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THE REPORTER AND POST.
LIKINtt A*U DIIMMIJId.
Ye who know the reason, tell me
How it Is that Instinct still
Prompts the heart to like—or like not—
At Its own capricious will ?
Tell me by what hidden magic
Our impressions first are led
Into liking—or disliking—
Oft before a word be said ?
Why sh 'lid suiiles sometimes repel us,
llright eyes turn our feelings cold ?
What is that which cniues to tell us
All that glitters is not gold ?
Oh, no feuture, plain or striking,
Bui a power we cannot shun,
Prompts our liking or disliking,
Ere acquaintance hath begun!
Is It Instinct—or some spirit—
W liicli protects us and controls
Every impulse we inherit
by some sympathy of souls?
Is it instinct / is it nature ?
Oi some freak or fault of chance,
Which our liking or disliking,
Limits to a single glance /
Like presentiment of danger,
Tltough the sky, no shadow flings,
Or that Inner sense, still stranger,
Of unseeu—unuttere'd things ?
Is It—oh, can no one te!l me.
No one show sufficient cause
Why our likings aad dislikings
Have their own Instinctive laws ?
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE
One wintery afternoon in January,
away up in the bleak attic of a wret/ihed
tenement house, a pale, sad-eyed wouiati
sat sewing. The garment upon which
she was engaged was a very rich dress.
Ihe twilight closed in rapidly, with a
Miudiog fall of snow, a bitter wailing
blast that made the windows rattle ia
the casements. Still the pale-faced wo
man stitched on.
"Mother," piped a sweet Toice from
the cot beneath the wiudow, "will you
get the dress dono Oh, mother, I'm
so hungry ! If I only had some tea and
a bit of tausage."
She worked on steadily for a timei
pausing only to brush a tear from her
white cheek, then arose and shook out
tbe glimmering robe.
"'Tis done at last," she said. "Now
mother s little girl cau have her supper ;
only bo patient a little longer, Flora!
Ross, coma, my boy."
A manly little fellow came out from
the bed room beyoad.
"The fine dress is done, Roas, and yon
most run home fwith it as fast as you
oan. Miss Gracie will be out of pati
ence, I know. Tell her I couldn't finish
it one moment soouer, and ask her to
give you the money. We must have it
to-night. And you can stop at Mr. Ray's
as you come back and buy some ooal ;
and we must have some bread and tea
and a mite of butter, and you must get
a sausage, Ross, for poor little Flora."
"I'll get them all, mother," he said,
"and be back in time. You shall have
a big sausage, little sis," turning toward
The girl nodded her curly head, and
her great wistful eyos sparkled with de
"And you shall have half of it, Ross,"
•be piped, in ber splendid bird voice.
"Hadn't you better put on your tbick
jacket, my boy ?" continued the mother,
"the wind cuts like a knife."
"Pshaw! little mother, I don't mind
the wind," and away be went down the
oreaking stairs and out into the storm.
Mi« Oracie FonUniyy was in a perfect
furore of impatience and anger. Her
dear five hundred friends were assem
bled in the halls below, and her hand
some dress bad not come homo.
"What did tbat beggar woman mean
by disappointing her I"
At tbat moment there was a ring at
the door, and a voioe in the hall.
"Please tell Miji Oracie that my
mother could not finish it seouer , ud
■he wanted th« money to night."
The servant took the handsome drew*
ind the message.
"I'll never give her another atitoh of
work," cried the angry beauty. "1
ongnt to have had it three hours ago.
Here, Faneheoo, dress me at once, there
is not a minute to lose. No, I cannot
pay to-night; I haven't time. IL» must
"But we have no fire, and nothing to
eat, and my little sister i• sick," called
the boy, pushing up the grand stairway.
"Shut the door, Pancheon," command*-
ed Miss Qracie. And the door was shut
in his bee.
