Newspaper Page Text
BY BREWSTER & SHARP.
The Cherokee Georgian
M PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY BY
BRRWSTER <fc SHARP.
.'W-'
RATES OF SUBSCRIPTION;
'*** (positively in advance.)
Biagiecopy, 12 months $l5O
bingle copy, 8 months 100
Single copy 6 months • 75
Single copy, 4 months 50
A I) VER TJSINO
Space | Im. | 2 ni. | 3 iil | 6 in. | 12 in.
1 la'chTiSKi | $350 | $1 50 | $7 00 [slooo
• friy.’s'| 350 | 5 ooj 650 |JO odj 15 00
. « W»T 500 | 750 £WOOj 1400 | 2000
4 inc’s f 650 | »00 | 11 50 | 18 00 | 25 00
u col. tiooo j 12 50 j 16 00 | 25 00 | 40 00
<£ colj 12 50 | 10 00 |25 00 |3750 j 50 00
.. col. |T~> 00 12500] 35 00 j [4s 00 | (55 00
I. col. I 20 00 | 35 00 j 50 00 I 65 00 [ [OO 00
JM7W.S OF LEGAL ADVERTISING.
[payable, in all cases, in advance.]
Sheriffs’ sales per levy, not exceeding
one square, $2 50
.Notice of Application for Homestead, 2 00
, Citations on letters of administration, 300
Citations on letters dismissory from
Administration 5 00
Citations on letters dismissory from
Gu irdisinship 3 00
Xrave to sell Land, &c., 4 00
Notice to debtors and creditors,... 3 50
Bale of personal property, per square, 1 50
Hale of Land by Administrators, Guar-
dian*, &c., per square, 2 50
Estrays, one week, 1 50
Estrnys, sixty d.'iys,....- 5 00
The money for .advertising considered du.
after the first insertion.
Advertisements vent without a specifica
tion ot the number of insertions marked
th< reon, will be published till foimhd, and
charged accordingly
Business or Professional Cards, not ex
ceeding three-fourths of an inch in length,
including the paper one year, Ten Dollars.
Advertisements inserted at intervals will
ne charged as new.
Local and Business Notices which
Will always immediately follow the reading
matter, will be inserted at 10 cents a line
eaca insertion. No notice under three lines
•will be inserted for less than 25 cents each
insertion.
Advertisements inserted in Columns with
Reading matter will Ik* charged 15 cents per
line for each insertion.
Double column advertisements 10 per ot.
srElra.
Advertisements should always be marked
for a specified time.
Address all communications on bu incss
connected with the paper to
The Georgian,
Canton, Ga.
JA.MS3 O. DOWD A,
Attorney at Law,
CANTON, - - - GEORGIA.
WILL practice in the Superior Courts
ot Cherokee and adjoining counties.
Will faithfully and promptly attend to the
collection of all c.'aim* put in his hands.
Office in the court-house, Canton, Ga.
niiz 4, l ly
W. A. BRIGHTWELL.
CARPENTER, CONTRACTOR AND
BUILDER,
Residence, Canton, Ga.
O
ALL work done by me wit! Im? <lonc with neat,
neo. »nd dispatch. i’ncvn reasonable —satisfaction
guaranteed.
Aug 4, l-6m
J. M, 11 A RUIN,
HOUSE AND SIGN
PAINTER,
Canton Ga.
__Aug 4, _ 1-iy
BKN.I F. PAYNE. .IAS. U. VINCENT.
Payne & Vincent,
Attorneys at Law,
CANTON. - . - GEORGIA,
Will prnetlen in the Superior enurt. of Cherokee
•nd »<li.lining .-oiinri. a and in the iu.tiee.' court*
of Cherokee. Pnunpt attention will in- civeit t •
Ihe collection of avounb, rtc. Otttce In the <\>u t
hotn>e. ?-! y
J. H. CLAY,
Brick and Stone Mason, Brick
Maker and Plasterer.
CANTtTtIK. • - - GEORGIA
AIP ILL do all kinds of work in hi« line,
> \ such as I Molding Brick ami Stone
iVmsa-e, Pillars and Chimneys. Blistering
• House*. etc. AU work done in the best
style. SatiafaeUou guaranteed. l*rioes res
•ouable and Just Bast of rvforvnces eao
lw given when desired.
*eug I! 2 ly
@l)c dCJjerukec (£»coii)inn.
HUMBLE LIFE.
