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I ^ - ! í THE GOOD WE MIGHT…

THE STRANGE CLAIMANT;I OR,…

MINIE, THE MISER'S DAUGHTER.

" ' "'" THE LADIES." .

[No title]

, LADIES' COLUMN

USEFUL HINTS.

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VARIETIES.

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VARIETIES. FiMvmw.—If a word spoken in its time is worth one piece of money, silence in its time is worth two. Wvxxx-—Hard work prevents worry. "Work, but don't worry," the old saw says: but some people don't work, so they take it out in worrying. GOOD SEKSB NEBDKD.—NO branch of business can be successfully prosecuted without labour, and it is equally true that a fair amount'of intelligence is needed in order to succeed. Poverty is only a misfortune when wishes keep purse strings; indeed, it would seem to be the normal con- dition of man, for neither banks, stocks, dividends houses, nor rents were dreamed of in Eden. After all! no man is poor who does not think so. THINK VIGOROUSLY.-Accustom yourself to think vigorously. Mental capital, like pecuniary, to "be worth anything, must be well invested—must be rightly ad- justed and applied, and to this end careful, deep and intense thought is necessary if great results are looked for. There is no such thing as standing still in this world. Change is the eternal law of nature. A HERo.-The greatest man is he who chooses right with the most invincible resolution, who re- sists the sorest temptation from within and without who bears the heaviest burdens cheerfully, who is the calmest in the storm, and the most fearless under menaces and frowns, whose reliance on tenth, on virtue, and on heaven is most unfaltering. PROSPERITY.—Let not prosperity elate thine heart beyond measure, neither depress thy soul into the grave because fortune beareth hard against thee. Her smiles are not stable, therefore build not confidence upon them; her frowns endure not for ever, therefore let hope teach thee patience. To bear adversity well is difficult; but to be temperate in prosperity is the height of wisdom. Good and ill are the test by which thou art to know thy constancy; nor is there aught else that can tell thee the power of thine own soul. CULTIVATED TASTE.-That it is a misfortune not to be able to appreciate flowers, music, or paintings in their joy-giving sense, is a fact not to be denied! A friend of ours, rather practical, determined to correct her own defects in her children. She and her husband were very practical in their nature, having very little love or taste for flowers, music, or poetry and, like a sensible woman, she realized this defect' and earnestly wished to counteract it in her children' Hence she improved every Opportunity to carry out this idea, even commencing to train them from the cradle, striving to make their, surroundings tasteful and beautiful. The result was entirely satisfactory, and the older children, now young men and women, exhibit not alone, the strong sense of their ysmn+a but also possess the -charm of cultivated taste and manners. THBWiLLow.PATTERNPLATE.—A contemporary gives this description of the willow-pattern plate. To the right is a mandarin's country seat. In the fore- ground is a pavilion; in the background an oranjre- tree; and to the right a peach-tree in full bearing. The estate is enclosed by a fence. At one end of the bridge is the famous willow-tree, and at the other a gardener's cottage. At the top of the plate, left-hand side, is an island with a cottage on it, The birds are doves. The three figures are the mandarin's daughter with a distea, in her hand, the lover, and the man- darin. The stpry is as follows. The mandarin had an only daughter, Li-Chi, who fell in love with Chang, her father's secretary, and he lived in the island cottage at the top of the plate. The mandarin forbade the match, and the lovers eloped, and lay concealed for a time in the gardener's cpttage, and from there made their escape to the island home of the lover. The father pursued them with a whip, and would have beaten them to death had not the gods, changed 1 into turtle-doves. It is called the' .willow-pattern 1 because at the time of the elopement the willow began i to shed its leaves. } CURIOUS LEGEND.