indulgent to the autograph tramp than he ought to be, but he can say “no,” oil occasions, and turn his back- upon the pursudr with commendaHe courage. But capable always of making clear distinctions, of seperating the wheat from the tares, he recognizes the sincerity of true sympathy and appreciation, and responds with a courtesy and kindness that is full of hearty friendliness. Some of his best thoughts have been tersely put in a verse or two that he has -written for such occasions. One of those was penned at the request of a friend for on ancient sun-dial that stood in his—the friend’s —garden. What could be better, more complete, than this: “With warning hand I mark Time's rapid flight, From life’s glad morning to its solemn night; Yet thro' the dear God’s love I also show There's light above me by the shade below.” In the poets published volumes, though we find now and then a grim humor, we do not see the lighter strains of wit and gaiety that occasionally breaks out in his conversation. The brightness and lightness of this strain is very charmingly exemplified in the following stanza that he wrote in a young friend’s album: “Ah, ladies, you love to levy a tax On my poor little paper parcel of fame* Yet strange it seems that among you all No one is willing to take my name- 1 To write and rewrite till the angels pity her, The weariful words, Thine truly, Whittier.” —Aora IVniL iaßoshm //ome joionii!.« ■

Postage Stamps Ruling Finn.

For seven years he had been a clerk in the ice business, but only a week or so ago he was appointed a clerk in the postoffice. One day he was stationed at the stamp window. He sold threeceut stamps for fifteen cents each or four for half a dollar. One-c-ent stamps, he told the people were hard to get at any price, and ruled firm at seven cents, with a rising tendency. Postal cards were held at ten cents, and stamped three-cent envelopes went three for a quarter. Society raised a howl when he charged a commission of ten per cent, for registering a letter, and charged exchange, discount and commission on money orders. When the postmaster returned, there was a scene. The young man listened to reproach and explanations. He examined the schedule of prices very carefully, resigned immediately; and went back to the ice business. “That postoffice/” he told his father, “won’t last six weeks. They've no more idea of a fair profit than they have of the North Pole. Why, it would ruin the government if all the offices sold stamps for nothing, as they do here.” And he made up his mind that he would write to the President and tell him how shamefully the merchandise of the government was being cut away down below Noveniber prices right in the beginning of hot weather.— Surlington Hawkeye. Whenever you commend, add youi reasons for doing so; it is this which distinguishes the approbation of a man of sense from the flattery of sycophants and admiration of fools.— Steele. Salt Lake City has a paid tire department of four men at SSO a month, and forty “call” men at S3O a month each. There are forests of the most valuable woods in Madagascar that extend ovei a distance of over 2,000 miles.

SLAVERY IN NEW YORK.

