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About Willamette farmer. (Salem, Or.) 1869-1887 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 12, 1875)
i i (i h It Hi Q The HPE Ciicli. The Sweetest Memory. There's an old plctnra on the will, A sea-vlew from mister's hand, Which ever to me doth recall Sweet memories of a far-off land. J brought it with me o'er the sea. Many, ah, many a year ago, When I sought the land where liberty Makes e'en the poor man's heart aglow. With fortune's smiles I have been blessed, I own my bouses and my land): I know thtt the wealth which is the best Is earnod by labor's willing bands., But amoni! tbe deafest things I prise Is this old plctnre on tbe wall; It looks at me with loving eyes, And tender grace o'erspreads It all. It minds me of a time when we One summer evening wandered where We saw the moonbeams kiss the sos, While the breath of clover filled the air. Toward tbo land of the lofty pine We saw the Brest sh ps ssll away. And a hope grew i'i her bresst and mine, A hope to rea. h that land some day. Fulfillment crowned our hope, and we Have In that land lived many a year. Our lives have passed moat happily. Our eyes have seldom felt a tear. And now when wo review the past, And many memorl s recall. The sweetest memory 'round us cat Comes through tnst picture on the wall. A '49 Baby. By Mabv Mountain. Porbaps tbero was no more pitiful sight in rough and lough old '49 than the sight of poor sick Tom, bolstered up there in the cabin by the dying flre. Such a queer little cabin, dark and leaky and cold, though there wore chunks of wood and pine knots close at hand; but the flro was dying because Tom wus dying, and already too weak to lift the smallest stick. So tho rain coming down the rough chimney had its own wav with the coals, and now plashed softly among tho dull cinders. And Tom was bolstered up in such a tottlish way not an easy chair, you may bo sure, when there wbb hardly such a thing west of tho " Rockies " hut tboro was first, tho bench, with Tom's over alls for a cushion, stuffed with evorj thing that lay around loose except the boots; then for a back thero was Old Pard's sailor chtst standing on end, with a small sack of beans and large saok of flour on top for the support nnd com fort of poor Tom's tired head. All this snug up iu the dryest corner, where, for a change, Tom could lean sideways against his " store clothes," hung there to keep out scuffles of wind and rain. Old Pard had fixed it all trim and taut this morning, wodgiug in boots and chips where tbe chest was shaky on the two loose planks tbat made their floor, ami the foot tttool was a finishing touch of luxury, made tip in a trice by chuck ing another bag of beans into an old carpet sack. Thf n a big blanket was thrown over all, the siok boy lilted in and snugly wrapped from foot to chin by chuokling Old Pard, who as sured him, with nn affectionate oath, that "There's a throne, now, fit for a quoen, and if ye don't wiggle round much it's bound to stand liko a rock." But Tom had wiggled till the throne was " rocky " indeed, and seemed now like a terri ble weight that must somehow be held in plaoo, for the deathly faiutness ond cold were doing rapid work, and, just as Old Pard burst in. iollv and wet as a storm Mug, over went dying Tom nnd the " throne " came tumbling alter. " Bless mv soul, boy, I stayed too long, and then (let Pard tell it) I jerks off my wet duds like lightniu', tips with Tom inter the bunk and starts a blaze thank the good Lord fer pitch pine and fer brandy, tew, when it comes ter the pinch; but I hadn't only jest a spoon ful left and not another drop ter be had fer lovo nor monoy. " Wnl, ho opened his eyes agin, which I did t expeot, and when no tuny xuovea me, says I, ' Tom, ye cau't Hiiesa what I found. Jest the cutest little baby over yaudor, and it's a ooniin' tip ter make ye a visit.' " Now, 1 hadn't engaged no baby, but I did catch a peep at one, nnd its mammy, too, as I conic a rushin' home; so ye see I said that ter give him samethiu' ter lay hold of like, while I was bilin' the kittle. " Tho boy wus jest dylu' o' homesickness niore'n anything else 'piniu' for his mother and the youngsters wuy down East, and we never 'sposed tber was a womnu within sixty miles o' camp. So I yarned away 'bout the family I'd fouud dowu the gulch, and I got the squirrel inter the kittle (gsme warn't over plenty) ami while I slicked up things tidy 'rnnnit ilin nlit nnliiii Tniii rriVhP tnnlr tmnnttpA. and I was sour't, but I never let on. "Jest as I coax id hiiu ttmwalleru little squir rel soup, out popped tun sun like a brave old jewel lust time we seen it in a week. " Thou says I, 'Tom, will ye lay quiet a spell whilst I no au' briuc Iu the baby J' He looked pleased, and I started on the keen lope, aud no grass growtut mi i leieucd up at tnai ere caoin, two mile off. iu Iluugeyn gulch, I