I'rom the porch at the parlor window
Pansie watched the whole scene, her vio
let eyes distended with childish amaze
"Poor little bay," she enid, us Ross
disappeared down the stairway ; "sister
Graeie ought to pay him. It Bust bo
I dreadful to have no fire and nothing to
She stood for a moment balancing her
self on the tip of oue dainty foot, her
rosebud face grave and reflective; then
a sudden thought flooded the blue eyes
with sunshine, and snatching something
from the table she darted down stairs.
The servant girl had just closed the
street door, but she fluttered past her
like a humming bird and opened it.
On the steps sat Itoss, brave little fel
low that he was, his face in his hands,
sobbing as if his heart *ould break.
•'What's the matter, little boy 1" ques
Ross looked up, half believing that it
was the face of an angel looking down
upon him through the whirling snow,
"Oh, I cannot go home without the
money," he sobbed; "poor mothe r
worked hard, and Flora is sick and so
"Here," sho said, "do take this, little
boy, and buy her lots of nice things.
Tis worth a good deal. Papa bought it
for my birthday present, but do take it
She extended her dimpled hands, and
something like a shower of tears fell at
tho boy's feet. He caught it up in
amazement—a necklace of emeralds,
lustrous, gleaming things, set iu tawny
"No, no," he cried, running up to
where she stood, "I cannot take the
necklace—take it back."
"You shall take it," she continued im
periously. "1 have lota of flue jewelry
and fine things—run home now and buy
yonr sister something to eat."
She closed Ihe door with a bang, and
Ross Btc.od irresolute in the stormy
gloom. Should lie ring the bell and re
turn the jewels *o l'ansic's father, or
should he do as she bade him. lie thought
ofhii iu>ther and poor little Flora watch
ing wistfully for his return. He could
not go back and see them starve. With
a sadden feeling of desperation be thrust
the glittering necklace in his pocket and
dashed down the street.
The gaslight blazed brilliantly in a
fashionable jewelry establishment, and
the bland proprietor looked down in
quiringly on little lloss as he approached
the glittering counter.
"Would you like to buy this, sir 1"
There was a tremor in the boy's voice
as he asked the question, and the hand
that held the ctnorald necklace shook vis
ibly. The lapidary took the gems, ex
amining them elosely for a moment, and
then shot a sharp glance at the child.
"See here," ha said presently ; his
voioe stern and commanding, "I want to
know how you came by this "
The boy's clear eyes fell; he blushed
and stammered evidently embarrassed.
The jeweler put aside the emeralds and
taking tin lad's arm, he led him to a small
"You area thief, sir," he said. "That
necklace belongs to Mr. Fontenay—he
bought it of me no', a month ago. You
stole it; you arc a thief."
The little fellow straightened himself
and bis brown eyea blaaod. "I am no
thief," ho retorted. "A little girl gave
it to me, and I knew it was wrong to
take it, but—my mother and sister are
"You don't look like a tbic(," he said ;
"but I will send for Mr. Fontenay ; '.bat
will settle the matter at onco."
He dispatched a messenger according
ly, and Ross sat down in a corner and
■obbed bitterly as he heard the driving
wind aud thought of his mother and poor
little Flora. In half an hour Mr. Font
enay came, bringing his little daughter
Pansie with him. The little creature
dart«d toward Ross like a humming
bird, while her checks were all ablaze,
and her eyes flashed like lightning.
"He didn't steal my emernlds!" she
eried out. "I gave tbem to him to sell
and buy some bread for bis little sister."
Rosa sprang to his feet, struggling
bard to keep back his tears. He put ont
his little brown hand which Pansie in
stantly claaped in ber chubby bands.
"I am not a thief, air," be said, ad
dressing Mr. Fontenay ; "1 never stole
anything is uiy life; I know it was wrong
to take the necklace—but—but—sir, my
little sister is starving."
The merchant drew bis hands across
"You're a manly little fellow," he
said, patting the lad's head, "and I do
not in the least blame you , but I will
take Pansie's emeralds, and she shall
give you something more avai.able.
