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SOITIIfcRN SEWS ITEMS.
Macon, Ga., owes over seven hundred
thousand dollars.
There are 4,000 000 acres of land in
Alabama subject to entry or homestead.
Charleston is shipping daih by ex
rreaa 12,800 quarts of strawberries to New
York.
The whale driven on the North Caro
lina coast is said to be worth not less than
Ihe cold snap caused a great deal of
corn ami cotton, even as fsr south as Florida,
to be plowed up and planted over.
Jalre Sommerville gets ninety-nine
years in the Texas penitentiary, for the mur
der of Chas. Roberts, tbres years ago.
In Louisiana a negro had a aov killed
by a train, and in revenge he ditched a
freight train end wrecked eleven cars
Robbers entered the house of J.
Fisher,a stockman, near Dayton, Tease, put
pistols to his wife's head, and made her
hand over 18000.
The New York holders of Tennessee
bonds have agreed to accent the compro
mise of fifty ceuts on the dollar and four
per cent, interest.
To estimate what a bridge will co t
any city if it is done by ccntract: Take the
highest figures presented by any engineer
and multiply them by the length of the
bridge in inches, point off two places, and
then add enough to prosecute anybody who
haa any thine to do with handling the funds,
and the resnlt is—that the bridge is an ob
struction to navigation.
The London Lancet offers this cure
for bone felon: As soon as the pulsation
which indicates the disease is felt, pat <4i
* rectly over the spot a fly blister about the
size of a thumb nail, and let it remain for
six hours, at the expiration of which time,
directly under the surface of the blister may
be seen the felon, which can be instantly
taken out with the point of a needle or a
lancet.
Dallas (Texas) Herald : At last the
long needed snd much prayed for rain has
fallen. Bjcday morning about eight o’clock
the sky was filled wi<h dark clouds, and at
nine a fine rain began to fail, which con
tinued for about one hour. Though it was
not as heavy here as in other places, yet it
will do a vast amount of good generally,
although it came 100 late to do the wheat
crop at large much good. It will greatly
benefit corn and cotton, and bring out the
gardens and grass. The fall seems to have
covered the whole of north Texas, extend
ing from Denison to Corsicana, and from
west of Weatherford eastward towards Willis
Point.
A lot of prisoners sentenced to hard
labor in Alabama were knocked down to
the highest bidder at the following figures:
Martha Jackson, a negro woman, went off’at
$8 10 per month , Emma Parker, a negro
woman, $2 05; an old negro man, William
Moulten. $4 20; Sarah Moulton, his wife,
at 44 ; Sam Malone, a negro man, went to
$8 ; Sam was a “ likely feilow ” and the bid
ding was quite lively. Jim Graham, a negro
boy, brought $6 50; John Fleming, a uegro
man, was knocked off at $6 50; James OdU
orne, a white man. brought only twenty-five
cents a month, while another white man,
by the name of Minn, went for the small
sum of five cents. A number of negroes
were among the bidders, and one said he
never expected to live to see the day when a
nigger would be worth more than a white
man
The Galveston Nows thus sets forth
the current expense problem in Texas : The
various sources of revenue the ensuing fiscal
year will yield, by the most careful estimate,
$1,050,0(10 in cash. This sum is reduced by
the appropriation for deficiencies at the
very first sboo,ooo, leaving $1,050,000. Next
one-fourth of the whole amount goes to
public schools out ot the first collections.
Tnis reduces the suru available to say $650,-
000. Then interest amounting to $400,000 is
set apart to the exclusion rif every other
demand, reducing the available revenue to
$250,000. The requirements for the judi
ciary about $260,000; for the asylums about
$100,000; for frontier defense, $100,000; for
the land office, comptroller’s, treasurer’s,
attorney-general's, governor’sad secretary
of state’s offices, $250,000 and over; for
quarantine, $20,0(0; for pensions, $50,000;
for penitentiary, $40,000, and for sinking
fund, $100,000: altogether $020,000, are to
be me‘ by this residue of $250,000.
The Augusta News says it now seems
as if Georgia is to add another wonder to its
already lengthy and attractive list of natural
curiosities. Not content wit a being the
mother of the greatest mountain rock on
earth, not stopping at the many springs
which in variety and attractiveness are
counted all over the state, nor hesitating
still to act as the roadbed for the most beau
tiful fall of water on this continent, and even
boasting of some special attraction on everv
acre of its soil, from the lofty peak of Ball
mountain to the sandy beach of Tybee, the
empire State now comes forward with what
may be called a natural wonder that has
hitherto been confined to the sandy soil of
Arkansas or warmed the frozen zone ot Ice
land. Some excitement has been caused in
upper Georgia by the discovery, near the
Air-line road, the neighborhood of the great
falls, of a stream of boiling water jutting
out of a solid rock and ascending fifty-two
feet in the air. A report of this new discov
ery come: from Athens, and it proves cor
rect in every particular. Georgia eaa cer
tainly claim a great curiosity, and North
Georgia be more than usually popular this
summer.
