ing; don’t see the use of things; that father’s 
ways arc slow, and—yon know, Rose ; only 
this time he is in worse depths of depression 
than ever, and says that lie can't stay on the 
fawn. Then father don’t sympathize so fully 
as I wish he did ; he don’t understand Dick, 
and thinks he has a lazy fit, and won’t work 
with a will, instead of realizing how long 
and hard he has tried to conquer his aversion 
to the monotonous life." 
That night Rose laid awake for three or 
four hours, with the spirit of the great re¬ 
formers hurtling within Iter; planning im¬ 
provements, and comforts for those about 
her, and resolving most heartily that. Goo 
Willing, and with His blessing, Dick should 
grow happy again aud work on the farm 
from real love of it. 
Rose had been living for two years with 
her Uncle John Oakly, who was a lawyer 
in Rusbtou. He had no children of his own, 
so that he, and his lovable, motherly wife, 
just opened their hearts and home to their 
nephews and nieces. Rose, and Nina Ev¬ 
ans, an orphan, Mrs. Oakly’s sister’s child, 
had roomed together and gone to the best 
school In Rushton for many n term. Mrs. 
Oakly was an energetic Christian, yielding 
the fruit of the Spirit to all with whom she 
came in contact, and possessing an almosl 
mesmeric influence in her bright cheerful¬ 
ness over these young girls who were so de¬ 
voted to her. She hud exquisite taste, and 
believed nothing too trivial for an exercise 
of it; were she only buying material for a 
clothes-bag, she was careful that the pattern 
should be cheerful and pleasing. Therefore 
her surroundings—of all the things which 
are parts of the whole that make up a home 
—were harmonious and satisfactory. 
Rose had a natural aptitude for learning, 
and soon discovered the possibility of bright¬ 
ening her own house, so dismal by contrast, 
without much outlay; and after her first, 
visit home nearly two years before, site had 
made a plan to that effect, which her aunt’s 
family heartily approved and assisted her in. 
Then, within a few weeks of the time set for 
her ret urn to the farm, letters from her moth¬ 
er contained hints of Dick’s depression, until 
there was so much anxiety in the last that 
she just took the next stage and arrived un¬ 
expectedly, as you know. 
Uncle John had a half acre of land about 
his city home, and as part was lawn, flower 
beds, carriage-way, and clotUes-yard, it left 
but a quarter acre for fruits and vegetables. 
But Uncle John had a hobby—“high culti¬ 
vation his recreation was agricultural and 
horticultural; he reveled in an inundation 
of literature on those subjects that constant¬ 
ly accumulated on the evening table, and 
the consequence was, the ideas tints planted 
in his brain bore fruit in that quarter acre in 
such grapes, such strawberries, blackberries 
and vegetables, that Rose was lost in aston¬ 
ishment the first summer of her stay—hav¬ 
ing believed, as they all did at Oakly Farm, 
that such results were only attainable on pa¬ 
per—catalogue descriptions, for instance. 
“ Why Uncle John," she said one day, 
“ our family don’t have a third as much sum¬ 
mer fruit from our farm of sixty acres ns 
you do from 'the lit tie estate,’as you call 
it.” Ills eyes twinkled as lie answered 
“Book farming and experience combined, 
my dear; but seriously, it is a shame to treat 
the old farm so; lets have a reformation, 
Rose —only, cautious must be Die word 
when we mean any innovation with your 
father.” And Rose had vowed in her heart 
that she would work for it. 
The morning after her arrival at home she 
sat down at the breakfast table, a pleasant 
object to those around her, in her tasteful 
dress, hair in soft shining braids, bright 
cheeks aud sunny eyes; but best of all the 
expression of her face, so sweet, yet. giving 
the idea of a strong spirit. This morning 
her happiness just radiated upon the others. 
“ Commit thy way unto the Lord, and put 
thy trust in Hint, and He shall bring it to 
pass,” she had read before she came down, 
and she knew that was true. 