Tell me not that he’s a poor man,
That his dress is coarse and bare;
Tell me not his daily pittance
Is a woman’s scanty fare;
Tell me not his birth is bumble,
That his parentage is low ;
Is he honest in his action ?
That is all I want to know.
Is his word to be relied on ?
Has his character no blame ?
Then I care not if he’s low-liorn,
And care not what’s his name.
Would he from an unjust action
Turn away with scornful eye ?
Would he, than defame another,
Sooner on tuc scaffold die?
Would he spend his hard-g lined earnings
On a brother in distress?
Would he fond to the afflicted,
And the weak one’s wrong* redress ?
Then he is a man deserving
Os my love and my esteem,
And I care not what his birth-place
In the eyes of man may seem.
Let it be a low-thatched hovel,
Let it be a clay-built cot,
Let it lie the county poor-house—
In my eyes it matters not.
And if others will disown him
As inferior to their caste,
Let them do it; I’ll befriend him
As a brother to the last.
Captured by Telegraph.
During the winter of 1869 I was em
ployed as night operator in the railroad
office at D , lowa. The principal road
between Chicago anil Council Bluffs runs
through I) , and the great irregular
night trains, and the constant danger of
collision resulting therefrom, rendered the
position of night operator by no means an
easy one. It may be well to mention here,
as necessary to the following story, that
besides the railroad office there was also at
I) a business office of the Union com
pany. This we always spoke of as the
“down town” office.
One stormy night, not far from eleven
o’clock, 1 sat at my desk, and, for a won
der, idle. The wires had not called for
some time, and I was leaning back in my
chair, listening to the wind outside and re
flecting on the loneliness of my situation.
The eastern train had crossed the river
more than an hour before; all the depot
officials had gone off home, and, so far as I
knew, I was entirely alone in the vast
building.
Finally, tired of thinking, I took up the
evening paper, and glanced listlessly over
its columns. Among other things, I read
the detailed account of n fearful tragedy
that had occurred fifty miles up the river
on the previous night. Three raftsmen,
well known as d»sp< rate characters in that
vicinity, had entered the cottage ot one
Matthews, a farmer living in an isolated
sp it ; had butchered the farmer and his
children, terribly maltreated his wife, and
lhen departed as they Came, having taken
with them whatever was hand}’. What
interested nir most whs afu l description
of the chief of the villainous trio, Tim
Lynch. Here it is:
Five hundred dollars reward will be paid
for information leading to the capture, dead
or alive, of Tim Lynch, the ringleader in
the Matthews tragedy. Lynch is « remark
ably large man, six feet lour inches in
height, very heavy, and broad across the
shoulders. Eyes greenish gray, with a
deep scar over the right one. Hair wiry
and black, and beard of the same color.
When last seen he was dressed in a black
Kossuth hat, faded army overcoat, pantsol
gray jeans, and heavy boots. The above
reward will lie paid to any one furnishing
positive information of Ins wlivrcalsmts.
I 1 the very instant I finished reading
the advertisement, there occurred the most
remarkable coinciilence that has cv<r come
under my observation. I heard a heavy
trend on the stairs, and the door opcnes
and there entered—Tim Lynch ! The mo
ment I set my eyes iqion him I recognized
him as iM-rfectly as though I had known
him all my life. The army overcoat, and
gray pants tuckixl into the heavy boots,
the massive frame and shoulders, the
slouched hat pullet! down over his right
eye to conceal, I was sure, the scar; above
aIL a dcsjKrate J'tWrtltd look in his fttrbid
ding countenance—aft were not to be mis
taken. I was as certain of his identity as
if he had stepped forward, pulled off his
hat to show me the scar, and told me his
name.
To say that I was not alarmed at this
sudden and unwelcome ifftrusmn, would lie
untrue. lam not a brave man, and my
present situation, alone in the depu with a
hunted murderer, was bv no means reas-
*
suring. My heart beat violently, but from
mere force of habit I arose and asked him
to be seated. While he turned to comply, |
I succeeded in conquering my agitation to
some extent. He drew a chair noisily for
ward, and, silting down, threw open his
coat, displacing by so doing a heavy navy,
revolver stud in bis belt. Then he freed
his mouth of a quantity of tobacco juice,
and sjaike.
“Young teller,” he said, motioning with
his bead toward the battery, “ihat th.ir!
machine fe what ytr call a tellyjgram, I
s pose F*
‘•Well,” I apswered. with a faint smile, 1
Virtue and Intelligence —The Safeguards of Liberty.
