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tile ipoefs Comer. Don’t Drink To-Night. I loft my mother in the door. Mv sister by her side ; * Their clasped hands and loving looks Forbade their doubts to hide. I left and met with comrades gay. When the moon brought out her light, A rift my loving mother whispered me, ** i/rm't boy, to-night.” Long years have rolled awhy since then, My jetty curls are gray : But. oh ! those words are with me yet, And will not pass away, f see my mother's loving face With goodness radiant bright. And Irene her words ring in mine ears, " I)ou't drink, my hoy. to-night.” My mother is now resting sweet fn the grave-yard on the hill; Rut mother's words come hack to me. And haunt my memory still. I've often, often, passed the cup ; O ! then my heart was rights Because I heard the warning words, “ Don't drink, my boy. to-night." I've now passed down the road of life. And soon my race is run, A mother's warning listened to, An immortal crown is won. © ! mother, with your blessed smiles, Look on your hoy so bright. And say, as only you can say, “ My boy, don’t drink to-night." Those words will prove a warning when In the thorny paths of life, The hoy is in the tempter’s wiles, And warring in the strife. The words will stop the morning cup. And revelry at night, Bv whispering back a mother’s voice, " Don't drink, my boy, to-night." file Jfloilern Btori]-Seller. THOMPSON’S DOG JERRY. About one hundred miles from Mobile, on the banks of the Torabigbee river, there liv ed rm old planter named Thompson. Mr. Thompson was a great lover of horses and and >gs, particularly the latter, and his planta tion was head-quarters for the lovers of the ca nine race for miles around. Mr. Thompson fida named William; we will call him liill, because everybody called him by that name. Hill was about fourteen years of age when the war broke out, and it interfered with his f filler's plans concerning his education. However, the war ended, and he was sent to finish his studies at the University of Vir ginia. Bill remained at the University for for about four years, and sit the expiration of that time returned to his home. The old gentleman was very proud of Bill —indeed he had reason to be. He had grown to be a tall, elegantly formed man, of graceful manners and genteel appearance. In his joy at his son's return, Mr. Thomp son had provided an elegant repast, and the elitu of society were invited to welcome Bill home. The entertainment was numerously attended, and the occasion promised to be the one of season, for the old gentleman and Bill were really great favorites* The old mansion was thronged with youth and beauty, and to the merry music of the dance the hours glided swiftly away. Bill was congratulated over and over: but the many congratulations he received occasioned the drinking of more whisky than he could carry, and his part of the reception was brought to a close by his getting help lessly drunk, in which condition he was found by his father, under one of the tables. The old gentleman, however, smothered his resentment, taking into consideration that this might have been an accident, and that it would not again occur; but his hope was destined soon to be dispelled, for as other fetes followed at other places, it was found that Bill was too fond of whisky and that he regularly came to grief at each enter tainment. Mr. Thompson was not a man to very long tolerate such action on his son's part; and one morning, after one of Bill’s excesses, he spoke to him concerning the matter. Bill could not deny it. and there was a poor chance for an apology. The old gentleman became enraged at Bill's silence, and thus addressed him. “ Bill, I have raised you up as carefully as ever a child was raised. You have disgraced me and my name; I had fondly hoped you would be an honor to me and it*. I'll have no more of this. You can remain here if you want to. and this may he your home. You can have a horse to ride and I will clothe you decently ; but,” he ad ded with great emphasis, “ you shall not hereafter get drunk, you shall either earn your money or steal it.” It was in vain that Bill tried to apologize. The old gentleman would take no apology. The fiat had gone forth, and however dry his throat might be, Bill knew there would be no retraction of his father's words. So he con cluded to be a temperance man, but as is usual