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PROFESSIONAL CARDS.
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
ELBERTOIV, GA.
WILL PRACTICE IN THE COURTS OF
the Northern Circuit and Franklin county
jflp“Special attention given to collections.
J. S. BARNETT,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
ELBERTON, GA.
JOHN T. OSBORN,
ATTORNEY AND. COUNSELOR AT LAW,
ELBEKTON, GA.
WILL PRACTICE IN SUPERIOR COURTS
and Supreme Court. Prompt: lion
to the collection of claims. 11 • • ‘■7;*/
L. J. GARTRELL,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
ATLANTA , GA,
PRACTICES IN THE UNITED STATES Clß
cuit and District Courts at Atlanta, and
Supreme and Superior Courts of the State.
ELBEKTON BUSINESS CAIIDsT
T. J. BOWMAN & CO-,
REAL ESTATE AGENTS
ELBERT©Jr C.A.
WILL attend to the business of effecting
sales and purchases of REAL ESTATE
as Agents, on REASONABLE I'EUJIS.
pojg- Applications ohould be made to T. J.
BOWMAN. Sepls-tf
UGirrCARRIAGES&BUGGIES.
J. P.AULD
ELRERTON, GEORGIA.
WITH GOOD WORKMEN!
LOWEST PRICES!
CLOSE PERSONAL ATTENTION TO
BUSINESS, and an EXPERIENCE
OF 27 YEARS,
He bepes by honest ana fair dealing to compete
any other manufactory.
flood Buggies, warranted, - $125 to $l6O
REPAIRING AND BLACKSMITHING.
Work done in this line in t very best style.
Th Best Harness
TERMS CASH.
My22-It __
J. M. BAUFiELD,
THE REAL I.IVE
Fashionable Tailor,
Up-Stairs, over Swift & Arnold's Store,
ELBERTON, GEORGIA.
foSTCall and See Hiir.
THE ELBERTON
DRUG STORE
fl. 0. EDMUNDS, Proprietor.
Hag always on hand a full line of
Pure Drugs and Patent Medicines
Makes a specialty of
STATIONERY and
PERFUMERY
Anew assortment of
WRITING PAPER & ENVELOPES
Plain and fancy, just received, ii cluuinj’ a sup
ply ot LEGAL 0A
CIGARS AND TOBACCO
of all varieties, constantly oa hand.
F. A. F. NOULETT,
mmm&i mason,
ELBERTON, GA.
Will contract for work in STONE and BRICK
anywhere in Elbert county [jelG 6m
CENTRAL HOTEL
MRS. W. M THOMAS,
PROPRIEIRESS,
AUGUSTA GA
W H. ROBERTS,
CARPENTER & BUILDER
ELBERTON; GA.
11l AYR LOCATED IN ELBERTON WHERE
I will be prepared to do all work in my line
as cheap as any good workman can afford. Con
tracts respectfully solicited.
/kgr Shop on the west side of and near the
jail.
Coffins Made to Order.
r. W. JACOBS,
HOUSE 8 SIGN PAINTER
Glazier and Grainer,
ELBERTON, GA.
©rders Solicited. Satisfaction Guaranteed.
PEASE’S
PALACE DINING ROOMS,
ATLANTA, GEORGIA.
The Champion Dining Saloon of the South
SVIRTBODT IS INVITED TO CALL.
THE GAZETTE.
New Series.
THE POISONED OUP-AN INCIDENT IN
THE LIFE OF HENRY VII.
The silken arras of King Henry’s
apartments was suddenly thrust aside.
The monarch started, and placed his
hand upon his sword, for his life had
been more than once attempted ; but he
smiled at this causeless fear, as his eyes
fell upon the silent form of the intruder,
with its sweet, youthful face.
The young girl advanced with a timid,
yet graceful step, and sank down on one
knee.
“What do you seek, my child ?" sa ; d
the king, looking with parental kindness
upon the face, which, with all its soft
ness and delicacy of contour, had a high
and daring look.