“ Mother, may I have the south room to do 
with us I please?” asked Rose, after she had 
helped with the round of duties for awhile. 
“Certainly, child, only you know there j 
isn’t anything in there but the pine table that 
I cut work on ; nud the straw mailing seems , 
cold already, though it is only October.” 
“Oh, thanks, mother! —and won’t you 
please not ask questions to-day, bur. lend me 
your funny old mirror out of the square 
room, and let me make a raid on (hu rest of 
the house for a few chairs if I need them?” 
Permission gained, and Tier father and 
Dick at a safe distance, Rose made a num¬ 
ber of trips from her trunk to the south room, , 
which opened directly from the dining-room* 
When her burdens were safely in she drew 
a long breath, and turned the key. “Ah, t 
nothing could he better,” she thought; “this 
middle of the room, and laid on it a few new 
books—a dictionary and atlas among them. 
The work of transforming the graceless 
white pine mantel into an object of delight, 
was a pleasant task. With the aid of some 
brass-headed nails the shelf was draped with 
a fall of dark crimson Judies’ cloth, Nina’s 
gift, and ornamented by her deft fingers wit h 
a garland of gold-colored daisies, looped 
with bands of the same, and friuged with 
black and gold. The narrow, old-fashioned 
mirror, with its three panes of glass set in 
gilt, reached the mantel’s length ; two little 
vases were placed at either end, aud then 
Rose was called away, and kept till din¬ 
ner time 
When her father came in, he asked what 
she had been doing. “ Oh, getting settled 
into the home-life again,” Rose answered ; 
and her mother, who knew that, to keep a 
secret one should give no hint of its exist¬ 
ence, turned the conversation. To Rose’s 
delight, Mrs. Oakly was needed in the vil¬ 
lage for several hours that afternoon. As 
soon as she had gone, Robe seized her work- 
stand and placed it by the pleasantest win¬ 
dow of the south room, put the old, worn, 
full basket into the work closet, covered the 
table with a blue flannel cloth, just, hemmed 
with gold-colored silk, over that spread a 
fine damask towel with a blue border; and, 
lastly, a crimson-lined, fresh basket, with 
dainty appointments. The white window 
shades were tied with fresh bright cords and 
tassels. By this time came several boxes 
from Uncle John. Jerry, one of the farm 
hands, happened along just in time to gel at 
their contents and hide the remains from 
sight; also to screw a little window shelf in 
place on the bronzed brackets that had come 
with it. Two or three vines came to light, 
scarcely crushed. Rose filled the two little 
Rushton all about Dick’s difficulties, and 
Aunt Mabel sent him an urgent invitation 
for a week's visit. He went, and came back 
much more cheerful; talked his father over 
to letting him try the ten acre lot in “ high 
cultivation," as an experiment, promising to 
pay as rent, all that would have been made, 
planted as in former years. He set out grape 
vines and small fruits all about the house, 
and grew eager and busy, for there was 
something to look forward to now ; he meant 
to graft the old orchard in the spring, among 
other projects. Then he started a book club, 
at Rohe’s request, aud although it was slow 
work, it succeeded. 
Dick’s pastor had wanted him for a long 
time to teach in Sunday School, yet lie had 
felt so ignorant, and so uncertain of himself, 
that he could not undertake a class; but 
Rose had a book, “ Wanderings over Bible 
Lands and Seas,” by Mrs. Charles, and a 
map of Palestine, which she seemed to enjoy 
so much that he read it, and it brought the 
Gospels right home to his heart as a real and 
near thing. This reading, and the talks nud 
study that grew out of it, made the plan of 
salvation clear to him, aud he realized the 
joyousness of full forgiveness. They had, 
too, Miss Warner’s “ House of Israbl,” so 
that the Sunday readings grew so enjoyable 
that they would have felt it a deprivation if 
they could not have had the clnsses which 
they took to share with them their discov¬ 
eries in tiie Holy Book and Land. 