rhe Old Slave Market in Wall Street—The Negro Blot of 1741. [London Telegraph. I The slavery abolished -in New York in 1827 had played an important part, not so much in the history Of the State itself as in that of the Empire city. The diabolical trade was brought into the colony of the New Netherlands by the Dutch West India Company, and very soon ufter its introduction became a lucrative branch of the shipping interest. A “prime negro” was valued at from $l2O to $150; and below this price he could not profitably be purchased from Africa or the West Indies. As far back as 1628 slaves had formed a considerable proportion of the population of* New Amsterdam, as New York was called under the “Knickerbocker” dispensation, and to such an extent had the traffic in human flesh increased in 1709. when the province had been for more than forty years a British colony, that a slave market was erected at the foot of Wall street, where all negroes for sale or hire were paraded for the Convenience of bidders. The worship of Mammon has superseded that of Moloch in Wall street; yet it is questionable whether the modern “operators” there are much more soft-hearted than the traffickers of “prime negroes” were in the days of Queen Anne. At the lastnamed period the importation of slaves from America averaged 500 head of human merchandise a year; but in 1718 the importation began to fall off, the demand being amply met by home slave-breeding. Still the Wall street market was as brisk as ever. The colonists naturally preferred home-raised slaves to the raw material brought from the Gold coast, since the former had some slight inkling of civilized ways, whereas the latter were simply savages who were unfit for domestic work. The enemies of slavery will learn with gratification that, throughout the first-half of the eighteenth century, the free whites were subject to intermittent fits of abject terror lest their negroes should rebel and, choosing the most desperate of the white transports and “indented servants”—who were little better than slaves—as leaders, murder their masters and plunder and burn New Y®rk. Rumors of an intended negro insurrection were rife in 1712, but the nervous apprehensions of the slave-owners culminated in the real or imaginary “negro plot” of 1741. New York at the time contained something like 10,000 inhabitants, one-fifth of whom belonged to what is elegantly known as “the black seed of Cain.” They were subject to hideous oppression. If three of them were found together, each of the three was liable to receive thirty [ashes; and the same penalty accrued to them if they were discovered bearing a stick outside their masters’ premises and without a permit. Two justices could orderrthe jnflictipmof: any punishment, even of amputation or death, for any blow or assault by a slave upon a white man. “The History of the Plot,” with all its episode and frenzied fear and suspicion, reads like an absurd echo of Manzom’s “Colonna Infame.” A negro had been heard to utter, with violent gesticulations—very possibly due to the stimulus of rum—some unintelligent jargon in which the words “fire, fire, scorch, scorch 1” were articulated or supposed to be. Forthwith the white citizens jumped at the conclusion that a stupendous act of arson was contemplated by their bondsmen, and, a universal panic being diffused, reason and argument, common sense and common humanity, lost all influence over the whites. A Titus Oates was soon found in a silly servant-maid in a boardinghouse, one Mary Burton, and this wench deposed that she had heard certain negroes discussing a project for setting New York on fire. Of course, emboldened by the attention paid' to her story, she proceeded to denounce whites as well as blacks, and declared that her master and mistress, together with a fellow female servant and a Roman Catholic named Ury, were all privy to the “plot.” The jails were crammed with prisoners? white and black, juries convicted and judges sentenced prisoners to death on preposterously insufficient evidence and when at length, as in the case of the popish plot and the witchcraft prosecutions at Salem, the fury of-fanaticism was assuaged and the magistrates paused for shame in their bloody that thirteen negroes had been burned at the stake, eighteen hanged and seventy transported.

In the Garb of an American Citizen.

While Mr. Buchanan was the American Minister at the court of Queen Victoria, Mr. Marcy, Secretary of State, issued a circular to all foreign ministers, requesting them to appear at their courts “in the simple dress of an American citizen.” American citizens wear a variety of costume, and it was not clear which of them was meant by the new order. Mr. Buchanan conversed' oqthe subject with Sir Edward Cust, Master of Ceremonies, without getting much light on the problem. “The Queen,” at length said Sir Edward Cust, with some warmth, “would make no objection to your appearance at court in any dress you think proper; yet the people of England would consider it presumption.” Upon this, Mr. Buchanan was somewhat indignant, and replied, with considerable vivacity: 1 “While I entertain the highest respect for her Majesty, and desire to treat her with the deference which is eminently due her, yet it will not .make the slightest difference to me, individu-. ally, whether I ever appear at court.” “In this country,” rejoined Sir Edward. “an invitation from the Queen is considered a command.” Mr. Buchanan was wise enough not to notice this ill-timed remark; but the interview ended without result. The affair got into the’ newspapers, and threatened at one time: to lead to serious Consequences, until the Queen . herself privately suggested a way out of the difficulty. If the American Minister appeared at court in ordinary evening dress, he might easily be taken tor one of the upper servants, who alone on court days wear that costume. The Queen suggested, that Mr. Buchanan

should add to that dress a plain sword which at all courtais considered the murk of a person of rank. Mr. Buchanan acted upon this hint, and the propriety of the solution was remarked by every onff? “As I appeared the Queen,” he wrote, an arch but benevolent smile lit up her countenance, as much as to say, ‘You are the first man who ever appeared, before me at court in such a dress,’ I confess that I never felt more proud of being an American than when I stood in that brilliant circle ip the simple dress of an American citizen.” The dress, in fact, was a popular one. Some members of Parliament of great note told Mr. Buchanan that they had themselves never been at court simply because they could not bear to array ,themselves in court toggery. — Youth's Companion.

Hints Towards Healthy Homes.

