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DEVOTED TO NEWS, POLITICS, AGRICULTURE, EDUCATION AND GENERAL PROGRESS.
ATHENS, GEORGIA,—WEDNESDAY, JULY 22, 1874
NUMBER 16.
l*v JOHN H. CHRISTY.
VOLUME XXI.
THE SOUTHERN WATCHMAN
I'CBUSUED EVERY WEDNESDAY.
^ nrH n- »/■ nnmt and H all Street*, (ttp-tlalrt.)
'J'liUMS.
•f\VO DOLLARS PER ANRUUi
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ADVERTISING.
i,.ri‘.aiu*oui* will b«i»*«rted at ONE DOLLAR
** oiiVrV CENTS parsquare for theBritioier-
•) NL SEVENTY-FIVE CENTS per square for
, *Vtjeli»»* oe0 > f° T » n V time “Oder ona month. For
Mri<><1*. »* follow* >
**"' 1 A liberal .teJqoliou on yearly advertisements.
I, BOAS. ADVERTISING.
’i isle*. l>»rl«*y of I® line* $400
5 ra „rtf*it* tales. «0 daye.„ 5.00
g| a ys, by Administrator*, Executors, or ^
Oil^iast* f Administration or Guardianship 4.00
£X” Debtor* and Creditors 5.00
„ V, v’i.i, pur square, each insertion 1.50
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ciiaiionfor ditmisslon of Administrator 5.00
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PROFESSIONAL AND BUSINESS CARDS.
1.A1MII COBS. I A. S. KllWIIf. | HOWELL COIB.JB.
rm\t, MS 4 COBB,
I j attorneys at law,
ATIIE.VS, GEORGIA
Office in tiio Deupres Building. Dec21
B ANK'Iil'ITt'Y.—Sainuel P. Thurmond,
Attornoy-at-Law. Athens, Ga.
(idler !>m //rood ,trtrt,orer the -tore of Harry A Son,
Will rive special attantionto cases in Bankruptcy. Al-
m.to the collection of all claims entrusted to hiscarc
TAJIKS K. LYLE,
• I ATTonaxv at Law,
p„}j WATKWSYILLE, GA.
TOILS M. MATTHEWS.
J Attorkkt at Law,
Daniclsviilc, Qa.
Prompt attention will b© given to any business on-
•utedtohi* eare. Marchl4.
E NtiLASl) St 0RR,
Wholesale and Retail Dealers,
and COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
Dupree Hall.Broad St, Athens, Os.
We are new prepared to store Cotton at 25 cents per
ktlt.snd will advance cash when desired. Oct2S.
TJ'NiiLlSH Sc CLASSICAL SCHOOL,
For Boys, cor. Wray and Lumpkin at*.. Ath
ens, <H. apS—,3m LEE M. LYLE, Prin.
T II. HUGGINS,
J , holesale and Retail Dealer in
DHY (iOODS, GROCERIES, HARDWARE, Ac.
Febld Broad Street, Athens, Oa.
TOHN H. CHRISTY,
tl Hlsia and Fancy BOOK AND JOB PRINTER,
Broad St v Athena, Ga.
Oflec corner Broad and Wall streets, over thestoie
James I>. Pittard. tf
PAVILION HOTEL,
X CHARLESTON, S. C.
Tbi$ FIRST-CLASS Hotel is situatod in the vory
tsotreof the business part of the city, and all who
•topthere will find orery convenience and luxury that
em bsprocured. Board, per day, $3.00.
R. Hamilton, Supt. Mrs. L. H.BuTTaariELD,
D«c22 tf Proprietreti.
QCMMEY Ss NEWTON,
O Dealers in
Foreign and Dome*‘ie HARDWARE,
JiaeD No. 5,Broad street, Athens, Oa
a C. DOBBS,
O. Wholesale and Retail Dealer in
Staple and Fancy DRV GOODS, GROCERIES, Ac
Vtb9 No. 12 Broad Street, Athens, Oa.
TT'HORY SPEER,
XU LAWYER, ATHENS, OA.
1$ Solicitor General of Western Circuit, will attend
the Coerts of Clarke, Walton. Gwir.nett, Hall, Banks,
Jackson, Ilaborshain, Franklin, Rabun and Whito,
and give attention to collecting and other claims in
those counties. March 19, 1873.
K ELIAS, Attorney at Law,
. FRANKLIN, N. C.
Practices in all the Courts of Western North Caro-
Hta, aaJin the Foderal Coarts. Claims collected in
si! part* of tbo Stnte. ap!6—ly
TT'DWARD R. HARDEN,
JUj (Late Judge U. S. Courts Nebraska and Utah,
and now Judge of Brooks County Court)
Attorney at Law,
joij}3 ly QutrmriN, BrookA County, Oa,
T F. 0'KELLEY’S
U , 1‘IIOTOORAPH OALLERY,
Otst Williams’Shoe store, Broad etreot, Athens,
Georgia..sep3.
B E. CAMP,
. Attorxet at Law,
CARNESVILLE, OA.
Will gire prompt attention to all business entrusted
to bin. lie will attend the Courts of Habersham,
Jratklin and Ball. scpIT—ly
c.rcmns. e. p. nowcLL.
PEEPLES & HOWELL,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
30 and 22, Kimball House,
ATLANTA, GA.