The Russian peasants, though officially
under medical supervision, find it hird to
secure the services of a doctor. The physi
cian of a district with perhaps fifty thousand
inhabitants scattered over fifty square miles
c n but hurriedly pass throueh the village
once every month. Under these circum
stances many of the peasants, when suffering
from disease, resort to conjurers, who ptac
tice'their incantations with holy water, and
to the trainers of tamed bears, who lay the
sick man on the floor and compel a beak to
walk over him several times.
The newest cottage bonnets, after
clasping the head closely, roll upward in the
brim just above the forehead and low down
behind the crown. The roll is scarcely an
inch deep, yet when covered with shirred
satin it makes the small bonnet much more
dressy than were the closer fronts worn dur
ing the winter. The best Parisian milliners
have sent out this new shape in the most
expensive braids, trimmed with the richest
materials used this season.
Georgia sends out of the state annu
ally three and a halt million dollars for
guanos, and Dr. Pratt, the distinguished
Georgia chemist, is endeavoring to form a
stock company for the manufacture of fer
tiliz rs in Atlanta. He says that within the
limits of Georgia are to be found all the
ingredients far first-class fertilizers—phos
phates and the materials for sulphuric acid,
salts,of ammonia and potash. These can be
ptepared, and a superior fertilizer made for
home use with a capital of SIOO,OOO.
MISCELLANEOUS.
T 1 e Swi-s experiment of getting along
w ithout capital punishment of crime lasted
ju-t five years, and tlic penalty of death was
restored by a vote of 27 io 15 in the federal
council.
More than one hundred thousand tons
of Al rerian and Spanish iron ore will be im
ported into the United States this year.
The ,ron will be used in Pennsylvania, in
competition with Lake Superior ore.
Farmers in the eastern part of Penn
sylvania find it very profitable to rai-e their
own trout, and have large quantities to
.-pare for market. The trout pond on a farm
is becoming as common as an orchard.
The Canadians are greatly incensed at
finding that many of their merchants, just
before the new tariff was brought forward,
loaded up the’rshelves with American goods
wh ch have escaped the duty and are now
retailed at an advance of 10 or 15 per cent.
English newspapers very rarely con
tain in the obituary column a notice of a
funeral, btcause, except in the case of an
eminent public person, it is not desired
that any but near relatives and very inti
mate friends should attend, and men worth
a miiiion go to their graves with less pomp
and parade than a New York car-driver.
..The Sweet Singer of Michigan says
flattery has not turned her head. They
should try her with anew bonnet on
the head of another woman.— [N. O Pic
ayune.
.. Rector—“ Those pigs of yours are in
a fine condition, Jarvis.” Jarvis—“ Yes,
ur, they be. Ah, sur, if we wor all on
us on’y as fit to die as them are, we’d
do 1”
VOL. XX.-NO. 15.
* A
|Joetry.
in* mujibkk ou;k the mate.
BY H. n. LOXGFKLLOW.
la it eo far f. om thee
1 bon can-1 no longer see
In tt e chain ter ore* the gate
Hut old uian .tractate,
Wreping and wailing sore
For hia aon, w bo ia no more ?
O Absalom, my son !
Ia it ro long ago
Hat cry Cl human woe
From the watlrd city came
Calling on his dear came,
That it baa died away
In the diaiance of tc-day 7
O Absalom, my son!
7 here ia no far nor near,
1 here ia neither there nor here,
There i neither soon nor iate
In that chamber over the gate;
For any long ago
To that cry cl human woe.
O A bsalom, my aon 1
From the a gee that are past
The voice cornea like a blast
Over teas that wreck ana drown,
Over tumult of traffic and town;
A nd from ages yet to Ire
Cornea lheechoea lack to me,
O Absalom, my roD !
Somewhere at every hour
The watchman on the tower
Locke forth, and sees the fleet
Apprcsch cl the hunyieg feet
Of messengers, that bear
The tidings of despair,
O Absalom, my son 1
He goes forth lrom the door
Who shall return no more.
With him our joy departs ;
The light goes out in our hearts;
In the chamber oyer the gale
We ait disconsolate,
O Absalom, my son !
That ’tie a common grief
Bringeth tut alight relief;
Oura is the bitterest loss,
Ours is the heaviest cross:
And forever the cry will be.
“ Would God I had died for thee,
M Alialom, iny aon I”
•e * +
<jfor the jfireside.
t. t ♦
'‘MAKING OUT, M
You needn’t cry, Roxie. It seems to
you worse than it is. lam happy, truly
I am. I wouldn’t ask to be happier if
it wasn’t for the thought of him. And
sometimes I’m at peace even about him
While there’s one poor heart like mine
to follow him with prayers, I can’t think
the Lord of all grace is going to forget
him—can you ?
Now you are crying more than be
fore. Do not take it so hard, Roxie. It
seems harder to you than to me, because
we are so unlike. I’m used to making
out, you know. Do you lemember
when we were little girls bow you used
to hate your patchwork. You hated it
so fiercely I never quite dared -to tell
you how much I liked it for fear of pro
voting you. But I liked putting the
odds and ends together to see what Lhey
would make. Once you came into our
house when mother bai set me to mak
ing myself an apron out of her old calico
dress. You said you’d never make an
apron or yourself if you couldn’t have
new cloth to D'ake it of. But I did not
wish for new cloth at all. I really liked
the other best, because it whs old and
s>ft, and I had grown familiar with it,
seeing it on mother.