“I crave no boon, sire,” returned the
maiden, obeying the motion of his hand
and rising to her feet—at least, not now.
I have come to warn you of. a plot
against your'life.”
“Ha! what mean you ?” exclaimed
Henry, in alarm,his countenance darken
ing with the suspicions that were ever
ready to spring up in his heart.
“I will tell you ; but first swear by the
cross upon your sword, that if you find
my words true, you will give me the life
I shall ask of you.”
“I swear,” said the king, hurriedly
raising the jeweled hilt of his sword to
his lips as he spoke. “Now go on.”
“You dine in state to-morrow with the
Duke of Bedford ?”
“That was our intention. But surely
his grace, our good uncle, has not turned
traitor to his king ?”
“Not to my knowledge, sire, yet it is
there that death lies in wait for you.
Listen to me, and mark my words well.
In the banquet hall you will observe
among the servitors a man, tall, broad
chested, and strong of limb, and with
look and bearing ill befitting his station.
Unless weary of life, drink not of the
cup he will present you. Neither forget
the promise you made to her who has
risked more than life in saving yours.”*
And before the king could recover
from his astonishment she was gone.
The entertainment given by the Duke
of Bedford to his reyal nephew was pre
pared with all the spendor and magnifi
cence due to his own rank and the char
acterof his illustrious guest. A tourna
ment and various fantastic masqurades
much in vogue at the time, were pro
duced expressly for the king’s amuse
ment. At their close the doors of the
banquet hall were thrown open, and, to
the inspiring strains of music, King
Henry entered, followed by the Dake
and soma other members of the royal
family and a long retinue of retainers.
The table ran nearly the whole length
of the wide and lofty hall, and was cov
ered with every variety of the substan
tial dishes of the time.
With all the demonstrations of respect
paid to royalty, the king was escorted to
his atat which was a slight elevation.
Upon his right sat his host, and upon
his left the Earl of Derby ; the rest were
seated according to their station, the
lowest in rank taking the lowest place.
King Henry, whose countenance had
worn all the morning a disquieted air,
glanced sharply around the hall, where
the serving men were ranged at regu
lar intervals. He started as his eye fell
upon a tall, stalwart man, who bore in
his brawny hands a gilded salver, on;
which was a silver cup. .
“Who is that, my lord duke ?’’ he ex
claimed. “By'r lady! but be looks more
used to handling a lance than that bit of
gilded metal.”
“I know not, your majesty,” returned
the duke. “He is a stranger who, for
the day, takes the place of my faithful
butler, Hubert, who is 6ick.”
Just at this instant the man approach
ed them. According to the custom, he
presented the cup he bore, and which
was filled with a compound of milk,
honey, wine and spices, then held in
much repute, to the duke, who give it
with his own hand to the king.
Henry took the cup, and keeping his
eye fixed steadily jUpon the man’s coun
tenance, raised it slowly to his lips.
Only a keen observer could have detected
the gleam of triumph that shot from be
neath the drooping lashes, but it was
not unnoticed by him. Removing the
cup, he turned his eyes full on his host,
saying,
“Will it please your grace to receive
this from our hand, as a token of our
gratitude for the faithful and zealous
service you have rendered us ?”
The duke’s face flushed with gratified
pride, for to be thus publicly served by.
his sovereign, and with such kind and
gracious words, was a nigh distinction.
“With many thanks, my liege,” he
said, taking the cup as he spoke. “God
save King Henry.”
Unsuspicious of evil, he would have
drained it at a draught, had not the king,
whose countenance instantly cleared,laid
his hand en his shoulder.
“Nay, my good uncle,” he said, “your
willingness to oblige us is enough. It
is our royal pleasure,” be added, “that
the bearer of this cup shall drink of it
to the confusion of the enemies of our
crown and person ”
As Henry said this he fixed his eyes
keenly upon the countenance of the ser
vitor, who during this conversation had
been vainly striving to conceal his in
creasing agitation.