in such cases, though “ the spirit was willing, the llesh was weak.” Bill’s throat soon became very dry and annoying, and at last he made up his mind that lie must calculate upon some plan where by lie could get a drink of whisky. In some of his reading. Bill remembered the fahle of "The Wise Dogs,” and deter mined to profit by it. Meeting liis father one evening, aJxmt a month after he had received the preceding lecture, he thus addressed him: “'Father, do you know anything about this colony of Yankees down here at the mouth of the river ? ” “No, I don't,” was the reply, and a gruff one too, for the old man didn't like the Yan kees and didn't care to hear anything about them. “ Well, father, they must he a queer lot. They have got schools down there.” ” Yes.” thundered his father, - schools for niggers.” “ Well,** replied Bill, “ let's give the devil Ms due ; they te ich white children too.” “ Yes. * said the old man, “they teach lies —they teach them lies,” “IN ell. L suppose they do.” replied Bill. “ but what 1 was going to speak of is that they have got a school for dogs ! ” “ A school for what ? " ” A school for dogs ! They teach to talk.” “ Come now, Bill, if you are fiiol enough to believe such stuff, ‘don’t try "to mak }as big a fool of me ! Teach dogs to steal—l shouldn't wonder if they did. but don't tell me about this teaching do\s to talk ! ” ° “ W ell, now, father, I respect every word yo i say. " replied Bill. “ but T am bound as a I gentleman to believe what gentlemen say; and I have heard several talking a)tout it. Really, I know nothing of the facts; but. as 1 said. 1 heard several speaking nl*nit it, and I believe if. I was down town the other day and your dog Jerry was with me : and a -'cut! mi ao from Tennessee noticed him as wo were speaking of the school. I asked him how long it would take for a dog like Jerry to learn to talk, and he said a dog as knowing as Jerry would learn in two months. Some dogs will learn in three months, and lie *;ml a good many never would learn,: Bill's praises of Jerry di i not go unnotic ed. If there was any one tiling that the old gentleman fully believed, it was that there was never another dog that knew as much as Jerry. The conversation for this time terminated, hut Bill somehow felt that his father would mention the subject again, and he was not mistaken. A few days after the above dialogue the old gentleman met Bill and thus addressed him : “ Bill, do you really believe that Jerry could learn to talk ?” “ I certainly believe it.” Bill replied. “Do yon know limv much they charge down there ? " “Well,” replied Bill, “ I believe they ; charge twenty-five dollars admission, and | then ten dollars a month for board and tui [tion for whatever time it takes." ” Bill, how much would it cost for you to | take Jerry down there and put him to school and come hack : make up the figures, and if it ain’t too much. I'll have you go down and put him to school.” Bill figured up the amount and came to the conclusion that about seventy-five dollars would defray the necessary expenses, and so apprized his father. “ Well now. Bill, the Osage is coming down the river this afternoon : you get ready ; and take Jerry down there, and put him to school, if you find the school all right ; if not. you bring him home. I wouldn't sell him for a thousand dollars, and if any dog can learn to talk. Jerry is the dog.” The grass did not grow under Bill’s feet in getting ready, and at five in the afternoon lie got on hoard the steamer Osage, which was hound down the river to Mobile. Bill was not long on board before lie had the whisky he so much longed for; and by 8 o'clock in the evening he was drunk as a lord, and had already got into a fight. I’oor Jerry, seeing his master rather roughly han dled. took a share in it, and biting one of the parties engaged was quickly set upon and knocked over the side of the boat, and fall ing just in front of the padle-wheel was struck by it. and instantly killed. Bill did not discover the loss of the dog until the steamer had arrived at Alohile ; and it was to that place that lie originally de termined to go. Ilis astonishment and sor row at the loss of his father’s favorite dog were very great, and it moreover necessitat ed all the strategy Bill was possessed of to bring his original plans to anything- like a successful ending. Me had originally intended to take