CANTOX, CHEROKEE COUXTY, GA., IFEDXESDAY, OCTOBER 6, 1875.
intended to be conciliatory, “that’s what we
send telegrams by.”
“Wai, I want you to send a message to a
friend o’ mine in Cohoe. I tell yer afore
haud 1 hain’t got no collateral; but I kinder
guess you’d better trust me, young feller.”
(Here he laid his hand significantly on his
licit.) “I’.l fetch it in ter-morrer, cf it’s
convenient.”
I hastened to say that the charge could
just as well be paid at the other end by his
friend.
“Humph! Plagucy little you’ll get o’
Jim, I reckon. Ilowsumever, pcrceed.
“What is the message, and to whom is it
to go ?” *•
“I want you to tell Jim Fellers of Cohoe
that the bull quit here las’ night, and ther
sheep ’ll be close on his heels. ’
As he delivered this sentence, he looked
at me as if he cx|»ected me to be mystified,
but I thought it best not to appear so, and
I said carelessly:
“I suppose you are a dealer in stock, and
this is your partner? Ah, sir, the telegraph
helps you fellows out of many a sharp bar
gain.”
“Ya’as,” he answered, slowly, evidently
pleased with the way I took it. “Ya’as,
that’s um ; I’m sendin’ down a lot o’ stock.
Bought it dog cheap over in Genesee yes
terday. Purty lot as ever you seed.”
1 turned to my instrument. What was
to be done? Though ours was a railroad
office, we often sent business messages; and
if I did as usual now, I should probably
get rid of my unwelcome visitor without
further trouble. But in the short conver
sati< n with him I had somewhat recovered
from my first alarm, and I now conceived
the idea of attempting the capture of Tim
Lynch.
I was only a poor salaried clerk, trying
to save enough to marry in the spring.
Five hundred dollars would do me a great
deal of good just now—to say nothing of
the eclat of the thing. llow was it to be
accomplished? Here was I, alone in the
depot with a man big enough to whip his
weight in such little men as I was several
times over. Any attempt to secure him
single-handed was not to be thought of.
But could 1 not excuse myself, .and, going
out, fiistcn him in? No; well I knew,
from the distrustful look in his face, that
any proposal of mine to leave the room
would be peremptorily objected to by him.
What then ?
Why simply this. I would telegraph to
the down-town station. But, alas! That
very day the connection had been cut for
repairs. It was seldom used at any time,
of course. Rut what of that ? It was
only a question of a few seconds more
lime.
All these things went through my mind
with the rapidity of lightning as I went to
the battery. Lynch regarded me from the
corner of his uncovered eye with a suspi
cion that made me shake in my As
I sat down, he arose and came to my side.
“Look a here, young feller,” he hissed in
my ear—and his breath was sickening with
the fumes ot liquor; “perhaps ye mean fair
<>hniigh—l hope ye do for jt r own sake.
But I don’t understan’ nothin' about them
tellygranis, and I jist want ter tell ye that
yer’d better lie squar’; for, by the eternal
God, es ye go back on me, I’ll stretch ye
on this floor as stiff as I ever did a man
yit !” and I frit the cold muzzle of his re
volver on my cheek. Perhaps my voice
trembled a little, but 1 was still unmoved
in my resolution as I replied :
“Never fear, sir; I’ll tell him all about
the stock.”
He muttered something to himself, and
still remained standing over me.
You have heard, perhaps, how much
character and expression a telegraph oper
ator can put into his touch. Why, there
weretio® ns of different operators commu
nicating with this office, and I could tell on
the instant, without ever making a mis
take, who It was signaling. You could
tell if a man was nervous from his tele
graphing, just as you could from his hmd
writing. The call that I sent hurrying
across the State to Council Bluffs must
have rung out on the cars of the operator
like a shriek.
“C. B. Are you there f’ was what I
asked, and almost instantly came back a
reply in the affirmative. Then, with a ;
I trembling band, I rattled off my meswge : |
I “For the love ot God, telegraph to our 1
down-town office at once. Tell them that
Lynch is within two feet of me, and they
must stnd help.”
A short pause, as though my message oc
casioned some surprise, and then came the
response: “All right,” which assured me I
need not repeat
“Wai,” growled the deep voice of Lynch, ■
“are you going to send my message *”
“I have sent it, sir.”
“What! Does all that tickin’ mean what i
i 1 told you* '
“Y’cs ; and if you’ll wait fifteen or twen- '
ty minutes, you’ll get an answer.’’
"Wai, I dunno as I want an answer.