Christinas time brought Nina Evans, who 
passed several months with them, winning 
all their hearts, especially Dick’s, Rose did 
a lot of copying for her uncle, and said that 
she meant to keep on till she earned a me- 
lodeon. So the winter passed happily away 
and spring came, for which Dick hud waited 
witli eager expectation to begin his planting, 
vases with rich earth and a sprinkling of grafting, etc. Mr. Oakly, upon whom the 
charcoal,anq had put a German ivy in one 
and a Madeira vine in the other, while Jer¬ 
ry drove a few picture nails for her. As he 
came near he said, with a queer twist in his 
face, “ Thera can’t grow, Miss Rosts; they’ll 
starve, you know ; they are pooly, but. t’nipt 
no sort o’ use gardening with a teaspoonful 
o’ dirt." 
“ Well, I should think so too, Jerry, if 1 
had not, seen them succeed just so for two 
winters, and I believe these will frame the 
picture 1 shall hang over the glass there, and 
run away to the ceiling beside. Now please 
bring in those plants that stand in the yard, 
and put them herein the window.” There 
were pretty chintz cushions for the father’s 
arm ebait^ and a crimson and white tray for 
the sowing chair. “Now, Jerry,” said 
Rose, “ please pile one of your splendid 
wood tires, all ready to touch off. 
reading of the long evenings bad made evi¬ 
dent Impression, said— 
“ Well, my boy, you may make the begin¬ 
ning, and if you are successful this year we 
will join forces next on the new plan. 
***** 
Three years have passed. No longer do 
we take the stage front Rushton to Lincoln, 
hut jump aboard this train and reach Oakly 
Farm with a puff, whirr and whistle, in an 
hour and a half, to find the house brilliantly 
lighted. There’s a wedding lo-nigltl. Rose 
is tom arty the minister, but Nina cannot be 
bridesmaid for site is mistress of Hillside 
Cottage, just over the way, and has been 
Mrs. Dick Oakly for the past year. 
Yes, indeed, Diojs, succeeded in his “high 
cultivation,” and went shares with ids father 
who is now a complete convert to improved 
wood lues, all ready to touch off. ideas and tools. Nina had a little property, 
Three or four small, but nice pictures of and Dick’s father gave them the house. They 
Rose’s own neat framing were hung with are steadily prospering, and Dick will own 
crimson cords; a tiny clock, Aunt Mabel’s a farm of iiis own in a few seasons more, 
gift, placed on the mantel, and on the table Rose said she should keep bees and poul- 
thc crowning grace of all, a “ German Stu- try if' she did live in the village ; and that if 
dent Lamp,” from Uncle John. Nothing is she thought the farmers around her were 
more grateful than its soft light, mellowed getting dull, she should send for Uncle John 
by the porcelain shade, of a winter evening, and get him to leaven the community with 
At tea, Rose said, trying to steady her the yeast of enthusiasm from his quarter 
voice, “ Father, supposing we sit in the acre patch. 
gift, placed on the mantel, and on the table 
the crowning grace of all, a “ German Stu¬ 
dent. Lamp ” from Uncle John. Nothing is 
more grateful than its soft light, mellowed 
by the porcelain shade, of a winter evening. 
At tea, Rose said, trying to steady her 
voice, “ Father, supposing we sit in the 
south room this winter ?" 
“ The south room !—why, daughter, it is 
as hare as a barn." 
“Well, let us just take a look, and see I There was once a poor peasant youth ever! Ay, ay, Condon was too much in 
wlmt its capabilities are,” answered Rose, ! living on the slope of a beaulilull hill, who love with luck, though he left behind him a 
as they left the table, bhe threw open the loved a pretty shepherdess who tended her sweetheart, Phyllis, who spoiled her eyes 
door, when the blazing fire, evening lamp, flock far below in the valley, where the grass watching for him, and then married, for bet* 
and warm furnishings burst upon their as- was greener than emeralds, where the sun t®r or worse. You passed her cottage a 
tonished but admiring gaze. came latest, and from whence it departed short way back, there! 