the dog with him to Mobile, and on returning to his home to declare to his father that he had been misinformed, that the school was a hum bug and the pretended teachers knaves : and I he well knew that so great was his father’s dislike for anything Yankee that he would l escape without any very severe cross-exam ination. The killing of the dog had upset ! all Bill's reckoning, and lie was compelled to ' frame anew story, which, as the sequel will [ show, lie successfully did. After remaining for about a week at Mo bile and having pretty nearly exhausted his cash in hand. Bill started for home. His father met him at the landing and asked him many questions concerning Jerry's chances of learning to talk. Bill declared that there was no doubt of his ability to learn, that lie had seen many dogs not half as knowing as Jerry who could talk quite well: and the result was that tlie old gentleman was much elated with the idea of possessing such a wonderful being as a dog that could talk. Before the end of the two months, which Bill had declared would he sufficient to give Jerry a decent education, Mr. Thompson had be come quite impatient to hear concerning Jerry's progress, and Bill had written several letters by his father’s orders to ascertain how the dog was getting along, but stange as it seemed, no reply was received to any of them and at last Bill was ordered to get ready and go down and see about Jerry, and bring him home, if only for a visit. Bill again went down the river on the same steamer by which he went on his previous trip, and with very much the same results so far as his own conduct was concerned, until he returned home. This time his father did not meet him at the landing, to Bill's great relief, but soberly waited for him at the house. The old gentleman’s disappointment can better he imagined that described, when Bill came into the house alone : for he had not the slightest doubt that his favorite dog, inform ed on subjects in general, would soon delight his ears with a hearty “ good evening ” in place of his accustomed familiar hark. “ Bill,” said his father, “ where's Jerry ?” Bill made no reply. “ I say, Bill, where’s Jerry ? ” “Jerry’s de;ul father.” “ Dead! ” “ Yes. indeed.” “ I killed him,” coolly replied Bill. “Y ou killed him ! You killed Jerrv ? ” “ Y'es, father. I killed him,” “ You rascal ” “ Hear me, father,” interrupted Bill. Let me till my story, and then if you think I did wrong you can abuse me and do and say what you like. I went down to the school,” continued Bill, “ and I was there all through the exami nation. Jerry could talk as good as I can ! They said he was the smartest dog they ever saw ! We came down aboard the steamer, and Jerry sat up in a chair, and as the ladies whom he had seen before came one by one into the cabin Jerry would say " good morn ing. Mrs. Smith,” or *• good morning, Airs. Jones, and he looked as statel}- as a judge. " \\ ell, lather, at last we got started away from the landing. Perhaps we had a:ot a half mile away and the ladies were looking out of the windows, and Jerry was still sitting in his ehiar, when all of a sudden lieturns round to me and says : “Bill, how are you, my boy ? ” I says, I'm all right. “ How’s the old man ? ” says he. “ All right,” I replied. “ How's the old woman ? ” says Jerry. “ Now, father, l didn't like to hear him speak as he did about you, and when he call ed you the old man, I couldn’t stand it yen' well, but when he spoke that way about moth er I couldn't bear it at all; still*l didn't want any fuss because you thought so much of him. so I didn't say anything only to say she was well. “Just then he looked around, and speak. ing right loud, says he : * Bill, does the old man hug and kiss the cook as much as he used to?’ 1 didn’t reply, and he kept on: “ Bill,' says he. 4 I’ve seen the old man kiss the cook. Iconise. I mean, more than fifty times, and I’ll tell the old woman when I get home. Won’t she give it to the old man ! ” " Father, I couldn't stand it. It was right before the ladies. I got up and I took Jerry by the throat, and says •!. ‘You lying dog. I'll choke you to death. This comes of your cursed Yankee education. I might have known they'd teach you to slander your friends.’ “Well, father, the villain tried to bite me. I had him !