DRACTICE in the StaUand Federal Courts, and
A attend regularly all the Courts in Atlanta, includ
ing the Supreme Court of the State, and will argue
•asetnpon briefs for absent parties, on reasonable
terms.
They alto practice in the Courts of the counties con
tiguous oraoceiiibleto Atlantaby Railroad, sepll
M.W.RIDEN,
_ attorney at law.
D. S. Claim Agent and Notary Piffle
GAIXESVILLE, GEORGIA.
Office on Wilson street, below King A Bro’s.
Iehreary 1», 1873.
MADIIOX BILL.
I0 *s I. sstss.
estes & bell,
„, ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
OA7.\ ESVILLE. GEORGIA.
Vy ILL practice in the counties composing the Weet-
, , *?» Circuit, and Dawson and Forsyth oountiea
■v'j Ridge Circuit. They will also practice in
‘•s oeprsike Court of Georgia, and in the United State*
e ‘«rt at Atlanta. may!4
JAS. L. LONG, M. D.
Surgeon, Accoucheur and Physician,
(Office at Mr, Tkomat Sheat*’ Store,)
Good Hope District, Walton oo., Oa.
ri , hil Pf°f***Ioual services to theoitisaoa of tho
•rroanding country. &ug27
livery, Feed & Sale Stable,
ATHENS, GEORGIA.
OANH 4c REAVES, PROPRIETORS,
W ILL be found at their old stand, roar Franklin
m b.. Thomas street. Keep always
b,*” *°®d Tum-ouU aad careful drivers,
o, * e»»»d for when entrneted to our ear*.
«» kind for sale at aU times. dee25—ti
WALTON HOTEL,
MONROE, GA.
ahT?, . MOW, aad WUI spare no psiffsto make
tote ruble who may faror him with their patron*
TL” * ch « ! Y*s will be reasonable. jan28 lm
’R. B. AI)AIR,D.D.S,
GAINESVILLE, GA.
J^se.8eatheaeteetaer Pnbllo Square. mar27
p A-A.. EDGE,
"0ot, Shoe and Harness
Maker,
»Mllj_ly WA TKJLNS VILLE, GA
&tm (Bm
For the Southern Watchman.
The Wanderers.
On a sultry evening in Jane, after a day of
nnnsnal worry and fatigue, I sat on the front
porch, in tho doll twilight, rooking, and hum
ming a lullaby to ay frail little darling, Nellie,
rendered doubly dear by her feebleness. My
eyes would fill with tears, and my heart throb
with paio, as I gazed upon her pale face and
attenuated form. Strive as I would, tbo
thought would come that probably I should
not have hor 'with mo long. No one, save
mother, who, day after day, aad night after
night, when all others in the boose lay sleep
iug upon their pillow, has watched and tended,
with tooderest care, tho dear little sickly baby,
can imagine half tho anguish of a mother's
heart at each thoughts! They may be un
called for and greatly exaggerated, by a ner
vous temperament, but they are none tbo less
distressing.
To return to my story. I finally succeeded
in lulling her to sleep, and gently laid her in
her cradle bed. Throwing myself, with an
hysteric sob, upon a bod near her, I lay very
still fot a few moments, but the noisy feet of
two littlo prattlers—a boy of seven and a girl
of four years old—running about the room,
greatly annoyed me. I bore it quietly, as long
as I could, wbon strange, restless thoughts
camo flitting through my mind. A sudden
impulse soized me. I aroso up quickly; lifted
my babe in my arms; beckoned the other two
children to come with mo; we went noiseless
ly out at the gate, walking rapidly up the street.
Upon leaving the house, I wondered what my
husband would think when he came ia and
found the room unoccupied; but that was all;
I thought no more about it. We turned sharp
corners to evade pursuit, and kept the shaded
side of the street, so that we could see without
being seen or recognized. Asking no ques
tions, the children were delighted with tho
novelty of the scene. Brilliant and variegated
lights gleamed through the open doors and
windows of tho shops and dwellings, people
passed to and fro, some sauntering leisurely
along, others hurriedly, as though their busi
ness was pressing. Still we hurried on from
street to street. Coming to a dark alley, we
had to pass some two or three negro hovels.
For the first time I felt fear, lest we should
receive rudeness or insult from their dusky in
mates ; however, wo passed safely by—little
Fred and Kate clinging tightly to my skirts.
I bad to almost drag them along. Going across
a small cottou patch, we came to a fence, on
the other side of which was a deep pond, with
a very unsafe crossing. In the darkness, I had
considerable difficulty in getting the children
safely over, but did so. Then wo came to a
beautiful rocky shoal, where the water spark
led in the now bright moonbeams, which dark
clouds bad hitherto concealed. The little ones
were joyous at the sight, and I allowed them
to cool their tired little feet in the pure water.
Passing on, immediately in our way was a long,
steop bili to climb across, in which the rain
had washed deep gullios; but struggling on,
we soon reached the main street again. I now
thought of home and how I should get back
there. The children were worn down and the
darkness increased, so that I could scarcely
distinguish one street from another, and the
lights were disappearing one by one.