clean for- Sol uiy manners aud bust right in aud asks the ttle womuu if I could take the baby a spell, and you oner ee her eye flash out and she huggiu' tbo little chick aud ready to fight the whole world. Then I cools off a little, aud says I, ' Excuse me, inarm, but Tom, that's my ehuni, he's dyiu' this minute with (over ana nomesioKncss. ami no uocior, nor so mucn aa a bluo pill, and the baby would give him uoh a lift.' " Wal, she took like llghtnlu'. No need of another word: and jou'd admire to see the way she jerked the old trunk from under the 1 l. -,, a, .ltd lit, 1a .,11a 'd jtlniitr ui.il linnil UUUK U JU IttB ...V C..V. O V.WM UM UUUII) all of a bright red color, they was. and the wise Utile owl never blubbered when she puis him inter my arms aud nays like u dash, ' start on ana l n toner. Then she tuning inter the old mau's boots. lap some jelly stuff mid a bottle o' camfire ana a hunk o' bread inter a basket and away we sailed. Yon never see such a woman fer grit, nor such a baby neither, aiuu n spiosu, you better bleeve, but we stepped out hearty on the back ttack, and jest when we turned the cabin corner my kuets gin out aud I shook like the Sr. tor I almost knowed Tom was dead. She seen it like a book, and, takln' the young ter, the matched in, and soil, gentle like, Here, Tom, I've brought babv ter see ye.' "All right, by Jubilee! we'll bringje through now, old chap, aud tbat bleated baby jest went for bit frowet hair and crowed like a good uu. "So be stayed quite peU, ttdTou eat the jelly and It tb catus&w, ato combed luiair beaU all how woae think of every thing and tbat bread was real bread; nolhln' like It ever growed in our cabin afore. 1 ' She toasted a slice and fixed over the squirrel sonp inter chicken broth. Lord knows bow she did it, but Tom took to it, and the baby took to it, and tbey took to each other beauti ful, and we turned grim death out o' door, neck and heels. "When they wag ready to go Tom pipes up: What's his name?' " 'O, the biby ? She's a girl and her name is Eosy.' " Good gracious! Tom laughed till he cried; and when he got well we all said Rosy was the doctor that saved him. "Bimeby be cot solium like, and took to bavi n' long tbinkin' spells. One night he bust out: " Say, Pard, what business should a man fuller if he wants ter keep himself young?' " Not minin',' says I, ' sure's yer born; nnd I rnther cues its farmin'. There'B) my father bless his old bones sixty if he's a day, and not no grizzly and used up as I be at thirty five. Go in, my boy, keep yerself young, and give Rosy time ter catch up with ye.' And if you'll bleeve me, Tom has took ter farmin', raises garden sass and such like. O, he'll dot" This was the way Old Pard told the story twenty-two years ago, when Tom was about twenty-one and Rosy a romping little five year old. Years rolled on and Tom kept -his young looks and stuck to his farming, but moved twice in order to keep, near Rosy. mat last nine iarm was ine priae oi uis heart, nnd no lady ever put fiber stitches into the hem of her garment than be put into the embroidered walks of that beautiful garden' About this time Rosy bad to nave a year or two at the seminary, and now began Tom's agony. Would the dear little maid fall a victim to the arts of some city fop "who never had worked for Rosy, and never wouldl" Tom drove a splendid horse and became awfully extravagant in the matter of buggy robes, necklies, and the latest thing in hats. Every Saturday he took Rosy out riding past tbe lovely home that waited for its mistress, and the sly puss praised and pretended it was all for some remote and unknown "coming woman." But of course it all came out riant, and Tom is one of the best of California good husbands. IIo nover forcots to be manly ond gentlemanly toward Rosy, who declares that he troatB her with ns much politeness as though she belonged to herself, or to some other man. Tho very key note of domestic harmony, when tbat rulo works both ways. Many a man treats his wife as the old heath en did his household god slavish worship and adulation when he felt like it; followed by re viling and general 'butting about,' when he telt like tliat. liural 1'ress. How Joe Lost His Bet. An old fellow named Joe Poole, very eccen tric, and au incorrigible stutterer, was a con stant hanger-on at the tavern, iu Waterford, Maine. One day a traveler from a distant part of tbe State arrived at tbe tavern, and wub met by an old acquaintance, a resident (if tho town. After some conversation on different topics the traveler was addressed as follows: "By tbe way, Brown, look out for old Joe Poole to-cight. You will know him quick enough by his stuttering. He will be sure to come around and offer to bet that you've not got a whole shirt to your back. If you take him up, you will surely lose by a trick he's got. Ho "invariably offers to lay this wagor, and always wins." "Very