Jim. he’ll understood it all right”
"But I’ll tell you soon whether he’s there
or not.”
| So Lynch reluctantly took his seat, look
ing around at the doors and windows once
in a while in an uneasy way. I was deter
mined to take him at any cost, and I verily
believe I should have planted myself in bis
path had he insisted on going now.
‘iTick, tick, tick!” the battery called out,
and I listened to the message:
“Keep cool. Gould has gone for the po
lice.”
Strange it was, wasn’t it, that I should
sit here and talk through two hundred and
fifty miles of space with a man not half a
mile from mt?
“What’s that signerfy ?’’ inquired my
companion, as the ticking ceased; and I
rejffied that the clerk had just written off
the message and sent it out. He seemed
satisfied, and settled back in his chair,
where he sat in sullen silence, his jaws go
ing up and down as he chewed the weed.
O how slowly the minutes crept along!
The suspense was terrible. I sat and
watched the minute-hand of the clock, and
five minutes seemed as many months. My
companion seemed nervous, too. He moved
uneasily in his chair.
“Ain’t it about time we heard from Jim ?”
he asked at length.
“We shall get word from him in a few
minutes now,” I answered, and fell to
watching the clock again. Five minutes
more passed. Lynch got up and began
pacing to and fro across the room. At last
he Said :
“I don’t believe I’ll wait any more. I’ve
got to see a man down at the Pennsylvany
house, and he’ll be abed es I don’t get thar
pretty soon.”
“Hold on a minute, and I’ll sec what
they’re up to,” I cried hastily, and I touch
ed the key again. “Make haste,” was my
message; “I shall lose him if you do not.
Not a moment to spare.”
Straightway came the reply, short but
encouraging: “A squad of police started
for the depot five minutes ago.”
Thank heaven! They ought to be here
now. Hooked at Lynch, and thought of
the five hundred dollars.
“Wai, what’s the word ?” he growled im
patiently.
“Your friend is coming,” I answered, for
want of a better reply.
“Gopiin*! Cornin’'. Whar ?”
“Corning to the office at Cohoe. He
probably has an answer for you.”
“An answer for me? Jim Fellers? What
should he answer for ?”
Lynch stood in stupid thought for a mo
ment, and then he looked at me with a
dangerous light in his eye.
“Look a here, young feller,” he cried,
“it’s my private op.nion you’re lyin’ to me.
And cf ye are,” he said, with a horrible
oath, “I’ll cut your skulking heart out! I
don’t know nothin’ ’bout that machine, but
I swar Jim Fellers hain’t nothin’ to an
swer. More like he’d get up and scatter
when be beard that message.”
He stood glaring at me as he uttered
these words, his hand on his revolver. 1
can not account for it. As I have before
remarked, I am a timid man by nature;
but this action only made me bolder. Ev
erything depended on keeping him a few
seconds longer. It must be done at any
cost. I tried a new plan
‘ What do yon mean, sir,” I shouted,
rising, “by coming into this office and talk
ing in that style? Do you thnk I’ll endure
it ? Leave this room at once, sir, or I’ll—”
and I advanced threateningly toward him.
My unexpected attitude teemed to amuse
him more than anything else, but it silenced
Lis suspicions. He put his hands in his
pockets, and delivered a loud laugh in my
face.
“Wai, wal, my bantam, ye needn’t git so
cantankerous. Who’d thought such a little
britches as you had such spunk ? Haw,
haw, haw ! Why, I could chaw you up
’thout making two bites ot you.’
“Well, sir,” I said, still apparently un
motified, “either sit down and hold your
tongue, or else leave the office.” And he
good-naturedly complied.
Once more we were sitting listening to
the ticking of the clock as the minutes
dragged their slow length along. Would
help never come * Three minutes more.
Great heavens! The suspense was becom
ing intolerable. I must go to the stairs and
listen, if I die for it. I arose and took a
step toward the door, but a voice stopped
me.
"Hold I” shouted Lynch, standing up
right, all his suspicions aroused once more.
“Yer can’t go out of that door afore me.
Come back here!”
“Sir!’’
“Conie liack here, or by the Eternal ”
and the pistol muzzle looked me in the
face.
He stood uow half turned from the door,
and I was lacing it. Slowly, and without
a particle of noise, I saw the knob turn, i
and a face under a blue cap peep in. Thank
God ’ Help ha<l come. 1 felt a joy uncon
trollable come over me. I must keep the
murderer's attention an instant longer, till
some one could spring upon him from be
hind. I walked straight up to him, but his
quick ear had caught a movement behind.