I grew more and more alarmed every mo
ment. I was half conscious all the while that
my mind was impaired, or I never would have
undertaken such a jaunt. Passing Col. J.’s
by a light through the doorway, I saw him Bit
ting on the porch. Going up to the gate, I
begged him to direct me to street-
shielding littio Fred from the light, lest ho
should be recognized. The Col. kindly direct
ed mo which way to go. We poepod through
the enclosure by the way and dimly saw tomb
stones and graves enclosed with palings half
fallen down. My heart misgavo me at this
dreary sight, but I pressed on, coming to a
gato which led through the cemetery. I knew
it was nearer home to go through, if I could
open the gate. Just before attempting to do
so, a negro woman, an old family servant, step
ped before me and in at the gate, we following
her. Passing by her, she saw my face. Throw
ing up her bands, she exclaimed:
Miss Annie! wb&t in dis worl\ cbilo, is you
doin’ here t*
I took no time to explain, but asked her if
she thought any of those aristocratic people
living near here would let me stay all night,
as it was impossible now for me to get borne,
my little boy and girl being tired almost to
death.
La, yes, chile, you know you kin stay any
whar you please. AU dese folks knows you.’
But it did not suit me to stop with my weal
thy acquaintances, scarcely thinking that they
would care to be troubled by me. As was cus
tomary with me when in distress, I sought my
friends of humbler means, and one whose in
viting cottage was not far distant, sure of a
heart-felt sympathy and a shelter for myself
and children.
An awful dread crept into my heart. What
would my hnsband say, when he knew of my
silly wanderings f I knew he wonld require a
strict account, also satisfactory “ whys” and
“wherefores." Whatconldlgiveasashadow
of exenset I bad boon led on by an nndeflna-
ble something, over which 1 had not the slight
est control. In feet, resistance was unthought
of; but a trembling hope would creep into my
heart sometimes, that maybe this ia a dream;
bat no! here are the sad realities, too paiofoUy
plain to admit of a doubt. The morn now
shone brightly through tbo broken clouds. I
discerned a gentleman and lady coming to
wards me. 1800a knew it to be my husband,
my dear friend, Edith, and my babe’s narse.
I was almost overwhelmed with the tumnlto-
ons feelings of joy, sorrow and doubt as to the
consequence of my cosduot. It was a pitiable
condition. Tho nurse ran for the baby; taking
it from me, she sat upon the ground and called
me, saying, “poor littlo Nellie Is so sick.” My
heart smote me, for I had forgotten to protect
the child from the chiUy night air. Her little
feet and limbs were cold, and her hair wot with
dew. I foldod her in my arms, wrapping my
skirts about her, as I hurried on. Glancing at
horface,
and fixed.
dren, taunting me with a derisive glance, as
such as to say, “ you need not come”—utterly
abandoning me in this hour of my deepest dis
tress. My faithfni friend, Edith, stood near
me, gazing sorrowfully at my departing hus
band, and with tears of pity down upon me.
The anguish of that moment can never be
told. My heart seemed barsting with grief
and pain, as I pressed my forehead humbly to
the dust, beseeching God Almighty that this
might be a dream, and that He would in mercy
speedily arouse me. Making a desperate ef
fort, I arose up in my bed, just as the clock
upon the mantel was striking twelve. Look
ing quietly about the room, upon my sleeping
loved oues, the most grateful creature you ever
saw, when I knew that it was all, indeed, a
dream. M***.
fried fpseellatig.
Fer the Southern Watchman.
INTEMPERANCE.
Since tho time that Noah came oat of the
ark, and planted vineyards and drank of their
wines, we read in all history of its terrible do
ings, and never once lose sight of its black and
bloody tracks. «Its fearful ravages, in broken
fortunes, shattered constitutions, ruined intel
lects and disappointed hopes, are seen on every
side. Yea, the history of strong drink is the
history of rain, of blood, of tears. This, per
haps, is the greatest curse that has ever scourg
ed the earth. It is one of depravity’s worst
fruits—a giant demon of destruction. Men
may talk of earthquakes, storms, floods, con
flagrations, famines, pestilence, despotism and
war; but intemperance in the use of intoxi
cating drink has sent a volume of woe and
misery into the stream of the world’s history
more fearful and terrific than all of these. It
is the Mississippi and Amazon among the rivers
of wretchedness—the Alexander and Napoleon
among the warriors upon the peace and good
of man. It is an evil which is limited to no
ago, no country, no nation, no party, no sex,
no friend of life; it has taken the poor man at
his toils, the rich man at his desk, the Senator
in the balls of State, the drayman in the street,
the young man in his festivities, the old man
in his repose, tho priest at the altar, the lay
man in his pew, and has plunged them into
one common ruin. It has raged equally in
times of war and in times of peace, in Repub
lies and in Monarchies, among the civilized and
among the savage. States have recorded en
actments against it, ecclesiastical penalties
have been imposed upon it; but like him whose
name was Legioo, no man has been able to
bind it.
For more than four thousand yoqfs, intem
perance has been raging over the world, de-
etioyiug some of virtue’s fairest flowers and
wisdom's richest fruits. Intemperance has
eaten away the strength of Empires, wasted
tho energies of States, blotted out the names
of families, and crowded hell with tenants.
Egypt, the source of soieuce: Babylon, the
glory and wonder of the world; Greece, the
home of leafning and liberty; Rome, with her
Ctesars—the mistress of the world—each, in
turn, had their hearts lacerated by this dread
ful canker-worm, and became an easy prey to
this destroyer.