He turned slightly pale as the king
pushed the cup toward him. Neverthe
less, he said in a clear voice.
“I pray, your majesty, excuse me : I
have made a vow that no wine, shall pass
my lips until my own wrongs be lighted.”
“Is that your reason ?” said the king,
ESTABLISHED 1859-
ELBERTON, GEORGIA, MAY 10, 1876.
with a significant smile. “We shall se.
Here, Erric," he added, offering the cup
to a large grey-hound that was crouched
at his feet.
The long, smooth tongue of the noble
animal had scarcely lapped the last drop,
when, staggering, he fell lifeless upon the
floor.
King Henry sprang to his feet.
“Treason !” he shouted, bringing his
clenched hand down heavily upon the
table, and glancing with flashing eyes
around upon the astonished courtiers,
who stood looking at each other in terror
and dismay.
“1 trust your majesty will bear wit
ness,” said the duke, in an agitated
voice, “that I would have drank of the
cup had you permitted me.”
“I would that the hearts of all pres
ent were as loyal as thine,” said Henry,
laying his hand kindly upon the duke’s
shoulder. “Yet well do I know,” he ad
ded, glancing around, “that yonder
knave has a master at whose bidding be
has done this. Away with him ! If he
reveals the name of his instigator he may
find mercy at our hands. If he refuses
he shall die at the break of day.”
During this scene a slight female fig
ure had been vainly striving to force her
waf through the body of armed men,
who, fearful of further treachery, had
gathered around the king. As soon as
Henry observed her he bade theta stand
back, and beckoned her to approach.
With pale cheek and unsteady step,
the young girl obeyed, and, throwing
herself at his feet, clasped his knees.
“Rise, fair maiden,” exclaimed Henry ;
“this posture ill befits the preserver of
England’s king ”
“I will not rise, sire,” returned the
suppliant, “until you have pardoned that
unhappy man, my wretched, misguided
father, whose wrongs and sufferings have
nearly bereft him of reason. It is his
life that I ask at your hands.”
“What!” exclaimed Henry, with a
frown ; “the life of my attempted mur
derer ? Metbinks that is a strange re
quest, lady.”
“My liege,” said the lady, imploringly,
“remember thine oath; break not thy
kingly word. Let me not feel that in
saving my sovereign’s life I have been a
parricide.”
“There is some strange mystery here,"
said the king, addressing those around
him. “Let the man be sent before me.”
The criminal’s brow did not blanch as
he stood before the king, who, regarding
him sternly, said : “What prompted you
to this deed of guilt and madness?”
“The wrongs and insults heaped upon
me by your own hand,” returned the ac
cased, giving a look as stern and haugh
ty as his own.
“Now, by the holy rood, thou liest,
knave,” exclaimed King Henry, angrily.
“I knew not until now that there was
such a person as thyself in merrie Eng
land.”
“Thou shouldst have known if. The
son of Sir Phillip Darcy, who fell at
Bosworth fighting for his kiffg, should
not have lingered all these years in pov
erty.”
“Sir Phillip left no son. He was an
impostor who claimed his estate and ti
tle.”
“I no impostor,” said the man
raising his head haughtily as he spoke,
“but his son and rightful heir.”
“Thy looks and l earing show thou
speakest truly,” said the king in a gen
tler tone, for he still held in grateful re
membrance the brave knight who fell at
his right hand at the victorious field of
Bosworth. “But why didst thou not
present the proofs of thy birthright?”
“I did, your majesty, but was unable
to obtain a hearing. I thrice sought a
personal interview, but was thrust from
your gate with indignities that nearly
maddened me. I then went to France,
my mother’s birthplace and mine. Col
lecting the most conclusive evidence of
the validity of my claims, I sent it to
you by a trusty friend; but that evidence
was rejected aud a price 6et upon my
head. I returned in disguise to find my
self an outlaw in the land whose peace
my father purchased with his life. The
rest you know.”