As he turned with an oath, I sprang upon
him and bore down his arm just as the re
volver went off, the ball burying itself
haimlcssly in the flour. Before he could ‘
free himself from my grasp, half a dozen
officers were upon him, and he was quickly
secured.
The next morning the papers were filled
with gl >wing accounts of the capture of
the murderer, and praise of my conduct.
The principal business men of the town
made up a purse of five hundred dollars
and presented it to me, and this, with the
reward that was paid me the following
week, enabled me to get married at Christ
mas. But I shudder at the remembrance
of that half hour I spent alone with Tim
Lynch ; and I think that one thousand dol
lars would not tempt me to go through it
again!
The Trades of Hie Past.
Half a century ago, bellows-making was
a thriving trade. Every house had its pair
of bellows, and in every well-furnished
mansion there was one by the side of ev
ery fire-place. But as stoves and grates
took the place of open fire places, and coal
was substituted for wood, the demand for
bellows diminished, and the business as u
separate trade died out.
The same is tru iot flint-cutting. Flints
were once necessary for tinder-lxixcs, and
a tinder-box was as necessary for every
bouse as a gridiron or a skillet. Every one
who looks back to a childhood of forty-odd
years ago must remember the cold winter
mornings, when the persistent crack of the
flint against the steel sent up from the
kitchen an odor of igniting tinder and sul
phur which pervaded the house.
Then, aerain, are gone the pin makers,
who, though they have been in their graves
a quarter of a century, still figure in lec
tures and essays to illustrate the advantages
of a division of labor. Instead of a pin
taking a dozen men or more to cut, grind.,
point, head, polish, and what not as it used
to do, pins are now made by neat little ma
chines at the rate of three hundred a min
ute, of which machines a single child at
tends to half a dozen.
Nail-making at the forge is another lost
industry. Time was, and that in this cent
ury, when every nail was made on the
anvil. Now, from one hundred to one
thousand nails per minute are made by ma
chines. The nailer who works at the forge
has but a bad chance of competing with
such antagonists, and he would have no
chance at all were it not that his nails arc
ten-fold tougher than the former.
Is Poverty a Crime?
If it Is, then there arc many criminals ;
for many arc too poor to live in any sort of
decent comfort.
The standard of honesty and excellence
in the minds of many men is money. Give
an individual plenty of money—fill his
barns and endow him with broad acres—
and what a multitude of faults lie hidden
beneath. Wealth hides more faults thar
anything else. “He was poor, but honest,”
they say, as if poverty and honesty were
rarely allied. And that is the way the
world feels. Crime ahd poverty go hand
in hand, in the minds of too many of us.
If men would learn to honor and trust
each other for their intrinsic worth—their
wealth ot mind and soul —their talent,
genius, industry, sobriety, honesty—be he
rich or poor, and a lower estimate were
placed upon each other for his wealth of
purse, we would all be happier, wiser, and
better. Genius would oftencr be rewarded,
and lietter appreciated. “Poor but honest”
men would lie stimulated to higher exer
tions, for they would feel and know that
honor, trust, and profit might follow such
exertions. A man should be honored and
applauded for what he is, not for what he
has. It was not the men of wealth that
gave to the world the steam-engine, the
telegraph, the sewing machine, and thou
sands of other useful inventions which
have revolutionized the civilized world, but
men of poverty, who lived in obscurity,
and under the ban of n proach on account
of such poverty. It has ever been thus,
and we fear will continue to be so; for
man is ungrateful by nature, and money
rules the world.
An E.-««y on the Doctors.
Quick, go for the doctor! All right, I’m
going lor him. I’ve been aching to go for
the doctor a long time; so here goes.
There are a great many kinds of doctors 1
—big doctors aud small doctors, old school
doctors, and doctors of the new school, Sind
doctors without any schooling whatever.
There are doctors of laws, and doctora of
sons-in-law ; ear doctois, and doctors diffi
cult to get the ear of; tooth doctors, nail
doctors, and doctors who go at you with
tooth aud nail; eye doctors, and I O U
doctors; eclectic doctors, electric doctors,
and doctors not ol the elect, who go it
Usos'ly on tick.
Thus we have cold water doctors, and
doctors who “straw” it a good deal; root
doctors, and doctors w hose motto is, “Rtx»t,
hog, or die! ’
Spiritual doctors, and doctors very much
ou'. ot spirits; magnetic doctors, and doc
tois who haven’t any magnetism in them—
or much else; laying-vn of-hands doctors,
VOLUME 1.-NUMBER 10.
and doctors who will tike anything they
can lay their hands o», except, plfhaps,-
their own physic.