Nor is this all. Intemperance is still the
giant evil of the nineteenth centnry. It is in
this age a strong and ready accessory to
criminal spirit. If a man desires to commit a
crime, and has not the moral nor physical
courage to do so, liquor drowns his fears, hush
es the expostulations of conscience, stupefies
bll sense of propriety, delivers him from the
influence of public opinion, and thus enables
him to commit crimes as black as a starless
midnight—even to shed the blood of innocency
and to imprecate his best friend.
I Ai this advanced stage of civilization, in
temperance is blighting and crushing some of
the mightiest intellects, the greatest geniuses,
tho happiest hearts and homes—some of the
noblest specimens of man. It is supplying
every jail, alms-honso, ebain-gang and peni
tentiary ; it is sending forth beggars on every
streot, and flooding every city with beastiality
and crime; aod, in fact, ladies and gentlemen,
Intemperance has done, and still is doing, more
to bring earth and hell together than any other
form of vice. This is no idle dream, or picture
of mere fancy; but these are stern realities of
fearful truths.
I need not speak to yon of tho datios of so
ciety with reference to the intemperate drink
er. Society should withdraw itself from every
man who thas presumes to siu against it, and
regard him as a social outlaw—as beyond its
pale. Shoold the pare and chaste young lady
associate with him who reels in drunkenness
and wallows in shame f Should the impres
sible youth keep the company of him who be
longs to a class wbicb has done more to injure
the human race than a hundred others com
bined f Oh, people of this land! wake up,
and expel this evil, and secure yonr children,
yonr families and yonr friends from danger;
then yon will have gained a victory for human
ity, and posterity will “ rise np and call yon
blessed."
When you wonld grow weary, and falter
from this task, go read the history of the past,
written in blood; go eonnt, if yon can, the
straggling victims who have found their last
resting-place in a drunkard’s grave; go watch
the drops of anguish and sorrow that gush
from affectionate hearts, broken by the fierce
carnage of intemperance, and see them, as they
sweep on, like a mighty river, to the ocean of
grief; hearken to the wails of the widows aad
orphans, deep-tonsd and terrible enough even
to startle the myriads of the damned, and
make them cower before this storm of angnish-
Sorely*. this will renew yoar strength, and
brighten your hopes.
Be true to yourselves, true to the principles
of moderation and temperance, true to suffer
ing humanity, and ere long the raging storm
of intemperance, that threatens to engnif so
ciety, will pass away; and temperance shall
triumph. Happy, glorious epoch in the world's
history! The Lord hasten its consummation!
Then will earth be more like Heaven; then
rejoicings will break out m every desert and
barren land, while the ancient fertility will
hasten back to earth, as when Adam first sung
his morning hymn in the garden of Eden; then
a more Heavenly song than the drunkard's
wail, the orphan's cry and the widow’s moan
THE LOVE TEST.
BY AN OLD CONTRIBUTOR.
•Engaged to himt’ cried Aunt Meredith.—
Yon don’t tell me so! Why, it’B very sud
den, or else yon are very sly, Lilly Perry.’
•Auntie,’ cried Lilly, ‘when people love
each other I don’t suppose they are long about
it. I shouldn’t expect much happiness in a
man who was three or four years making np
his mind to marry me, and offered himself at
last, perhaps, because some other woman
wouldn’t have him. I might like him ever so
much, but I shouid never feel assured of his
love. Ned says that the moment he set eyes
npsn me he knew I was meant for him.’
• I know they say it’n the-right way,’ said
Annt Meredith. ‘ I never was married, and
I’m sure I don’t feel to be authority in such
matters. It’s a pretty sort of belief, anyhow;
a very pretty one. I hope it’s the right one,
I’m snre. Well, he's a handsome yonog man,
very handsome.’
• Oh, isn’t he!' cried Lilly. ‘ So unlike the
common ran of men! so everything that is
aristocratic, dear fellow! Oh!’
• And I am qaite loft oat ia tho matter, I
presume,’ said Aunt Meredith.
• Ah, no, Auntie, dear,' said Lilly. ‘ Ned is
coming to ask yon for me to-night.’
’And how about James RobertsP asked
Auntie.
‘ Well,’ said Lilly, • James deserves it if he
does like me. He’s been trying to find oat
whether I sait him’for two years, and expects
me to courtesy, and say, ‘ Yes, sir; thank yon,'
whenever he chooses to propose. I declare if
I hadn’t admired Ned as I do, I'd have accept
ed him just to ahow James I'm not waiting for
him,’ and Lilly tossed her head disdainfully.
• Well, I like poor James,’ sighed Aunt
Meredith. ‘ He's respectful to old folks. But,
however, you are to choaso according to your
own taste, not mine, and I hope you'll be very
happy; and let the young man come to-mor
row evening if he ehooses.’ And Lilly, all in
a flutter, rau away to dream over her new-born
happiness.
Ned Lawton called that evening, and Lilly
having ushered him into her aunt’s presence,
was going to run away; but tho old lady call
ed her back.
• We are going to talk about you, dear,’ she
eaid, * and I’d rather you should stay. Mr.
Lawton, I’ll listen. I suppose I had better
relieve you at once. You want my niece?