“Who is this trusty friend of whom
thou speakest?”
“Sir John Trevitt, who is’now present,
and who will bear witness that what I
say is ti ue.”
The king turned a dark look upon Sir
John, who stook pale and trembling, the
very picture of guilt and terror.
“Ha! I understand,” he said. “It is
upon him that I conferred the Darcy
lands, supposing there to be no heir.
He has dealt treacherously by us both ;
but I will attend to that anon.”
Sir John Trevitt scowled darkly.
“On account of the wrong we have
unwittingly done thee,” he added, turn
ing to Darcy, “and the debt we owe thy
daughter, we not only accord thee a free
pardon, reinstating thee in tby rightful
inheritance, but make thee a peer of the
realm, an honor which we should have
conferred upon thy gallant father had he
lived to receive it, and which, we think,
will be worthily worn by his son.”
“You have made me more than that,”
said the grateful man, kneeling at the
king’s feet as he spoke, every vestige of
the pride gone that naught but kindness
could subdue, “you have made me a true
frieud and a loyal subject.”
“Amen!” responded Harry. “Now
go, and forget not all thou owest to tby
gentle daughter, whose loyalty and filial
devotion have saved thy life and mine.”
The extreme height of misery is a
small boy with anew pair of rubber
boots and uo mud or slash in reach.
COTTON PLANTING.
The following is copied frwm a “ Trea
tise on Agriculture, by David Dickson,
Sparta, Ga.”
1. Lay off cotton rows four feet apart
with shovel plow, double furrow, and
put in fertilizers eight inches deep.
2. Ridge with a long scooter five inch
es wide. Make the beds with turn-plow,
subsoil,the turn-plow furrows ; split the
middles with shovel. Plant, and cover
with a board or harrow.
First plowing—run 22 inch sweep
with right wing turned down, hoe out to
two or three stalks to the hill every nine
inches ten days after plowing. Second
plowing—use same sweep, the right
wing turned up a little more. Third
plowing, in same way, run a third furrow
in middle to level.
3. Cotton standing thick in the drill
will be much more forward in maturing.
4. Cotton only requires distance one
way.
5. Be careful not to cut the roots of
cotton.
6 Have a deep water farrow in the
spring; work flat by hot weather.
7. On level land run the rows north
and south.
8 A cotton plant to stand two weeks
drought must have four inches of soil
and six inches of subsoil; three weeks—
six inches of soil and the same subsoil;
four weeks—eight inches of soil and the
same subsoil.
f. If you prepare your land and carry
out this plan well, and manure liberally,
you may expect from four hundred to
one thousand pounds of lint cotton to
the acre.
40. Manure brings a crop of bolls on
til* cotton early.
11. To improve the cotton plant, se
lect seed every ytar after the first pick
ing up to the middle of October, taking
the best stalks and the best bolls on the
stalks.
12. On all farms there are some acres
that produce cotton better than others ;
seed should always be selected from
spots.
13. Manure everywhere you plow and
plant ; your labor will be more certainly
rewarded." It pays to use manure, and it
pays best on land that pays best without
it
14. From the 20th to the 30th April
is the best time to plant cotton.
15. Apply one half,, of all labor and
land to the making of full supplies of all
kinds that are needed on the farm, and
enough to spare for those engaged in
otbiv pu-rsuits, and you will have more
money than if the whole was employed
in making cotton.
16 Leave no grass to bunch and
cause a future bad stand.
17. Plow cotton every three weeks
and let the hoes come ten days behind,
cleaning it perfectly.
18. Continue plowing cotton till the
16th or 20th of August. Once or twice
during the season shove out the middle
with a furrow to keep the land level.
19. The plowing of cotton requires
one and a fourth days per acre.