Swill-tubs should not be pear doors or windows. ——- —*— House-eaves should be guttered and spouted. Outside channel Should be in good ord\r, and be regularly cleaned. Garden plants should, of course, be in order, and be properly cultivated. The ground floor of a house should not be below the level of the land, street or road outside. The subsoil beneath a house should be naturally dry, or it should be made dry by land draining. —-Qepsrpuols, cess-pits, sink-holes or drains should not be formed nor be retained within house basements. The subsoil within every basement should have a layer of concrete over it, and there should be full ventilation. The ground around dwelling houses should be paved, flagged, asphalted, covered with concrete or be graveled. A bed of concrete over the site of cottages will vastly modify an otherwise objectionable position; but, indeed, a bed. of concrete should be used in all cases. Schools, as a rule, are very defectively ventilated. Ordinarily flat-ceil-inged rooms are totally unfit for public schools. The space should be open up to roof-ridge, and this should be covered. Do not build on heaps of rubbish, fillings in with cesspool rhfuse, chemical waste, or on swampy ground white h pannot be drained. Thousands of houses have been so placed, and are now being so placed in the suburbs of our towns. Pigsties should ever be kept at a distance; and, where pigs are kept, there should should 'be rigid cleanliness. Improperly keeping pigs has caused much more human sickness and destroyed more life than all the battles the country has been engaged in. Nurseries and children’s rooms should be permanently ventilated. Dormitories for children should have ample ventilation; clothe the children warmly, cover the beds warmly, prevent direct draughts, and the cold air will not injure. A site excavated on the side of a hill or steep bank is liable to be dangerous, as external ventilation may be defective, and the subsoil water from above may soak toward and beneath -suchhouses. Middens, ash-pits and cesspools, if at the back, must also taint such basements. Avoid flue ventilation of every sort; let the fresh air come in direct as possible. Night air is the only air you can have at night, so do not fear it. Dread foul, because tainted, air manufactured witlrn the rooms. Any outside fresh air is better than lung and skin tainted inside air.

Houses are unwholesome from ac cumulated dirt, carelessness and per sonal neglect, as when.: Rooms are not sufficiently cleansed; carpets are left down too"long and never swept; windows are seldom opened; water closets are dirty, neglected and without ventilation; dirty beds are unmade and shrouded by dirty hangings; dirty wardrobes and dity clothes closets; nooks, corners and shelves which are never dusted. Many houses, from the mansion to the cottage, are also unwholesome for some of the following reasons: Damp and unventilated basins; cesspools and foul drains within the basement; rotten timbers in floors and skirtings, and tainted wall-papers; kitchen sinks in improper places, and unventilated; uu improper-phteesi-iKnd unventilated; rooms without adequate means of ventilation; wate i ' cist er n s and pumps in improper places, supplying’contaminated water. To ventilate stairsand passages, open the staircase or passage window, or both, by drawing down the top sash several*inches in summer, one or more inches in winter, and in some cases Screw the sash fast, so that these windows must be open all the year round; if there is a skylight above the staircase, let there be ventilation here which cannot be closed. The result will be improved health to the family. Pay no attention to any casual remarks, “How cold your staircase is!” Let the ladies put on an extra shawl. But the remark will seldom be made.

He Didn’t Know the Man.

There was a musical entertainment! in the palatial mansion of Col. Duby ( Bigbug. Miss Birdie Bigbug plays the ' piano. She is not much of a player, but her folks think there is nothing more for her to learn. Among the guests was a stranger, who happened to be a musical genius. After Miss Bigbug had pounded the instrument until the house shook to its foundations, a young gentleman asked the stranger what he thought of the young lady’s Paying- , “It surpasses my expectations, he replied. “You don’t say so,” said the delighted veung man. “Yes, I do. I.never expected that it was possible for anybody to play so atrociously as that.” The young man was Tom Bigbug, the brother of the unsurpassed performer —a fact that the stranger did not discover until he regained consciousness in the hospital two hours afterward — Texas Siftings. - - —■■ i ■ ' “A Man never so beautifully shows his own strength as when he respects a woman’s softness.”- Douglass Jerrold. ••_ - •

PITH AND POINT.