• I know,’ said the old lady. * Well, you are
a good sort of fellow, and not bad-looking, and
of a good family; but what are your pecuniary
prospects?’
• Oh! Aunt,’ cried Lilly, ‘ how can you V
• Mr. Lawton knows these questions are ne
cessary,’ said Aunt Meredith.
• Indeed, yes,’said Ned Lawton. ‘I have a
salary of fifteen hundred a year, and expecta
tions from my grandfather.’
• Expectations are poor things to live od, 1
said Miss Meredith. ’ Can you support a house
hold on your salary ?’
‘ I hope so,’ said Ned; • but grandpa is old,
and—’
• No matter about grandpa,’ eaid Miss Mere
dith. ‘ Of course, you’ve heard the fact that
Lilly’s grandparents left her a large sum of
money, and that I am a rich woman, and have
no relatives 1’
• I may have heard some stories of the kind, 1
said Ned, * bat I never beiiove such things.—
They are often without foundation.’
• Ah, dear!’ said Miss Moredith. • Well, it
was true; bat I’m glad yon are so sensible
yonng man, for it’s true no longer. Lilly and
I bad both invested oar money in tho Collide
and Smashnp Railroad bonds, and yon know
what happened to them the other day. I’ve
kept it from Lilly, bat we’re atter beggars,
and shall have to move into a couple of rooms
and take in sewing, or something, for a living.
I’m glad Lilly has found a loving hnsband to
watch over her. As for me, it don’t matter;
I’m old, and shall die soon, and my friends
will bay me into an Old Ladies’ Home, no
donbt, if I come to starving. Bless you, i
be happy!’ and Miss Meredith put her hand
kerchief to her eyes and left the room, sob
bing.
’oor Auntie!’ said Lilly; • we’ll take care
ef her, won’t we, Ned f As for me, I’d live in
one of thoee little shanties on the Bonlevard
line with yon quite happily. We don’t care
for money, do we, Ned V
• Oh, no,’ said Ned; bat his tone was doubt
ful, and he was very quiet and very grave, and
took his leave in a short time, with fewer pro
testations of affection than are usual on snch
an occasion. It was well for Lilly that she did
not know that ontside the door ho clenched
his fist and mattered:
• What the dence was I in snch a harry for f
How shall I get out of this fix V
Poor Lilly! •
Annt Meredith had said no more than the
tratb. Lilly coaid not understand how it had
happened, bat in less than a week, they mov
ed into two plain rooms in a very mean little
house, and though they d|d not begin to take
in sewing for a living, everything was greatly
altered.
Lilly had thought She would not mind much,
bat she felt it worse than she thought she
should. Besides, tho bliss that she had al
ways fended an engagement would bring was
not hens. Ned called bat seldom, was cold in
his manner when he came and ploaded busi
ness engagements, which Lilly could not help
believing were imaginary as excuses for his
neglect of all those little usual attentions which
girls expect.
Sadly the poor little Ronl sat in her tiny hall-
bedroom after she ha/i pretended to retire for
the night, and realiz ed the fact that her lover
was Bo lover after oil. Indeed, it was scarcely
a snrprise to her when, one day, a letter came
bearing his monogram, in which he asked for
live, and Lilly had no heart for company; and
Lilly liked James better than ever before.—
And so it came about so slowly that it was a
surprise to her that when, one day, he offered
himself to her. She accepted him.
• I’m a poor man, Lilly,’ said he, • bat we’ll
take care of Anntie, and we’ll get on. I shall
have the greatest object in the world for try
ing to get on now that yon belong to me.’
And so one morning the three very quietly
dressed, walked to the minister’s, and Lilly
and James were married. No one wonld have
known it was a wedding party, who had not
guessed it, by James’ face.
• Let’s go home this way,’ said Annt Mere
dith, taming down the street where her old
house stood. ' I want to look at my life*long
home. Lilly, don’t yon wish it frere oars
again f ’
•It was a lpvely place,’ sold Lilly; ‘bat
don’t fret, Auntie.*
•No, I won’t fret,‘sold Miss Meredith. ‘Bat
here we are. Ah, dear, what a pretty home it
is! How the wisteria vine has grown, and
how pleasant the balcony looks. Lilly, I am
going to go in and see how it looks Inside.*
Oh! don’t, Anntie,’ qried Lilly.
Bat Miss Meredith was on the steps and had
rang the bell.
Dear, dear,’ said Lilly, • how odd; bat we
masn’t desert her.’
Then the door opened. There whs a cry of
joy, and Miss Meredith’s old servants fashed
oat to greet her.
• Come in, ^children,’ said the old lady.—
There’s no reason for yon to stand there.
This is os much my house as ever it was.’
‘ Has she gone crazy, do yon think,’ asked
James, ‘ or is this a joke t*
• I don’t know,’ said Lilly, trembling.
•Yes, a joke,’said the old lady. *A fine
one too. Come in, my dears. I've played a
triek, and an old one, to save Lilly from for
tune-hunters. Nothing ever happened to our
money. I transferred it from the Collide and
Smashup Company a year ago, and soVim quite
safe. As for Lilly, she’s a baby in snoh mat
ters. And, James, you’ve won an heiress as
well as a good girl. And can both of you kiss
mo t’
_ ,. will roll its harmonies throughout the vocal
I saw that her eyes were wide open , 6
come with grief, I sank to the earth, my bus-1 -
band harrying away with my other two chil-| Advise yonr neighbors to take the HiskAMan.