We’re all bewitched ! What does it earliest. The pretty shepherdess used to “ A bronzed woman, with gray locks and 
mean? No debts, I hope!” said Farmer raise her bright eyes toward the hi]), and wrinkles? 1 should never have known 
° AKLY - wish Hint she might, dwell on its slope, and her!” and then he picked up liis staff and 
"Oil I I see what it means,” began Mrs. catch the sunbeams a little sooner and keep went on. He had not the heart to tell the 
Oakly, in a musing voice; and then ex- them a little longer; while the youth would miller that he was silly Corydon himself, 
plained, in a broken one;—“ It means that gaze down into the pleasant valley, and By-and-by ho drew up at his own cottage 
this is why Rose did not want to show me think how wonderfully the sun illuminated looked in. The family were seated for 
the dress her lulber told her to buy for her it. But he had somewhere heard, or read, the evening meal; his brother, a hale, hearty 
birthday ; she has shared with us all.” or dreamed that if one found a four-leaved man, in the prime of life, with his smiling 
“And the presents from the others, and clover lie might wish for what he would and wife and rosy-faced children laughing like 
the proceeds of the copying that I have it should be his; good fortune should follow the water-brooks, and keeping up a cheer- 
done for uncle this ever so long, ’ added him all his days and bear him company, iul din. It seemed to Corydon that he was 
Rose, quietly. Therefore, he gave his flocks into the care gazing at the picture of what his own life 
Mr. Oakly wiped his spectacles as he of a younger brother, and setoff to find the might have proved had he not fallen in love 
sal down in his comfortable arm chair, say- four-leaved clover which was to endow him with luck. The tears trembled in his eyes 
ing. “ you're a good girl, Rose, no mistake " with all that was precious—riciies, health, at the thought — at the remembrance of 
“You dear, generous girl!” said her moth- and a sweetheart; for though Corydon’s Phyllis in her bloom, of all he had lost, of 
er, kissing her. heart was set upon Phyllis, the pretty shep- the little gained ; the tears trembled in his 
“ Rose, dear, it is just likeyou!” exclaimed erdess in the valley, lie hadn’t the smallest dim eyes, and fell, one by one, upon a four- 
Dick, giving her a bear liug. hope that she would take him as he was, leaved clover growing there beside his own 
Nobody had noticed the baby, until com- never having asked her. door-stone 1 
ing in, her dress full of blocks, she said, So he took his way over hill and dale, - ++* - 
“ Lolie sinks dis is a bery bufly room ; Lu- through bush aud brake, across loitering THE EFFEMINATE MAN. 
lie u ill bring ar playgings and lay here all brooks and swiftly flowing livers. He _ 
ar time.” walked with his eyes on the ground and tt The efferainale man is a weak P oultice ' 
“There is one more thing. Uncle John the thorns tore his clothes, and his’feet He 13 across between table-beer and ginger- 
saj's lie will send a bundle of papers every grew weary, and his heart heavy with seek- pop ’ } be cork ou *' < fresh-water 
fortnight,” said Rose, feeling thoroughly re- ing and finding nothing. At night he slept mer,, taid found in a cow-pasture, with her 
paid as they settled so easily into the blight- amidst the dew, and ate of wild, ripe her- hands filled witb damlelions - He * 3 a tea- 
er, cosier way of living. lies, and of honey that the wild bees hoard. cup ful1 of 8 - vllftbub : a kUleu in trousers; a 
"Rose, isn’t there something that I can do When, despairing he shouted “Where ? ,ck monkey, with a blonde mustache. He 
for you?” asked Dice, later in the evening, is my four-leaved” clover, my four-leaved in ofl“ a^puper wle a * dead^calm W He 
“ 1 e9 ’ Vve a lot °f bulbs to set out 5 do clovei ‘tlie echo answered, « Over! over!” lives like a butterfly—nobody can tell why. 