>y the throat and—l don't know what I was going to do with him, I was en raged. but I carried him out on the deck, when lie tried tobite me worse than ever. I went to kick him, and somehow-—I was too angry to recollect just how—he either jump ed overboard, or I threw him overboard, and the wheel struck him and killed him. “ Now, father. I have done. If you blame me I must hear it, but I really was glad he was dead when I came to myself, for I thought what trouble he would make with his lies.” The old gentleman was pale as a ghost. “ Bill,” said he. “ 3-011 did right. I ought to have known that he’d lie if he could talk. Bill, here’s a hundred dollars. Don’t go and get drunk on this money now. but Bill, don’t you sav anything about this you have told. Jerry was a mighty smart dog, but somehow,” he added in an endertone, “ l always, had an idea that dog was watching me ! ” The Mill Horse and the Racer. “ What a dull life yours is !” said a racer to a mill horse. “ Dull enough,” said the mill horse. “ Y'ou must feel uncommonly stupid !” “ Stupid enough,” said the mill horse. “ Bound and round—round and round, and that, day after day ! No wonder your head hangs down —why. you’re just a piece of ma chinery. and no better.” The mill horse didn’t answer, but continu ed going his round ; but the racer, who was tethered near, repeated his remarks every time he came within hearing. “ I'm afraid I've offended you,” said the racer. “ Oh ! no,” answered the mill horse ; “ but my quiet life has this advantage in it, it gives me time to think before I speak.” ” And have you been thinking while I have been talking?” “ Yes,” answered the mill horse ; “ and I'll tell you what I've been thinking—you're a very fine fellow, and I’m contemptible in your sight; but I know which of us would be the most missed. Depend on this, if I and my breed were to take our departure, and no other substitutes could he found, folks would do without racing, and take 3-011 and your breed into our places,” Peculiar People. People who like bagpipes. People who dislike oysters. People who have no poor relations. People who dye their hair. Peo ple who like getting up early in the morning. People who have more money than they know what to do with. People who give donations to street beggars and organ grinders. People who take long walks before breakfast. Peo ple who light and leave off fires on fixed days. People who like paying income tax. f People who give large parties in small rooms. Peo ple who have the ice broken to enable them to bathe in winter. People who keep all their old letters. People without prejudices, weak nesses, antipathies, hobbies, crotchets, or favorite theories. People who have nothing the matter with their digestion, and can eat anything. People who take snuff. People who hold their tongues. Ilis number in the Paris list of drivers was 13,022. He had seen better days, but now he drove a cab. He was, with others, to carry a wedding p: r y from the church to a wedding breakfast. In his cab were placed the bridegroom and the bride. He recognized in the bridegroom a man who Lad once had him put in prison for debt. Once fairly cm the wav, he whipped up and drove away from the other cabs and landed the bride and bridegroom, badly damaged, after an hour's hard drive in a desolate rural district on the wrong road. They got home at midnight. It was an epic vengeance. Liberty of the Press. Around her waist I put mv arms— It felt as soft as cake; Oh dear, says she, what liberty You printers always take I M hy yes, 1113' “Zeb," my charming gal, (I Squeezed her some, 1 guess,) Can you sav aught, mv love, against The freedom of the press ? I kissed her some—l did I>)* gum— She colored like a beet; Upon my living soul she looked Almost good enough to eat! T gave ano her buss, and then Says she, I do confess 1 rather kinder sorter like The freedom of the Press ! Three Villages Swept Away.—London. June 7.—At Lifu, Loyalty Island,', on the night of the 29th of March, there was a sliarp shock and an earthquake, followed by ano ther next day and one on the evening of the 30th, and a fearful shock occurred, doing much damage to buildings. It was succeed ed by a tidal wave, which swept away three villages. Legal Weight. The following is the Legal Weight of a bushel, as fixed by an Act of the General As sembly, approved February’ 20th, 1875 : Wheat, - 60 pounds. Shelled Corn, - - - 56 “ Ear Corn, - - - -70 “ Peas, - - - - 60 ** Rye, - 56 “ Oats, 32 Barley - 47 “ Irish Potatoes, - - 60 “ Sweet Potatoes, - - 55 “ White Beans, - 60 “ Clover Seed, - - 60 “ Timothy, - - .45 “ Flax, - - - 56 “ Hemp, - - - 44 “ Blue Grass, - - - 14 “ Buck Wheat, - - - 52 “ Unpeeled dried Peaches, - - 33 “ Peeled dried Peaches, - - 38 “ Dried Apples, - - . 