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CHARITY. 35min] I In the hour of keenest sorrowâ€" i In the hour of (leepest woeâ€" l “’ait not for the coming morrovv. | To the sad and son-owing go. Make it thy sincerest pleasure To administer relief; Freely opening thy treasure, To assuage thy brother’s grief. Go and seek the orphan sighintlâ€" Seek the widow in her tears, And, on mercy’s pinions flying, Go dispel their darkest fears. Seek the stranger sad and weary, Pass not on me other side. Though the task be sad and dreary. Heeding not the scorn of' pride. Go, with manners unassuming, In a week and quiet way- O'er the Father ne’er presuming. Though thy brother sadly stray ; ’Tie a Savior’s kind compassion, "I‘is His righteousness alone, All uninerited salvation. That. aiound thy path hsth shone. \‘Vhen thy heart is warmly glowing With the sacred love of prayer, Be thy works of kindness flowing. Not as with a tniser’s care. Duty e’or should be‘ thy watchwordâ€"-â€" l’ity drop the balmy tear; Always toward the fallen cherish Sympathy and love sincere. literature. UPS AND DOWNS. (Concluded from our last.) After considerable parleying and some confusion they found them- selves in possession of a suite of rooms-aoa parlor and two bed-rooms for, as Mrs. Smith declared, ‘the gals can have one room, we can f‘ch the other, and Andrew Jackson can sleep on that big sofy.’ r‘ Will you have your trunks sent hp,' asked the grinning waiter.’ ' Yes, the largest onc.’ ‘ What namc, sll' l’ ‘ Smith,’ very emphatically. Ina few moments a porter brought in a big black trunk, landed it in one corner and retreated. Mrs. Smith sat panting in a large rocking clfnir, her spouse stretched at full length on a sofa ; Nancy looked from one window and laughed at some comi- cal sccnc ; A. Jackson, with his hands stuck in a consequential man- ner in his breeciies' pockets, prome- naded the room and whistlcd ; while ,Marte commenced preparations for appearing at tn ‘ supper table. ‘ Where are the keys, brother,” she asked. The young gentleman care- lessly tossed nor a bunch, and con- tiIiUcd his promenade. ' ‘ Can’t you tell me which one be longs to this trunk ,' she asked im- patiently, after tr} ing severa'. ‘chp on til. you tind it, if you have not scnsc enough to tell,‘ Was the giacious answer. Alter a good deal of trouble she succeeded in foicing one of the keys in, and opening the trunk. ‘Giacions! ma.’ snc exclaimed. -‘ here is pa’s blanking i rushes right on top of cvcrything,‘ and the offendâ€" ing articles were tosscd across the room. She tossed over the contents a moment morc,throwing various mas- culinc liabilimoiits to the right and left in a very sunnnary manner. ‘I dcclai'e.’ said she finally, ‘I can’t find a thing. My pink baregc isn’t here. and right where I put it is a pair of great dirty boots. I think it is a'Sll'dtlle for pa to act so.’ ‘ Mr. Smith being roused from his nap by the storm of indignation, fecbly 'leclarcd that he hadn’t put a thing into that trunk, which brought _Mrs. Smith to the rescue. ' Sakes alive, Moll, them isn’t your pa's clothes none of 'cm ; nor that isn't our trunk neither, though it is most exactly like it.’ The whole family were in the greatest consternation, when all at once there owns a thundering knock at the door. While this scene had been trans- piring in their room, one equally strange had been enacted close by, occupied by a sturdy bachelor of forty, who likewise rejoiced l’l the name of Smith. Having ordered his trunk brought up, he had divest- ed himself of dusty coat and boots, and was very energetically explo- ring the depths of the washbowl, when the porter arrived with his load. ‘ Put it down there,’ came in smo- thered tones from behind the towel, and the porter obeyed. Somewhat refreshed by his ablutions, the nice old bachelor applied the key to his trunk, with a pleasant recollection of clean linen; said a few rough words when it didn’t come open very easily. threw up the top with a jerk, {munnced upon something white, and shook outâ€"n0 shirt a. all, but someâ€" thing very elaboretly ruffled and trimmcd'that fairly made his hair stand up with astonishment. {Thunder lâ€"womcn's fixin’s in my trunk I’d sooner have blacksiiakes in it. I do believe this is somebody elsc's trunk. ,Bali 1 laces and ribbons and all sorts of filagree nonsense. Curls, though 5 I should like to know r AURORA v N» ,» - d _ W \./‘ \ IV VV\W “x 4 \rVVVVV\/‘\NW VV J‘A/VVWN‘J ALEX. SC 3T 1‘, Proprietor. viii. us. No. 7. AND f inoHMOND :uun. AD WM RICHNJIUND illib, FREDAY, JANUARY 18. 