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THE STANDARD AND EXPRESS. By SMITH, WIKLE & CO.] INDIKKIT AM) CONSEQUENTIAL DAHA LES—THK (.MEAT CASK OF DOBBS AS WOMACK. The following article will lie read with infinite amusement. For years we have met with nothing which has given as such a hearty laugh as this nit of burlesque. The parallel is per fect. The case is fully stated, and its absurdity fully exposed. The word “consequential,” in its ordinary sense, is quite applicable to Brother Jona than, in making these demands. As applied to the damages, it is of no consequent*, as it provokes laughter rut her t han serious consideration. Our readers who pay little attention to public affairs may be reminded that the claims of the United Stab-s against England, for damage- done to her commerce by the Confederate privateer Alabama, was referred, by agreement of both parties, to .arbitra tion. The United States presented before the arbitrators, claims not on ly for direct, but ul-o consequential damages— that is, damages which oc curred in consequence of other and previous damages. These damages cover every ailment to which the Ixidy politic of the United States has been exposed during or since the war, amounting to billions of dollars— claims which England, very proper ly, refuses to pay. We copy from the Macon “Telegraph and Messenger.” —[Editor of “ The Plantation.” Colaparchkk, Feb. 7, 1572. Editors Telegraph :—What you say about the great onsettin’ war between England and the United States, and the question of indirect and conse quential damages, brings to my mind tne famous case of Dobbs agin Wo mack, which happened down on the Mackasukie, in Florida, when, as you know, i wur living tnar. In that case I wur one of the arbytrators, and afterwards a witness, and if thar is any man that ought to know all about indirect and consequential damages, I am that man. The way of it were as follows, to wit, that is to say: You see Zeb l)olJ>s and Bully Womack wur nigh neigh bors—well-to-do, small planters, liv ing on the Mackasukie—but Zel> was the most forehanded of the two. it | were long back in the forties—about Chrisrnus, and warm at that. May be in old plantation limes you have j seen one of those long-legged, tar faeed imps of blackness and mischief runnin’ about in an osnaburg sliirt! witii an open collar and ragged dap— ; full of old JS’lck, and never easy ex-1 eept while doing mischief. Now, Bully Womack owned just such a lit tle rascal, named by his mother The- ( ophilas, but they called him JTofl'y for short. Toffy’s venerated sife had been down with a load of cotton, and come back laden with ginger-cakes, crackers, and other fireworks and candy for Chismus—likewise a jug of i sperets turpentime, which, you know, are a nigger’s suvrin remedy for eve rythin’ from ground-ich and lbot-pi zen to the belly-ache and tickdolero, j or a bad cough and worms. Now, Satan entered into the head of that little rascal Toffy. Ho cought one of I Dobbs’ hull yearlinsand tied it hard and fast to a saplin with a wisp of j wire-grass. Then strung its long tail | with crackers and other fiery sarpents,! torpedoes and sieh like, ending off with a great faggot of dry broom- j sedge. Then he stole his father’s j sperets turpentime. and anointed the ! whole animal plenteously from head to heels, putting a double portion of i the spends on the broom-sedge at the ! endofhistail. Then he lights a match, i cuts the poor thing loose, and sets the I sedge afire. 1 reckon such a sight was never seen on Mackasukie atorc. The fran tic y earl in made for home like a streak of iightnin’, yelling like mad, and popin’, flzzin’ and explodin’ with ev- j ery leap. lle cleared a seven-rail! fence in front of the house at a jump,! and made through the enclosure for j the cow-lot. On the way he knocked ‘ over a negro gal and old inarm Dobbs, j (Dobbs’ grandmother) who were! hanging out the family washing, and j sot ’em both afire, and they run screaming into the house. Then, some how or ruther, the clothes-line got hitched to the bull, anetthe whole wardrobe was dragged off and ruin ed. When he jumped into the cow lot the cattle, all mad with terror, jumped the fence into the garden and ruined the whole concern, and two of the best cows broke their legs. Then lie again jumped the fence, made for a stable and sot that afire, and that burnt up the corn-crib next to; and lastly, he took to the woods and run J, as far as life would let him, and noth ing but the bones was seen afterwards, well briled. When