California Agriculturist and Live Stock Journal. 



bank of Venice, -n-hich nt the same time 

 it Jiscontiuucd the 4 ]ier cent, interest 

 that had hitherto been promptly paid on 

 the credits. This '2U per cent agio, add- 

 ed to the coin ducat of Venice, constitut- 

 ed a new unit of vahie, rejiresented by 

 no coin, yet maintainiug its ideal exist- 

 ence as the ducat of the bank of Venice, 

 and rose to an additional aijlo — termed a 

 sur-agio — of 20(11 30 jier cent., and con- 

 tinued the favorite currency of the Adri- 

 atic for nearly 400 years, until the 

 remorseless march of Napoleonic despot- 

 ism, in 1797, crushed the republic. A 

 worthless booty was found in the bank 

 for it had no coin or deijosit, but only a 

 faithful record of the loans that, more 

 than UOO years before, the citizens of 

 Venice had made to preserve the life of 

 the republic. Franco repaid the citizens, 

 but the bank and the republic were no 

 more. There was the money of a re- 

 public having no foundation but credit 

 on the books of a department of its 

 treasury, with no coin in its vaults, and 

 not bound to make that credit good in 

 later times by any payment of interest or 

 any redemption whatever, which yet 

 stood for hundreds of years at a high 

 premium over gold and silver coins. 

 Plain and open in all its progress, there 

 was no peculation or steal in any of its 

 processes. — N. Y. Conuncrcial Journal. 



ijoH.ochold^^Ceuliug, 



DOTTINCS AND JOTTINGS. 



BY IS.iAC KINLET. 



(frjpONESTY, every one says, is the 

 H|\) best policy. As it is the best also 

 'ijH in morals, where does the rogue 

 j5y^ liiiti Ws argument? Man is said to 

 4(^^ be a rational being; but by what 

 logic can there be deduced, for crime, a 

 plausible pretext? The criminal may in- 

 deed evade human laws; but the laws of 

 God are within, and their penalties are 

 inevitable — torturing even in this life, 

 sometimes to confession, sometimes to 

 suicide, and always to misery. 



Ignorant and short-sighted policy is 

 crime. Its consequences should frighten 

 even villains to virtue. 



"Were I not Alexander, I would be 

 Diogenes," was said by that human 

 butcher ycleped m history Alexander the 

 Great. 



There was more wisdom in this saying 

 than is often found in the acts of "Mace- 

 donia's madman." Alexander had con- 

 quered the world to his desires, and 

 l)iogenes had conquered his desires 

 themselves. The hero commanded the 

 resources of the world and had not 

 enough; the cynic lived in his tub and 

 was content. The rich wines and purple 

 robes of Babylon no more satisfied the 

 wants of the one than the water of the 

 brook and his sackcloth those of the 

 other. Extremes met, and the humbler 

 man was the greater conqueror. 



Could we look into the heart and see 

 the »i(i/ii'c'.s that have inspired the act — 

 could we see the temptations that have 

 bewildered, and the struggles only just 

 not strong enough to conquer, we would 

 often excuse, and sometimes approve, 

 where we now condemn, and sometimes 

 condemn where we now approve and ap- 

 plaud. 



The moral of an act lies in the inlenl. 

 Blessings are for him who earnestly 

 strives to do the right. 



Blindi!d though hobo by a tVousaud 

 prejudices, the striving will ultimately 



rend the vail, and he will be enabled to 

 see. It was because the persecutor hon- 

 estly believed that he was doing the will 

 of God, that the heavenly vision came, 

 and Saul of Tarsus became Paul the 

 apostle of the Gentiles. 



A man stood straight up, looked me 

 full in the face, and deliberately told 

 that which he knew to be false. He 

 knew he had said that which was not 

 true. He knew that I knew he had told 

 what was not true. There was a quiver 

 in his e3'e which he could not quite con- 

 ceal, a quailing before my strong con- 

 tempt which he could not quite avoid. 

 He put a hundred or so dollars in his 

 pocket by the falsehood, and took a like 

 amount out of mine. And yet he, and 

 not I, was the loser — I, and not he, was 

 the gainer bj' the transaction. 



What did he lose, do you ask? Possi- 

 bly money. For I could never again 

 trust him, when only his honor was in 

 pledge, to the amount of a single dime. 

 I could not advise a friend to trust him, 

 even though his necessities might be 

 ever so great. I could never again speak 

 of him as an honest or honorable man, 

 or as one with whom it would be safe to 

 be associated in any business transaction. 