20 Cotton plants commence when
small to take on and mature bolls and
continue until they exhaust the soluble
matter or reach the full capacity of the
l *nd Two stalks will do that much
sooner than one and so avoid the late
drought, caterpillar, etc.
21. Cotton will grow after cotton a
number of years in succession with plen
ty of manure.
22. Make just the amount of eotten
wanted at paying prices. Keep out of
debt, be the creditors, make your sup
pi ies at home—then, and only then, will
you have power.
23. Rotation of crops, deep and deep
er plowing every year, incorporation of
vegetable mold, returning the proceeds
of the cotton plant except the lint to the
soil, making as much manure as possi
ble, comprise my system of improving
laods.
24. One object in cultivation is to
keep the surface broken so as to let in
light, heat and air. Never stop the
plows for dry weather.
25. My policy has been to make the
most money with the least labor and
capital, even if it appeared to be waste
ful.
26. The cotton planter should make
his whole supplies—everything necessa
ry to run the farm.
A Western exchange tells its readers
how to mind their P’s in the following
paragraph:
“Persons who patronize papers should
pay promptly, for the pecuniary pros
pects of the press have a j e uiliar power
n pushing forward public prosperity.
If the printer is paid promptly, and his
pocket-book kept plethoric by prompt
paying patrons, be puts his pen to his
paper in peace, his paragraphs are more
pointed, he paints his pictures of passi ig
events in more pleasing colors, and the
persual of his paper is a pleasure to the
people. Paste this piece of proverbial
philosophy in some place where all
persons can perceive it.”
Time—the vehicle that carries every
thing into nothing. We talk of spend
ing our time as if it were so much inter
est of a perpetual annuity; whereas we
are all living upon our capital, and he
who wastes a single day throws away
that which can never be recovered.
—
Honolula people say it rains nine
days in the week at Hilo, and thirteen
months in the year, and once in a great
while it rains into the bunghole of a
barrel faster than it can run out at both
ends.
Vol. Y.-No. 2.
KILBOURN’S CASE.
A Contumacious Witness Down Stairs.
Kilbonrn’s contumacy is attracting
much attention in Chicago. The Tribune
says that a tall, gaunt, raw boned man
entered Judge Bang's office recently,
and adds:
He looked like an impersonation of
famine. He entered the office with a
haughty stride, and taking a paper from
his pocket, said:
“District Attorney’s office, eh ?”
“Yes,” replied the deputy sub-acting
assistant district attorney of the United
States for the northern district of Illi
nois.
“You take charge of all offences
against the United Stales, eh ?"
“We do.”
“And it is all true about KilbourP,
is it ?”
“It is.”
“Philadelphia squabs, and quail on
toast, and raw tomatoes, and spring
chickens, and tenderloin, and fried po
tatoes, and ice cream, and porter house
steak, and venison steak, and currant
jelly, and canvas back ducks, and coffee,
and champagne, and buttered toast”
Here he paused, out of breath, and pass
ed his tongue hungrily once or twice
around his ears.
“Well!” said the District Attorney.
“Well, I’ve got a contempt for the
Congress of the United States ! I want
you to taka down that I, Thompson Pe
ter Curtis, of Mendota, Illenoy, say
they’re all salary grabbers, backpay
thieves, ex-Confederate brigadiers and
inflationists! I want you to take down
that I’ve a contempt agin ’em all, and
refuso to answer any question they can
put to me. I want you to send me to a
dungeon, and refuse to allow any writ
of habeas corpus to issue in my case.
And I want you to send me some eggs,
and broiled ham, and porter house steak,
and some fried potatoes, and tomatoes,
and § venison steak, and quail on toast,
and coffee, and strawberry short cake ;
you hear me ?”
The deputy acting assistant district
attorney said he did, and, seizing a club
drove the contumacious witness down
stairs. He was seen about fifteen min
utes later partaking of some raw cheese
on crackers in front of the courthouse.