24 “ Onions, - - - 57 “ Stone Coal. - - 80 " Unslaked Lime, - - 80 “ Turnips, - - - 55 “ Com Meal, - - - 48 “ Wheat Bran, - - 20 " Cotton Seed, - - 30 “ Ground Peas, - - - 25 “ Plastering Hair, - 8 “ SUNDAY READING-. “It Won’t do to Die By.”~A True History. BY KEY. WM. P. JACOBS. John Bryson and his wife were l>oth mem bers of the church, what church it doesn’t matter. Eyerylxxly thought that John would soon do for an officer, and as for Susan, his wife, she was an earnest, pious, lovely little woman. Dr. Samuel Westmoreland was John’s next door neighbor, and he and John soon became very intimate. They were not at all alike, either. John was a young, thrifty, well-to-do farmer, and a Christian. Dr. Westmoreland was a physician, seemingly well advanced in years, much the superior of John mentally, but alas ! an infidel; of that mild type of in fidelity that contents itself with being called Universalism. They used to go hunting, fishing, and boat ing together, and, at last, carousing together. Susan noticed a great change in her husband, lie did not try to make arrangements for their church-going as formerly. He gave up family worship. One night he came home, certainly not sober, and cursed her when she wept. At last he openly renounced religion, and ridiculed it on all occasions. “0, John !” cried Susan, “do give up that Dr. Westmoreland's company.” She plead, she entreated. “ You stop your snivelling !” was his an swer, and with that he cursed her bitterly and went out. lie was more read} 7 to give up her company than the doctor’s. That night he came home beastly drunk. It was a cold, gusty night. The ground was white with snow. Susan, knowing her hus band's habits, was grieved sore, lest he might be lying in some fence-corner, or in some ditch, freezing—frozen dead. She could bear the agony of a true wife's heart no longer— had already thrown a shawl around her shoulders and was starting after him, when open flew the door and in stumbled John.— With a stifled cry she was about to throw her arms around him, when he struck her back from him. The blow did not hurt her, but her heart was bleeding. She sunk back into a chair, and the pent-up sorrow of years— such years—such long, long, weary years— broke forth into a wail that might have stir red the heart of the dead. “ Woman !*’ cried John, now somewhat sobered, but none the less brutal, “ what do you mean by this? Ho!” and his eyes lit upon the open family Bible, “it is this, is it? This is what puts these notions into your head !” She sprang forward too late. The precious book, with tlie lock of hair of her precious little dead baby—her only child—in it, with the precious pages that she had kissed and wept over, was in the flames, and her own husband stood grim sentinel over it, poked it with the tongs, spit on it, cursed it, gathered up the stray leaves that flew out, and threw them in, and when the last shred was burned, threw himself down upon the bed in a drunken sleep. Susan watched and wept. There was one little Testament left. But, alas ! John came across it the very next day ; he turned to the fire-place to throw it in, but the fire was out. So to the door he went, and threw the little book with all his might out into the road, and slammed the door to.— Woman !” he said, so addressing her that he had once called “ Susie, darling,” never do you let any such trash come into this house again. I tell you I won’t have it! Do you h?ar? If you don’t you and I will fight; that’s all.” And then, r, ith the air of a man that had conquered a woman, he marched out and went to his accustomed haunt at the tavern. I have heard one of the neighbors say that she saw Susie watch the form of tier husband go down the roa 1 toward Dr. Westmoreland's. Then she went out weeping, picked up the little soiled, torn book, kissed it. hid it in her bosom, looked up weeping, and then treading her way through a narrow thicket, down to an old oak tree, hid the little book under one of its gnarled branches. Often would she go down to this trusting place with her God. and weep as she read in her book of that home