And don’t you remember when we
were apprenticed to Miss Cumuor, the
dressmaker, how it was? It wasn’t
long before she’d trust you with the
very best goods that came in, you were
so sure and thrifty with them. You
liked to cut out of whole cloth, and no
body could do it better than you. You
said you could see your way then from
the beginning to the end; and you never
failed in what you undertook But she
never gave you the old dresses that were
to be re made to rip up and look over,
they vexed you so. She brought them
all to me. 1 would rather have them
than the whole cloth; I was afraid of
the responsibility when I handled it. I
liked to take the old things and feel my
way to the wood that might be got out
of them by the good that was left in
them And you and Miss Cum nor said
it was witchcraft—the pretty suits I
could get out of old goods. I liked to do
it, Roxie. It was my genius,you know
And it isn’t so hard for me to make out
now, dear, though you think my life has
teen so badly cul up.
You never fairly understood the dif
ference between us. How could you?
For you always spoke your mind out
plain, and I never could tell you much
in words, I was so c rwardly and so afraid
of makiLg you impatient. I wanted to
tell you long ago how it was about
Robert and me, but I couldn’t. I knew
all the time how disgusted you must be
with me, and yet I couldn’t speak, not
even the night when you warned me.
But now you have come back and are so
kind, and sit there cryingjfor me, I want
to tell you how it was.
You know I bad scarcely ever spoken
to you about him. But I noticed him
a great deal. I had a great sympathy
with you both in your happiness. Even
ings when we came Irem the shop and
he joined you, I used to drop behind and
watch you as you walked along. I was
proud of you; I thought you were so
well matched,both so tall and handsome
and lull of life. Rjbert talked the most,
but it was you who led him and settled
plans ard opinions between you.
And when the cloud came that I didn’t
understand at first, and I saw your face
getting more stern and moody every
day, I was as much pained and troubled,
Roxie, as if I’d been your mother. I
was most sorry for you at first, but little
by little, as I gathered the truth, I
became even more sorry for him. You
said you would not marry an unsteady
man, even if he were Robert. I knew
it pained you to push him off, but you
were right and firm to do it and you
went your way strong and safe after
ward. But he! he had not only lost
you, but he was in danger of losing all-
I could not help being most sorry for
him. I never questioned oat that you
were right, but I could not get over the
pity of it. It seemed such an unspeak
able pity that one 80 bright and hand
some and hopeful should be led into bad
ways. My heart ached to think of it.
For all the sorrowful feeling I carried
in my heart for him, I never thought it
would fall to me to do anything for him.
You know he hoped you would relent,
and he used to haunt our way with that
haggard face he wore in the first days
after you parted from him. You would
never turn your head to give him one
look. You were right, and yet it used
to turn me faint almost with pity and
regret to see you pass him so. One night
you took to going home by (he by streets
so that-you need not see him again, and
you would not let me go with you.
That night Robert came up and spoke
to me. He said he felt I would be sorry
for him. His talk was all about you,
Roxie. He seemed to find comfort in
praising you. He thought there was
never such a strong, beautiful woman
in the world as you, never another that
he could so love and lean upon. At first
I felt so strange with him I could only
listen to him and answer him a little,
enough to show I caied. But when he
began to say that you had taken the
wrong way with him, that you had taken
away the spring of his energy in trying
to overcome his faults, that he had
nothing now to Dy for—nothing to look
forward to—then I found tongue to talk
to him. “ Why don’t you win her
back?” I said. “You can do it It’s
only to be manly and upright as you
were meant to be. If you would not
drink again, Robert, and keep away
from bad companions, she would see the
change in you so soon I She’s very clear
sighted, and in her heart I’m sure she
loves you. Why won’t you try to win
her back ?
I spoke so ast and earnestly, he looked
at me in surprise.* But I did not care,
I was so sorry for him ; I went on talk
ing; I said more than I could repeat.
All that was in my heart about him
came out, and I could not say it with
out tears. From looking surprised he
began to be moved and sobered. He said
he did not know any human beiDg cared
as much for his salvation as I seemed to.
He said I put new courage into him,
and that be meant to try again. When
I thought it all over at home that night
I wondered that I should have said so
much to him. But it made me happy
to have done it, and happy to think he
would now win you back and that the
pain and hardness between you would
be ended, and things would be as I
thought God meant them to be.
You know that from that time Robert
fell into the habit of joining me every
night. He did take a real earnest start
toward a better life, I could feel sure
of it, and presently I wanted to see it.
I asked you one night to go home our
way. You refused, and then I told you
plainly I wanted you to see Robert—
that I thought he had changed. You
looked sharply at me then, and I re
member what Ton said:
“He will never change except as ihe
weathercock and es. He’s weak ; it’s in
grained.” Anri you said that for your
self you’d not be such a fool as to see
him again.
Presumptuous to judge him so ? No,
dear Roxie; that was your light and
you saw it clearly. You were rot
wrong because I was led by a different
way. But I could not help seeing that
you were losing your tenderness for
him, and I was so troubled about it
that I begged Robert to write to you or
try to see you.
He said he would wait a little longer;
he did not believe you could trust him
yet.
