4
I'
VOLUME II.
OXFORD, X. C.,XVEDNESI)AY, DECEJJ15ER 27, 1876.
TiSE B1£BS>€tE EBTE.
;Vcros9 the rapid slreaiii of seventy years
'i'he sleuder bridge of binnan life is ilirnwn
Tlir }iast and fimire form its niolderinir ])ier?;
The present uioinent is its frail kcy-stune.
From “dust tlmn an” flio arch begins to rise,
“'I’o dnsl” the fashion of its form dest'emls.
“Siialt fiiou roimii” the higher curve implies,
Jii vvl.iJi the tirst to la^t lowuevss bends.
Seen by youth’s magic light upon the arch.
How lovely does eacii fav off srauie appear!
But ah ! hoiv changed vviicn on the onward
march
Our Mt-ary footsteps bring the vision near!
A pmilet sti'cain upon its bosom takes
'I'lie inverted sluidow of a hriilge on high,
And thus the arch in air and water makes
One pei'lect circle to tiie gazer’s eye.
So ’tis with life the things iluit do appear
Arc llectiiig sliadow.s on time’s jaissiug tide,
Cast by the sunshiueof a liigh(*rspherG
From viewless things tiiat caangolessly
abide.
The real is hut the lialf of life ; It reeds
The ideal to make a perfect wliole ;
The sphere .f sense in incomplete, and pleads
'J’hc closer union with ttie sphere of soul
Tile pier tliat rests upon tins shore’s the same
- As that which stands upon the farcher liuuk;
And tiiness for ouj' duties liei'e null frame
A fitness for the joys ol higlier rank.
Tliea let us, passing o’er life's fragile arch,
Begard it as a means, and not an eml—
A.** hut tlie liaili of faith on wliich we march,
To where all glori .s of our being loud.
OMEN'S.
Let none of ns boast our.selvt-s
ns free trorn (be servitude of sn-
peistitioii so lonir as we noui'isb
o n- pet siuns and sacriKi'.e to our
favorite omens. How inaii\- oi
us dare to begin a piece of work
Ol Friday, lest we never linisli it ?
How many of us refuse to cut our
nails oil Sandav, lest uiisfortiiiie
follow ns all tlie week ? Indeed.
Miiierstitioii lias made cpiite a
point in the matter ot finger-nniks,
and instructs iis that the maiileii
who abbreviates tiieni ujjon Sat
iirday will see her true love on
the morrow, d'hero are tiuiso ol
us who even vet believed ill the
evil-eve, iind bear their deatli-
warrant in the hav ing of adogor
the crash'of a miri'i r—who would
almost starve sooner than sit the
thirteenth at table. In the creed
ofthe.se it is an evil omen to
count the stars—von will certain
b- die before you have liiiislied.
To see the moon over v'our left
shoulder [iresents ill luck, though
one ought to fortunate at seeing
it at idl Iiaza''ds; to receive or to
bestow tile gilt of a pointed or
sharp instrument argues cert; ni
destruction of friendship between
the two; to pick up a jiin with
the point toward you is of such
laijiiU't liial one bad better want
a ]’li, fore\'er than to secure it at
tins cost S 1 little li'ive most ot
us outgrown the belief that com
ing' e\'enls cast tlieir shadows be
fore, that for a liarniless bird to
enter a dvvelliiid' i.s jiroguostii' ot
some dire event. There is ] r .b
ably not o.ie of us who, upon
siiiiling the salt, will not seek to
appease tlie gods by tiirowiiig a
pinch over the shoulder—unless
we especially hanker after a quar
rel. If our scissors .stick in the
flooi' upon falling, we straightway
e.xpect a stranger ; it a Imstess,
through inadvc'leiice, sends ns
two spoons to our cup of bohea,
vve antiei|iate a present. M lio ot
us would put oil the moiiniiiig
bonnet of another without a .shud
der ot apprehension V And do
we not learn (hat to sing before
breakfast is a most dangerous er
ror ? perhaps because there are
iiialai'ies abroad in the nuwning
air, which it is not wise to fill
'One’s lungs with,'while'the stom
ach is empty. Does not the
verse tell us,
“Sing ill t!io slroet.
Hj.'jipiMiiiifminit you’ll meci?”
It may be because singing tluis
denotes great elation of spirits,
wliicli IS invaribly followed by
coi'i'espondiiig depression ; while
tile prophesy that, “those who
slug in tlie inonhii;; will cry be-
toi'e night” belongs to the same
iamily, and is derived probably
from the same natural causes.