well," Baid the traveler, "I will not let him get ahead of me. Much obliged for the caution." The evening arrived, and a large crowd was collected in the bar room. Our friends were there, and old Joe Poole was present, and in his element. "I tell you wh-wbat, you are nicely dressed, but I'll hot you ten you haven't got a whole sh-sbirt to your back." "I'll take tho bet," said the stranger. "Put tho money in the landlord's hands." This being done, the traveler pulled off his coat, and was about following suit with his vest, when old Joe cried out: "Ho ho-hold on! You've lost, na-halfyour shirt is in fr-front, and the other half is on yonr ba-baok." There wsb a roar of laughter, but the new comer did not mind it, but pulled off his vest too, and quietly turning his back to Joe, dis played to his astonished gaze a shirt neatly folded and placed underneath his suspenders. Of course the laugh was turned upon Poole, who acknowledged tbat he had lost the wager. He never offered to bet again. The home of a newly wedded pair is no certain to be all pre-nuptial fancy painted it as witness a story which comes to us from an interior town: A young mechanic recently got married to tbe Ctrl ol his choice, and the nappy pair went to housekeeping. After the honey moon was over tbe young wife discovered that her hubby's temper was none of the sweetest, and that attempts at mollifying him by sweet smiles and kisses were generally flat failures while his dander was up; so like a sensible young woman, she resolved on another plau of action and soon bad an opportunity to try it, llnbuy was rather captious about nis Bleak, but sho made no excuse. It's tough, said Hubby, and its uot oooked half enough 1 The voting wife smiled but made no defeuse. Then Hubby got fearfully mad; be lifted his plate aud dashed it on the floor, with the remark: "Curse that Bteak I" His wile ,atsed up her plate, too, and dashed it on tho stove with the remark: " That's mel" Hubby stared at tbe plate, at ins wire, then at the floor, aud said, "Why, Elizabeth, you shouldn't mind me. If I am a little hasty I soon get over it." And so be did. Siuvlk Mcsjo. How much greater is the power of au old song with simple air and words than those more difficult and anistio outs which sometimes throw the professional mu siciau tuto eistacies of delight. It may not be because there is more music or more feeling iu them; but tbey are endeared to the hearts of the oouiiuon people through familiarity, and as sociated with bouie scenes of love and affection. aud appeal to seutiments and feeliugs tbat otherwise could not be awakened, no matter how artistlo or sparkliug with gems of beauty. When these have become familiar and associat ed with tbe loves and joy a of a lifetime, then tbey will alsobtoome "household words, "and awaken the same feelings; but uutil that is the case the simple songs of yesterday will be the must popular, DiVKiurriEd is Wood. The varieties of wood are more numerous than moat people are aware of, At tbe Pari exposition of 16G7, there were, from forty five different countries, no leas than 3,uv different Kinds oi wood exuioit-d. 3i3 coming from Europe, 252 from Atrioa, 858 from Asia, QCG from Oceanioa, aud 1,298 from Anierioa. TUX VoBACJTY OT PlCXKBkX. AcOOtdinff to M. Penoion. who baa been practically investi gating the subject, a pickerel will eat 17 pound and four ounce of nab. per pound of it own weight per) ear. WILLAMETTE FARMER. Old Songs. It was only a verse of a song that all of us used to know and sing a few years bro, though one never hears it now Stephen 0. Foster's 'Old Folks at Home." What a favorite that song was in its day, and tbat day not so far back, either! Fathers and mothers sang it, young men and maidens, and little children; the mechanic at bis work, the mother at her baby's cradle. There were some who sneered at it as a negro melody, but in its simple, touching words and sadly sweet air, was a charm which the great heart of the people ac knowledged, and they set the seal of their ap proval upon it. Sung in palace and cottage and fisherman's hut in city and country, and by the sea, wherover the English language was Bpoken by Americans, this song, by America's most topular composer, went, loo, and alas! like everything else in this mutable world, it had its day and was forgotten. And there was another that we all remem berthe "Old Kentucky Home." To theatre goers the name will recall a scene in Uncle Turn's Cabin; an old man sitting with bowed bead, siDgirjg of the home he should never see again. And looking at the bent figure, listen ing to the words so mournfully sweet, one realized what a slave mav feel. But these old songs, with many others like them, are among the things that were. Gone with the old days never to return. Popular taste and feeling have undergone great changes, and this changed feeling finds expression in a new class of