Here, Pansie, give this to your little
fie put a gold piece into Pansie's
har.d, which he tendered to iloss, with
the injunction that be should run straight
DANBURY, N. C., THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 2, 1882.
home and buy lots of goodies for his
poor little sister. The command he was
not slow to obey.
"I think we shall not lose sight of the
little fellow," continued Mr. Fontenay,
an Ross disappeared in the stormy dark
ness. "Shall we, pet! Let us see what
we can do to help him. He is a very
promising young lad, and an honest one,
lam quite sure. Mr. Lennox, you are
in need of an errand Loy, )vby not try
him * I wish you would."
The jeweler consented, to Pansic's
great delight, and on the following day
Ross was duly installed as errand boy in
the fashionable establishment.
Fifteen years after, ono blustering
March morning a young man sat behind
the counter of a thriving jewelry estab
lishment in one of the Northern citic.'.
He was a handsome man, a traveler, a
man of taste, intellect and money, for
he was a junior partner iu the firm,
which was a prosperous one. But, des
pite his good fortune, Ross Dunbar was
not happy. His mother and little Flora
had gone to their long home, and ho was
utterly alone in the world, without kith
Sitting alone one morning, with the
roar of the March winds in his ears ( his
thoughts were running back to the days
of his boyhood, to his mother's humble
home. How vivid the past seemed, and
how dear and sacred, despite its priva
tions and sorrows. His eyes grew dim
and his heart swelled. All were gone
over the wide waters of time and change.
A tender smile softened his sad face
as he recalled the stormy night when be
sat sobbing on the stops of Mr. Fontcn
ay's mansion. And little Pansie ; the
remembrance of her sweet face, as he
saw it through the snow wreaths haunt
ed him constantly. In all the fifteen
jcars never for one hour had he forgot
ten her. But she was goue—lost to him
llis reverie was broken by the ent
rance of a customer, a lady closely
clothed and veiled. She approached the
counter with a jewel ease in her hand.
"Would you buy these?" she asked,
simply, in a olear, sweet voice, that stir
red the young man's heart, as no otlie;-
womau'i voice had power to do.
He took the casket, opened it, ami
spread out its contents. A watch, an
elegant and costly diai.'.ond ring, two ru
bies and an emerald necklace. Ross
Dunbar barely suppressed a cry of sur
prise as his eyes foil upon it. He turned
it over with eager, trembling fingers,
and thero on the clasp was the name that
had lived in his heart for so many years,
"You wish to sell them all ?" he ask
ed, striving to steady his voice in the
wild throbbing of his heart.
The lady hesitated an instant and then
she put out her slender hand and drew
the emeralds toward her.
"I dislike to part with this," she said;
"it was my father's gift—and— aud—
but no matter, take them all, I must
have the mor.cy."
In her eagerness she had thrown aside
her veil, revealing a lily face, lit by lus
trous sapphire eyes. Ross Dunbar stood
silent a moment, every nerve in his man
ly form thrilling with supreme delight.
He had found her at last, the idol of bis
"They arc very fine gems," he said,
after a moment, 'and I aui willing to
give you a fair price—suppose we say
one thousand dollars—will that do
The girl flashed a dazzling glance of
surprise from beneath hor heavy veil.
"So much as that!" she said tremu
lously. "You are very kind, sir. Oh,
you cannot know how much this money
will help me."
The young man made a polite reply,
and proceeded to put aside the jewels
and drew a check for the money. The
Maroh winds were blustering without,
and the girl shivered and drew her wrap
per close as she started out.
"Won't you let mo run down to the
bank for you?" said the jeweler, catch
ing up his hat. "You can play shop lady
the while ; it won't be but a miuute or
"But I'm troubling you so ?"