1881. how the critters get these things on summer excursions were raisr, and â€"â€"-hangcd if 1 can guess. I’ll now,’ be! after a while the he exclaimed, starting up. dismissed, because, as Mrs. Smith last servant was ‘somc tarnal woman is iiiussin'g my very wiscly said, the girls needed trunk over and grinning at the i more exercise, for they were getting things.’ A vigorous jerk at the bell brought a waiter to the door. ‘ Are thci‘c My other Smiths here, waitcr,’ \Vaiter didn’t know ; he would find out ; and soon returned with the information that there was a family of that name in tho rooms :losc by. Utterly forgetful of coat and briots, he strode up to the door pointed out, and startled the occu- pants by a knock which convinced them that the police were on their track. ‘ ' ‘ I beg your pardon, ladies, he be- gan, in great confusionâ€"when, See- ' ing’ h‘s trunk open and his clothes scattered about, he bolted in‘o 'the room, gathered Up the garments with one Vigorous sweep, seized the trunk and marched out again, calling, as he entered his door, ‘ IIcre. waiter, come and take this confounded fe- male trunk out of my prcinists.’ There was no chance for a word of explanation on Ellllt‘l‘ sideâ€"both parties sccmcd satisfiei with regain iiig their property unharmed. Marie was soon arrayed iii her dear, pink baz‘cgc, whose multitude of l‘lounccs seemed to have used hp so much of the material as to leave nothing for sleeves, and very little for waist. Mrs. Smith’s delicate complexion was set off by a fanciful headdress of blue and white, but Nancy insisted upon wearing her traveling dress, and could not be induced to change it.’ ‘ What is the use of taking at) much trouble,’ she asked, ‘ for peo- ple that you never expect to sec again i I am sure [don t care what they think of me, and if Idltl, they will like me just as well in this dross as any.’ A! the table tltcy attracted suffi- cicnt attention to satisfy cvcii Marin, who giggled and siinpered in a most rem ii‘kablc manner upon discovering that she had for a near neighbor the nice old bachelor Smith. Thiit gcii- tleinan, after giving the whole family a Schpin; inspection, and nearly ntiiiiliiliaiing Marie by a scowl from under his btisv cyebi'ows, throw a half nod at Nancy’s good-natured face. and then devoted his whole at- :cUiion to his suppcr. in due time the party went on their Wayâ€"reached Saiatoga in safety. when: Marie made a ti'cnicndions sensation by wearng her ball dresses at the table. and flirting dcsperatcly Willi a foreign i‘iohtcinaii, who turned out to be one of the coat-lunch at the next hotel. A. Jackson was ini tiatcd by adistinguishcd young friend of his into the mysteries of a gamb- ling saloon, from which he issuad quite late at night, minus his money and watch, and Willi norcry dis;inc- tivc ideas of his own, except that the streets were very crooked and the lamp~posts blowing about odle enough, and it vaguely occurred to him that something must be drunk. Nancy found some girls of her own age who had come to Sai‘atoga as nurses to somebody‘s children. and insisting that they were ‘ the niccrt kind of girls,‘ made them her con- stant comparions, and probably en- joycd herself more'than any other member of the family. After a few weeks spent in this way they were all glad to return to Newton, and for the rest of the sea- son they were the ‘ traveled mon- keys.’ of the place. ‘Our tour to Sarrytogy’ was the inexhaustible theme for Mrs. Smith, upon which she held forth at sewing societies, and on all possible occasions. Two or thice years passed, and brought with them nogreat changes to the Smiths. The paternal head of the family subsided more and more into a nonentity, and was only seen creeping timidly about town with a sunshiny day, consoling himSelf with his pipc. Mrs. Smith’s red face changed gradually to a maho- gany brown, and her shrill voice ac- quired a higher key, while Marie grew as pale and languid as she ever aspired to become. A. Jackson was emphatically a ‘ ast young man,’ and the Wise ones shook their heads prophetically as he. dashed by them; but Nancy, in spite of incessant scolding from' her mother, and ridi- cule from Marie, bid fair to prove a valuable member of society, from the force of her own good sense. So they stood at the end of three retrenchment began to show them- selves. Parties began to grow rare-,- to have " iiaers and neurology, and she didn't know what all.’ By and bye they discovered that the house was too large for them, it Was so much trouble to take care of it, and a part was rented to another family ‘whilc the Smith’s modestly retired into the second story. Then Mrs. Smith got to having the ‘ narves,’ and could not possibly bear the care and confusion of her two youngest boys, who were ac- cordingly apprenticed to trades in the city, and just to kccp her out of mischief, Susan, the youngest dangli- ter, was allowed to learn mantus- making in the village. It would do her no hurt, her mother remarked, and she had heard it was very gen- teel to fit one's own dresses. The Smiths were going down, evcrybody said so, but the Smiths themselves resolutely snit their eyes to the fact, and fancied, because their own heads were in the bush, all their neighbors were in the same condi- tion. One day a portly man with a pocket full-0f papers, arrived in Newton, knocked at the rod house on the hill and had a brief conference with the united heads of the family. Before night it was generally known that. somebody, who held a mortgage on the estate of the Smiths, had forcâ€" closed it, and the property was offer- ,years. but from that time signs of ed for salc. Oddly enough, the old red house by the crossâ€"roads wasjust then va- cant, and thc tattered remains of our aristocracy were lain to move thither It was not too much to venture that there were red eyes and tearful faces behind the thick veils of the female Smiths, but Andy was fairlv trium- phant.â€"[Ic Wlilstlcd as he trundled .io'xcs and bundles from one house to the other on his wheelbarrow, and he actually chuckled with delight as he brought out from a dusty cor- ncr of the little shop, thc old painted isign that had swung over the heads of his customers so longâ€"~‘ ANDREW SMiTii, Giiocnn.’ At this present. day, a little old man in rusty black. smilcs patroniz- iiigly upon the country folks who frequent his shop, and draws a sigh of quiet rclicf whenever he chances to pass the big red housc on the hill. His wife, once more Mrs. Betty. kccps her small house quite tidy. and manages now and then to do an lcxtra washing or ironing, by way of giving a neighbor a lift iii a busy time, but she cannot forget her for- mer glory and still dwells upon it whenever she can get a listener. Susnn is our village millner, and rcal- ly has a natural tact for flowers and ribbons, and occasionally goes out to dressmaking just to see what the news is about town. Nancy, after after much opposition married a very respectable farmer, and takes pro- miums at county fairs for unimpeach- able butter. A. Jackson has disap- peared from the stage of our observa- tion. but there is a theory among some of the old ladies that he was gradually transformed into a mon- key. Marie still languishcs, reads highly wrought novels, copies senti- mental verses, and is waiting impaâ€" tiently for the arrival of the hero who is to raise hcr to the station in which nature intended her to shine. Our town of Newton is not pecu- liar in anything, least of all in its inhabitants.-â€"â€"-'I‘here are Smiths upon a larger or smaller scale in every little hamlet of the country, and peoâ€" ple who have watched their ups and downs will recognize the truthful- ness of my picture. Do you want a moral from all this? â€"â€"Thcn supply it to suite yourself. I have read over all that I have writ- ten, and do not see any in particular his hands clasped under the skirts of “"1?” it be gl'e" in ‘h' word' or his coat, or leaning over his fence of qua‘m 01d JOI‘” Bunyan : ' [Is that is down, need four no fall; He that is low, no pride.‘ CHANGING T‘IATS.-â€"-Bal‘l‘y, the. painter, was with Nollekens, at Rome, in 1760,:1nd they were extremely intimate. Barry took the liberty, one night, when they WPt'e about to leave the English coffeeâ€" house, to exchange hats with him. Berry’s was edged with lace, and Nolleken’s was a very shabby, plain one. Upon his re- lturiiing the bat, the next morning, he was asked by Nollekens why he left him his igold laced hat. ‘ Why, to tell you the Jtruth, my dear Joey,’ answered Barry, ‘I fully expected assassination last night ; and I was to have been known by my laced hat.’ .4.â€" . . VOCAT “ Let Sound Reason weigh more with us than Popular Opinion.” VVWWJ‘ .__._____.,____..___..._.__.__._ THE LITTLE MATCH'GIRL' if you cannot buy anything, at least Please buy some matches l' V As little Bettie Green speaks these words, she looks up, half anxiously, ‘ hall pleadineg, at the gentle face She has since early which bends over her. walked about over morning,wnh her basket on her arm, and “WW ‘l Passe" by has heard the t for the humble ones who come up The“ is great POWor i“ gelmenfiss- same timid appeal :â€"-‘ Buy some matches to-day ?’ ‘I want to go home; but I must notâ€"l cannot,’ you might hear her whisper to herself. ‘Tbere is no coal nor food there; mother is sick, and I must get something. I hadonly a few pennies! but n0~ body has given me even one !’ As she speaks, she sees coming towards her a lady, youngan fair. The warm cloak, the soft fur, the tasteful dross, tell of comfort, if not of wealth. But neither dress nor bonnet attracts poor Bettic’s atten- tion so much as the kind, pleasant face which turns towards her, list- ening to her appeal. Even the dog by the lady’s side, dumb ani- mal though he is, looks up with a confident air to his iiiistresse's smile; and if' he could speak to Bettie, he would say, ‘You have judged rightly. My mistress will help you l’ ' Buy some matches P’ replies a Voice so musical, that the child’s heart responds to it with a glad tht‘ol). ‘ These are a penny a box, ma’am. But Mesonâ€"holding up a round box, gully coloredâ€"Jars: a butter kind. They are German matches. I sell them live boxes for sixpcnce.’ As the lady gathers up several in her hand she turns to her sister. saying, ‘ Here, Jennie, help me to carry these.’ Then, putting the bright silver into Jentry’s-trembling fingers, she asks, ° Have you sold muoh to-dav T “No, ina’am, you are the first one who has bought anything of me. ‘Are you not tired and cold l’l i rejoin-s the new friend. ‘ Yes, nia’am ; l thought I would go home, but l could tlot.’ ‘ Why could you not l’ ‘ Oh, ma’aiii, l could not have seen the looks of-vthc children, our board mother’s feeble voice, asking me how much] had brought her. The children would have been so hungry. But I can get them soth thing now since you have been so kind to me.’ ‘ Your mother is sick, then 1’ l ‘ch, ma’am. She can do no- thing for us now, though she worked hard for us when she Was well. It miikes me feel so sorry to see her he in bed, sick and worried for us. It is very little that] can ldo to help the rest. Sometimes ]I almost feel as if I could steal, lonly ‘ _ Only whatl Do not be afraid to tell me.’ ° Because, ma’am, I learned at Sunday School how wrong it would be; and I could not meet my teacher’s eye when I knew that I had been stealing. I coull not dare to pray, cither.’ ‘ You go to Sunday school, then, and you love to pray l’ ‘ Oh, I love dearly to go to Sun- lday-school, I have learned so much there. I learned to love to pray there; and. I don’t know 'what I should do ifl could not pray. I have a bible, too, of my own, which was given me by our superintend- ent last New'Year’s Day. Iread from it tojmy mother, and she says the words are sweet to her." ‘Well, my child, I am glad to hear all this, and I am glad that I lmct you to day. I shall see you again son'ietimei Be honest always, because it is right. You may be sure of one thing. As long as you obey the voice of your conscience and do what you can, help will come to you. God; who cares for the sparl‘OWS, if you look to Him, will surely care for you.’ The kind lady's form disappears at length, but her sympathizing words linger cheerineg in Bettie‘s mind. The money which the child has received will help the suffering one at home, and Bottle no longer dreads to meet her mother’s ques- tion, or the children’s hungry cries. ‘ , Learn a lesson here, friend. As you walk up and down you will often see the suffering children of poverty who are trying honestly to provide for pressing ,wants. Help them if you can. Or If young' , lsny No, with a kind voice and look ‘Buy some matches, ma aim lâ€"--; NeVer disdain them became ther are poor. Their clothes may be faded and torn, while you may be dressed in coSily garments ; but the same God made you both; they are his children as well as you. The heaven which he is preparing for his “91‘5- AND ADVERTnuut \/\f\_’\.