A one-sided view—The profile. Heiresses swim only in deep, water. The homestretch—That of a lazy man. The sham rock—A bowlder on the stage. A summer trip—Stumbling over a sleeping cow. A cross counter. Jack Oldstock—“We’re very proud of our ancestry, yon know.” Tom Parvenu—“ Yes, I know; but how would yoiir ancestry feel about you?”— Harvard Lampoon. With smile so sweet Across the street, She ambled through the mud, But struck a rock, And came down k rsock! With a dull and sickening thud. “When does a man become a seamstress?" “When he hems and haws.” “No.” “When he threads his way.” “No." “When he rips and, tears.” “No.” “Give it up.” “Never, if he can help it.” Mr. Alexis Campbell was'locked np by the St. Louis police because, after nine sherry cobblers, he couldn’t walk or stand straight. It was the last straw, you see, that broke the Campbell’s back.— Life. . '1 / It’s Lowell who asks: “What is so rare aka day in June?” is it not? Well! now, if he had only stopped to think ft minute, he might have known that the 29th of February was the answer to the riddle.-— Harvard Lampoon. She was a sweetly inexperienced housekeeper, as one may gather froin her remark when some one suggested that she should purchase spring mattresses. “Yes,” she replied, “if they’re in season we’d better have some.” I | “Yes,” said a fashionable lady’, '“I think Mary has made a very good match. I heard her husband was one of the shrewdest and most unprincipled lawyers in the profession, and, of course, he can afford to gratify her every wish.” Grocer, who has lately joined the militia, practicing in his shop. “Rig it, left, right, left. Four paces to the redr; march I”—falls down trap-door into the cellar. Gfocer’s wife, anxiously: “O, Jim, are you hurt?” Grocer, savagely, but with dignity: “Go away, woman; what do you know about war?,” “No, Joseph, the steam-heating company was not formed for the purpose of heating Steam. Steam is heated before it is made—that is to when/ you heat the steam—no, when you make the steam—no—well, confound ./ you, don’t you know that steam is hot/anyway, and doesn’t have to be heated by a company?” / What to Turn ' was love orffiope? What to him was joy cr care? He stepped on a plug of mottled soap the girl had left on the topmost stair, and his feet flew put like wild fierce wings, and lie struck each stair with a sound like a drum, and the girl below with the scrubbing things laughed like a fiend to see him come. Saturday is the odd job, finishing-up day of the week. Nobody begins any great work Saturday. “What! are you going to be married on Saturday ?” inquired Cicely of her lady friend. “ Why, to be sure. It is my birthday, you know.” “But don’t you know that your husband will not live the year fl out if you marry him Saturday ?” “H-h-h! He has never heard of it. I should besuch an interesting widow, you know.” Hartford Post.

“Now I want to know,” said a man ! whose veracity had been questioned by an angry acquaintance, “just why call me a liar. Be frank, sir; for frankness is a golden-trimmed virtue. Just as a friend, now, tell me why you called me a liar ?” “Called you a liar because you are a liar,” the acquaintance replied. “That’s what I call frankness. Why, sir, if this rule were adopted, over half the difficulties would be settled without trouble, and in our case there would have been trouble but for our willingness to meet each other half way.”—Ni Y. Com. Advertiser. “I guess my husband is real sick," said a Lexington avenue woman to her neighbor, one evening. ‘‘What makes you think so?” asked the other. “Well, he came home night before last with a I raging fever,” was the reply, “and I was ( up with him all night, and this morning when I was bathing his head, he threw ..his arms around my mwk and praised me aiftT said "how gfiod I was,, ithd actually. kissed me, as he hasn t done for years. This makes me think he must be real sick.” And then she continued. “You don’t know how bad I felt, it made me feel good.”— N. Y. Com. Ad.

Teaching a Child Sympathy.

A mother, instead of letting her child whip and otherwise punish an article on which it has hurt itself, taught it to be sorry for the poor piece of wood, bound up the bruise with dampened cloths, and also bandaged the article on which the babe had hurt itself. In this way a sympathy was created so strong that when grown to childhood it was part of the child’s nature, and he had been seen, when he thought himself alone and unobserved, to kiss the thing on which he had been hurt. If sympathy is given to a piece of Wood, is it not reasonable to suppose that when manhood is reached, the same feeling will be given to his fellow men? —“jP/iil.,” in Detroit Free Press.

Family Love at Wequetequock.

Wequetequock, in the town of Stonington, has long been noted for its family fights. A story is told of a Wequetequock man being brought to a Stonington doctor in an ox-cart, having been handled without gloves by a brother. While the doctor was dressing the wounds, the man asked; “Doctor, if I die from the effects of this beating, will they hang my brother?” ' “Im afraid they will," was the doctors reply. _ “Then let me die!” said the wequetequocker.—Nero Haven Register. I pity the man who can travel from* Dan to Beersheba, and cuy, „’tis all barren —and so it is, and so is all the world to him who will not cultivate the fruits it offers.— Sterne. Never fear of spoiling children by making them too happy.