"Not a bit; just take the warm seat,
please, you'll not be likely to have any
customers." And seating her beside
the desk, he took the check and hurried
Pansie Fontenay threw back hor veil
and leaned her head upon her hands, a
puzzled reflective look upon her sweet,
"Where have I seen that face 1" she
asked herself over again. "It is so fa
miliar ; who in Jhe world can it be '"
His return broke in upon her medita
tion, and after reoeiving the money she
hurried away to her humble lodgings.
The following afternoon was oven
mere blustering and stormy ; the wind
roared und the sleet tinkled against the
windows of the little room in which Pun
sic and her father sat. Several misfor
tunes and rcversw had reduced thein to
poverty, and the #ld man being an inva
lid all the care fell npon Pansie's shoul
ders. She sat down with her father,
readiug aloud from a new book which
she had bought fo/ him with some of the
money received from her jewels. Her
sweet face was wan and sad, and her fu
ture stretched before her sad, hopeless
There is a ring at the door, and a ser
vant brought up a package for Miss Fnn
tcnay. An exquisi'e bunch of pansies,
fragrant and golden-hearted,, done up in
tissue paper, and attached to a card bear
ing the simple words : "Ross Duilbar has
not forgotten little ftti.aie."
Pansie sat amazed for a moment, and
then a rich bloom darted into her white
"Oh, father," she'said, "I kuow him !
I know hiiu ! Ob, we have found Boss
An in. tan T later ROBS was in the room
clasping her fluttering hand in his, and
into her Mue eyes looked with a glance
that brought the rojy bloom into her
face. And a few weeks later, whtn the
blustering wind.* were over, and the gol
den-hearted pansies bloomed on the gar
den borders, little Ptnsia became Ross
Dunbar's brido, and for her bridal gift
lie gave her back her'string of emeralds.
He is not a rabbit at all. A rabbit
is an unobtrusive little animal, who is
found by schoolboys in a holo in the
ground, at the end of a long track in the
snow. The Bu-eall"4 jack rabbit is quite
a different kind of. soup-ui at. His
avordupois is about V'tecn pounds, and
his cars measure, from tip to tip, about
sixteen inches. He -does not burrow
in the ground. He ljos under cover of
a bunch of prairie grass, but is seldom
found at Lome, bit office hours being
between sunset and ruurise. He is to
be found during the >!ay on the open
prairie, where he fee' s on the tender
shonts of the mosquit • or sago grass.
He has two \».i sot himself
against his enemies. One way is to
mpat, when he suspects danger, and fold
lug-cars along his sides. By doin? this
he often escapes observation, as only
his back is exj osed, the color of which
harmonizes nth the brown of the with"r
ed grass. The other plan that he uses
when discovered and pursued is to create
remoteness between himself and his pur
surcr. In giving his whole attention to
tLi.. matter, when necessary, he is astu
; enduous success, and ii earnest to a
fault. When disturbed, he unliuibers his
long legs, unfurls his ears, and goes off
at a bound. He generally stops after
running nt» nt a hundred yards and looks
back to see if his pursuer is enjoying the
chase as much as he thought he would,
and then he leaves for parts unknown.
There arc many fast things, from an ice
boat to a note maturing in the bank, but
nothing to equal the jack-rabbit. An
unfounded rumor gets around pretty
lively, but could not keep up with him
for two blocks. When an ordinary cur
dog tries to expedite a jack-rabbit route
he makes a humiliating failure of it.
He only gives the rabbit gentle exercise.
The latter merely throws up his ears,
and, under easy sail, skims leisurely
along talking ocoasionaly to give the fu
neral procession time to catch up. Hut
if you want to =ee velocity, urgent speed,
and precipitate haste, you have ouly to
turn looso a grey hound in the wake of
a jack-rabbit. I'ersuid by a greyhound
he will "let himself out" in a manner
that would astonish a prepaid half- rate
message. If he is a rabbit that has any
experience with a greyhound before, he
will start off at an easy pace, but, as he
turns to wink derisively at what he sup
poses to be an ordinary yellow dog, he
realizes that there is force in nature hith
erto unknown to him, and his look of
astonishmout, alarm and disgust, as ho
furls his ears aud promptly declines tho
nomination, is amusing. Under such
circumstances he goes too fast for the
eye to follow his movements and orcyents
the optical illusion of a streak of jack
rabbit a mile and a half long.