old inarm Dobbs and thi' servant gal run into the house all alight and screaming, Mistress Dobbs had the presence of mind to pull up the front room carpet and roll them up in it, but they were badly burned, anil the carpet was spiled. ; So you see that that yere yearlin bull | and Toffy together made as much of a splattemtion on Dobbs’ place as the little yearlin Alabamy did among the Yankee ships on the high seas, and it wur also a real Bull ltun. But this was not all. Dobbs had to j go post-haste after a doctor three: mile off on the way ; he lost his road in the causeway ford round the head of Mackasukie —drowned his beet mare —broke his buggy—ruined his harness —got a cold with the wet — took the pneumony—was laid up a long time—had doctors’ bills very se riously—lost a ease in court which he said he would have gained if he could have gone to town—but what was worst of all, he lost the purchase of a place he had sot his heart on, anil was | sure would make his everlasting for tune, could he have bought it, but the Sheriff’s sale came on when he 1 was too sick to think about anything else. Now, when Dobbs got well and be gan to inquire into the matter and j Toffy confessed his wickedness and j Bully Womack came up like a man to see what he ought to do about the i matter, you may be sure there was such a talk about damages as was never 1 aril in that settlement before, or ai, where else until the Alabamy j claims were made out. Womack wanted to stop with paying for the ; bull and the clothes—and the burnt stable and com-erib—what he called j the direct bull damage. But Dobbs lost his temper at the bare proposi tion. “Who,” says he, “is to pay! me for my lost cows, and marm’s hurt and the girl’s hurt, and her lost time, and the doctors’ bills for them —and for what they suffered—and for my mare —and for the buggy—and for my pneumony and lost time, and what 1 suffered, and for my doctors’ bill —and 1 for my lost case in court—and the law fees and costs—and for my disap pointment —and for the place which 11 have been wanting to buy all my life —and for what I have lost that 1 should have made on it for the next twenty or thirty years? 1 must have all this, at least.” “ But neighbor,” says Womack, “that would amount to a good deal more than i have now or ever expect to have. And am Ito beggar myself on account of a Chris mus freak of that little rascal Toffy?” “ And am I,” says Dobbs, “ to lose it all on account of your rascally nig ger?” After a good deal of this kind of talk, they agreed to call for arby trators in the settlement, and that was one time when I sot on the case. You may depend we had a serious time of it and hardly knew what to do. At last we decided on the doc trine of direct damage, from the mere impossibility of estimating any oth er, or of paying them if made out. One of the arbytrators made out a bill on Dobbs’ statement, and it was hard ly short of half a million, and then did not include all the indirect damage— for you see we could not price the marm’s smarts, which were dreadful— nor the negro woman’s, which were as bad—nor Dobbs’ aekes and injury r to hi* constitution by the pneumony j —nor the injury to all their tempers j and riligion by the pain and disap pointment, anil cuss words they might have spoken—anil we could not count with any certainty uj»on many con tingencies which I)obhs swore would have happened but for the misfortu iiate interruption of Toffy and the yearlin bull. But Dobbs would not accept thear bitryment. He went into law about it, and finally got into equity, as they call it, and the case of Dobbs agin \\ omack was in court for many years. Finally they awarded a hundred dol lars and interest from the time of the great Bull Bun, but meanwhile he had spent nigh onto forty thousand dol lars to the lawyers and was about ruined, la this state of mind he met Bully Womack one day and casscd him and assaulted him with a stick ; but Bully knocked him down and tramped him so heavily that Zeb Dobbs was of no account ever after wards, and that was the last i ever licerod of the case. Yours truly, Simon Short. Bit. JOHN WRITES TO BILL ARP. If*-’* “ LoiieHome”—Hi* View* on tlw t American-RriK’liwh War Thr War Steer with the Strained Tail—He Wants a CircuM—Shuks. From the Rome Commercial.