make a bed for them. and lured him on ; and the mischievous He 18 88 harmless as a pennjnvorth of sugar 
Dick was glad when each day was over winds borrowed the odor of distant clover cftnd >'i and as useless as a shirt-button with- 
and lie was iu the south room again, hearing fields and cheated him with hone close at out a bol f’ is ** , lazy as a . slu g> and i,as 
ii i -r-r . t . . . *■ nn m rwe* liAno tlion o loot vaot'a fl.r 
THE FOUE-LEAVED CLOVEE, 
I search ; he journeyed into far countries ; he 
saw strange peoples and places ; he was ar¬ 
rested for trespass, for vagrancy, for lunacy, 
aud sometimes when he managed to es¬ 
cape from confinement by promising his 
jailor a share of his good fortune when lie 
should find the clover; then the fields were 
hidden under drifts of snow, or had just 
been mown, four-leaved clovers and all. 
Still lie bent his steps through shadow- 
haunted woods, and slept in caves and on 
the edge of precipices, and heard wild crea¬ 
tures roaring in the recesses oi the forest; 
and at length, after long, long years of 
search without success, he turned his face 
toward home. The sun was withdrawing 
from the green valley as he neared it, lin¬ 
gering only in long lines of light where it 
pierced through an opening among the hills, 
While the hills themselves were like shining 
goals. 
It seemed as if he had left it all but yester¬ 
day, for such secluded places change slowly. 
And were not these the same flocks that he 
left browsing on the slope? Were not these 
the same shepherds and shepherdesses reclin¬ 
ing in the shade? Was not this lus Phyllis 
coming to meet him aflerher day’s toil? But 
when lie put out his hands, and would have 
embraced her, she took refuge in the arms 
of a middle-aged, bronzed woman, who stood 
with sad,faded cya watching for her on the 
cottage threshold. “ What, would you, 
stranger?” she asked of the peasant, who 
was no longer a youth, but wrinkled and 
gray. “ For shame, to fright my child with 
your unseemly ways! If you are hungry, 
come in and sup; and we will even give you 
a mat on the floor for a night’s rest, and a 
pillow of fresh herbs.” 
“ No, 1 tun not hungry—not for food. I 
will even trddgc up the slope to my cot." 
So he went on till lie came to where the wild 
will of the mountain torrent had been tamed 
to do a good turn for its neighbor the mill; 
and Hie dusty miller standing in his door¬ 
way called out to him : 
“ Good-day, stranger. Whither are you 
bound, may I ask—on a pilgrimage to the 
stars ? ” 
“ Up the hill yonder, to my own people.” 
“Ay, then you’re no stranger to these 
parts? Yet I’ve lived here, man and boy, 
fifty odd years; but bless me if 1 ever laid 
eyes on you before 1” 
“Like as not; it must have been a good 
spell since 1 left this place, though it seems 
but yesterday. Mayhap you have heard of 
one Corydon, who kept his flocks here¬ 
abouts ? ” 
“ Ay, ay, everybody’s heard of him. If a 
fellow does a foolish tiling, they cry, ‘ Billy 
Corydon !’ He was a liair-braiued simple¬ 
ton, who ran alter a clover leaf. He left his 
flocks and sweetheart, aud traveled after 
luck ; but luck had the start of him. And 
then, to he sure, if luck won’t come to you, 
say I, don’t coax her, hut wait a while. 