Upon the appointment of a new
United States sub-Treasurer in New
York, and his induction into otlicc last
week, it became necessary, of course,
to count the money on hand, and tho
retiring Treasurer turued over to his
successor, among other monies, eight
hundred tons of filrer, nearly all in
silver dollars. What an immeoso am
ount ! And yet there are the treasury in
Washington and various sub-treasuries
in various oities, all of which have their
vaults full of government money. With
this vast accumulation of wealth, whictM*
daily being inereasod by internal revenue
taxes and customs receipts, is it any
wonder that Congressmen are besieged
by lobbyist! and that the treasury is
continually being assaulted by all sorti
of job» ?— Slalrtville Lnmlmnrk.
The Jurymen In the Ciulfeaa
Juryman Browner was asked, "Had
you any difficulty :u reaching a verdict ?"
"No; not much," be replied, "wc
stood practically unanimous, although,
of course, wc did njt reach the conclu
sion in a moment, slill I would prefer
that you say wc stood practically unun
iinous when wc first went out."
"Had you ever any doubts personal
ly as to what would be your verdict I"
"Not after the evidence was in."
"How about the rest ?"
"I can't say ; I would not like to sav."
"Did you consult daily about the
"No, we did not consult; of eourso
some remarks were made, but there was
"Did you have any doubt at the end
as to the man's sanity ?"
"No, not a scintilla. 1 hoped I might,
but I eould not doubt. It was the clear
est ease I ever saw of downright mur
der. I have been on two juries in mur
der trials before and one abortion case,
being drawn as talesman each time, and
I never had so clear a case."
"Did the charge of the Judge change
your mind in any degree, or was it made
"Of course wo accepted the Judge'o
intcrpretatiou of the law as it was his
business to give us that, but after the
evidence was in I had no doubt."
"How did Guiteau's actions effect
your mind ?"
"We noticed that when evidence was
in his favor he did not interrupt so much
as when it went against him. His speech
had no effect at all, so lar as I know."
"What do you think could have been
the man's motive, supposing him sane V
I only speak for myself, remember,
but 1 think it was a desire for notoriety.
His whole lifo bad been a checkered
and bad one. He had come to the cul
minating point when he determined to
do this act aad make himself notorious."
"Had you any intimation of the course
of public opinion during the progress of
the trial V'
"No, only as Guitcau himself au
nouncecd it to us from day to day. We
took the evidence and weighed it and
there could be but one result."
Juryman Frazier was asked : "How
did you stand at the start?"
"We took but two ballots," he replied
"On the first ballot we stood eleven
for conviction and one blank. There
was one who was in some doubt as to
the prisoner's sanity. He was open to
conviction, however, »nu after talking it
over and getting n little more light on
the charge we took another ballot and
ii was unanimous for conviction as indict
"Had you any doubts at any time ?
"Yes; 1 bad doubts as to how the
rest were going. We agreed from the
first not to express or ask opinions, but
1 had thought to myself sometimes this
or that man will hang the jury. I was
never more surprised in my life than when
the vote came as it did at first. I had
thought that we might bo out several
days, although I was myself convicted
by tho preponderance of evidence. The
burden of prouf was on the defense, and
they nover established a single vital point
they claimed. We thought, sometimes,
as for example, when Dr. Rico's test
imony and his father's letters wore read,
that they were makingout a good defense
but they did not substantiate it. This
testimony had some weight, but it was
only the opinion of persons, perhaps cas
ually expressed, aud failed to prove
Lcurnlug the Truth.
Daniel Webster once told a good story
in & speech, and was asked where he got
it. "I had it laid up in my head four
teen years, and never had a chance to
use it until to-day," said he.