} Dear Bill' Do you remember all them fine speeches you andGen’J. Black made me about farmin? If you don’t! do. I’ye tried it one year and I would like to know about what time the funny part begins. How long does a man have to experience before he succeeds, and ain’t it possi ble that an ordinary man might run through and break down before he got a fair start? Don’t a man some times get too old and fat for his bis ness before he begins it? The truth is Bill I’m afeerd I’ve mistukmy ok | kupation, or else I’ve located on i surnbody elses land. Armuehee creek | is mity good for mill ponds, but Ar ! muehee bottom won’t make corn for I me. It turns up in slick, white greasy | clods as big as mud turkles, and it i smells as sour as a still house. There i is two thousand crawfish holes to the square rod, and where thare ain’t a hole there’s a cowicli vine or a snake root. Old uucle Johnny Cox says it’s a very pekulyar sile, and has to be managed keerfuily. The fact is, Bill, I’m iliappinteil as a farmer, but I ain’t gin up yet. I thot that I could set on the dirt fioor of my veranda and see my corn growing all day 1 long. 1 intended to havo a eornshuk- j in in the fall end invite you all up! and have the biggest frolic in the j world. It actually bothered me at night thinkin who I’d ax and who Ii wouldeut, and how I’d fix up for cm. That corn has never cum up yit.— Its gone where the cowich tw'inetli anil the snake root twistetli, and the j craw-flish boreth his hole. I hired two fellers to crop it for me, and was I to give cm ten bushels apiece to the j acre. The crop diilnt make but ate, ! Bill, and they took it. Ole man Wil liamson is lettin we have meal and is ; to wait on me till next crop. He’s : as clever a man as ever took two tolls j out of one grist. I hired a nigger to sow down ten acres of wheat for me ! last fall. He sorter scratched it in, and 1 paid him ten dollars. That wheat haint never cum up yet, and it: is supposed that nigger sold it. You see that was eirkus week when he sowed it and 1 stayed in town. I’ve 1 almost lost all hope of it cummin up ! this season. Would you plant the ground in something else or not?— Shokly says that li e thinks that wheat sprouted downwards, and will ! come up somewhere on totlier side, j but Shokly is always theorizin about | sumthin. Bill is there any slinks in town? I want a bale of slinks—a small bale— I one that my ole war steer can haul! over the mountin. Perhaps you can j git me sum from Gen. Black. He’s j the President of the Fair and ought to have saved shuks. I must have sum sort of ruffness for my ole steer and mule until grass cuius—shorely it will come early this spring—shore- ly it will. If it don’t, why Bill, I’m : busted on stock, certain. Is there any | news of another circus cumin ? Tell j Grady to stir era up and git me a free ticket. It will take a show once a month to make me tolerate farmin as an okkupashun. I’m coning down next week anyhow after them shucks. Major Blunt had jest as well hunt cm up, for if I can’t git era I aint cumin back here no more, and he’ll have ine to feed ashore. Whatsall this news about anuther war? 1 tell you what, Bill, when I heard it I looked right at old Dobbin and he looked right at the wagin like lie was jest ready to be hitched in for immediate fiito. I was powerfully relieved when 1 heard it was a fuss between John Bull and Yankee Doo dle. Thats none of onr funeral, Bill, and I wouldent walk 40 yards to see ’em eat one anuther up. * Yes I would —l’d like to be on top of Armuehee mountain and see em site till every craw fish hole was filled with their blood, and then manure my land with their bones. But I don’t want to run any more, Bill—see about them shuks as soon as possible. Them yanks hav got a hankerin after me and 1 can’t rest till they are exter minated. But they aint agoin to site Old England, No sir. They would ent declare war agin a sick sheep if they couldent hire sum furriners to do the fitin. John Bull is afraid of the Irish and Uncle Sam is afraid of the Itebs, and theres no tellin what devilment they would kick up in case of a war. Dont forgit my shuks, Bill. The old steer aint in good fix for anuther campane. 