 So the lie which earned him a few paltry 

 dollars at its utterance may cost him 

 many Hundreds before he has done with 

 its consequences. 



It cost him in reputation. One per- 

 son, at least, knows him to be a man 

 without honor or integrity. If, as a 

 warning to friends, I may have told of 

 the transaction to others, the news of 

 his falsehood may have spread, and 

 many besides myself may have learned 

 of his dishonor. And if a jury of twelve 

 men may, at any time, have hesitated to 

 accejit his statements on oath, or found 

 his honor light as weighed in the scale 

 against that of another, possibly it may 

 have been that the lie he told to me came 

 up to curse him. 



There is no concealing a falsehood. 

 Even if the person to whom it has been 

 told intends, out of mercy, to withhold 

 it from the world, ho cannot quite carry 

 out his charitable intentions, for he 

 must himself be truthful; and, though he 

 maj' never turn public accuser, he can 

 never again speak of the author of the 

 falsehood as being an honorable man, or 

 one whom under any circumstances it 

 will be safe to trust. And if be should 

 happen to be in such relations to the 

 man as to know him well, a failure to 

 praise will be accepted as an accusation, 

 and others will learn to hesitate. 



But the liar, himself, is the geatest 

 gossip of his own lie. Having told it, he 

 feels that it must be supported; and the 

 first necessitates the telling of ten others 

 not less meretricious. Neither do these 

 escape detection, and thus the witnesses 

 of his bad honor are multiidied. 



But, unfortunately, the new lies need 

 bracing quite as much ; and thus the first 

 falsehood becomes the father of an end- 

 less progeny. Soon his very counten- 

 ance loses the look of integrity and pro- 

 claims him unmistakably to all. His 

 reputation is in the air, and, in language 

 which cannot be misunderstood, every 

 one hears him proclaimed a liar. 



He loses in moral growth; and this, 

 valuable as reputation cu' property may 

 be, is the greatest of all losses. Integrity 

 is a treasure iu itself, and a man with 

 Ciod on his side may face the world. Its 

 value is not measured by the money it 

 puts into the pocket, the reputation it 

 brings, or the ofiices of trust or profit 

 with which it honors one. it is itself 

 the gold compared with wliicli these are 

 but common dirt. 



The liar has lost his iufcgrity, lost hi 



reputation, lost his self-respect, lost the 

 approval of heaven, and dwarfed his own 

 soul. Weighed against these, what are 

 the few paltry dollars which his false- 

 hood put into his pocket? 



And have I gained nothing? Some of 

 my gains are negative one. I did not 

 lose my integrity ; I did not cover my face 

 all over with the blushes of shame, and 

 lose the power to look an honest man in 

 the face. I did not cultivate a feeling 

 among my neighbors that I am a man of 

 doubtful integrity, and one whose word 

 under oath is unworthy of belief. 



But my greatest gain, that comjiared 

 with which all else is as the dust 

 on the shoe-sole, is a positive quan- 

 tity. I have gained these and other re- 

 flections tending to reinfore my own in- 

 tegrity and to contribute to my own 

 moral growth, a single grain of which 

 outweighs whole mountains of money. 



Again I ask, was he or I the loser — he 

 or I the gainer by the transaction? 



He who thinks meanly of others with- 

 out a cause is likely himself to be mean. 

 His opinions are the suggestions of his 

 own baseness. His nature is a colored 

 glass throwing its own hues on everthing 

 he looks upon. It is a jiositive pleasure 

 to have faith in the honor of others, and 

 it is better to be deceived a thousand 

 times than never to trust. 



Nevertheless, he is not wise who con- 

 fides indiscriminately. If there were 

 but one tiger in the forest, the prudent 

 man would carry his rifle. If but one 

 man in a thousand be a rogue, it is cjuite 

 enough to put a lock to the door. Safety 

 is always on the side of prudence, and I 

 should not choose to trust my money or 

 my reputation in the keeping of one of 

 whom I know nothing. 



San Jose Institute I 



and Business College, August, 187(j. ) 



INFLUENCE. 



BY P, P. P. 



I have stood on the bank of a quiet 

 lake and admired its calm and unruffled 

 beauty as its waters seemed sleeping on 

 the bosom of mother earth. Then toss- 

 ing a tiny pebble into it, I watched the 

 circular ripple it caused, until the silvery 

 wavelets, spreading wider and yet wider, 

 have broken on shore. 