—The Irish have a curious legend respecting what they call "Blaiad na oze;" in other words, The blossom of youth." The legend is this. An Irishman at one period went to Denmark, where he was hospitably received, much to his astonishment. He was taken into immediate favour by those among whom he visited. He was told that in a certain part of the county of Limerick, from which it appears he came, there was a crock of gold hidden under a white- thorn bush in a garden, which was so clearly pointed! out to him that there could be no mistaking the locality. He was further told that among the gold was a remarkable circular piece or coin, with which he should return to Denmark, but that he might become the possessor of all the gold in the crock with the ex- ception of that particular circular piece. The Irishman was obedient to the letter. He returned to Denmark with the circular piece, and kept for himself all but that. The Danes were rejoiced. A very aged Dane, having been rubbed with the wonderful circular piece of gold, at once became young again, fresh and vigorous as in the days of his boyhood. So with other Danes. "You have brought back," said they, "the Blaiad no oze,' the blossom of youth, and Ireland shall be poor evermore." A FINE TuRBOT -There is A good story told in connection with the Irish famine of 1847-8. A hard- working practical clergyman, of oonsiderableexperi- «oce induing with the poor, was sent over tothe ^f6st .? £ IreL?V*' superintend the distribution of tx j v been collected in this country. He had heard so much of the misery of those by whom he was surrounded, that he had naturally determined to exercise the greatest personal self-denial as regarded his own food; what was his disgust, then, on finding the dinner at the clergyman's house at which he was stopping to commence with a splendid turbot, fit only for an alderman's table, and which could not have been bought even at Billingsgate-market under a couple of guineas !an indignation heightened when the worthy rector called his wife's attention to the iact that that epicure's bonne-bouche, the fins, had been cut off. To vent his indignation, he sternly refused to eat a mouthful. The rector's wife was at her wit's end to know what to do, for there was nothing to follow. The conversation with regard to the fins, however, continued: "I am sure, my dear, Nora is an excellent manager. The fish was only one-and- twopence, and she couldn't get it into the copper without outtmg the fins." "Excuse me," suddenly said the stranger, "but I will alter my mind and have some Rah" and a hearty meal he made. He 'had forgotten the part of the country he was in, and had attributed the magnificent display of fish to Irish recklessness and improvidence, instead of .to strict Aconomv. 'I' Miss BUJINBY'S MISTAKE.—The not unnatural result of these interviews, and of all this royal condescen- sion, was, that the better judgment both of Frances and her father gave way to a sense of delight and half-unconscious self exaltation; and on the Queen's ottering the post of Keeper of the Royal Robes, vacated e, by the retirement of a German lady, to the successful novelist, she. unwisely accepted it. She had better have remained faithful to literature. The public'was a more liberal patron than Queen Charlotte, and was willing to give her not only reputation but a iiand- spme competency, while allowing her to retain her freedom of action and to enjoy the happiness of her home-circle. It is astonishing that Miss Barney, 4, 1 with her prudent and well-balanced mind, should not have appreciated these considerations. For what had the Queein to offer r Board, lodging, the attendance of a man-servant and two hundred pounds a 'year! In return for this, Frances had to consent to an almost complete separation from her family, to what was little else than a painfull^- close imprisonment, and the dedication of all her faculties to the observance of a fatiguing and ridiculous etiquette! She had to give up the exercise of those remarkable talents by which She had amused and instructed thousands. Instead ot visiting on equal terms with the distinguished men and women of the time, she had fo accept the fbrfeed companionship of the chitif fceeper of the robes, "ati old hag from Germany, of mean understanding, of insolent manners, and of temper which, naturally savage, had been exasperated by disease." For sucn a mess of pottage did Frances Burney surrender her birthright. Never was a more unequal or more disastrous bargain made.—" Women of F"Idon," by W. B. D. Adams. EARTH FROM, BORNEQ.—The following very curious story is told^about D<»otor Fotthergill, who lived in the eighteenth century, and was a celebrated physician and botanist. A merchant-vessel came into the London Docks with yellow, fever; tJre captain and crew were suffering severely from it, and no one would go near the sufferers. Doctor Fothergill however went on board, partly out of compassion, and partly from a desire to study a disease which was new to him, and he removed the captain to his own house, and finally succeeded in getting him through the fever. When the captain recovered, he inquired of the doctor whit he was in his debt, but Fothergill refused to receive any payment. The captain then wished to know how he could compensate him for such kindness; upon which the doctor replied that there was one thing, he. could do for him-if he were making a voyage to the East, and would