«’\N\/‘~/\â€"’ TERMS: $1 .50 In Advance. “711010 No. l 13. DON'T B's. Rooms.“ Don’t be rough,’ said a lady to her child. as, in its joy on account of the mother’s return, and pulled it somewhat vigorously. ‘Don't be r0ttgh.’-â€"â€"- Children of a larger growth often need this admonition. They should not be rough in their man- Roughncss in manner is no people Sim“ Open its gap” as widely ,indicatiou of Strength of character. thither from the homes of poverty Nothing is 80 winning as gentleness. as for the king who has sat 'upon a A gentle, Courteous manner Should throne. made none. It was Lazarus the beggar whom the angel carried to Abraham's bosom. Among the washed and saved ones above, you shall see many who were scantily clothed upon the earth, but who shall wear forever before the throne the white garments of the redeemed. ‘ MOTHERS ANT) DAUGHTERS. ' What can be more hateful than a fullgrown daughter lounging in idleâ€" nose, while mother toils in her behalf or wasting all her thoughts and care upon herself instead of lightening her mother’s burden ; and not con- tent with that even, exacting atten- tion from others, and giving way to impatience and irritability of tciiipcr when her selfishness is not gratified; and whose influence, therefore, difâ€" fuses perpetual gall and Wormwood over the intercourse of homo? What can be more hateful. unless it be a daughter“ who, by virtue of a supe- rior education obtained :through a father's labour and a mother's fruga- lity,or of greater natural abilities, usurps the place of a too yielding mother; and not only makes her will of no moment in the sphere in which it ought to be supreme, and treat; her, not with ill disguised but with ‘un-disauismi contempt I On the oth~ or hand, what can be more lovely than a daughter whose self-forgetful insidious, active and utitiring kind- ness. renders her the comfort and llay of her parents, and the sunlight of her home? While the other is a disgrace to her sex, and her influence is little better than an unmitigated curse, she moves. though in a narrow sphere. as a ministcringangcl, invcst- ing life with llal’llelti‘s charms, bless- cd hersclf, and blessing othch who bless God on her behalf. Can you hesitate, my young friends, as to which you would like to bcl Or can you, with the two before you, think lightly of the mission which you have to fulfill in your father’s house? Ali! it is no trifling work which you may do, if you vvillonly use the peculiar gifts of your sex in making home happy. How this may be done, and what reward it will yield, has been well indicated in the following words of Mrs. Conley, which, for what they suggest no less than what. they say, coiriinend them- selves to your consideration. Allu- ding to her own life, she says :â€" ‘ After the lapse of twenty-six years, it sensation ofpleasure thrills through ‘my fingers, when I reocllectthe daily task of lying on my father‘s neck- cloth, and combing back my mothers silvery'locks ;’ and then proceeds to add, that ‘ the conduct of young fe- males, resident under the parental roof. after having finished the term of their cduoation, should be marked by a soothing forbearance and tenâ€" derness, to the infirmitics of their parents. Deafness, lameness, dim- sightedness, and other infirmities of age, oit‘cumscribcd their pleasure, and perhaps a degree of fretfulncss is sometimes obcrved. But a duti- ful child will be fertile inexpedients to extend their pleasures, toallcvi- ate their priVations, and to bear with and soothe their infirmitics. I'he prompt eye vvill discern their needs and anticipate their wishes. The needle Wlll be threaded before the sight is excited by inability to accom- plish it; or, by gentle and playful persuasion, the needlework will be exchanged for knitting or netting. The leg-rest of the foot-stool will be presented or exchanged before cum- plaint of uneasiness is utterec.