Now there’s the torrent; when it sulks and 
dries up, and the mill’s mum, do 1 toll up 
the hill yonder, and go to meddling with 
nature? Not I; she knows her business, 
and I know mine. I just sit down and wait, 
and watch the shadows and the clouds, and 
by-and-by there’s a rush, and here’s the tor¬ 
rent again hard at work, and the mill busy as 
ever! Ay, ay, Corydon was too much in 
love with luck, though he left behind him a 
sweetheart, Phyllis, who spoiled her eyes 
watching for him, and then married, for bet¬ 
ter or worse. You passed her cottage a 
short way back, there! 
“ A bronzed woman, with gray locks anu 
wrinkles? 1 should never have known 
jorial ffnpws. 
black and gold, that cowered the whole cen¬ 
ter of the floor. Next a plain, bright flannel 
cover to match, bound with black, and a 
braided border of gold color was thrown 
over the pine table, which she drew into the 
the proceeds of the copying that I have 
done for uncle this ever so long,” added 
Rose, quietly. 
Mr. Oakly wiped his spectacles as he 
sal down in his comfortable arm cliair, say¬ 
ing, “you’re a good girl, Rose, no mistake." 
“ You dear, generous girl!” said her moth¬ 
er, kissing her. 
“ Rose, dear, it is just likeyou!” exclaimed 
Dick, giving her a bear liug. 
the water-brooks, aud keeping up a cheer¬ 
ful din. It seemed to Corydon that lie was 
gazing at the picture of what his own life 
might have proved had he not fallen in love 
with luck. The tears trembled in his eyes 
at the thought — at the remembrance of 
Phyllis in her bloom, of all he had lost, of 
the little gained ; the tears trembled in his 
dim eyes, and fell, one by one, upon a four¬ 
leaved clover growing there beside his own 
door-stone 1 
-*-*-*- 
THE EFFEMINATE MAN. 
The effeminate man is a weak poultice. 
He is a cross between table-beer and ginger- 
room is such a good, long square, those sun- for y0ll fasked Dick, ]ater £ the ev ™ J ^ “ ved c 
ny windows, and ok-t he fireplace!” Then ..Yes, I’ve a lot of bulbs to set out; d°o clovfr ?” die echo am 
she unrolled a square of drugget of crimson, make a bed for lhe m.” and lured ldm on ■ 
all about Uncle John’s gardening and the hand; while the rain drenched him 
cup full of syllabub ; a kitten in trousers; a 
sick monkey, with a blonde mustache. He 
is a viue without any tendrils; a fly drowned 
iu oil; a paper kite in a dead calm. He 
lives like a butterfly—nobody can tell why. 
He is as harmless as a pennyworth of sugar 
candy, and as useless as a shirt-button with¬ 
out a hole. He is as lazy as a slug, and lias 
no more hope than a last year’s summer-fly, 
Un ils /.l. LT n __J Jl!_ 1M. . 
home-life there; bright hit, about Nina, and frolic, and the stars winked as if they were 
school ft tends. Rose wrote to the family in laughing at him. But still he pursued his Figaro. 
WHAT WE HAVE SEEN. 
BY ETHEL DANE. 
We have seen a family where once Hap 
piness and Love dwelt,—where Peace and 
Prosperity were found,—where Virtue sat 
enthroned, and where the voice of prayer 
and thanksgiving arose from an unbroken 
family circle. But, alas! in an unguarded 
hour the father was beset with temptation, 
and partook of the tempting bowl. Oh ! 
could lie have seen the draughts of sorrow 
which that cup contained, surely he would 
have dashed it down and cursed the hand 
which held it forth tolurebim from the path 
of Virtue into those of sin and degradation. 
Into that home once so happy and joy¬ 
ous, there crept a gaunt figure—its name 
Intemperance — causing death and hitter 
heart agony to all those who came within 
its reach. Of ttiai family, the father now 
sleeps in a drunkard’s grave; one son was 
hung for murder; another was sent to prison 
for burglary; and the third is yet free, 
roaming the earl Ii a vagabond. The mother 
still lives, carrying in her heart, sorrow 
enough to “crush” the world. All tin's 
misery and disgrace caused by tampering at 
the ioine cup. 