“A maid shall not marry oa a "Wfduesd.’y,
A maid shall uut manj in llm mouutij f
May,”
we are told, though one would
b.! inclined to think that Wediie.s
d y, after tiie washing' and iron
ing were pat away, would he
a most opportune season for ;i
weildiii'g.
‘‘Marry in Lout, and jmu’11 live to ro|tont,”
inhei'its its assurance from a more
ancient stipersitioii, wliich predic
ted misloi'tuiie to those who imir-
ried diiriiig the feast of St Joseph.
And does it not lend to prove the
ilegi'ee of bondage in which even
the Clii'istian world was held,
when the churches i'orbade iiiar-
riages at that season, as the teast
fell ill Leiil f
‘Change yi»ur name and iinl your loiter
I'li (jliaiige fiM l)ie worse, and not tlio
Yu
hotter.’’
is a saying, however, the most
supeivtitioii.s is brave euoiigii to
delv at Cupid's bidding, ^ylio
ol ns lias not Known a uuitiior to
presist in cairviiig lier iiew-boni
ciiiid into the attic betore taking
nim to the parlor, in order lhai
ae mry be suie to rise in the
w'orld f Ol' one 'lO wlioii, the I'ock
iiig (d’ an o.njitv cr.tdie wo.iln
give a chill ol torebodiiig ! Who
has not known tiie nurse to shake
her head over the weighing ot
tlie baby ? And have we not
fallen in with some riieuinatic old
tellow who tells us that the liorse-
oliesinit ill liis pocktt ‘ has been
better’ll iill your docbirs’ stuff,”
though its curative powers may
not be visible in the distorted
limijs of the believer ?
In the bt'ginniiig, doubtless,
most ot these suiierstitioiis had a
natural ami leasoiiable origin,
though they have become so cor-
riijited b\' time anil overlaid by
predudice that we can see imtli-
iiig but lionseuse in tlieiii. Why
should it be lucky to put ou a
n'Mi'meuT ill side oiit, unless the
tviiiilile it occ.'i.sions teaches us
p .I'iiciiiarily and painstaking f It
Wi ijreak two artic es, way iniisl
we p.'i'ioice 1)1'.. ak a third, unless
it is that a careless habit g'l'o'.vs
ujiou one f and w'liy must we fmy
something' to break the .spell ot
slippers' tingei'.s, unless it is to
teach a lesson in prolit and loss S
Wiiv do dead men’s shoes never
wear long * or is it oniy aimthei'
version ol “light coma, light go,’
and confirmation of the fact that
we oniy value what we secure
svith effort f Does not the ad
monition never to count yourli.-'ii
vvlien lishiiig, or you will catch
no more, merely sig'iiity that it is
unwise to rest on one’s lau^ls and
let opporrunit.y slip by ? that there
is a tide in the affairs of men, ns
well as of fishes I Truth to tell,
we should be sorry to part with
some of our pleasant .supei'stitioii.s,
which ufteu lei.d a cliai'ui to our
counuouphice experiences, iinkiiig
then with the inscrutable and mys-
Has not the finding of
teiious.
a rusty horseshoe brightened the
dull da)' for us 1
"Ilmv it timcbL'P iiur qnic’K heart
\V lien F.ite, by laneuit, tiikcMuir part V'
when we discover a four leaved
clover, for iiistarice, and
‘‘Carry ia aur hearts for days
Peace that hallows rudest trays.’'
—Harper's Bazar.
S0.11IP5'2JJ.^G 'i'® I>0.
BY 51.
“Ileigh-llO !”
Katy Wets tired, so .she sat down
on the stairs. She was tired of
play, tired of ti'yiug to please her
self, tired of everything'; so she
stit oil the stairs, hugged doil\'
tight, and began to sulk.
Lilt .she had not stit tliei'e long,
before niauima passed that wa\',
and, seeing her little girl so dis-
coiisohite and misei'able, sat down
beside her, tind asked wliat wa.s
the matter.
“Oh, imiimna,” stiid Katy, “i
don’t know what to do. I've had
three parties and two diiiners, and
I’ve ditssed all my dolls over as
many as five times, till 1 am sick
of them all.”