On of the most thoroughly disgusted
individuals we have met with is “Pick
away,” the very accomplished Washing
ton correspondent of the Cincinnati En
quirer. Taking in the full degree of
corruption, now coming to light in the
National Capital, he thus graphically
and sentimentally breaks forth :
“I wander forth in this magnificent
Capital at night, and every imposing
edifice steps into my path Jto tell a story
of fraud ! They are monuments of ras
cality. I wander through the park, won
dering how long a great people will
patiently bear the shame that is upon
them. And suddenly I stand in front of
the White House. White House, indeed!
The windows are dark, and under the
stars the famous building stands like a
great white sepulchre! Within sleeps
the man who is the embodiment, the un
intentional cause of the demoralization
that crept into every branch of the pub
lic service. Sixteen brief years ago an
obscure nothing, then spitting tobacco
juice on a stove in his father’s store
drinking whisky and on SI,OOO a year.
Then came war! He is Colonel, General
Grant, silent, obstinate, fortunate, suc
cessful. The idol of a people intoxi
cated with victory. He is elevated to the
Chief Magistracy—as fitted for the
duties of the great office as a hog for
a throne. He has saved the country
with his sword, and he has, therefore, an
imperative right to ruin it! To bring
shame and disgrace on the Republic at
borne and abroad ! Shades of General
Washington, Father of His Country,
founder of the Republic, first President
of the United States ; spirits of Adams,
Jefferson, Monroe, Fathers of ’76, look
down on the man that slops around in
George Washington's shoes, and think
of the President of the United States
issuing two proclamations extending the
boundaries of an Indian Reservation for
the purpose of increasing the profits of
Brother Orville’s post traderships! My
God ! American citizens, think of it!”
Matrimony and Pockets. —A young
man from one of the suburban districts
was into one of our tailor shops get
ting measured for a vest, the other after
noon.
“Married or unmarried ?” queried the
merchant, after taking down the num
ber.
“Unmarried,” said the young man with
a blush.
“Inside pocket on the left hand side,
then,” observed the tailor, as if to him
self, making a memorandum to that ef
fect.
After a moment’s pause, the young
man from the suburbs was prompted to
ask:
“What difference does my being mar
ried or unmarried make with the inside
pocket of the vest ”
“Ah, my dear sir,” observed the tailor
with a bland smile, “all the difference
possible, as you must see Being unmar
ried you want the pocket on the left side,
so as to bring the young lady’s picture
next to your heart.
“But, don't the niarried man also
want his wife’s picture next to his
heart!” quired the anxious youth.
“Possibly there is an instance of that
kind,” said the tailor, arching his eye
brows, “but I never hard of it.” '
to m
HANGED.
The newspapers of Germany are exer
cised over a remarkable murder trial, in
which the defendant, although confess
ing to having committed the murder,
was yet proved to be innocent of the
crime. About six months ago Mrs An
na Thormaelen confessed to the Ham
burg authorities that shfl had murdered
her husband, who died April 5, 1875.
According to her confession she had
given him morphine in the shape of self
made pills. She further stated that irt
1869 she fell in love with her father’s
clerk, Mr. Schelenz, a druggist. But,
inasmuch as Schelenz was not yet able
to support her, he soon broke off the
match; and, in 1870, the girl married a
banker in Hamburg—the late Thormae
len—without loving him. Of course she
was unhappy wi.h her hnsband, and she
concluded to poison him. She obtained
morphine, and, according to her own
confession, gave it to her husband in
his beer. He vomited it up, and was
laid up on the sth of April, and during
the night she made a pill with four
grains of morphine with water, and gave
it to her husband, and be died. The
physician, who was called in before the
husband died, pronounced apolex-y the
cause of death, and dissection of the
corpse unnecessary. So much for con
fession. The authorities arrested her
and her trial has just concluded. The
body of Mr. Thormaelen was dug up aud
analyzed. The chemists found no trace
of morphine, but gave as their opinion
that Thormaelen could have died of mor
phine and yet it might be impossible to
prove it so long after death. The evid
ence was heard and the prisoner’s coun
sel—who, by the way, was retained
against her protest—showed that Mrs.