1 notis his tail looks pow erful weak. Its never recovered from the old strain, but theres no use in j borrowin trouble. My heffer strayed j over the mountin on Judge Wrights side about a month ago, and they say one never gets back from the flat woods. Surnbody cut off the Judges saddle skirt last week. I tell you \ them flat woods population is mity fond of hide and taller. It was the J udges go to meetin saddle. Pity, aint it? Dont forgit to see Black about the shuks. Yours truly, Big John. P. S. —I’ve got sumthin to tell you when I see you. Theres a woman in the case. The fakt is, Bill, I’m lonesome. I wish I could call back 30 years and sluff off about 200 lbs. of surplus flesh, I’d not play a lone hand no more, and jest think what a savin it would be in clothes. Look after them shuks. Rufness is the thing now. See the furniture shop and find out what they will make j me a bedstead for, 7 feet wide. I’m lonesome shore, B. J. The Danbury (Conn.) News says: “ A young lady in a neighboring town has taken up dentistry fora liv ing. All the gentlemen patronize her. When she puts her arm around the | neck of the patient and caresses his j jaw for the offending member, the j sensation is about as nice as they I make ’em. One young man has be- j come hopelessly infatuated with her. Consequently he hasn’t a tooth in his ; head. She had pulled every blessed ! one of them; and made him two new sets and pulled them. She is now at i work on his father’s saw. He holds j ! the saw. A countryman up on the Air Line Railroad observed a gang of hands laboring, and one of them wearing a ball and chain. lie asked the labor j er why the ball was chained to his leg. “To keep people from stealing j it,” said the darky; “ heaps of thieves I about here.” | Women are said to be second to the press in the dissemination of i news. CARTERSVILLE, GEORGIA, THURSDAY MORNING, MARCH 81, 1872. [From the Utica Uerald. COL XT TWENTY-FI VK. How the Wife of a ttira Editor Carbed bis rasraveraablf Trap* r I found the cherlshedTace of Maria Ann wreathed in smiles, the other evening, when I returned from my arduous daily toil. (I am engag )ed as standing man at a saloon. Bo many men are treating, that the sa loon-keeper hires six of us to betreat ed. We all drink with every candi date who comes in, and it makes business pretty brisk. ) Said my chosen one, “ Joshua, I am afraid you do not always find me : an angel in disposition.” Said I, “ That’s so—hie —my dear, I don’t seldom find you ’ngel in—in anything.” “ And,” she added, “you are not always the most pleasant man in the ! world.” I did not feel called on to reply. “ Now,” said she, “ read that.” She had cut an item from the col umns of some paper wherein a de ; men ted writer told about some im possible woman who, being troubled j with a bad temper, counted twenty - ! five every time she got provoked, and thus became a sweet, amiable, and dearly loved ornament of the house of her delighted husband. I read the article as well as the condi- j tion of my head would allow, and re j marked, “ Bosh.” Maria Ann paid no attention to me, j but unfolded her plan. She said that ! , every time I got mad I should count : twenty-five, and every time she got j mad she would count twenty-five. I asked her who she thought would pay our rent while we sat and count- I ed twenty-five over and over all day j long. Then she said I was always i raising objections to her plans for our mutual improvement, and I said I was not, and she said I was enough ;to try the patience of a saint, and I j said she was too, and she came for ! me, and I told her to count twenty five; but she forgot all about that, ! and just tallied one in my left eye. Then I was going to remonstrate with the poker, and she told me to ; count twenty-five, and I said I would not; but I did before she had pulled more than half my hair out. Then she made me count twenty-five over and over, until I was out of breath and felt real pleasant and good-na t urned. So we went to supper. Now, the eat was curled up in my chair, but I did not see it until I sat down; and 1 did see it then, but I was pret ty sure it was there, in fact I knew it was there as well as I wanted to, and more to. I felt inclined to rise up suddenly, but as I gathered to spring she brandished the tea-potand murmured: “ Joshua, your temper is rising; count twenty-five or I’ll break your head,” and that cat was draw ing a map of the Tenth Ward with her claws around behind me with the streets and boundaries marked in my own blood. I rose to explain, and said, “My dear—l—” but she caromomed on my head with a well short teacup, and sprinkled my face with a quart of hot tea, and I sat down and counted twenty-five, but it killed the cat. The old fellew died hard, though. I could feel him settle as his nine lives went out one by one. A few days’ practice of this rule, Under the loving instruction of Ma ria Ann, has enabled me to conquer my temper completely. Nobody can get me mad now, I am in a state of perpetual calm and I want to see the man that wrote that story. _ I want to fit him for the hands of an undertaker, and make a demand for mourning goods among his friends. Then I can die happy—counting twenty-five. The Memory of the Dead.