pass through the Straits of Macassar by Borneo, he should be glad if he would bring hijn back two barrels full of the earth of Borneo, which the captain promised to do. However, when he reached the spot on his voyage out, he thought of the ridicule he must experience from his crew in so strange an undertaking, and his heart failed him, and he sailed through the straits without fulfilling his inten- tion. On his return by the same route the same thing happened again through his fear of the scoffs of his crew. However, after he had left the straits two hundred miles behind him, his conscience smote him with ingratitude and the non-fulfilment of his pro- T6' anf ^Pfilli V lP S h,ead about> returned to the spot, and filled the barrels with the earth. On his return he sent them to Doctor Fothergill who had 9 ground thoroughly burned, the Borneo earth, when it is a known fact that there came up all kinds of HTf cunous plants, said to be one hundred diffe- 8™» some geraniums and new flowers, which bave^subsequently spread through the gardens ef Look not mournfully into the past, it eaaaot tWtmrn; j wisely improve the present, it is time go forth to r meet the shadowy future without fear, and with a manly heart. j Have courage enough to review your own condnct; to condemn it where you detect faults; to am«nd it to the best of your ability; to make good resolves for y°^-1* guidance, and to keep them. Winter, which strips the leaves from around u% makes us see the distant regions they formerly con* cealed; so doea old age rob ua of our enjoyments, only to enlarge the prospect of eternity before us. STUDY OF MBANS-HOW foolish it is to imagine that the earnest study of means cripples genius. It is only -from a mastery of them that free creative power can emanate it is only when familiar with all the paths which have already been trodden, and moving with ease in them, that the mind can discover new ones BEAUTY.—Never lose an opportunity of seeing any. thing beautiful. Beauty is God's handwriting, a way- side sacrament; welcome it in every fair face, every fair sky, every fair flower, and thank Him for it, the fountain of loveliness; and drink it in, simply and earnestly, with your eyes; it is a charmed draught a cup of blessing. IDLENESS IS UNNATURAL.—There is not a man, or a thing alive, but has tools to work with. The basest oi created animalcules, the spider itself, has a spinning jenny, and a warping-mill and power-loom within its head; the stupidest of oysters has a Papin's digester, with a stone and lime-house to hold it in. How un- natural then is idleness! ObiqinALITY.—People talk of originality. What do they mean P As soon as we are born th e surrounding world begins to operate upon us, and so on to the end; and, after all, what can we truly call our own but energy, power, and will? Could I point out all I owe to my great forerunners and con- temporaries, truly there would remain but little over. -Goethe. TRANQUILLITY OF MiND.-Neither rich furniture, nor abundance of gold, nor a descent from an illus- trious family, nor greatness of authority, nor elo- quence and all the charms of speaking, can secure so great a serenity of life as a mind free from guilts untainted, not only from actions, but from purposes that are wicked. By this means the soul will be not only unpolluted, but undisturbed; the fountains will ran clear and unsullied, and the streams that flow from it will be just and honest deeds, ecstacies of satisfaction, a brisk energy of spirit which makes a man. an enthusiast in his joys, and tenacious memory sweeter than hope, which (as Pindar saith) with a virgin warmth nourijheth old age. For as censers, even after they are ejinpty, do for, a long time retain their fragrance, aaCarneades expresseth it, so the good actions. of a wise man perfume his mind and leave a rich scent behind them; so that joy is, as it were, watered with these essences, and owes its flourishing to them. This makes him pity those who not only bewail, but accuse human life, as if it were only a region of calamities and a place of banishment appointed for souls.—Plutarch. DKRBY DAY ON EpsOM DOWNS.—Here is our author's account of the scene presented on Epsom Downs on Derby Day, which is probably as novel to English readers as it was to the writer himslf" Good humour and unreserved merriment; classes mingle; P-, one of our party, has has met his usual coach- man at table with a gentleman, two ladies, and a child. The gentleman had employed, and then invited, tho coachman; the coachman introduces P-, who is amicably compelled to drink port, sherry, etout, and ale. In fact, to-day it is hail fellow, well met; but this lasts for a day only, after the manner of the ancient saturnalia. On the morrow distinctions of tank will be as strong as ever, and the ooachman will be respectful, distant, as is his wont. Another of our mbnds perceives a gentleman of his acquaintance, who has come in an omnibus, bringing with him his daughter, and his lady acquaintances—eight ladies in all, stopped in passing, we are obliged to drink and eat; our reception is frank, jovial, and cordial; this gentleman, who had never seen me before, invites me to visit him in the country."