* We have both made a mistake,’ he wrote.
And she wrote back ;
•Thank Heaven, we have found it ont in
time !*
Bat saefa T.yords only sustained her pride,
her heart ayhed all tho same.
Meanwb.ile, James Roberts bad come to see
them oftojner than of late, and was certainly
great comfort in thsir loneliness, for Annt
Mered ith declared that she con.ld not let tnelr
acquaintances know where she* Had come to
Why Do I Dislike That Woman!
You ask why I bate that woman f I should
think you might see for yourself. She has a
better complexion thau miuo, and I hate her
for that. Her hair is two feet longer than
mine, and I hate her for that. Her jewelry
finer than any I have, and that even is
enough for me to talk about her. She lives
in better style tbah I do, and I hate her all
over for that. She has a new bonnet every
mouth and I have only SfX in a year, and I
despise her for that. She has beautiful dress
es and they always fit her so well, and that is
another reason why I don’t like her. She
minds her own business, and never says mean
things abont any one; and a woman who does
that should bo hated by every other woman.
Her husband is a more prominent man than
mine, I hate her for that. She nover goes
about grumbling and telling things to make
others feel mean and uncomfortable; I despise
her for that- She will not lend me her jewel
ry, and I feel above any woman who will not
eheerfuliy lend me her best clothes and jewel-
Then her diamonds are real, while mine
are paste, and Jt don’t like her for that. Hate
herf I should think I had enough to hato
her for. She can sing, I can’t, and I hate her
for that. When I offered to tell her half a
dozen lies I had heard md twelve that I made
abont her and she wonld not heat me, I was
mad enough to bite her head off—the stuck-
up deceitful thing! When I give her advice
she pays no attention to it, I hate her for that.
When I try to tell her something abont her
huBband that will make her hate him as I hate
mine, she will not listen to me; I hate her for
that. When I wonld tell her what somebody
or somebody else said against her, she says
she does not care what folks say so long
as she has her husband’s devoted love and
confidence; then I despise her more than ever
for thro w ing oat slurs against me. Her breath
is sweeter than mine, and I bate her for that.
And I’ll hate any woman that is happier or
getting along better than I am.
Evils of the Day.
Why is it that young men from the agricnl
tural districts, rash to towns and cities, espe
cially large cities, where they ted often have
to eke out a miserable existence, where they
suffer absolute want, where they are exposed
to many dangerous temptations, and where
many of them are utterly rained ? With this
infatuation yonng men in all countries are
chargeable, both in America and in Europe
The indirect encouragement of the disposition
to prefer the town to the country, is perhaps
an-evil which in Europe may be traced to the
military system. In this country, however, It
is ohiefly what young people see and hear in
towns that attracts them; riobness, the fasei
nation of places of amusement, and possibility
of great wealth, whieh few, after all, win.
The various trades and professions are over
crowded, and hence come wanting, poverty,
hanger, suicide and other crimes we need not
mention. Many of the yonng people have lost
the inclination to work: labor is no longer
conrideredlHionorable. Few parents are wil
ling to let their children become honest mo
chanlos, and if they would, it is bat rarely that
the yonng have aebanoe to learn a trade thor
oughly,
We never be able to remedy the evil,
as long as we neglect to enoocrage, the mechan
ics and artists in oor midst, as long as we con
aider working men a little better than “hew
ere of wood and drawers ofwator." We should,
first of all, seriously endeavor to improve tho
moral, social and intellectual condition of the
working classes; we should lead them to self-
respect and contentment, by teaching them,
that their welfare rests upon honest labqp
The station in life does not honor the man,
the man confers honor npon the station. We
shoold never refuse to the laborer what is due
to him for his work. We should encourage
men to devote themselves to the cultivation of
the soil, and assist them to derive the fall re
ward of their labor. Let every man try
make home attractive to the members of his
household and give them time and opportnni
ty for relaxation and for th# culture of mind
and heart. Enlightened mechanics and en
lightened agriculturists, that is the henor tc
which our young men ought to Inspire.—Sa-
tannah Abend Zetiung, loth inst.
THREE YEARS OLD.
A dainty rose-bad peeping
From oat its guardian sheath;
A tiny streamlet creeping
Across some ragged heath;
The rosy flash, faint dawning
Over the eastern sky.
Telling of rising morning,
And making night-shades fly—
Which is the fittest type of thee,
My winsome little maid of three?
A8toryJost beginning;
The first scene of a play;
A game, while yet the winning
Is fer and far away.
A feathery cloudlet, winging
Its silvery courses to rain;
A new thought shapeless springing
Up .from the teeming brain—
All things of promise image thee,
My smiling little girl of three.
Not sweeter are the spring flow’re,
That rise from out the snow;
Not fresher April’s sun-showers
That gladden all Below;
Not softer or more blameless
The gentle cooing dove;
Not fairer or more stainless
The clear vault above;
Less precioas richest mine of gold
Than thee, dear child of three years old.
An earnest spirit purely
Looks from those liquid eyes—
A spirit kindred surely
With souls beyond the skies;
Thy soft round cheeks are glowing
With feeling unexpressed;
Thy free yonng thoughts are flowing
Toward regions not yet gnessei| :
All earth is fairy land to thee,
My trusting wondering babe of three.