where “the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest/’ Of course, such a life as John was leading must have an end, and so the time came for him to die. He lay sick two weeks, and they were weeks that sorely fretted his untamed spirit. Never wife waited on husband more tenderly, than that broken-hearted woman did on him. But her words, her every step across the floor, at length her very presence, seemed to pain him, and his mind w r as wrap ped in thought, the only expressions of which were curses against God. At last he sent for Dr. Westmoreland. As soon as the doctor entered he broke out: “O, doctor, I want you to comfort me. I feel that I must die, I see it. You know it. You told Susan so. My God, doctor ! what must I do? I have suffered hell these past two weeks. Help me !” “Ah, John !” answered the doctor, with a helpless sort of look in his face, “our religion is a first-rate one to live by It doesn't suit so well to die by !” Had a thunder-clap come out of a clear sky, it would not have astonished John more than this answer. It was the smiting down of his last hope. “ Then,” cried he, “ that cursed book is true, and I am lost!” He never heard nor uttered a word more after that. Reader, I have given you a page out of a true history. I have not altered even the names of the parties. They are all dead now, so it does not matter. Dr. Westmoreland died last of all, and on his dying bed sent for a poor old blind negro-slave to pray for him. He saw that his religion “ wouldn't do to die by," and so he yearned after the crumbs of comfort this poor slave could give him. Have you ever heard of any religion but the religion of Jesus, that will do to die by? —American Messenger. IW Every morning is a sort of resurrection. At night we lay us down to sleep, stripped of our garments, as our souls will be of their bodily array when we come to die; but the morning wakes us, and if it be a Sabbath morning, we do not put on our work-day clothes, but find our Sabbath dress ready at hand; even thus shall we be satisfied when we wake up in our Masters likeness, no more to put on the soiled garment of earth, but to find it transformed into a Sabbath robe, in which we shall be beautiful and fair, even as Jesus our Lord himself.— Spurgeon. The Influence of One Act. —One pound of gold may be drawn into a wire that would extend around the globe. So one good deed may be felt through all time, and cast its in fluence into eternity. Though done in the first flush of youth, it may gild the last of a long life, and form the brightest and most glorious spot in it. Do not indulge the idea that in a different position from the one in which God has plac ed you, you would lead a better and happier life. JEFFERSON BUSINESS DIRECTORY. PROFESSIONS. Physicians. ..J. D. & 11. J. Long, J. J. Cos ter, N. W. Carithers. Atty's at Law... J. B. Silinan, W. I. Pike, J. A. B. Mahaffey, W. C. Howard. M. M. Pitman, P. F. Hinton. MERCHANTS. Pendergrass & Hancock. F. M. Bailey', Stanley & Pinson. Wm. S. Thompson. MECHANICS. Carpenters... Joseph P. Williamson, Sen’r: J. P. Williamson, Jr. Harness Maker... John G. Oakes. Wagon Makers... Wm. Winbum, Monroe Ray, (col.) Buggy Maker...L. Gilleland. Blacksmith...C. T. Story. Tinner... John H. Chapman. Tanners...J. E. & 11. J. Randolph, Boot and Shoe-Makers... N. B. Stark, Sea born M. Stark. HOTELS. Randolph House, by Mrs. Randolph. North-Eastern Hotel, by John Simpkins. Public Boarding House, by Mrs. Elizabeth Worsham. Liquors. Segars, &c...J. L. Bailey. Grist and Saw-Mlll and Gin... J. D. & 11. J. Long, Saw-Mill and Gin...F. S. Smith. **o CO UNTV SC HO OL DIRECTOR Y. Martin Institute, — J, W. Glenn, Principal; S. P. Orr. Assistant; Miss M. E, Orr, Assistant; Miss Lizzie Burch, Music. Centre Academy. —L. M. Lyle, Principal. Galilee Academy. —A. L. Barge, Principal. Harmony Grove Academy. —R. S. Cheney, Prin cipal. Murk Academy. —J. 11. McCarty, Principal, Oak Grove Academy —Mrs. A. C. P. Ridcn, Principal. Academy Church. —.J. J. Mitchell, Principal. Duke Academy.— Mrs. 11. A. Deadwyler, Prin cipal. Park Academy.