-â€"~Th large-printed Bible and the specta- clu will be placed at hand ;- the dim columns of the newspaper will be read aloud; the inquiring eye will be answered by a repetition of the conversation, or of the sacred ad- dress, which, uttered by a stranger’s voice, had passed ovcr the dull ear; and in the most exalted sense, the benevolent pleasure will be enjoyed ' {of being eyes to the blind, foot to. the lame, ears to the deaf, and cansâ€" ing the trembling heart to sing for Joyf-wWamim’s Spleen and Work. years reporter Bewflm how you mat“, be assiduv'usly cultivated by every :a distinction where your Maker has one, whatever may be his condition in life. Don’t be rough in the treat- ment of minds. - Many minds are gi‘ievously injured by rough hand- ling. A young hid, the son of a hard~working farmer, in a retired part of the country, had an intense” desire for knowledge. He had very limited means of acquiring it, but such as he had he used with all diâ€" ligence. A man of some literary pretensions called at the farm- house, The lad listened attentively to his conversation. It had relation to a subect in which he was deeply interested, and in relation to which he had acquired some knowledge. To some assertion made by the visitor, he moderately stated an ob- jection iii the form of a question. ‘ What do you know about the mat- ter was the rough reply. The discouraging effect of that remark was felt by the lad for years, though he ultimately took his station among the intellectual men of the land. Don‘t be rough in dcalit’tt: Willi the feelings of others. It is never safe to proceed on the assump- tion that t osc with whom we are dealing have but small capacities for feeling. Even the most phleg- matic have more feeling than we give them credit for. If We are careless and rough in our bearing toward them, we may inflict far deepcr wounds than we are aware of. Many hearts are chilled for a lifetime by the Want of gentleness and sympathy on the part of those who should have aided in warning and expanding them. IVHAT GREAT MEN HAVE Spnwso Fawn-“Lords Eldon and Stowcllâ€"â€"- sons of a bargcmaker and small coal dealer at Newcastle. Lord Tenterd-i-nâ€"Son of a barber at Can- terbury; he received a very. poor education, but obtained the means to go to college ; while there be enâ€" joyed from a company in the City of London an exhibition of $3 per year until he took his degree. Lord Gif- fordâ€"Prior to his being called to the bar, was many years a poor clerk to a solicitor, near Exoter. Lord Langdiile, the Master of the Rolls, was many years a poor practicing surgeon. ' Sir John W'illiams, one of the Judges of the Queen’s Benchâ€"- Son of a very poor horse-dealer in Yorkshire. Lord Truro-«Son of a very poor man, in Cornwall, mar- ried a first cousin of Queen Victo- ria. Mr. Baron Guriicywâ€"His mo- ther kept a snail bookstore for pamphlets in a court in the City of London. Lord Campbell, the pre- sent Lord Chancellor, was for many to The .Morning Chronicle. Lord St. Leonsrdsâ€"~ Son of a barber, and was formerly a clerk. Chief-Justice Sanders,whose precepts to this day form the best text-book to pleaders, was a beggar~ boy, first taken‘notice of by an at torney, who employed him in his of- fice. Lord Kenyon~Boot~black and errand-boy. Lord Hardwick~ Au errand-boy. George Canningâ€"u Son of a poor strolling player. How THE FRENCH ENTERTAIN THEIR Faisxns.-â€"â€"'I‘lie French mode of seeing their friends is much more rational than ours. An open evnning every ‘week, where all on the list may come without further invitation-â€"~a few cups of tea and a plate of biscuits, plenty of light, plenty of pleasant talk, and unrestrained conver- sation, even without introductionsâ€"M0- men in ball costume, if they are going fur. ther, grouped in bright spots of colour about the rooms, and women in shawls and gents? bonnets, who have come down by an omnibus, or else walked, if not too far and the streets not muddyâ€"winding up with a tray of simpe, orangedlower water, rau-sucre, and biscuits; and here you have your pleasant evening, briinful of gaiety and animation, without trouble, ostentation, or expense, where people have met tobe interested anti amused. and on leaving which those who are hungry will eat their bread and cheese quietly at home. Imagine Mrs. Smith giving, such an entertainment! It would he hard'to say which would fail most in the attempt ~---the entertainer or’the entertained. . l L _ BIG WORDS. Big words are great favorites with people of small ideas and weak con- ceptions. They are also sometimct employed by men of mind. when they wish to use language that may lbest conceal their thoughts. Willi lfew except-ions, hovwver, illiterate and half-educated persons use more ‘big-words’ than people of thorough education. It is very common, but very egregious mistake, to suppose the long