And mast the bright dreams vanish,
The phantoms fade away?
Will time so sternly banish
AU that is fresh and gay?
Ah! life is changing ever
As on and on it flows;
The thought becomes endeavor;
The bud a perfect rose.
But still the bud is sweetest -,
We love the rising thought;
Though calm to ago is meetest,
We count it dearly bought,
At price of childhood’s mirthfulness;
As, at price of childhood's bloom,
Wisdom, and wisdom’s mournfulness
In the shadow of the tomb.
Ah! couldst thou ever, ever be
A happy child of only three!
horn spectacles and pat them on. She raUbd
and looked earnestly at Taylor. Then she
squeezed her nose together with her fingers
and said:
Drat be, bister, ef it ald’t yon! Jaet help
yeraelf; help yeraelf to oddytbing yon wadt >•
And Mrs. Jogger sought the ontside of tha
The party fished ell day. They got book to
Milford abont tea time. The piazza at Dim*
mick's was fell of ladies. They all rushed oat
to see the treat. One by ohe they went back
remarking how balm-laden the zephyrs were
that evening. Taylor’s wife said; ‘ Ob, area*
they beauties ? Bat what makes them smell
George ?’
George said: ‘The creek In which they
were caught is strongly impregnated with—
ahem 1—with hemlock, which gives them »
peculiar pungent flavor, bat it is destroyed by
cooking. Cooking knocks it.’
Strangers who visit Milford hereafter may
a mound in the Dimmick hotel garden.—
Beneath it is a suit of clothes. It belonged to
George Taylor.—Detroit Free Press.
Hunting a “Gronnd-IIog”--The Adventures
of an Amatear Sportsman.
The Milford correspondent of the Sun sketch
es this adventure of George Taylor, of the
New York City Press Assoaiction, and Ed.
Cahill, of 17 Park Row, who came to that place
on Saturday last to fish for trout. They were
joined by Ed. Quick aad Bub Welft, two pro
fessional rod swiugera. On Monday they
started for Dingman township to cast the fly.
On the way Taylor tried his twenty-five dollar
revolver on every chipmunk he saw. Pretty
soon Cahill shouted, ‘ Blazes! see that ground
hog ! Lot him have it, Taylor!’.
• He’s a beauty!’ said Wells, and Quick cried
Sweet Christmas! but ain’t he fat ?’
The animal was jogging along leisurely
across a field. Taylor acted npon Cabill’a
suggestion and got ont of the wagon to shoot
it. In his hurry bo forgot to put down his fish
pole and carried it in his hand. In his other
hand was bis revolver, ready cocked. He
gave chase to the groutd hog. His compan
ions sat watching him from the wagon, wait
ing to see him kill the animal. It was a pret
ty one, all over white and black spots. Tay
lor was bound to have its hide. When be got
within shooting distance he stepped in a big
bole and down be went. His fish pole ran
abont a foot in the ground and broke off. His
pistol went off and blew tho whole roof ont of
bran new straw hat ho had purchased for
the occasion.
He was soon on his feet again, bat the ground
hog had got clear to the other end of the field
and sat by the side of a ho le, evidently wait
ing for the anxions sportsman. Taylor caught
np to within a few feet of his game and raised
np to fire. The ground-hog suddenly turned
his white tail toward Taylor and disappeared
in his hole. Taylor that instant knew be
hadn’t brought enough Florida water with
him from the city. He knew he hadn’t strack
mint patch, nor yet a bed of roses. He felt
that it wasn't good to be there, and ho want
ed to go home. In short it came across him
that the boys had played a skunk off on him
for a ground hog. He returned to the wagon,
and, remarking that the ground bog was too
quick for him, got in. Ed. Cahill pat his
handkerchief to his nose. Ed. Quick said he
gnessed he’d get ont and walk away. Bab
Wells thought he wonld too. Cahill said he
promised to bring his wife some elecampane
root, and as that was a good place to find it,
he’d get out and look for some. Taylor wonld
not ride alone, and made up his mind to walk
with the rest. Cahill couldn’t find any ele
campane root, and got back into the wagon,
Quick and Wells got tired and jntnpod in
again. Taylor then thought be wonld ride
for awhile. The boys began to think the joke
was as much on them as it was on Taylor.
When they got to the creek Taylor objected
to going in the woods for fear he might get
lost. Cahill told him to keep half a mile to
the westward of them, and they’d be sore to
know where to find him. Taylor fished Spring
Brook. The trout wouldn’t bite. They came
to the surface and looked at his fly; bat as
soon as they got their noses ont of water they
dove down and rubbed them in the gravel.
Taylor got disgusted, and went to find his
comrades. He came np to them near mother
Jagger’8, where they bad stopped for dinner.
Cahill took Taylor aside and said: • Say, Tay
ior, we want to get something to eat here.
Yon mustn’t go in with ns or yon’ll kill the
whole thing. We’ll eat first, then yon come
ia. See?’
Taylor was hungry, and had to submit.
Mother Jagger got the boys np a nice din
ner. They ate it at their leisure. Taylor sat
on a log abont a hundred yards from the house
and whAtled ‘ Bary me nnder the violets.’—
The boys finished their meal and went ont.