Sweat doCTof# arc numerous. If they
don't sweat their patients, their pati’enls
sometimes make them sweat. And there
are few doctors who are not compelled Nv
sweat around a good- deal to- get fhei? pay!
Among Indian l doctors are the full bred,
half rxed, corn bred f and doctors never
bred ait all —at least not ftflted- to medicine —
the tatte? class being far the - tftost numer
ous. As a general thing, Indian 1 efoctorif,.
as they call themselves, know nothing
whatever about Indians; many of them’
never saw one. But that is nothing strange
in medicine. Men have practiced medi
cine all their lives without enjoying the
slightest acquaintance with it.
Herb doctors are popularly supposed to>
spend a large portion of their time in me
andering through the fields culling herbs.
Nothing of the sort. Lots of them would!
not know catnip from “penny-riTc,” if they
saw them growing. They cull their herbs
at the druggist’s.
There are lung doctors, and doctors with’
very little lungs, although tolerable livers.-
Doctors are good livers as a general thing.
The tin oat doctor appears in a variety of
forms not stric ly recognized in medicine.
The hangma» is the most thorough throat
doctor we have. His remedy^—a stricture
of hemp—rarely fails to cure the most ob
stinate throat difficulty. Few persons Lave
ever been heard to complain of their throats
after the first application.
Bar-keepers arc another variety of these
doctors, whose mixtures, also, are too fa
miliar to many people. Cold water is the
safest thing for the throat as an inward ap
plication.
Pepper doctors were quite popular some
years ago. They don’t pepper as much as
they did, though many doctors are peppery
enough.
Mustard doctors arc in the army for the
most part, unless they are mustered out.
Cancer doctors arc almost as numerous
as cancers themselves. Every cancer doc
tor exhibits so many cancers he has taken
out that I have sometimes wondered if they
didn’t take it out in cancers. I was once
shown a tumor so large I asked the doctor,
if space was valuable, why lie didn’t stick
his patient away in a glass jar, and let the
tumor walk around.
Corn doctors should not lie overlooked.
Some of them are very skillful in taking off
a corn. A corn doctor took off a corn for
me once, and he took it off so far it was
nearly a week before it got back again.
No man who hasn’t horse sense has any
business trying to be a horse doctor, though
he may get a diploma to doctor men. Even
ihe constitution of a horse may be broken,
down by unskillful treatment, yet in select
ing a physician for ourselves we occasion
ally forget that. The horse doctor some
times gets more kicks than coppers, though
he is one of the lew privileged persons
who are excused for looking a gift horse in
the mouth.
The healthiest town I ever knew was out
in Illinois, one summer, when the doctors
went east to attend a medical convention,,
neglecting to return for several months.
The doctors found, when they did get
back, that their patients had all
the drug-stores had busted, nurses had
opened dancing-schools, the cemetery wii»
cut up into building-lots, the undertake!;
had gone to making fiddles, and the village
hearse had been gaudily painted and soldi
for a circus-wagon!
Although I have metaphorically gone for
the doctors, let nothing I have said be con
strued as reflecting upon them as a class.
They are good humored, and can, there
fore, take a joke, and for the most part are
charitable and humane. I have a good
many friends among the doctors, yet they
arc the very last men I want to call on.—
[The Fat Contributor.
Cheating.—lt was a good okf-fisliioiicd
“set down” at draw poker. There were
three of them —Ulysses, Childs, and Mur
phy.
“I’ll tell you what, it’s a jolly game,” re
marked the jioct laureate, “when you know
it’s played on the square.”
“I could never see any pleasure in cards
where there’s cheating giing on,” added
his Excellency, flipping another chunk of
ice into the glass that stood on the tabte
beside him.
“Faith, you can depend upon it,” said
Murphy, “that a man who would chate his
fri’nds ain’t got ihe right sort of naytur in
him, at ail, at all.”
Finally there was a “call,” and all threw
down their hands simultaneously. Childs
had three aces, so had Murphy, so had
Grant! Nine aces and only one deck!
Then they all got up without saying a word,
went out, aud walked off in different direc
tions.
Saxe is responsible for the following par
aphrase from Martial:
Your nose and eyes your father gave, you
say;
Y'our mouth your grandsire; and your
mother meek
Your fine expression: tell me now, I pray,
Where, in the name of Heaven, you got
your cheek ?