My little frieud wants to know what
good it will do to learn the "rule of
three," or to commit to memory a verse
from the Bible, The answer is this :
"Sorno time you will need that very
thing, l'erhaps it may be twenty years
before you can mako it fit in just the
right place: but it will be jut>t in place
some time. Then if you don't have it,
you will be like the hunter who had no
ball in his rifle when the bear met him."
"Twenty-five years ago my teacher
made me study surveying," said a man
who had lost his property, "and uow 1
am glad of it. It is just in place. 1
can get a good situation at a high sal-uy."
The Bijle is better than that. It will
be in place as long as we live.
—Dr. Canedo, the negotiator of the
Cape b'ear fc Yadkin Valley scheme, is
a native of Louissna. lie belonged to
I Van Dorns cavalry during the war.
The following is taken from the Uuited
States Economist: Have at fashion,and
preach economy, if you will. It is all
| the better for the world that rich people
should spend their money lavishly, in
j stead of hoardihg it. Every flounce on
the skirt of that glittcriug belle, ridic
ulous as it may be from an artistic point
of view, helps to make some dressmaker's
assistant moro certain of her week's
work. Everything she "cannot possibly
live without," though it be a gewgaw
suitable for a squaw, makes it so much
more certain that every shop-keeper 111
the land shall prosper. So, when her
father, scorning the unpreteutious red
brick mansion iu which his parents took
delight, spends a year or so in elabora
ting a palace of brown stone or white
marble, be finds abundant work for so
many score of laborers who else might
starve or go to the poor-house. So that
finery is paid for, so ihat one only 'buys
for cash," there is mars good thai harm
in the long in what seems like extrava
gance. An unpaid debt is a theft, and
theft is a crime; but honest purchases
which do not fust or last briug this about
and looking at the good done to the mass
es and not at one individual bank account
cannot be called extravagance. A
miser does more harm to his fellow-man
than a spendthrift,and the only alarming
point in the present universal show and
glitter is, that uulucky people with
inadequate purses may seek to take a
.]■ in it at the expense of trustful
merchants. If only tho rich became
extravagant, we say hurrah! and go
ahead' «ven if you do not leave a million
or »o to a poor-hcuse when you die.
Your cook and coachman and tailor and
jeweler, your wife's dressmaker, and all
the tiost of working t .eople paid to minis
ter to your far reaching whims, have no
need of one,
Change* of" a Century.
The nineteenth c*ntruy hus witnessed
many, and very great discoveries and
Iu 1809, V'ulton took out the first
pat«Dt for the invention of a steam
The first steamboats which made reg
ular trips across the Atlantic Ocean
were the Sirius and Great Western in
The first public application to practi
cal use of gas for illumination was made
In 1813 the streets of London were
for the first time lighted with gas.
In 1813 there was built in Waltham,
Mass., a mill, believed to have been the
first iu the world which eombined all
the requirements of making finished
cloth from the raw cotton.
In 1790 there were only twenty-five
post offices in the whole country, and up
to 1837 the rate of postage was 2f> cents
for a letter scut over four huadred
In 1807 wooden clocks began to be
made by machinery; this ushered in
the era of cheap clocks.
About the year 1833 tha first rail
road of any considerable length in the
United States was constructed.
In 1840 the first experiments in photo
graphy were made by Daguerre.
About 1840 the first express business
The anthracite coal business may be
said to have begun iu 1820.
In 183G the patent for the invention
of matches was granted.
Steel pens were introduced for use
The first successful method of mak
ing vulcanized India rubber was patented
The Value ol" Vaccination.
The alarming iucrease of small-pox
in different parts of the country very
naturally arouses attcutiou iu the peril
in which the public lieaiiu is placed and
tw the measures that should bo devised
to protect it. The doctors cannot, of
course, agree. Yaceiuation is denounced
by ono school as of no value whatever.