Every day I grew more uneasy, and
urged it again. And at last he said
plainly that he had given it up—about
you —that he kuew you could never
trust him nor have patience with him.
I could not deny it any more. When I
thought of- your face as you last spoke
of him I knew it was true. And even
while I was sorrowfully thinking about
it he began to say other things. He
said there was no one in the world from
whom he could hope for love, and trust,
and pf.tu.nce, unless it wa3 from me.
He asked me if I did not know it. And
when I iooked into my own heart and
thought it all over, I did not know it.
I could no more deny it than I could
the other.
You thought me weak and foolish to
accept his love, Rixie. You did not
know how full of awe and fear my heart
was. The more glad I was that I could
love him, the leas blind I was to all the
dangers that hung over us both. I was
not so harsh as to think that my weak
hand alone could avert them. There
was only this, Roxie; it was the only
human hand that was nerved to try. I
knew in my heart that I did right. I
knew you had ceased to feel pain in
regard to Robert. I knew it was not
jealousy that led "you to give me that l
warning when you heard we were
engaged. I would jlive to be a drunk
ard’s wife, you said. I knew it might >
be true, but it did not shake me then ;;
and since it has come true, Roxie, if all
were to be done over again I think I
could not act differently. I only want
you to feel that my marrying him was
not—as you thought then—just a blind
surrender to what I knew was foolish
and wrong.
CARTERSVILLE, GA., FRIDAY, MAY (1, 1879.
I was better than you ? Oh, no ;my
way was open when yours was barred;
that was all. You needed to Jmarry a
! strong, perfect man like Adam Mayhew,
You could work freely with him. But
if I had married such an one, so ereat
and self-sustained, I should have not
; lived freely. There’s a strange coward
] ice in me, Roxie. I never dared'use my
life much except where I felt a very
great need of it. Robert needed it.
You may know I was not heedless by
this. I told Robert I would not dare
enter into married fife without claims
on a strength greater than ours for
help, I asked him if he had not such
a failh in the gracious help of the Lord
Jesus Christ as he was willing to confess
before men. He was true and earnest
when he assented to that if ever a man
was. We waited to be married till we
i were admitted to membership in the
I church. Roxie, you know when the
halt and maimed were called into the
feast they came just‘halt and maimed.
Some of them might have stumbled and
fallen before ever they could be led to
their places at the table. They were to
be made whole tome time, but they
were not brought in whole. The Lord
of the feast knew when each one’s turn
would come and bow he would do it.
But he could not get to each one all at
once. He had to bear with them as
they were at first. My poor Robert was
maimed. He was born weak where
some are strong. The Lord knows.
• The first time he fell after our mar
riage I was as wretched as you could
have foretold. But I had been sick and
he was out of work. I hastened to get
better, and then he got better also.
The-next year we got on much better
than i hoped till that last night.
Poor Robert! If only he had not
taken it so hard !--if only he 'had not
gone away! If I could only once have
talked it over with him and comforted
him!
He did not strike me so hard ; it was
not the blow that made me fail. I was
weak, and staggered. I had the baby in
my arms, and could nut break my fall
ing. It would not have hurt me if it
had not been for the rocker of the chair.
I fell upon it. It was that which hurt
my back.
I know how it was with him ;—it
sobered him to see me.fall; and in one
minute he was full of remorse. When
they told him I was coming to my
senses and'c&lling for him he fled away
out of the house. It was shame and
despair in his heart. He felt as if he
had been a curse to me. They said he
had deserted me because I was now
helpless. That is false, Roxie. Do not
believe it.
You do not? That is like you, so
generous and just! Let me tell you.
I have had money sent me from some
unknown person. Miss Cumror does
not encourage me to think it comes from
Robert. She thinks it is sent by s„me
charitable person. She hopes he may
never come back, and does not want me
to think of him. But I know he sent
the money.
You think so, too? O Roxie—then
he is doing well somewhere, and think
ing of me 1 if I might only see him.
You think I could only be a helpless,
discouraging burden to him, now that I
may never walk again. And it is hard
to think if he should come back he
would still find me lying here. I
wouldn’t mind it at ail if it were not
for his sake. And yet if he would only
come back I know I could he something
to him still. He would find I could he
happy lying here—and Roxie—oh Roxie!
—I never had before—never before—
such love, and courage, and faith in my
heart for him as X have now !
You say you think he will come back.
I know he will some time ; but it seems
hard to wait. When I think o- his sor
row and all his temptations, and think
I might talk to him and comfort him, it
seems hard to wait. It is a whole year,
Rixie! Think, if you had been
separated from your husband a whole
year, while you had been ill and both of
you had been in sorrow !
You think he will come back soon ?
Roxie, you know something about
him! He ha3 been to South America
on one of your husband’s vessels. He
has been doing well. It was he who
sent me the money. Oh, Roxie, tell
him I want to see him. Tell him I
must see him!
Could I bear to see him now ? Then
he is here ! Call him quickly, Roxie !
That is his step I hear ! Oh, Robert!
Robert! _____________
A Clever Hogue.