‘Katy,’ said nianman, ‘I once
knew a little girl not imich oldei
than y ou, who had moi'e cause
tnan von to he sick ol es'ei'vthiim'.
Iliolivtlu girl vvns blind, biiiui
alter nine \eais of happy lilb in
which she iiardh' knew what ii
blessing sight was until it was ta
ken from her,’
•blatiy and many a time have I
seen her, looking so sad and ])iti
fill tliat my heart ached for her.’
One da)', a kind friend said to
hei', ‘Annie, I don’t iine to see
you So sad. Is there uothiug we
can do to make you happier ?’
‘Xo,’ said Annie, ‘nothing.'
Then tlie lady said, ‘Have you
evoi asked yourself, if tliei'e is
anything )'ou can do to make us
liajipy *'
‘Why, no,’ sail Annie, ‘Is
t’lere f
‘Yes, my darling,’ said the lady,
‘so iiianv thing's that in doing
them you will in time grow hap
py yourself. You can greet pa
pa with a loving smile, when he
comes home, tired, to his little
daiiu'liter whose sorrow he feels
almost as deeply as she does her
self. You can held baby while
mamma is so busy in the morning;
and do you know * I heard old
Ml'. Blake saying, the other day,
that he wicheJ little MBs Annie
would come to see liiir. as she
used, lie missed her so much.’
‘Katy,’ said mamma, ‘when
you go to see Aunt Aimio, does
she make \ unr v sit so dull for you
that you are glad to leave lier f
‘Nil indeed, mauima, b'it then
you would liai'diy think slie was
blind, slie does so many things,
and is so sweet and pleasant.’
‘And v'et, Katy, 1 Iind a little
girl who has ev es to see her way
down to little Eva Maynard'.'', le.t
to carry her there, and pleiit)'
of dolls and books to show her
vvlien she gets there, sulking on
ou the stairs because she has
done nothiiiing but amuse herself
and is fired of it. Oh, Katy, it
makes me asliaiiied of lier, wiieii
1 see her living only, for herself,
with no tnought or care fur oth
ers.’
minute to see Ev'a. You .see, I
never should have thought of
taking my things to sho'W her, it
you hadn’t told me.’
‘You must Lai'n to think of
things yourself my deal',’ said
mamma, ‘and remember that in
iieliiing others, you will help
yourself as well.’
'li’JlE ®F «■
WIVE.-..
Tlio every-day life led hv
Queen Victoria is thus described
ill the Paris Figaro, the iiifonnaiit
being the Queens favorite servant,
John Brown : ‘Her inajest)
leads a vet)' regnlar life 1 be
lieve r I said. ‘Yes, it is gener
ally the same day after da)',’ wa-s
the reply. ‘She gets up about
nine u’cloek in the morning, and
inis breakfast in her apartment ,
Tnen she walks up and down t o
leriaee until she comes indoors to
sign her pa[)ers. The documents
are all put ready to sign, with
the corner turned down where
she is to write. But her Majesty,
woman-like, will iiistst on read
iiig most of them, and on seeing
what is inside. Hov ever, she
larely makes an alteration. AL
ter tills, wliich often taKes two oi'
three hour.s, she sees the Pi'ince.ss
Beatrice (God bless her Ijand has
lunch. Tnen she will, if it is fine,
take a walk in tlie grounds with
the Pi'incoss Beatrice and prince
Leopold, when he or she will
drive out, and I have to attend
her. Then she comes home, and
one ot the ladies reads to her un
til it is time to prepare for dinner.
Alter dinner the ladies road to
.ler again, and she looks over
pictures and things, and goes to
bed very early.’ ‘The dinner is
rather a stiff affair, I suppo.se 1’ 1
said. ‘Well, stiff is hardly the
word for it,’ was the rejily. ‘The
guests assembled, and dinnei' is
geneially announced before her
Majesty enters the room, The
minister is waiting, and the peo
ple invited sit at the table, and
there is a pause. Tnen the Queen
enters, every body rises, her Maj-
est)' makes a bow and sits bown
and the guests resume their seats.
J’he footmen serve the dishes in
sulumu silence, and not a word is
siiokcn. Her Majesty usually
makes two or three remarks du
I'ingthe dinrior, hutno oncsspeaks
unless the Queen sjieaks to him,
and the company is more like a
Quaker’s meeting than anything
else. Before the dessert her
Majistv generally lises, hows,
and leaves the room, ’out the
guests, ladies and all, remain.