— Miss Y. C. Park. Principal. Chapel Academyt- —W. 11. Hill, Principal. —O ARRIVAL AND DEPARTURE OF MAILS. Athens mail arrives at Jefferson on Wednes days and Saturdays, at 10 o'clock, A. M., and de parts same days at 12 o'clock, M. Gainesville mail arrives at Jefferson on Wednes days and Saturdays, at 11 o’clock, A. M., and de parts same days at 12 o'clock, M. Lawrencevillc mail arrives at Jefferson on Satur days, at 12 o'clock, M, and departs same day at 1 o’clock, P. M. F. L. Pendergrass, Dep'y P. M. Useful Information “for the Millions. A note dated on Sunday is void. A note obtained by fraud, or from one intoxi cated, cannot be collected. If a note be lost or stolen, it docs not release the maker; he must pay it. An endorser of a note is exempt from liability if not served with notice of its dishonor within twenty-four hours of its non-payment. A note made by a minor is void. Notes bear legal interest except when otherwise stipulated. Principals arc responsible for their agents. Each individual in a partneship is responsible for the whole amount of the debts of the firm. Ignorance of the law excuses no one. It is a fraud to conceal a fraud. The law compels no one to do An agreement without consideration is void. Signatures in lead-pencil are good in law. A receipt for money is not legally conclusive. The act of one partner bind all the others. Contracts made on Sunday cannot be enforced. A contract made with a minor is void. A contract made with a lunatic is void. To ascertain the length of day and night.—At any time in the year, add 52 hours to the time of the sun's setting, and from the sum substract the time of rising, for the length of the day. Subtract the time of setting from 12 hours, and to the remainder add the time of rising the next morn ing. for the length of night. This rule is true of either apparent or mean time. RURAL DIVINITIES. Floka—The goddess of Flowers. Pan—The god of Shepherds and Hunters: fa mous for his whistling which fatigued him so much, that lie invented pipes to Idow on. Plutus —The god of Riches; represented with wings. POMONA —The goddess of Orchards and Fruit trees. DOMESTIC POSTAGE. Newspapers. Magazines, and Periodicals sent from a known office of publication, or by newsdealers 4 to actual subscribers, postage to he prepaid in bulk by publishers and newsdealers, at office of mailing, and go free to subscribers. Letters 3 cents each i oz.: Drop Letters at let ter-carrier office. 2 cents ; Drop Letters at non letter-carrier offices, 1 cent. Transient matter embracing newspapers, circulars, and other printedhnatter, seeds, cuttings, bulbs, roots and scions, books, merchandise and samples, 1 cent for each 2 oz. Registered Letters 8 cents in addition to regular postage. Post-Office Money Orders. —Attention is called to the Money Order system, as a safe and cheap method of transmitting money through the mails. Orders are issued in sums of not more than fifty dollars. Larger sums can be transmitted by additional Orders. On Orders not exceeding $lO, 5 cents ; over $lO and not exceed ing S4O, 20 cents; over S4O and not exceeding s.>o, 25 cents. INTEREST RULES. For finding the interest on any principal for any, number of days. The answer in each case being in cents, separate the two right hand figures of answer to express in dollars and cents : Four per cent.—Multiply the principal by the number of days to run ; seperate right-liand figure from product, and divide by 9. Five per cent.—Multiply by number of days, and divide by 72. Six per cent.—Multiply by number of days, seperate right-hand figure, and divide by <j. Eight per cent.—Multiply by number of days, and divide by 45. Nine per cent.—Multiply by number of days, seperate right-hand figure, and divide by 4. Ten per cent. —Multiply by number of days, and divide by 36. Twelve per cent. —Multiply bv number of days, seperate right hand figure, and divide by 3. Fifteen per cent.—Multiply by number of days, and divide by 24. Eighteen per cent.—Multiply by number of days, seperate right-hand figure, and divide by 2. Twenty per cent.—Multiply by numb'er of days, and divide by 18. Twenty-four per cent.—Multiply by number of days, and divide by 15. USEFUL TABLE EOR FARMERS. 4 inches make one hand. 56 lbs. Corn make one bushel. 56 lbs. Rye make one bushel. 60 lbs. M heat make one bushel. 60 lbs. Clover Seed make one bushel. 196 lbs. Flour make one barrel. 200 lbs. Beef or Pork makes one bbl. 32 lbs. ()ats make one bushel. 60 lbs. Potatoes make one bushel. 14 pounds make one stone. 3 miles make one league. 6 feet make one fan thorn. A perch of stone is 16 1 feet long, \ \ feet thick, and 1 foot high, or 24-f cubic feet. A mile is 320 rods—l,76o yards—s,2Bo feet— -63,360 inches. An acre is 4,840 square yard—l3,s6o square feet—6,272,640 square inches. COUNTING. 