—Taines' u NOÚ8 on England. THB MODBRN FRENCH DRAMA.—If the dramatist will consent to make his art a form of journalism, he will always have to sacrifice the ideal interest to the rhetorical, the interest of passion to the interest of controversy, and, after all, he will feel that he has confused the issue. Ever since the Restoration-if we should not say ever since the days of Diderot and Beaumarchais—the French drama has supported its unparalleled vitality by keeping to this level. Its predilection for one class of subject is not altogether an accident of French Society. Something is wanted M called the bin Jagannath, and represents a hideous moving palace, with a reeking still at the roof, md vast, gin barrels for wheels, under which unhappy millions are crushed to death. An immense black cloud of desolation covers over the country through which the gin monster has pressed, ,dimly looming through the darkness, whereof you see an agreeable prospect of gibbits, with men dangling, burnt houses, &c. The vast cloud comes sweeping on in the wake of the horrible body-crusher.' "—Hunter's Orrtssa" THE FIGHT WITH LIONS.—Livingstone went out one day with others of the Tillage to assist in killing one of the lions. They discovered their game on a small tree-covered hill. The circle of hunters at first formed loosely round the spot, and then gradually closed up, and became compact as they advanced towards it. Mebalwe, a native schoolmaster, who was with Livingstone, seeing one of the lions sitting tiie "ng> fired, but missed him, the i ilL S!?g tiie rock at the feet of the animal, which, bitting first at the spot struck, bounded away, broke through the circle and escaped, the natives not avuig the courage to stand close and spear him in the attempt, as they should have done. The circle re-formed, having yet within it two other lions, at which the pieoes could not be fired lest some of the men on the other side should be hit. Again there was a bound and a roar, and yet again; and the natives scattered and iled, while the lions went forth free to continue thbir devastations. But they did not seem to have retreated far, for, as the party were going round the-, end. of ahill on their way home to the village, there was one of the lordly brutes sitting upon a piece of rock, as though he had purposely planted himself there to enjoy their defeat and wish them good-bye." It was about thirty yards from Livingstone, who, raising his gun, fired both barrels into the little bush behind where the lion was sitting. A cry was raised, He is shot, he is shot," and the natives were about to rush in upon him, when Livingstone, who had noticed the tail of the brute raised in anger, warned them not to do sol Wood's "Dr. Livingstone and the Cannibals." WAS SHAKESPEARE A PRINTER ?—There is hardly a. trade or profession which does not claim Shake- speare as having belonged to it. The late Lord Chancellor Campbell we know, proved the poet to have been a lawyer, from the legal terms employed in hi. dramas, and similarly, some enthusiast or other has shown, him to have been a soldier, a sailor, and d°Z!f, ° professions. We now find all previous ^ong, and that the poet really was i r- William Blades, the eminent Caxton scholar, and a man with practical knowledge of the ? r 8 has just written a book on the subject, tv which, in the Athenmum, we learn inat the result is striking, and proves, at least, that Shakespeare was familiar with the technical terms of a printing office." Among the instances of technical terms" used by the poet, and brought forward by Mr. Blades, our literary contemporary thinks two stronger than the others. The question, in Henry IV., Come we to full points hen ? And are etceteras nothing P is one. The second is the re- ference in Pericles to the four opposing coigns, which the world together joins," though, to be "a just description of a form in folio when two quoins on one side are always opposite to two quoinn on the other." If this process were pursued, Shf.k'espeare could be proved to have been almost anytbing. Mr. Blades, we see, makes out that the poel. knew the "nonpariel type" of 1650, which, con.g\(jerjn„ he died in 1616, is something remarkable. He may as well have made him a Saturday Re .'Ù;¡('f!1', because he occasionally says smart things. In reference to the sort of arguments employed by lir. Blads, and peopL. like him, who deduce their. conclusions from internal evidence of the dramas themselves -11 we can the etceteras m we 'J*