We have seen drunkenness in almost 
every form, from the moderate tippler to 
the beastly Wretch that fulls insensible, there 
to lie |n sweet oblivion of his slmme in a 
drunken sleep. We have seen little children 
—little girls—who had been sent with per¬ 
haps the last penny which the purse con¬ 
tained, and compelled to ask for whisky; 
for that which locks reason in her temple 
and makes the father a demon, the mother 
a fiend. 
We have seen old, gray-headed men, who 
were tottering on the brink of the grave, go 
down into these dens of vice and degrada¬ 
tion, to partake of that which breweth only 
contention and strife. We have seen .young 
men, who might become noble and true, go 
down those same steps and drink from that 
accursed cup, which fills the heart with im¬ 
purity and scorches up all good resolves and 
high-born principles. We have seen those 
same young men come up with flushed faces 
and blood-shot eves, with unsteady steps, 
and pass by to meet other boon companions 
and probably go through worse scenes be¬ 
fore morning. Often when we have watched 
those youth with staggering gait—those who 
should be the hope of our country—we have 
felt constrained logo and pull them back by 
main force, if no other way presented itself, 
to keep them from entering the gates which 
lead to death. Every day new additions are 
being made to these "moderate tipplers,” 
Who soon become fast young men, and are 
then swiftly bin surely hurried oil until they 
become perfect inebriates. We pity such 
people, and would, if it were in our power, do 
something that would free them from the 
chains which hind them worse than hitman 
bondage— for Intemperance binds their souls 
ns well as bodies In a region of darkness. 
The question arises, what can we do to¬ 
wards helping this evil ? Shall we endeavor 
to reclaim our brothers? Or shall we stand 
in cold indifference and see them sink in 
hopeless despair, as the angry floods carry 
them beyond our reach, and they are lost 
forever in its whirling waters? No!—come 
weal or woe, we wish to do the duty which 
our heart prompts, so that it may of us be 
said—" She hath doue what she could.” 
Salem, Ohio, May, 1871. 
WORDS THAT BURN. 
Samuel Adams, known for many things, 
seldom had his name associated with the 
phrase first supplied by him to England: 
“Nation of shopkeepers. 
Franklin said many tilings that have 
passed into maxims, but nothing that is bet¬ 
ter known and remembered than “ He lias 
paid dear for his whistle," 
Washington made but few epigrammatic 
speeches. Here is one:—“To he prepared 
for “war is the most effectual means of pre¬ 
serving peace." 
Patrick Henry, us every schoolboy knows, 
gave us: — “Give me liberty or give me 
death,” and “ If this be treason, make the 
most of it.” 
Thomas Paine iiad many quotable epi¬ 
grammatic sentences:—“ Rose like a rocket, 
fell like a stick!” “Times that try men’s 
souls," “ Oue step from the sublime to the 
ridiculous,” etc. 
Jefferson’s writings are so bespriukled that 
it is difficult to select. “ Few die and none 
resign f* certainly as applicable to the office¬ 
holders now as in Jefferson’s time. 
Henry Lee gave Washington his immortal 
title, “ First in war, first in peace, and first in 
the hearts of his countrymen.” 
Charles Coles worth Pinckney declared iu 
favor of “ Millions for defense, but not one 
cent for tribute.” 
“Peaceably if we can, forcibly if we 
must,” is from Josiaii Quincy, 1811. 
John Adams did not say, “ Live or die, 
survive or perish, I’m for the Constitution,” 
but Daniel Webster did say it for him. 
Davy Crockett, the illustrious author of 
“ Be sure yon are right, then go ahead." 
Andrew* Jackson gave us “ The Union—it 
must be preserved.” 
Taylors battle order, “ A little more 
grape, Captain Bragg,” will be quoted after 
he is forgotten by “ all the world and the 
rest of mankind.” 