A gentleman of great experience in
the commercial world cashed a check
at a London bank for £l,lOO, taking the
whole in £IOO no'es. He was only a
few yards from the bank when a person
resembling a clerk, bare headed and
with a pen behind his ear, touched him
on the shoulder, saying : “ Beg your
pardon, sir; will you allow me just to
take the number of the notes again?
I won’t keep you a minute.” The
gentleman, taken off his guard, handed
the note.s over to the supposed clerk,
whom he followed into the bank. After
giving the former time to reach tbe top
end and return, he met the gentleman
at the door, saying, “ Please walk this
way ; that gentleman will attend to you
in a minute,” pointing to a clerk who
was deeply engaged. Five minutes
elapsed before the gentleman could
draw the clerk’s attention to his case,
and he was thunderstruck to find that
this officer knew nothing about it.
The other clerks were interrogated, and
they were equally in the dark. Of
course, no time was lost in going to the
Bank of England, but too late; the
clever rogue had been before them,
and obtained gold for the notes.
STONEWALL JACKSON.
How f( * Tbraahrd n Weal Point Hoobx—
A (lorallil Who Allrndrd Ham.
William B. Arnold.
There is a lost leaf or unwritten page
of the life of Stonewall Jackson which
it is the purpose of thiß paper to supply.
The “ Old Jacksou bou>-e and mills,”
situated ou the west fork of the Monon
galia, four miles north of Weston, where
Stonewall Jackson lived and worked,
have, by association with his name, be
come historic.
Cummins E. Jackson, the uncle of
Stonewall, and owner of the houses,
mills, and adjoining farm, took him after
the death of his father, Jonathan Jack
son, when about twelve years of age, to
live with him, who taught him to work
in the mills and on tbe farm.
Thomas Jonathan Jackson, titled in
the conflict of arms “ Stonewall Jack
son,” who was well known to tire writer,
was a youth of exemplary habits, of a
melancholy temperament, of indomitable
will and undoubted courage. He pos
sessed an eminent degree of talents' for
mathematics, and was unwilling while
at school to acknowledge his incapacity,
“give him time,” to solve any proposi
tion.’
He was by no means what is nowadays
termed brilliant, but was one of those
untiring, plain, matter-of-fact persons
who would never give up when he was
engaged in an undertaking until he ac
complished his object. He learned
slowly, but when he got learning in his
head he never forgot it. He was not
quick to decide, except when excited,
and then when he made up his mind to
do a thing he did it on short notice and
in quick time. As an evidence of his
most extraordinary decision of purpose :
A Mr. Mills taught school in the neigh
oorhood. He was a pupil, and while on
his way to the school an overgrown
rustic behaved rudely toward two of
the school-girls. He was fired at his
cowardly conduct, and told him he must
apologize to them at once, or he would
thrash him. The big rustic, supposing
he was an over-match for him, declined
to do so; whereuoon he pitchpd into
him and gave him a severe pounding.
When the vacancy occurred in the
cadetship to West Point from this con
gressional district, by the failure of the
appointee to report himself at the acad
emy, he decided to try for the place, and
left here nearly sundown on horseback,
three hundred miles from Washington,
poorly clad and illy qualified, to see
Judge Spencer, the secretary of war, and
ask him for the position. Arrived.in
Washington he went straightway to the
war department, and the parley which
took place between the secretary and
him, said an eye-witness, “ was gruff and
heroic.” Young Jackson had sand in
the craw—some of the grit of “ Old
Hickory ” —and would neither be bluffed
nor driven from his purpose. The secre
tary was much aggrieved about that
time on account of the execution of his
son “on the high seas” by order of
Commodore McKenzie, and consequently
was not much in a giving humor. He
claimed that the appointment should be
given to the son of some soldier or sea
man who had lost his life in the service
of his country. Young Jackson was an
orphan and a descendant of the early
settlers and Indian fighters of northwest
Virginia, and consequently had but little
difficulty iu overcoming his objections to
his appointment.
The secretary of war, in giving him
the place, said: “ Sir, you have a good
name. Go to West Point, and the first
one who insults you knock him down
and have it charged to my account!”
He obeyed orders, and although green,
raw and seedy, and a good subject for
the cadets “ to put through,” he decided
to go through himself, or die in the
effort.
As is usual, the boys soon began to
lay their plans to introduce him into
what was then known as the mysteries
of a West Pointer, and so unbearable
did their conduct become that he was
forced, out of selfrespect, te give the
officer charged with the performance of
that duty a fearful bruising. The result
was he was brought to trial, and only
saved himself from expulsion by plead
ing the order of the secretary of war.
He was one of the hardest students
ever at West Point, and for the first two
years studied as much as sixteen hours
out of the twenty-four. He made it a
rule to ait with hia back to the door,
with his book before him, and speak to
no one who entered the room during
study. At the end of the first two years
it wos thought he would not go through,
and some of the professors advised him
to resign. His pride was touched, and
he indignantly replied that he would not
do so, but <; would go through or die.”
About the middle of the third year, to
us? his own words, the scales fell from
his eyes, and he saw through things at a
glance which required him weeks to see
through a year before. After that time
he seemed to have had no trouble in any
of nis classes, and to have taken high
rank. His demerits were few and of no
consequence. He graduated at the end
of the fourth year with distinguished
honors.