songs, beautiful, many of them, but lacking the charm of old association, and that, after all. is what so endeared those early favorites, touching them with that "light that never was on sea or land," the light of memory. Investigator. The Handkerchief Seventy Years Ago. The handkerchief, which is now an iudispen sable appendage of every lady's and gontleman's costume, is ot comparatively modern introduc tion. It was, not very many years ago, deemed a vulgar object instead of a matk of neatness, as now. Until the reign of the Empress Josephine, a handkerchief was thought in France so shock ing an object that a lady would never dare to use it before any one. The word was ever carefully avoided in refined conversation. An actor who would have used a handker chief on the stage, even in tbe most tearful moments of tbe play, would nave been un mercifully hissed; and it was only in the be ginning of the present century that a celebrated actress, Mile. Ducbesnoise, dared to appear with a handkerchief in band. Having to speak of the bandkerohlef in tho course of the piece, she never could summon courage to call it by its true name, but referred to it as a light tissue. A lew years later, a translation of one of Sbakspeare s plavs. by Alfred de Viony, having been acted, the word handkerchief was used, for tbe first time on the stage, amid cries of indignation from the audience. I doubt if to-day French elegantes would carry handker chiefs H the wife oi Napoleon i. naa not given the eicnal for adopting them. The Empress Josephine, although really lovely, had ugly teeth. To conceal tbem, she was in the habit of carrying small handkerchiefs, adorned with costly lace, which she continually raised grace fully to her lips. Of course, all the ladies of the court followed her example, and handker chiefs have rapidly become un important and costly part of the feminine toilet; so that the price of a single handkerchief of the Duchess of Edinburgh would make the fortune of a necessitous family. Phrenological Journal. What Savaoes Think op Twins. In Africa, according to Dr. Robert Brown, (" Races of Mankind ) tbe birth ot twins is commonly re garded as an evil omen. No one, except the twins themselves and their nearest rela tives, is allowed to enter the hut in which they first saw light. The children are not to play with other children, and even the utensils of the hut are not permitted to be used by any oue else. The mother is not allowed to talk to any one not belonging to her own family. If me cnuuren uotu live mi me cuu ui iue sixiu year, it is supposed that nature has accommo dated herself to their existence, and they are henceforth admitted to associate with their fel lows. Nor'isthis abomination of twin births restricted to Africa. In the island of Bali) near Java, a woman who is so unfortunate as to bear twins, is obliged, along with ber husband, to live for a month at the sea shore or among the tombs, until she is purified. The Khasias of Hindostan consider that to have twins assimi lates the mother to the lower animals, and one of them is frequently put to death. An exaotly similar belief prevails among some of tbe native savages of Vancouver island. Among tnoAinos, one of the twinB is always killed, and iu Arebo, in Guinea, both the twins and the mother are put to death. Popular Science Monthly. We are going to tell this little story about a Texan bedbug tor the special uenent oi an ao auaintanoe who visited the State Fair at Sacra mento, last week, and says that during his stay there the nights were rendered hideous to uim by the attacks of this ravenous vermin. An Austin, TexaB, merchant who was out in the country buying grain, stopped at night at a dilapidated farm house. After a fierce contest with the bugs aud mosquitos, he had fallen asleep. He slept abont an hour when he was rudely awakened. The old man was standing over bim wiih a oooked revolver, and one ot the farmer's stalwart sons had him by the heel nnd was in the act of jerking him out of bed. while the hired man was tossing the pillows around with a ttiree-tined pttcbtork. " What have I done?" he hoarsely asked. "Keep cool, stranger," replied the farmer, "some of the boys thought they heard a Den nison beilhua chawincF no the shuck mattress. but I guess it must have been wolves out iu the timber they heard; you can go to sleep again," Vibtcb in Whistujio. An old farmer once said that he would not have a bin d man on his farm who did not habitually whistle. He alwaxs hired whistlers; said he never knew a whiBtliue laborer to find fault with his fo id. his bed, or complain of any little extra work he was asked to perform. Such a man was gene rally kind to children and to animals in bis caie He would whistle a chilled lamb iuto warmth and life, aud would bring in his hat lull of eggs from the barn without breaking eon of them, lie found such a man more care ful about