The princess Beatrice generally'
leaves with her mother, '^rhen
the conversation becomes more
general after her Majesty has left,
and at the end of the dinner Lady
Biddulph or Miss Cadogan, or
somehodv rises, the ladies leave
ihe room, the gentleman remain
ing, standing. Then the gentle
‘Qh, mamma,’ said Katy, ‘only
don’t look 80, and 1 will go this
men usuallv go to the siivoking or
billiard room, and the ladies to
the dravving-room. Sometimes
the Queen will go into the draw
ing-room in the course ot the ftve-
iiiiig, but not very often. And
the gentlemen are all in court
dress, which is usually very
tightly fitting, so they can’t en
joy their dinner mncli. I don't
envy them a bit.’ ”
India send.s dismal account.s of
the probabilities of an approach
ing famine, .
X'o companion so valmiblc ntid
safe can ii man have as discrci t
and godly wii'c It i.s her prov
ince and care to make lier home
neat and attractive in a|.!nciirantc,
genial, sweet and healthy in aT-
nu’itihere—the I'.lace to niili
her husband shall iuru with glad
and lotigiiig heart. It i.s her aim
to be in iicrson and manner so en
gaging, in spii'its .so fre.sli, in affec
tion sogeiiiiine and true in thought
■so elevated and pure, that he .shall
seek lior i oinpanionsliip v, itii nev
er failinff zest and iov. .4m! ifi.i;
er failing zest and joy. Ami ilis
by such coDijianioiiship tinit a
sweet and refined woman nionids
andla.shi,m.sherhusliand roagiace
and worth 1(1 him altaiiiablc in no
other way Her delicate .seiiso
seizes upon, tind niK'Oiisc’ou-l .•
elevates his ae.sthetic natnre. Ii c
gnnvs lip toward In.r stai'daril of
good ta-t.'. T he gentleness of lier
spirit WOO 'the siinnb.'t'ing n hil-
ity of Ins natni'c to tiie iorlune of
life, and niiikes him groat iii tln.i
strength of manl-v nniJevness. IIc-i*
piety', .morcsinijne,' trusll'nl, stcad-
i'a.st than his, sweellv holds him !o
truth, to duty, to God, Her grace
of imiiiner gently smooth,s aw'ay
masculinef'oughnes.s and a.ngnla.ri-
ty. A niost Krighty wicLicr o!' tlie
moral pruning knife is a judicious
wife. One h'v one ec'CcntricitieS
ami I'udciK-si of nutcr life, e.xcrcs-
ceiices and vicious growths from
the inner life, ate cut au'nv until
a man, in character and condni't,
is rounded a;id eamp]cto---77,'fii
Mondag Cltih.
The merriest phu'e in the nni-
vei'se i.s just bey'ond the (‘artli’si
attractive power, for tiutre ail
bodies lo.so iIkJi si'avifv.
Is your voice a sopliomor?” in-'
quired a ciruiurv music comuiiflce
man of a V'ounglady who applied
for a position in the, choir.
It ia related ol a certain, mlnistor'
who was noted lor his long ser
mons with many divi.simis, iliat
one day, when he tvas alvatu ing
among his teens, lie reached .at
length a kind of resting place, in
his discour.se, cvlien. pausing to
take breath he asked the question.
’’And w'iiat shall I sav mors f A
voice from the coiigregafioii .cai'-
nestly re.spondcd, '’Say ’Amen!”’
A genius was e.xplaining the
utility of an In.lia rubber .ship
which he was inventing, when ar.
old salt exclaimed : “Xo, no ; it
wi.l never do. An India .rubbci'
ship would rub out all the lines
of lattifude and longitude, to say
nothing lA' the cipiator !”
An Irish peasant being asked
why he permitted his pig to lake
up its quai'ters with Ids famih',
made an an.sw'er abounding will;
satirical naivete.' “YvTiy not 5
Doesn’t the place iift'ord every
convanienee that a pig can re
quire 1
A rcvereiicil doctor was on one
occasion pirooeeding-to.the act of
ordination of one of his Imarers !,■;
the Kirk-sessioi)',-when tiie per.-;''.-,
in question rose and said that lie
was not suited for siicl; an offic'.i.
The minisler iiromptlv i'c|‘i!iv! i;
jffs hesitating Itearer. Come awa,
nion, do yC! ken .tiiaj: tlni Mastei
had ance need of an ass?.” .