Young Jackson, as a horseback rider
on the race, had ng superiors. His uncle,
Cummings E. Jackson, kept a number
of blooded horses, and had a four-mile
track on his farm. “ Thomas,” as he
always called him, was bis trainer, and
so well was he taught to ride that he was
never thrown from his horse, and rarely
ever failed to win the race. He looked
awkward on horseback, and cut rather a
poor figure, from the fact that he rode
with short stirrups and leaned forward—
a position his uncle required of him
when on his fastest steeds and running
tor a “ big pile and the habit he then
contracted he never afterward aband
oned. And just here an element in him
never failed to show itself, the mention
whereof must not be omitted. Notwith
standing he rode his uncle’s racehorses
and won for him money, he was a moral*
i-t in its fullest meaning. He observed
the Sabbath, read good books, abstained
from all intemperance and was kinu to
the poor. He early espoused the doc
trine ot foreordination, and cultivated
the belief that men never die till their
time comes—an error which may have
prematurely led to his untimely death.
After leaving West Point he entered
the United States srmy and fought
through the Mexican war. How he bore
himself in that war the dispatches ot
General Scott to Mr. Marcy best tell.
At its close he was put in command of
a body of United States soldiers at Fort
Hamilton, and subsequently at Tampa
Bay, and after remaining at these two
places some two years, his health giving
way, he resigned his place in the army
and returned to his old home at Jack
son’s Mills. His uncle, a bachelor, had
a number of negro slaves who kept
house for him and attended to his do
mestic affairs. Some of them had nursed
young Stonewall when a child, and his
meeting with them, after an absence,
was not unlike an old-time love feast’
Such a shaking of hands and laughter,
loud enough to shake the house-tops, was
a sight worth seeing.
Thomas J. Jackeon was a noble
hearted fellow, and was never known to
have forgotten a kindness or forsaken a
friend.
While at the mills he was a close stu
dent of history and the laws of war, and
nothing pleased him more than to dis
cuss with the writer the generalship of
the cimmanders of armies and the
treaties made by contending forces. He
often said that he had but one talent,
and “he would never be anything but
Tom Jackson unless the United States
engaged in war.”
He had read and pondered closely the
lives of warriors and heroes of the old
and new world, and was enamored with
the “pomp and circumstanc of war.”
Taking in review his own matchless cam
paigns, it is not wonderful that two such
masters in the arts of war as Julius
Caesar and Frederick the Great should
have become his prototypes. That he
often drew inspiration from their dash
and rapid marches —their disposition of
troops and dispatch of an enemy—in his
“valiey campaigns,” there can be no
doubt.
One of the marked characteristics of
this extraordinary man was his extreme
modesty. It was with the greatest dif
ficulty that he could be induced to speak
of any act, however meritorious, with
which his name was associated. No
young officer was ever more highly com
plimented by his superior than he in
our war with Mexico, and yet, if that
fact had been let alone for him to have
told, it would never have been known.
After remaining at his old home some
length of time he became tired of inac
tion. He wanted something to do. In
the meantime anew professorship was
created in the Virginia Military Insti
tute. He was an applicant, and through
the exertions of the late John S. Car
lisle, he was appointed to the place. He
discharged its duties to the satisfaction
of all concerned ; but the field was too
small for the display of his great talents
When the vacancy occurred in the
chair of mathematics of the University
of Virginia, by the death of the accom
plished Courtney, his friends presented
him as a suitable successor, and he only
lost the place by Doctor Bledsoe being
an alumnus. For when Judge George
H. Lee, a representative of his old home,
laid before the board of visitors bis cre
dentials of fitness, the venerable Thomas
Jefferson Randolph declared that no
such high character of recommendation
had ever before accompanied the appli
cation for a professorship in the univer
s ty.
Lieutenant Thomas J. Jackson con
nected himself with the Virginia Mili
tary University in 1851, as professor of
natural and experimental philosophy
and artillery tactics, and remained in
that position until the breaking out of
our civil war. He took sides with the
south, and the role he acted in that
bloody drama has become a part of our
country’s history.
How Curran was Worsted.
Curran once met his match in a pert,
keen-eyed son of the sod, who acted as
hostler at a large stable, and who was up
as witness in a case of dispute in the
matter of a horse-trade. Curran much
desired to break down the credibility oi
this l witness, and thought to do it by
making the man contradict himself—by
tangling him up in a net-work of adroitly
framed questions—but all to no avail.
The hostler was a companion to Sam
Weller. His good common sense, and
his and good nature were
not to be overturned. By and by Cur
ran, in towering wrath, belched forth, as
not another counsel would have dared to
do in the presence of the court:
“Sirrah, you are incorrigible! The
truth is not to be got from you, for it iB
not in you. I see the villain in your
face I”
“ I faith, yer honor,” said the witness
with the utmost simplicity of truth and
honesty, “my face must be mo'.ty clane
and shinin’ indade if it can reflect like
that I”
For once in his life the great barrister
was floored by a simple witness. He
could not recover from that repartee,
and the case went against him.
.. A fat dog lying on a front stoop is
a good boardinghouse advertisement,
S. A. CUNNINGHAM.
PIOUS SMILES.