closing gates, putting np bars, and seeing tbat the nuts on his plow were all pro perly tightened before he took it into the field. He never knew a whistling hired mau to kick or beat a cow, nor drive her on a run into a stable. He had noticed tbat the sheep he fed in tbe yard and shed gathered around him as be whistled, without fear. He never had employed a whistler who was not thought tul and economical. A ncab siQUTKD husband in Milwaukee saw a large bouquet ol flowers on a chair, and, wishing to preserve tbem from fading, placed them in a basin oi water, wnen nis wue saw ine rouquet half au hour afterward she gave one pierciug scream and fainted on the spot. Her defective vUioned hukbaud had mistaken her new spring bonuet, with its oopiouaneM of dowers, for a ireaniy cuuea uouqatt. The Complaining, Petulant Girl. She will rise in the morning and come to the table generally the last one and she will say: "I didn't get to sleep much last night. I heard the clock strike twelve, one, two and three: and I had such a horrible dream of being chased by a sheep." Some one will pass her the baked potatoes, and she will say: "No, I'll not take one; I had such -a burning pain in my stomach yesterday that I must be careful," Then she will rise and poor boiling water in ber tea, and just as she sits down will say: "Tndie. put the cat out; if there's anything I hate it is to have a cat walling up its yellow orbs at me when I eat. A little of the gravy, please but, oh dear, I got my sleeve in the cream I" And then she runs to the pantry, and inBses round, and calls one of the girls to get ber the wash basin with a little warm water in it. She comes back to the table with, " I am so nervous this morning 1" and she holds her hand over the region of her heart, and rolls up ber pale blue eyes. Pretty soon Bhe leaves the table to fix her collar, saying: "I've stood that scratching at my neck as long as I can." After breakfast she comes to me with: "My hair is coming out so badly; do you know what would prevent it? I'm 'fraid I'll lose all of it yet." I tell her what to do. And I am very busy cutting out aud fitting the waist of a dress, when she comes again with, "One of my great toe nails is growing thick and stubby, aud it pains all the time. What would you do if you were me?" I say: "Bathe your feet in warm water, and scrape the top of the nail in the centre with a bit of broken glass, and then wear shoes a size larcer." "0 auntie, my shoes are a mile too large now! Just seer and she thrusts out a ciuooy i foot that spills over the sides, runs back, and ' ...' .... II."' bulges up at the toes At dinner time she has the girls looking at her eyes to see if tbey are not unusually red. She thinks she feels symptoms of inflammation. She takts supreme pleasure while at the table of telling an old family yarn about her grand father having a crimson flannel cockade given him by General Lafayette. While we sit at the table, Josephine, in tak ing something ont of her pocket, drops ber kid gloves, which my complaining lassie picks up, saying: "Thank fortune, I don't have to wear number sixes 1" and she puts on tbe old gloves, and makes her hand into a fist, and laughs im moderately at the loose fit. She is alwayB afraid to go out alone at night, even to the cistern pump; and if she reads any thing frightful before she retires, she always keeps her lamp burning. She never thinks of going to bed without looking under it for burg lars, or fiendish men intent n murder. She is always thinking of herself; always magnifying every ailment and misfortune; al ways fearful of lightning, and tornadoes, and rain storms, ana drouth, nnd famine, and pestilence, aud contagion. She keeps a full supply of quack medicines for "toning up the stomach," "giving an appetite. '" "enriching the blood," "assisting tbe liver," "regulating the bowels," "helping nature, "-and "rectifying derangements." Poor girl! "Kiss Me, Mamma, Before I Sleep." How simple a boon, yet how soothing to the little supplicant is that soft, gentle kiss I The little head sinks contentedly on the pillow, for all is peace and happiness within. The bright eyes close, and the rosy up is reveling in the bright and sunny dream of innocence. Yes, kiss it, mamma, for that good night kiss will linger in memory when the giver lies moldering in the grave. The memory of a gentle mother's kiss has cheered many a lonely wanderer's pligrim age, and has been tbe beacon light to illuminate his desolate heart; for remember, life has many a stormy billow to cross, many a rugged path to climb, with thorns to pierce; and we know not what is in store for the little one so sweetly slumbering, with no marring care to disturb its peaceful dreams. The parched and fevered lip will become dewy again as recollection bears to the sufferer's couch a mother's love a moth er's kiss. Then kiss your little ones ere they