They told Taylor to go get his- dinner. He
entered Mother Jagger’s kitchen and sat down
to tho table. The old lady began to snifl, and
kicking tho old honnd that lay by the atove,
ejaculated: v'i
• Git out. Ring l I'll kill that infernal crib*
ter yit. He’s alters huntin' skunks!'
Ring • get ont.’ Mrs. Jagger ponred Tay
lor’s coffee. Then she sniffed again, and look!
ed under the table and on the floor. Tayicr
fell to eating. Mother Jagger took down her
Wayside Gatherings.
—A yonng preacher at a fashionable oity
church took for his text the parable of tha
Ten Virgim, and in the coarse of his sermon,
be explained •• that in old times it was cus
tomary, when the bridegroom and bride were
coming, for ten virgins to go out and moot
them and escort them home. Five of these
virgins were male and the other five female.
..A Kansas gentleman thoughtfully put his
front gate in the parlor, ee that bis daughter
and her young man could swing on it without
taking cold daring tho cold weather. This is
humane suggestion to all fathers. A front
gate in the parlor may save a good many dol
lars that would otherwise be paid out for so oth-
ing syrups and cough balsam.
..A wide-awake minister, who found hia
congregation going to steep before he had fair
ly commenced, suddenly stopped and exclaim
ed : “ Brethren, this isn’t fair; it isn’t giving
man half a chance. Wait till I get along,
and then if I ain't worth listening to, go to
sleep *, but don't do it before I commence—
give a man a chance.”
..“ Where is the twelfth juror ?” exclaim
ed an Idaho judge, on the court’s resuming bu
siness after a recess, scowling, as he spoke, at
the eleven jnrors in the box, one of whom rose
and said: •• Please, judge, it's Ike Simmons as
gone. He had to go on private business ;
but he's left his vnddiok with me!’’
Recently a party of young men in Sacra
mento started out to serenade a lady friend.
They exerted themselves to the best of their
ability for about an hour in front of the house,
when something white on the floor attracted
their attention, which upon investigation, was
found to be a card saying, “ house to let.”
..It isn't always best to call things by their
right names. A yonng gentleman called a
carriage-dog a Dalmatian hound, and was in
formed by his fiancee that if be could not re
frain from profanity in her presence they most
henceforth be strangers.
. .One evening at a Paris cafe a group of
idlers were discussing politics and people who
change their opinions. •• Well,” said one,
I've never cried * Long live anybody I* *
Quite so,” remarked another, •* but then
you’re a doctor.”
“ Where do wiokeed little boys go to who
fish on Sunday ?” asked a teacher ia8oxtday
school. •• Down to •• Cullom'a riffle," wae the
prompt reply.
A Nevada jndge, in the White Pine dis
trict, after the jury had been empaneled and
the counsel almost ready to proceed, drew ont
his revolver and laid it on his desk in front of
him with the remark: “If any man goes fro
licking around the court-room daring the tri
al of this case, I shall interrupt him in his ca
reer.” The strictest decorum prevailed.
“ In my fertile country,” said a Leicester
shire man, “ yon could tnru a horse into a
field new mown, and the next morning tho
grass would be grown above his hoofe.” ’Pooh!
that’s nothing," cried a Yorkshire man; “ you-
may torn a horse into a field in Yorkshire, and
not be able to find him next morning."
..Soliloquy by an old toper: “Theysay
whiskey is a corse. And they say brandy is a
curse. And they say tobacco to a curse.
Well, I wish all these curses would eomo
home to roost, and low at that, so as I could
pall 'em down whenever I wanted 'em.”
..‘•It is a settled principle, your henor,”
said an eminent lawyer, “ that causes always
produce effects.” “They always do for the
lawyers,” blandly responded the jndge, “ bat
ve sometimes known a single cause to de
prive a olient of all his effects.”
A Lessen for All*
Look most to yonr spending. No matter
what comes in, if more goes out yon will al
ways be poor. The art is not in making mo
ney, but in keeping it; little expenses, like
mice in a large barn, when they are mauy,
make great waste. Hair by hair heads get
bald; straw by straw the thatch goes off the
cottage, and drop by drop the rain goes into
the chamber. A barrel is soon empty if the
tap leaks bat a-drop a minute; when yoa mean
to save, begin with yonr month, many things
pass down the red lane. The ale jag is a great
waste. In all things keep within’ compass.
Never stretch yonr legs farther than the blan
ket will stretch, or you will soon bo cold. In
clothe* suitable and lasting staff, and not taw
dry fineries. To bo warm is tho main thing,
never mind the looks. A fool May make mo
ney, but it needs a wise man to spend it. Re
member. it Is easier to build two chimneys
than to keep one going. If yon give all t»
back and board, there is nothing left for the
savings bank. Faro hard and work hard while
yon are yonng, and yon will hove a chanoe to
rest when yon are old.
. *A youth I will call Georg*.■ was engaged
to bo married, but was financially unable to
* call in the minister. His affiauoed wanted the
i, affair brought to a finale, bci George kept
putting her off with promises, saying he was
notable to marry, etc. Finally she said ‘ Deah
Gauge, I am willing to marry yoa, if we have
to live on bread and water.’ ‘ Weil, well,’
/i * nonm' in rtssDfcration. • you furn:sh the