Some of the extremists of this party
even go so far as to say that it is worse
than the disease. The practical exper
ience of every country in the world
during the last hundred years, however,
goes to show that the great discovery of
Jenucr has reduced to a minimum the
ravages of the disease, and that when
vaccination is administered tho safety of
the person treated is as nearly certain a«
anything well can be. The value of
vaccination lias been tested. It is hardly
within tho range of reasonable discussion.
Considering tho present situation and
tho danger in which every one is more
or less placed it is the part of prudence
to adopt the precaution which science
and experience alike prescribe as the
i best that can bo devised.
The sligLtest sorrow for sin is suffi
cient, if it produce amendniend , the
greatest is insufficient, if it dues not.—
Whatever is obtained by docsit cheats
no man as much as the getter.
Let a man do his work : the fruit of
it is the care of another than he.
Half the ills we hoard in our hearts
arc ills because we hoard them.
An effort made for the happiness of
1 others lifts us above ourselves.
Piety is a good thing to have, but
I Christian charity is much better.
. Every age has its problem, by solving
which humanity is helped.
Those who trample on the helpless are
likely to cringe to the powerful.
Never excuse a wrnrg »;tion by say
ing some one els« does the name thing.
He who never walks save where he
sees men's tracks, makes DO discoveries.
Men often judgo the person, but not
the cause, which is uot injustice, but
As we must render an account of ev
ery idle word, so must wo likewise of
our idle silence.
Learn to say no ! and it will be of
mere use to you than to be able to read
Tho qualities we possess never make
us so ridiculous as those we pretend to
A man's own good breeding is tho
best security against other people's ill
Nothing will so increase and strength
en the virtues as practice and experience
Books serve to isolate man ; that
which is told us by word of mouth is
far more potent.
When you give to others, give cheer
fully. There ift no blessing for an un
Curiosity is a thing that makes us
look over other people's affairs and over
look our own.
Ilow absurd to be afraid of death
when we are in the habit of rehearsing
it every night.
God is great, and tiiereftr# he will be
sought: he is good, therefore he will be
Adversity is tho trial of principle.—
Without it a man hardly knows whether
he is honest or not.
It is one of the worst errors to sup
pose that there is any other path of'
safety except that of duty.
Don't be anxious until you are com
pelled to bo ; many a man worries about
a ghost that never appears.
Ono year of a noble and generous life
is worth a century of cowardly years,,
and self-cares and over-solicitude.
If it is yoar purpose in life to make
your face your fortune you must look
well to do it or it will turn, out to bo
If you expect to find purity in poli
tics you are as unreasonable as the cir
cus owner who sent his elephant up to
the depot to get its trunk checked.
Truth is a sure pledge not impaired,,
a shield never pierced, a lower that,
never dieth, a state that feoreth no forj
tune, and a port that yields no danger
Tho essence of true nobility is neg
lect of self. Let the thought of self
pass in, and tha beauty of a great action
is gone, like the bloom of a soiled flow
Tho influenoo of many good people ia
undoubtedly much diminished by their
want of that courtesy which has been
well called bcncvolonce in small things^
If you cannot speak well of your
neighbors, do not speak of them at all.
A ciois neighbor may bo made kind hy
kind treatment. The true way to bo
happy is to make others happy,
Tho men who succeed without the aid
of education are the exceptions. Com
mon men noed all tbo help that educa
tion can give to put themselves on a
level; and cvon of the exceptional meu
it may be said that tbey would havo
succeeded still better with the advan
tages of education.
Difficulty is tho nurs» of greatness,
a harsh nurse, who roughly rooks her
foster children into strength and athlet
io proportions. The mind, grappling
with great aims and wrest ling with mighty
impediments, grows by a certain neces
sity to their stature.
Eternal vigilance is said to be the
price of liberty, and to-day great mo
cess in commercial as in every other
sphere of life can be bought ouly with
the Bainj coin. Put plenty of it in
your sargo, if you would tuako your
voyage a success.