sleep; there is a magic power in that kiss which will endure to the end of life. Another of my girls is always complaining. I know very well how this comes about. She is the pet at home, and has grown a little selfish, and to thinking too much and too often of her Belf. This is the fault of tbe mother. Any mother can make her children, especially her daughters, petulant, and babyish, and weak. I am well acquainted with the mother, and know just how she has brought up her daughter, and I hesitated when she wanted me to take the girl under my care. She has been accus tomed to magnifying every little ache and ail ment, and dwelling upon it selfishly. Arthur's Home JUaiazine. The bight of impudence the length of a book agent. Marshall Mtssenger. Trades of the Past. Half a century ago bellows making was a thriving trade. Every house bad its pair of bellows, and in every well famished mansion there was a pair hung by the side of every fire place. But as stoves and grates took the place of open fireplaces, and as coal was substituted for wood, the demand for bellows diminished, aud the business as a separate trade, died out. The same is true of flint cutting. Flints were once necessary, but only for tinder-boxes, and a tinder-box was as necessary for every house as a grid iron or a skillet. Every one who looks back to a childhood of forty odd years ago must remember the cold winter mornings when the persistent, crack, crack of tbe flint against the steel sent up from the kitchen an odor of igniting tinder and sulphur which pervaded the house. We have no more idea what became of the flint producers than of tbe old man of sorrowful memory, who, three or four times a week, called at our house with brimstone matches, for a penny the half dozen bunches. Both have completely vanished from the country. Then, again, are gone the pin-makers, who, though they have been in their graves this quarter of a centnry, still figure in lectures and essays to illustrate the advantages of division of labor. Instead of a pin taking a dozen men or more to cut, grind, point, bead, polish, aud wbat not, as it used to do, pins are made by neat little machines at the rate of three hun dred a minute, of which machines a single child tends half a dozen. Nail-making at the forge is another lost in dustry. Time was, and that in this nineteenth centurv, when every nail was made on the an vil. Now, from one hundred to one thousand per minute are made by maohinea. The nailer who works at tbe forge haa but a bad chance of competing with such antagonists, and he would have no chance at all were it not that his nails are ten-fold tougher than the former. Investigator. When a House is not a Fixture. A house set on blocks, resting on tbe surface of the ground, not attached to the soil, and removable without disturbing tbe land in any way, is not a realty; and also a portable fence is not a part of the realty. "Cry Baby Joe." Look at him ! We all know him don't we ? He is the boy that gets hurt every time he falls down. He is the boy that suspects Tom or Jimmie has stolen .his pencil whenever he loses it; that always accuses Bobbie, or Ned of cheating at marbles. He is that boy that al ways comes in crying when snowball and slid ing time comes. In short, he is that little fel low that none of the boys want along when there is going to be some rare, good fun. I do not like to say it, but I am afraid that each Bchool house has such a "Joe." This little talk is for these "Joes." For, my poor "Joes," I am sorry for you ! I know you never have a good time that is half an hour long. I know your little knees, and elbows and cheeks, are soft and tender, and feel the hurls they get. Shall I tell you what will toughen tbem ? Laughing will do it. When you fall, jump up, rub the place bnrt, laugh and run along. You won't mind it in a minute. Rubbing and laughing is the way to bring the good, warm blood up to the bnrt spots. When the merry blopd gets there, it will oure and toughen them. Notice, now, and see whether laughing boys feel a hurt long. Above ail eisa, aon t run and fen I lour teacher gets tired of hearing it. Even your mother often wishes ber little Joe was like other boys, and could make bis own way. Every one of you knows some big boy that you admire. You mean to be like him when you grow up. Well, notice him. He never cries. He never runs off, all doubled up and crying, to tell his mother when tbe ball hits him and makes his nose bleed, or he gets his finger bruised, tie doesn t hold a grudge ...!... l. 41. 