Thormaelen, after the death of her bus
band, went to visit a clergyman, to whom
she confessed the murder of her husband,
Nevertheless the jury found that Mr.
Thormaelen had not como to his death
by poison at all, and Mrs. Thormaelen
was discharged from custody. It was
shown that her husband’s death had
preyed so fiercely upon the mind of this
unfortunate woman that she imagined
herself guilty of his murder. With her
natural desire for romantic fame, with
her craving for imaginary sufferings, she
finally considered it a blessing and a
fame worth toiling for to die on tho scaf
fold. She was disappointed.
THE ”Q. D'S."
Henry Grady, in one of bis letters to
tho Augusta Constitutionalist, speaks
thus of editors:
After having discussed the chances of
the various candidates in the gubernato
rial race, it is well to look at the po
sition the press occupies in the melee.
The quill, which has been unjustly
called the pinion of one goose used to
spread the opinion of another goose, has
more to do with making great men than
any one is willing to acknowledge ex
cept the editors. There are few gentle
men that the newspapers didn’t help to
make—none that a prick or two of a
sharp pen can't bring into collapse.—
Your Congressman moves about tho
halls of the Capitol, bearing his pomp
and circumstance royally, and men kneel
down before him as if he had made him
self great. And takes it all coolly and
as a mattflr of course. But when he is
off to himself, and his conscience gets a
c..ance to put in a word, his mind reverts
to an humble editor, with type-stained
fingers, going through his tread mill du
ty, and watching his hero in a sort of
adoration. Ue remembei‘3 that this ed
itor is the man who made him great—
who first awoke his ambition—who fos
tered and fed it—who built him up pa
tiently, puff after puff, asking nothing
and receiving nothing in return, but the
satisfaction of seeing his man grow into
conspicuous stature. And then the
Congressman grows remorseful. His
conscience aches and gnaws, and ho goes
off and sends the editor a Patent Office
Report, and fifty copies of of his last
speech.
It is a fine tribe of fellows, these quill
drivers ! From the humble fellow who
falls into a mellow ecstasy at the recep
tion of a large turnip or a fine mess of
greens, to the magnificent writer who
will allow nothing less than a load of
wood to induce him to gush, they all de
serve better luck than they get—and if
once and a while they do drop their
“ethics,” let no man gainsay them the
surreptitious plum they may have picked
up while their fingers were disengaged.
ASHAMED TO SWEAR ALONE.
Why is it that the most blasphemous
oaths are always in a crowd? The pro
fane swearer would not dare to go into
his private chamber and utter those hor
rid imprecations. No, Jno 1 he wants
them to be heard and laughed at. It is
the greatest cewardice to swear in a
crowd, what you would not do in secret.
“I will give you $10,” said a man to a
profane swearer, “if you will go into the
graveyard at 12 o’clock to-night and
swear the same oaths you have just ut
tered, when alone with God.” “Agreed,”
said the man, “an easy way to get $10.”
“Well come to morrow and say you have
done it and the money is yours.” The
time passed and midnight came. The
man went into the graveyard. It was a
night of great darkness. As he entered,
not a sound was heard, all was as still as
death. Then came the gentleman’s
words to his mind with power: “Alone
with Gcd!” rang in his ears. Afraid to
take another step, he fell on his kness
and cried, “God be merciful to me a sin
ner.
An old Dutchman undertook to wal
lop his son, but Jake turned upon and
walloped him. The old man consoled
himself for his defeat by rejoicing at his
son's manhood. He said: “Veil Jake
is a smart fellow; he can vip his own
taddy.”
There was a leap year party in Balti
more last week, and the girls made the
young gentlemen do the cooking. Re
sult, fruit cake made of buckwheat flour
and twelve johnny cake*.