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PLAYING SCHOOL. 
Six ill a row on the doorsteps there, 
Nice little school-ma’am, prim and fair, 
Funniest noses, dimpled chins— 
Listen awhile I the school begins. 
Class s in ’rithmetic, come this way. 
Why were you absent, Mary Day ? 
Now, Miss Susan, what’s twice four? 
May be it’s ’leven—may be more. 
Johnny, don't blow in your brother’s ear, 
Stop it! or I must interfere 1 
Say your tables—now begin ; 
“ Trustees ” might come dropping in 1 
What would they ever say to us. 
Finding school in such a fuss ? 
Baby Jennie, how is that? 
DOG, dear, don’t spell cat! 
Terrible boy! your face is red— 
Why will you stand upon your head? 
Class in spelling, that Mill do; 
Here’s certificates for you, 
Faces as pure as the morning sun, 
Voices that ring with harmless fun; 
8w r eet is the lesson you impart 1 
Sweet! and I learn it all by heart. 
Six in a row on the doorstep there, 
Nice littl« school-ma’am, prim and fair— 
Free of this world and all its pain, 
Would I could join your school again! 
Female Society.—What is it that makes all those 
men who associate habitually with women superior to 
those who do not ? What makes the women who are 
accustomed to and at ease in the society of men supe¬ 
rior to their sex in general ? Solely because they are 
in the habit of free, graceful, continued conversation 
with the other sex. Women in this way lose their 
frivolity, their faculties awaken, their delicacies and 
peculiarities unfold all their beauty and captivation in 
the spirit of rivalry; and the men lose their pedantic, 
rude, declamatory or sullen manner. The coin*of the 
understanding and the heart changes continually. 
Their asperities are rubbed off, their natures polished 
and brightened, and their richness, like gold, is wrought 
into finer workmanship by the fingers of women than 
it could ever be done by those of men. 
How the Boy Arises.—Calling a boy up in the 
morning can hardly be classed under the head of “pas¬ 
times,” especially if the boy is fond of exercise the day 
before. And it is a little singular that the next hardest 
thing to getting a boy out of bed is getting him into it. 
There is rarely a mother who is a success at rousing a 
boy. All mothers know this; so do their boys. And 
yet the mother seems to go at it in the right way. She 
opens the stair-door and insinuatingly observes: 
“Johnny.” There is no response. “Johnny.” Still 
no response. Then there is. a short, sharp “ John,” 
followed a moment later by a prolonged and emphatic 
“John Henry.” A grant from the upper region sig¬ 
nifies that an impression has been made, and the 
mother is encouraged to add, “You’d better be getting 
down here to your breakfast, young man, before I 
come up there, an’ give you something you’ll feel.” 
This so startles the young man that he immediately 
goes to sleep again. And the operation has to be 
repeated several times. A father knows nothing about 
this trouble. He merely opens his mouth as a soda 
bottle ejects its cork, and the “John Henry” that 
cleaves the air of that stairway goes into that boy 
like electricity and pierces the deepest recesses of his 
very nature. And he pops out of that bed and into 
his clothes, down the stairs with a promptness that is 
commendable. It is rarely a boy allows himself to 
disregard the parental summons. About once a year 
is believed to be as often as is consistent with the rules 
of health. He saves his father a great many steps by 
his thoughtfulness.— Danbury News, 
Reticent People. —Valuable in society, at home 
the reticent are so many forms of living death. Eyes 
they have and see not, ears and hear not, and the 
faculty of speech seems to have been given them in 
vain. They go out and they come home, and they 
tell you nothing of all they have seen. They have 
heard all sorts of news and seen no end of pleasant 
things, but they come down to breakfast next morning 
as mute as fishes, and if you want it, you must dig out 
your own information bit by bit, by sequential, cate¬ 
gorical questioning. Not that they are surly or ill- 
natured ; they are only reticent. They are disastrous 
enough to those who are associated with them, and 
make the worst partners in the world in business or 
marriage; for you never know what is going on, or 
where you are, and you must be content to walk 
bliudfolded if you walk with them. 
Bad for Would-be Sensible Girls.— “ Carrie ” 
writes from Brooklyn to say that it is impossible for her 
to he a sensible girl because the men won’t permit her 
to be so. If upon a moonlight night she wishes to 
talk about the stars, the male idiots about her com¬ 
pare the stars with her eyes. If she speaks of a rose 
as possessing a beautiful hue, they say her cheeks 
rival it. Should she venture to call attention to the 
melody of the night-bird’s song, these monkey-men 
tell her that her voice is sweeter music. In view of 
this state of affairs, “Came” asks how can she be 
anything else than a fool. 