words are more genteel than the short oneâ€"just as the same . sort of people imagine higher colors and flashly figures improve the style of dress. TThese are the kind of folks who dOu’t bcgin, but always " commence.” They don't live, but “ reside.’7 They don’t go to bed, but mysteriously “retire.” They don’t eat and drink, but “partake of refreshments.” They are never, sick, but "extremely indisposed ;-” and instead of dying, at last, they “ decease.” The strength of the English language is in the short wordsâ€"chiefly monosvllables of Saxon derivation; and people who are in earnest Seldom use any other. Love, hate, anger, grief, joy, express themselves in short words and dis rcct sentences; while cunning, falseâ€" hood, and affcctation, delight in what Horace calls “‘ oei'ba sesquipcdalia," words “ a foot and a half” long.-â€"- ' Selected. NIARKING Faurr.â€" We are accuse tomed to see names, arms, crests, and cyphers on tablecloths, napkins, winc- glasscs, knife~handles, plates, and other articles ‘of table gear, but we have never yet seen the system extended to the more perishable furniture of the table, namely, the peaches, plums, apples, and pears,that so admirably combine the utile with the dulce. It seems. however, that this has been done by some ingenious persons, and an Austrian publication describes the mode. It is not by writing the name, as boys do theirs, with a penknife on the rind of a growing pumkin, but by a far more elegant process. The desired design is cut in paper, and stuck on to the fruit just when it begins to assume its natural colour. When it is plucked those parts which have been covered by the paper will, it iii said, he of a brilliant whiteness. z;::r::;:::t-â€"_: ._._. ,r, :13; HERB AND Roor Tuss.-â€"-All herb- :ind root teas should be made with the same care as green tea. Steep- them in carthenpots, tightly closed, and use drinks while fresh. Most nurses imagine that herb teas are liuilcd herbs. The infusions lose life. as readily as green tea, by long steeping and exposure to air.â€" Sti'ain the teas before taking them tothe patient, and do not let it be- come insilidly flat before it reaches them. To Rimovc OiL FROM LAMP SHADES.â€"â€"â€"Flll a kettle with strong suds ; places towel in the bottom of the kettle, and put in the shades ; let them boil one hour, being careful that the shades are entirely covered with the suds while boiling ; if not covered, the glass will be marked where they rise above the suds-- Rinse in boiling Water immediately, and wipe dry. If shales are rub- bed to remove grease, spots re,i seinbling oil will be left on the glass. SALTING Mcx‘r.â€"~A French proa fessor denounces the use of salt: petrc in brine intended for the pro~ servation of flesh for food. That part of the saltpetre which is ab sorbed by the meat, he says is nitric acidâ€"a deadly poison. [Is as- cribes to this chemical change all the diseases which are common to mariners and others, who subsist principally upon salted meat+-â€"such‘ as scurvy, sore gums, decayed teeth, ulcers, disc, and advises a total abandonment of saltpetre in pickle for beef, &c. ; the best sub« stitute for that article being a small quanlhy of sugar, which renders the meat IWectcr and more whole- some. How To CARE von THE I‘IAIR.â€"â€"I As to men. we say, when the hair begins to fall out, the best plan is to have it cut short, give it a good brushing with a moderately stiff brush, while the hair is dry, then wash it well with warm soap suds, then rub into the scalp, about the roots of the hair, a little bay rum, brandy or camphor water. Do these things twice a monthâ€"~tlie brushing of the scalp may be pro- fitably done twicea week. Damp the hair with water every time the toilet is made. Nothing ever made is better for the hair than pure soft water, if the scalp is kept clean in the way we have named. The use of oils, of pomatutns, or grease of any kind. is ruinous to the hair of man or Woman. We consider it a filthy practice, almost universal though ll. be. for it gathers dust and dirt, and soils whatever it touches. Nothing but pure soft Water should ever be allowed on the heads of children. It is a different practice that robs our women of their most. beautiful ornament long before their prime; the hair of out daughters should be kept within-two inches, until their tWelfth year.~â€"~Hall’s iJoursezlaf Health. ~.-»-.‘ A».