I have held iu my hand a single grain 

 of wheat, and thought, as I looked from 

 the single grain to the full bin, though 

 .ts size is so small and its weight barely 

 more than nothing, yet it is needed to 

 make up the ton and full bin, which is 

 composed of similar individual weights 

 and sizes. 



What a lesson is here to you and me! 

 We, too, have an iurtuenee. It may be 

 small, like the weight of the kernel of 

 wheat; yet it is sufficient to exert a power 

 over our associations. Our influence 

 may be so small that we are unconscious 

 of its existence.. Nevertheless it is a 

 quality inherent in every one, and, great 

 or small, it exercises a constant and irre- 

 sistible power over those about us. Si- 

 lently, perhaps, yet certainly, we are 

 tending to mold those with whom wc as- 

 sociate after our own likeness, and thej- 

 cannot help themselves. 



At the same time, wo are being acted 

 upon by a similar intlueuco exerted by 

 our surroundings. This exterior power 

 we cannot escape. CTi'adually it is mak- 

 ing indelible impressions upon us. 



Now, our influence is being exerted 

 cither for good or evil. We aro eitlu^r 

 tending to elevate our fellowmen, to 

 better their state and condition; or we 

 arc helping to degrade and drag them 

 down. We aro either sowing the seeds 



of virtue, or disseminating the germs of 

 vice. We are either "co-workers togeth- 

 er with God," or we are doing the worl; 

 of ApoUyon! There is no middle ground. 

 We can no more prevent the efl'ect of 

 our own influence upon others than we 

 can escape the power they exert over us. 



This is the position, then, we occupy. 

 We may be a blessing to others, or we 

 may prove a mildew to blight and blast! 

 Our associations may be to us a source 

 of everlasting benefit, or we may become 

 so contaminated by vicious surroundings 

 that, instead of the beauty of upright- 

 ness and moral virtue and integrity, we 

 shall present a marred, distorted and 

 loathsome picture of shame and disgrace. 



Now, I would not be understood as 

 teaching that our individuality is neces- 

 sarily wholly absorbed by our surround- 

 ings. We have power to resist iiu eitlire 

 conformity to the example before us, but 

 caimot escape being 11107 e or lens aft'ected 

 by it, and so powerfully and stealthily 

 does it grow upon us, that we need to 

 use every faculty we possess in the cul- 

 tivation of better principles, in order to 

 to maintain our own. It is also true we 

 may so exert an ennobling influence over 

 our companions as to lift them up with 

 us. Our chosen companions aud resorts 

 are the hidden rock upon which our bark 

 is most in danger of being dashed to 

 pieces. If we are unwillingly thrown 

 among the vicious, we may to a certain 

 extent escape pollution, but we cannot 

 wholly. We are, in a measure, mii-rors 

 reflecting the character of our associa- 

 tions. 



If this is true, what care ought we to 

 exercise in the choice of our associates! 

 Aud with what circumspection ought we 

 to walk that our examjile be not a source 

 of ofi'ense to any! 



APOLOCiZINC. 



A most despisable and unworthy thing 

 is that weak and sickly spirit we some- 

 times see manifested iu some persons 

 which is forever begging pardon and 

 apologizing. No matter what is the 

 character of the circumstance, with some 

 the stereotyped phrase is ever ready, ' 'I 

 beg pardon," or "Excuse me." Often 

 these expressions are used meaninglessly, 

 but for this they are only less graceful. 

 Too often, however, they are the 

 promptings of a spirit so efl'eminate 

 that it dare not be right if there is the 

 least opposition. The manhood that 

 ought to exert itself is allowed to cringe 

 and bend till its unsightly dwarfishness 

 is simply despicable, and we turn from 

 it in disgust. 



Equally as far from true manhood Is 

 that spirit which withholds an apology 

 on proper occasions aud under propiT 

 circumstances. This is only allied to 

 the bully or the savage; it is never met 

 with in the gentleman. A gentleman of 

 truly noble character finds everywhere 

 only unrest while his conscience reminds 

 him of a wrong that he has not mended, 

 or at least apologized for. We some- 

 times hear of persons too weak, or too 

 vain, to apologize, but iu them true dig- 

 nity of character has no place. It is not 

 pride of character, but the want of it, 

 that withholds an a])ology for an insult 

 given or an atonement for an injury 

 done. He who really values his char- 

 actor will hasten to remove even the 

 slightest stain. 



Between these extremes lies the true, 

 proper course. An apology for a wrcnig 

 done is manly; an apology when no cause 

 is given is ridiculous; to withhold an 

 apology for an injury is stupid vanity. 

 P. F. P. 



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