4 V.AAM 1.1m -1 .. . s"' "jj " "" "" game uoi he ! He thinks a fellow that can beat him is a grand fellow ! If you should not grow out of crying, and moaning and complaining, when you get to jbe a big.boy, the little fellows will not look up to you and wish to be like you. Instead, they will perhaps, call you more disagreeable names than "Cry Baby Joe" even. Exchange. A Story for the Girls. Sit down on tbo porch, children, and let me tell you about Aunt Richel and the story she once told me. One duy, when I was about twelve years old, I had planned to go after strawberries, but Aunt Rachel said to me: "A girl of your age should begin to learn how to do housework. Take off your hat, roll up your sleeves, and help me do the baking." I pouted and sighed and shed tears, but was encouraged by tbo promise that I might go after tbe baking. Under good AUntRichel's direc tion I mixed a big loaf of bread, plaoed it on a tin as bright as a new dollar, and was rubbing tho flour off my hands when she called out: This will never, never do, child you haven't scraped your bread bowl clean." I shall never forget tbe picture she made standing there, her eyes regtrding me sternly, one hand resting on her hip, while iu the other she held the untidy bowl. "It will never do, child," she went on; "it Is not only untidy, but it makes too much waste; to be a good housekeeper you must learn to be economical. You have heard the story of the young man who wanted an economical wife ?" "No," I answered, and I might have added that I didn't wish to hear it either. "Well," she continued, "he was a very likely young man and he wanted a careful young wife, so he thought of a way he oould find out. One morning he went to call upon the different girls of his acquaintance and asked them each for the scrapings of their bread bowls to feed his horses. You see tbey all wanted him, so they got all they could for him. Finally he found a girl who hadn't any, so he asked ber to bs his wife, because he thought she must ba economi cal, "Now," said Aunt Rachel, triumphantly, "suppose a young man should ask you for the scrapings of your bread bowl, what could yon say?" "What could I sav ?" I repeated scornfullv: "why, I'd tell him if he couldn't afford to buy oats for his horses they might starve. I wouldn't rob the pig to feed them," HI suppose Aunt Rachel thought that lesson was all lost on me; but as true as you live, I never knead the bread to this day, without thinking of her lesson in economy. The Jujube Tree. The jujube tree, (Phamnm Ziziphus) has been introduced into Louisiana over thirty years, and though it thrives as well here as in Syria, its original country, it is known only by few persons. The jtljube is an elegant tree, of medium size, fifteen feet, accommodating itself to any soil, provided it be not too wet; and though a native of Syria, does not suffer from any amount of cold we are ever liable to experience in the latitude ot New Orleans. The fruit of the jujube tree ripens in July and August, and is of the size and shape of a large olive, covered by a red smooth, thin, but bard skin; the pulp is soft yellowish and sweet; in the centre of the fruit is a hard stone, which contains two cells or cavities, one of which is generally obliterated; the other contains an oily kernel. The jujube, through cultivation, has become naturalized in Spain, Italy and tbe Southern part of France, where its fruits are nsed in making tbat preparation so familiar to children, "jujube paste." The jujube tree is easily propagated either by seeds, or by suckers which rise from its roots at distances of eight to fifteen feet from the tree. The seedlings give fruit in six or seven years, the suckers in one or two years. Tbe inventive genius of the age now makes jujube paste of gum arablo, sugar, water, a little coloring matter, and not a particle of tbe decoction of jujube fruit and yet our medical dispensatories, though acknowledging the fraud, tall ns the modern jujube paste is as good as that of old times; I oannot agree with them. The Absorption of Wateb bi Woodx Fibee In alluding to the force which raises the sap from the roots to the foliage of trees a noted writer says: "One of the most surprising faots to be no ticed iu examining the wood of any tree with well-developed foliage, is the absence of any thing like free, or fluid water. A freshly cut surface of sap wood is not even moist to the touch, and if a tube be inserted into the trunk of such a tree it will frequently absorb water with great avidity. On the sixth of June last a nalf.lnch tube, six feet in length, was attached to a stop cock inserted into the trnnk of an elm and the tube filled with water. The ab sorption was so rapid that the fluid disappeared in thirty minutes, and this was repeated sev eral times the same day. " Now. this absorption was not osmotio, but apparently the result of imbibition or the affln "y tbe cellulose of the woody fibre. Is not this, then, the proper name for the force which carries up tbe crude aap?" It is now fashionable in New York to have a negro carry the family infant around in place ?i il'T or governeaa. If some aristocratic fool should go to church barefooted thera'd be Wroi!18 ' ,0Uo'r " le- II n X3 V .V."& Is. X x A 1- 'a A"