— One beautiful trait of our humahity is the tenderness with which we cher ish the memory of the departed. Let death take from the household that troublesome and ungovernable child, and all that we remember are his sweet and gentle words, his rare qual ities, his loving ways, his beauty and his manliness. The child stands be fore our eyes, not as he was, but as he might have been had all God put in him been perfected by love and grace. He is now always “ dear child” in our thoughts, and not selfish or un lovely. The children long for their dead companion with a real and ten der grief; they would be pleasanter were he back again; they are sur prised to find how much they loved him. Friends long to have the oppor tunity, now lost, to show their love. Friendly Recognition.— lt is said that Dr. John Hall calls “ hand shaking” a means of grace among Christians. Nothing can be more desirable or beneficial than for church members to pay some friendly atten tion to strangers and visitors who at tend the public services of the sanc tuary. We have heard of a Boston minister who says he once preached on “ The Recognition of Friends in the Future,” and was told after ser vice by a hearer that it would be more to the point to preach about the recognition of friends here, as he had been in the church twenty years and didn’t know any of its members. A NIGUT PICTURE. It is night now, and hero is home. Gathered under the quiet roof, elders and children lie alike at rest. In the midst of a great peace and calm, the stars look out from the heavens. The silence is peopled with the past; sorrowful remorses for sins and short comings, memories of passionate joys and griefs rise out of their graves, both now alike calm and sad. Eyes, as I shut mine, look at me, that have long ceased to shine. The town and fair landscape sleep under the star light, wreathed in the Autumn mist. Twinkling among the houses, a light keeps watch, here and there, in what may be a sick chamber or two. The clock tolls sweetly in the silent air. Here is night and rest. An awful sense of thanks makes the heart swell and the head bow, as I pass to my room through the sleeping house, and feel as though a hushed blessing were upon it.— Thackeray. Serve God ; let him be the author i of all thy actions; commend all thy! endeavors to him who must either j wither or prosper them, please him j with prayer; lest, if he frown, he j confound all thy fortune and labor, ] like drops of rain upon the sandy j groun d.— Raleigh. TAKE CARE OF THE CATTLE. It is the cattle of the farm that do so much to make farming profitable. They represent more money than any other class of farm stock, and the uses to which they are put, are more va ried than those of any other descrip tion of domesticated animals what ever. Take care of the cattle. “ Mother, I should not be surprised if our Susan gets choked some day.” “Why, my son?” “Because her beau twisted his arms around her neck, and if she had not kissed him j to let her go, he would have strangled her.” A loving heart and a pleasant coun tenance are commmodities which a man should never fail to take home with him. They will best season his food and soften his pillow, It were a great thing for a man that his wife and children could truly say of him, “He never brought a frown of un happiness across his threshold.” Men often attempt, by the light of reason, to discover the mysteries of j eternity. They might as well hold i up a candle to see the stars. MISCE LLASEOUS. I CALLERS EXPERIENCE WHEN NEW YORK WAS WITHOUT GAS. Yes, the gas works have exploded, and Egyptian darkness is upon us. I don’t care, only it seriously inter feres with our ritualism at St. Albans anil I)r. Ewer’s. Last night I had to take a lantern to find the church at all. The gas work people say nobody has been hurt by the explosion. I guess if they could see the fun anil sentiment, the proposals and surren ders of hearts in up town parlors, they would say differently. A good many people—sentimental young people—have been hurt. Sunday evening was a great night above Thirty-fourth street. Dark ness prevailed in a thousand parlors. Many young ladies expected their sweethearts that night. Nobody’s face was visible. I-was greeted "as “ Dear William” twenty-four times by gushing young ladies. I made one call on anewly married couple. The young wife came tripping into the dark hallway. “My dear Wil liam ! why did you stay away so long?” exclaimed a sweet young voice, and then she threw her arms wildly around my neck —our lips met. At one house on Thirty-fourth , street, a sweet, liquid-eyed brunette, j threw her arms lovingly around me. “ O, Walter, why did you not come : last Sunday ?” she sobbed; then she sank sweetly on my bosom. There was no light—not even a candle. So I said, “ Weep not, Lau j ra,” and then I kissed her thirty-six | times. It was nice. I called on Forty-sixth street. A ponderous matron came tripping into the hall—dress decollete, liair ala Pompadour. She seized my hand earnestly, and said: “O, Charles! Ido hope you will like the opera to-night; kiss me be fore we go.” Which I did. “Do you love me, George?” she whispered. “ Undoubtedly,” remarked. “How much, darling?” “ Too much—too much!” I falter ed. “Oh ! I am too happy,” she mur mured, as she twisted her fingers in my auburn hair, and held me in a sweet embrace. This sort of thing went on at twen ty-seven different houses. I liked it. To-night I shall make thirty-two calls. * BISHOP GEO. F. PIERCE. This distinguished divine reached his sixty first year on Saturday, the 3rd inst., the day being celebrated by a family gathering at his residence. He is now in the forty-first year of his official character as" Bishop of the M. E. Church South. His entire manhood has been consecrated to the good of souls. During the eighteen years which he has been discharging the functions of the Episcopal office perhaps no minister in America has done more hard work, travelled further, preached oftener or more effectually-exercised a more faithful watch over the interests of his Church than Bishop Pierce. He has visited all the portions of that field of labor embracing about forty Annual Con ferences—from the Atlantic to the Pacific ocean, occupied by his denomi nation—Sparta Times. A MAGNANIMOUS BLACKSMITH. A one-armed horseman; recently traveling through Missouri, stopped at a blacksmith’s shop to have his horse shod. The smith noticed the empty sleeve, and asked him if he lost his arm in the war. He replied, with a sigh, that he did, and even more, going on to relate how he left home to enlist in the Southern army, and at the close of the war, on going back, lie found that his wife who thought him dead, had moved away, and he had since been unable to ob tain a trace of her. “What is your name?” asked the blacksmith. When the answer was “J. M. Walrup,” he suddenly released the hoof over which he had been bending, and, without looking at tke soldier, cried: “ Follow me into the house,” and hurriilly led the way. Result, the discovery of Mrs. Walrup with three new children by her side. She had suppposed Walrup dead, and had accordingly been married to the blacksmith. The two men wisely came to the conclusion to let the lady choose between them, and she elects in favor of Walrup. Then she say3 she cannot do without the children, and the blacksmith says, after a most painful pause, “ You shall take them my dear.” “ When the steamboat St. Luke,” says the Cincinnati Enquirer, in a most touching paragraph, “stopped at the landing some hours later, Wal drup on board with his still weeping and thick veiled wife, and the black smith followed with his children. The boat’s bell rang for the starting, and the separation was at hand. The crew, the passengers, the captain—all who witnessed it—were affected to tears by the touching scene. With great drops rolling down his tawny cheek’ the smith kissed the children one after anotner, and in a choking voice bade their mother ail eternal good-bye. The two men gazed wist fully at each other’s faces, shook hands long and earnestly, and then the blacksmith, by a strong effort of iron will, released the hand of Wal rup, and walked quietly to the shore. He never turned his face again to ward the boat, which soon passed out of sight around a merciful bend of the river, but strode on, with head bowed down, to the home whither the voice of his wife and children should welcome him no more.” INCORRUPTIBLE INHERITANCE. No poverty there! Millions have left the earth poor; but has one enter ed heaven poor ? Lazarus, the mo ment he died, was a beggar at the gate ; but a moment after liis death his estate had grown so fast that the haughty worlding, still surviving in al his affluences, in comparison with him, was a penniless pauper. O poor believers, rejoice in prospect of your grand inheritance. It is really* im mense, inestimable, undefiled* and fadeth not away. Has it not been your