The Charms of Music. —One of the New York 
clergymen, who is a fine singer, on a recent visit to a 
mad-house, approached the cell of a maniac, who 
rushed for him as far as his chain would allow, shout¬ 
ing, “I’ll kill you!” “I’ll beat your brains out!” 
“ Clear out!” Instead of moving, the preacher began 
to sing “Our home in heaven.” First, the madman 
listened, then he stretched himself out to the full 
length of his chain, one arm relaxed, and then 
the other. Tears moistened his eyes. Then he 
coiled up on his bed of rags as quiet as a child, and 
when the hymn was ended, he looked up, saying, 
“More, more.” The preacher sang till his strength 
gave way, and then he left. 
Good. Sense. —It will preserve us from censorious¬ 
ness ; will lead us to distinguish circumstances ; keep 
us from looking after visionary perfection, and make 
us see things in their proper light. It will lead us to 
study dispositions, peculiarities, accommodations; to 
weigh consequences; to determine what to observe, 
and what to pass by; when to be immovable and when 
to yield. It will produce good manners, keep us from 
taking freedoms and handling things roughly; will 
never agitate claims of superiority, hut teach us to 
submit ourselves one to another. Good sense will lead 
persons to regard their own duties, rather than to 
recommend those of others. 
Judgment. —A man who has good judgment has 
the same advantage over men of any other qualifica¬ 
tions whatever, as one that can see would have over a 
blind man of ten times the strength. 
To be Pitied. —The man who is able to work and 
does not, is to be pitied as well as despised. He 
knows nothing of sweet sleep and pleasant dreams. 
He is a miserable drone and eats a substance he does 
not earn. 
A man in Fairfield county, Conn., recently lost his 
wife. The reputation of the man for closeness in 
money matters was widespread. After her death it 
was proposed by her friends to remove the body to a 
neighboring town. He feigned sickness at the removal 
in order to save car faro to the funeral; but when the 
body was put in a wagon preparatory to going to the 
distant station, and it was found necessary to take a 
rope to secure the coffin, he mustered strength to get 
to the door to request that they return the rope, “ as 
it was handy to tie up the calf.” 
A little girl in a New York orphan asylum, who 
was punished for scratching another little girl’s face, 
j by being required to learn a verse from the bible, was 
allowed to make her own selection, and chose the first 
verse of Psalm 144: “Blessed be the Lord, my 
strength, which teacheth my hands to war, and my 
fingers to fight.” 
Josh Billings says, very truly: “You’d better not 
know so much, than to know so many tilings that ain’t 
so.” 
An English Vicar was standing, on a Monday 
morning, at his gate, when one of his parishioners 
arrived with a basket full of potatoes. “ What’s this?” 
said the vicar. “Please, sir,” replied the man, “it’s 
some of our best taturs—a very rare kind, sir. My 
wife said you should have some of them, as she heard 
you say in your sermon that common taturs (commen¬ 
tators) don’t agree with you.” 
They tell about a sleepy and prosy clergyman up 
country, who prayed one evening that “the inefficient 
may he made efficient, the intemperate temperate and 
the industrious dustrious.” 
A little boy, who had often seen his mother wind 
the clock, was observed one day solemnly feeling of 
his right side. At length he said, “Mamma, Ides 
believe my heart is runued down, 1 taut feel it swingin 
any p’ace.” 
A boy, six years old, living on Murray Hill, having- 
been much lectured on the babyishness of crying when 
any calamity happens, cheered the parental heartr the 
other morning by saying: “ Harry B. cried nearly all 
day ’cause his father died; but if you should die, pa, I 
would’t cry a bit.” 
We met an old negro trudging along with a heavy 
side of bacon that he had bought, swinging over his 
shoulder. We observed that he jvas miserably clad, 
and we felt sorry for him, for a bitter cold wind was 
blowing. We remonstrated with him. “ Why do you 
spend your money for meat? You’d better buy a 
coat ?” The old man stopped, looked us full in the 
face for a moment, and said, in a most solemn tone, 
“ Massa, when lax my back for credit it gives it;, 
when I speak to dis (laying his hand upon his stomach) 
it calls for de cash.” 
A little darkey in Louisville drew $12,500 in the 
library concert. He says all ho asks for. is a pair of 
boots and a bushel of peanuts. 
The wit of conversation consists more in finding it 
in others, than in showing a great deal yourself; tie 
man who goes from your conversation pleased with 
himself and his own wit, is perfectly well pleased with 
you .—La Bruyere. 
If you wish particularly to gain the good graces and 
affection of certain people, men or women, try to dis¬ 
cover their most striking merit, if they have one, and 
then- dominant weakness—for every one has his own— 
then do justice to the one and a little more than justice 
to the other. 