12 units are one dozen. 12 dozen one gross. 20 units one score. 5 scores one hundred. PAPEH. 24 sheets one quire. 20 quires one reams 2 reams one bundle. 5 bundles one bale. Recipes. —To drive cabbage worms away, put China tree leaves on them. To kill lice on them, take one gallon of ashes, three spoonsful of salt, and one of sulphur; mix and sprinkle it on while wet with dew. A sure remedy. KHND 50 CENTS FOR A YEAR’S SUBSCRIPTION TO THE “TYPOS GUIDE,” A VALUABLE PUBLI CATION IX) ALL INTERESTED IN THE ART OF PRINTING. f(i * riCHMono ? % (*'*'*'} FOUNDRY, M 1300-1308 y.- aJc < ' f* va AIL THE TYPE ON WHICH THIS PAPER IS PRINT ED WAS MADE AT THE RICHMOND TYPE FOUNDRY. june!2 Now is the Time to Subscribe !! PROSPECTUS OK TIIK FOREST NEWS, PUBLISHED IN JEFFERSON, JACKSON COUNTY, GEORGIA. By Hie JacltKiou Couiity Publishing Company. o Fully believing that the material and social inte rests, not only of the people of Jackson, but of all the contiguous counties, would he greatly enhanc ed by the establishment of a printing oflice and publication of a newspaper at the county site, a number of citizens have associated themselves together under the name and style of “ The Jackson County Publishing Company” And propose issuing ow the 12th of June, a paper bearing the above title. Asa Political Organ, The “NEWS” will ever be found the exponent and defender of a high standard of Democracy— .bunded on those principles of State Rights and State Sovereignty, which, though now fettered by the chains of tyranny and despotism, are bound, at no distant day—under tire guidance of a beniti eent Providence—to burst asunder the shackles of imperious usurpation, ami shining forth more luminous and effulgent than ever, will add fresh lustre to the political firmament of the **'vw World." It will be the constant endeavor of those having charge of the columns, editorially and otherwise, of the “FOREST NEWS," to make it a “ftiEWS-PAPER,” In the broadest meaning and acceptation of the term: and in addition to the “ (Jcneral News of the Day," the state of the markets and other commercial intelligence, in a condensed form, such Political, Literary and Agricultural matter will be introduced from week to week as will tend to make the paper a most entertaining and welcome guest in every family to which it may find acccs* while, at the same time, the most scrupulous can will be exercised in preventing the appearance in the paper, of anything at which tire most refined and delicate taste could take offence. Further detail is deemed unnecessary; suffice is to say, that it is the intention, as far as possible, of those having charge of this enterprise, to con duct it in such a style—in manner and matter—a to reflect credit on the people of Jackson as i wl)6le, and to confer honor on the “Grand 01 Commonwealth” of which Northeast Georgia iss important a part and parcel. Especial attentive will be given to the chronicling of Liocal Events And occurrences, and also to the dissemination c such facts and statistics as will have a tendenej to develope the resources, mineral and otherwise not only of this immediate section, but of “Uppc Georgia’’ generally. Asa medium throug which to ADVERTISE, THE FOREST NEWS is respectfully commend ed to the attention of Business and Profession! men, Farmers, Mechanics and Working-men of a classes. Its circulation will be principally amor an enterprising people whose wants are diversity and those who wish to buy or those who wish sell—either at home or abroad—in village, tovr city, or the “Great Trade Centres,” will find t columns of the “ NEWS’" an appropriate and in ! ting channel through which to become acquaint with the people of this section of the countr As an inducement to all those who desire to a themselves of the advantages herein offered, Liberal Schedule Of Advertising Rates will be found in the pro? place, to which the attention of all interest are most respectfully invited. Terms of Subscription, $2.00 Per Annum. SI.OO For Six mo>T | JBSy” Address all communications. &c., inter for publication, and all letters on business to MALCOM STAFFORD, Managing and Business Jefferson, Jackson Co s 12 th, 1875. kinds of Leather and Lumber. 5 ! constantly on hand and for sale bv „ June 12 J. E. A 11. J. ItANDOLL '