..Recitation in Milton—Prof: “I>o
you remember, sir, any other passage in
your reading where the leviathan
is mentioned ?” Nobby junior (a lu
ture D D ): “ Yes, sir; it is mentioned
in holy scripture as swallowing Job.”
(B ue Lights ) —[Acta Columbiana.
.. A Scotch minister in one of his
parochial visits mat a cow-boy, and
asked what o’clock it was. “ About 12,
sir,” was the reply. “ Well,” remarked
the minister, “ I thought it was more.”
“ It’s never any more here,” said the
boy, “it just begins at 1 again.”
..Lord Teignmouth relates that his
tutor, the R v. Mr. Jarram, was one day
preaching, when he was disturbed by
snoring. Ha more than once appealed
to the supposed sleeper, and at length
peremptorily intimated 'that, unless the
good man or woman to whom he attrib
uted the interruption were awakened,
he must discontinue his sermon. “ Sir,”
exclaimed a man from a remote part of
the church, “ it’s a howl I”
..Pete, of Memphis, was a great ex
horter in camp meeting, and always con
eluded his exhortation by saying that
whenever the Lord called tor him he
was ready to g). Sj darkey S am, to prove
Pete’s sincerity, called one night and
knocked at Pete’s door. ‘ ‘ Who dat?”
shouted Pete. “The Lord,” responded
Sam. “ What de Lord want ?” asked
Pete. “ Come for Pete,” answered Sam.
“Ob 1” returned Pete, “ dat darkev
moved from Memphis nigh on tree years
ago.”
..The old ladies of Connecticut are
among'the best story-tellers,"in New Eng
land. Mrs. Hanna Forward Clark, of
East Granby, is now in her 95th year,
and yet tells with grim humor a quaint
tale of the olden lime when it was the
custom to “ line hymns in meeting.”
The deacon adjusted his spectacles,
raised his psalm-book and incidentally
said: “ I’m almost blind,” and the
congregation took up the words and
sang them as a line. The deacon great
ly annoyed, explained, “ I can scarcely
see at allbut this also was sung in
solemn measure. In holy indignation the
deacon raised both hands and exclaimed :
“ You’re all bewitched !” and this, too,
was rendered into praise ; whereupon
the deacon vociferated loudly : “ The
devil’s in every one of you I” Such
a change in the sentiments as well
as the metre, brought'the singers to
a standstill, and after some confusion
they sang the proper psalm.
A Brave Hoosier Girl.
Olran, Jnd., Time).
Living in a plain cottage situated be
tween two farms on the main settlement
near Portville, about seven miles from
Olean, is a young woman named Mary
Langdon. Her mother has been almost
a helpless invalid for many years. She
herself has long suffered with a teirible
cancer on the upper part of her left arm.
To cure this or to alleviate the torment
of mind and body which it ha3 caused
has been her constant thought, her ever
present care. The aid of competent
physicians has been called in and every
kind of treatment resorted to, but with
no hopeful result. Expert medical men
pronounced the case a hopeless odo, and
the poor girl was regarded by all, and by
herself, as the doomed victim of the
dreadful disease. A lady doctor of
reputed skill in the treatment of cancer
recently visited the sufferer, but gave
no word of encouragement. After she
had gone Mary shed no tears, but
resolved upon a desperate and dangerous
expedient, and when she had resolved
speedily carried her design into execu
tion. She ran a stout needle beneath
the cancer, drawing a thread through it.
With this thread she tied the artery,
using her teeth to aid her, She then
took a sharp table knife and cut the
cancer, which was of unusual size, out
of her arm. This done, she took the
mass of quivering flesh which she had
removed from her arm, and without a
word to any one buried it iu the rear of
the cottage. So quietly had the girl
gone through with the terrible operation
that no one iu the house Was aware of it
until some time after. Having bound
up and covered the terrible wound in
her arm, she went about her household
work as usual. Of course the mult of
this fearful piece of-surgery is difficult
to predict. The girl is not at present
suffering any ill effects, and it is sin
cerely to be hoped that so much courage
and endurance will be rewarded by a
complete cure.
The Kar and Its Care.
Dr. Roosa, in a recent lectuie on
the ear, said that no small amount of
trouble in th 6 ear was caused by too
frequent syringing and boring out with
a twisted towel or handkerchief, not to
mention hair-pins, b dkins and other
metallic instruments. In his opinion,
one should never pit anything in the
ear smaller than the little finger, al
tnough one writer said put nothing
smaller than the elbow. The avoidance
of many ear troubles was to be assured
by taking care not to duck the head in
cold water, or syringe the deeper part
without the order of a physician, or in
troduce any body which can push the
wax lower down in the drum.
.Well, Phoebe (colored), do you at
tend church ?” “ Lors, ves, missus,
couldn’t live, if l’se didn’t go to meat
in’.” “Do you have good times there? ”
“ I guess we does. We have 'tracted
meetin’ goin’ on, an’ last night our min
ister ’vited pussons to de altar, when
three came fow’rd, an' we thought that
wus fust-rate considerin’ de hard times.”
j\nd
IPI RKLV VKUKTAHLK I’ROIU ( TIOS
Oh, market maid, sweet haibinger
Of -prings returning pleasure,
1 sigh to woo thee in a song
Of eight beets to the measure.
The t’me's been long s<nee last we met,
f yam not loth to own it;
I long tomato maid with thee,
So lettuce not postpone It.
Kay. turnip not thy pretty nose,
1 see thy radish blushes,
And If you carrot all lor me
Off to the priest 1 rushes.
..Judge not,lest yebashot—[Chicago
Times.
. .Good name for a steamboat steward
ess—Berths.
.. Pride goeth before a fall, but a great
deal of bad language cometh after.
. .The uld custom of burying suicides
at midnight and without religious Cere
monies is still followed in England.
. .A man’s curiosity never reaches the
female standard until someone tells him
his name was in yesterday’s paper.
.. The soldier may draw a useful les
son from the old carpet. It shows its
colors the plainer the more it is beaten.
.. A book agent was knocked down by
a street-car the other day, and two
wheels passed over his cheek. The car
is laid up, pending repairs.
.. Bonnets are not worn in heathen
lands. Hence churches are not popular
there. It requires anew spring bonnet
to develop the latent Christianity in a
woman.
..A gentleman who was trying to
think of the word Univerealist, but could
not get hold of it for the moment, ex
claimed : “ Why, he’s one of those de
sulphurizers.”
. .It is a good suggestion that a negro
minstrel blacks his face in order to hide
his blushes when he makes his usual
stale joke.—[New York Herald.
.. An actor recently returnee! from
the mining districts was asked if he had
a full house on his first appearance, to
which he responded, “ Full house! yes,
they were all drunk.
.. Out in the oil regions people carry
uitro-glycerine around in jugs. The
railroad companies are continually an
the watch to prevent its biing taken on
the cars.
What are you trying to read?”
asked a visitor ©f an old gentleman who
was nodding over the evening journal.
“ Oil,” replied his wife, “ that’s his
snooze paper.”
.. A cartridge is said to have been in
vented which floats on the water, taste
good to ducks, and blows their heads off
when they chew it. It is suggested that
they should eschew it.
..“Free kirk elder (preparatory to
presenting a tract): “My friend do you
know the chief end of man ?” Piper
(innocontly): “ Na, I didna mind the
chune; can ye no whustle it?”
. .A clergyman recently prayed for the
“one who, although hidden from sight,
yet contributes so much to the musical
part of our worship,” ending, “ O, Lord,
I mean the boy who blows the organ.”
.. The Black hills are called black be
cause they are covered with pine trees
in contrast to the bare plains around
them, and cover an area about equal to
the state of Massachusetts at an eleva
tion of from 3,000 to 7,000 feet.
..“Mamma, I don’t think the people
who make dolls are very pious people,”
said a little girl to her mother, one day.
“ Why not, my child ?” Because you
can never make them kneel. I always
have to lay my doll down on her stomach
to say her prayers.”
.. Sticking to it. “My dear,” said a
vain old man to his wife, “ these friends
here won’t believe that I’m only forty
five years old. You know I speak the
truth, don’t you ?” “ Well,” answered
the simple wife, “ I suppose I must be"
lieve it, John, as you’ve stuck to it for
fifteen years.”
..A college professor, while on bis
way to Mott Haven by the Harlem
railroad, with his wife and another lady,
was joined by a iriend. Turning to the
lady with him, theprofessorsaid: ‘ Wha,
shall Ido ? I have only three tickets,
and this gentleman makes our party
four.” “ Oh,” said the lady “ give
the three tickets to the conduc**
tor. Don’t you know that three] of
a kind will take two pairs?”—[New
York Post.
.. A teacher of a primary class in Suns
day-school was recently considerably set
back when she asked her little flock one
jf the questions from the Lesson Leaf
“ How would you feel if you could nev
er go to church ?” A small boy piped
out, “ Bully.” “ Why, Jimmy, what
do you mean by such an answer ?”
ga°ped the teacher. “That’s what my
ULcfe said when I asked him to give me
the answer,” said the boy, “ and I guess
he’s right, don’t you ?”
About Temperance Men.
All the great nations of antiquity
were distinguished for temperance. The
Chinese, who, sai l Caleb Cushing, were
a civilized people, cultivated in learning
and arts, when our Saxon ancestors
were savages clothed in the skin of
wild beasts, not only prohibited drink
ing wine, but uprooted all the grape
vines in the execution of their laws.
They didn’t vote one thing and practice
another. In Egypt, through the reign
of 350 kings, down to within 600 years
of Christ, never a ruler in the land of the
Nile drauk wine or strong drink; it is
contrary to their religion. The Persians
were the same; the r drink*was water.
The Jews, while they were permitted a
limited use of wine, were never in
temperate. So the Greeks made drunk
eness infamous; and the Carthagenians
would not permit their judges to drink,
nor permit theiPsoldie: ; to have wine in
camp. They endured their long march*
es, they scaled the Alps, they fought the
bloody battles which earned them in
victory to the gates of Rome on cold
water. Confucius, Buddah, Moses, Socra
tes, Mahomet and Jesus, the founders of
all the great religions of the world,
wers strictly and persistently temper
ance men, and so have been tbe leading
religionists and moralists down to the
I present hour.