endeavor to lay up treasures in heaven, why not oftener think of the result there? Fear not. There is good news from that far off country. Unsuccessful as you may have seemed on earth, your heavenly schemes have all prospered. The treasury of God overflows with your wealth. And it is safe—perfect ly safe. Neither moth nor rust cor rupts it, nor can thieves break through and steal it. Moreover, it shall increase—forever increase. As long as you live on earth you add to the principle, and its interest will multi ply, beyond computation to all eternity. Croesus was rich ; Solomon was rich; Lueullus was rich, but the humblest heir of God is richer far than all. It may be that the stores you have accumulated in heaven ; would buy this town, buy this district, j buy the world, and still be compar- I atively untouched. Nay, think not j this extravagant. I would not barter the heritage of the most destitute of Christians for i the whole globe and all its improve | ments. Lift up your heart, let it expand and overflow with bliss. At the <flose of the short journey through time, you will see eternity upon you, all radient with the variety of your boundless possessions, hopeful, hap py.—Exchange. He that will be angry for anything j will be angry for nothing. A DANGEROUS EXPERIMENT. Out in a certain Western fort, some ime ago, the major conceived the | idea that artillery might be used : effectively with the Indians; by dis pensing with gun carriages,* and fastening the cauuoj upon the backs of mules. So he explained his views to the eommani:fc*sJ*j*nd it was de termined to try the experiment. A howitzer was selected, and strapi>ed upon an ambulance mule, with the muzzle pointing toward the tail. When they had so-cured the gun, and loaded it with ball eartridgs, they led that calm and steadfast mule out on the bluff and set up a target in the middle of the river to practice at. The rear of the mule was turned towards the target, and he was backed genly up the edge of the bluff. The officers -tooil around in a semicircle, while the major went up and inserted a time-fuse in the touch-hole of the howitzer. When the fuse was ready the major lit it and retired. In a minute or two the hitherto unruffled mule heard the fizzing there on his neck, and it made him uneasy. He ; reached his head round to ascertain what was going on, and as he did so, j his body turned, and the howitzer began to sweep around the horizon. The mule at last became excited, and his curiosity grew more intense, with his four legs in a bunch, making six revolutions in a minute, and the howitzer, understand, threatening sudden deatli to every man within a half mile. The commandant was observed to climb suddenly up a tree; two lieutenants were seen sliding fiver the bluff into the river, as if they didn’t care at all about the high price of uniforms; the adjutant made good time toward the fort, the sergeant began to throw up breastworks with his bayonet, and the|major rolled over the ground and groaned. In two or three minutes there was a puff of smoke, a dull thud, and the mule— oh! where was he? A solitary jack ass might have been seen turning successive back-somersaults over the bluff, only to rest at anchor, finally, with his howitzer at the bottom of the river, while the ball went off toward the fort, hit the chimrtey in the ma jor’s quarters, rattled tne adobe bricks down into the parlor, and frightened the major’s wife into convulsions. They d<s not allude to it now, and no report of the results of the experiment was ever sent to the War Department. A personal paragraph concerning ex-Senator Edmund Gh Ross, of Kan sas, states that the gentleman—who refused to be bribed or driven into voting for the impeachment of ex- President Johnson “for high crimes and misdemeanors ” —is now publish ing in the southern part of Kansas a weekly paper, from which he derives his support. The ex-Senator is a poor man, and it is sad to reflect that, in this age of official corruption and rog uery in high places, the very modest means of the ex-Senator of the Unit ed States is one of his best recommen dations to the title of an honest man— a species of the genus homo, which, unfortunately, well nigh disappeared from the arena of American public life.— Ex. A REMARKABLE SET. Old Farmer Gruff was one morning tugging away with all his might and main a barrel of apples, which he was endeavoring to get up the cellar stairs, and calling at the top of his voice for one of his boys to lend a helping hand, but in vain. When he had, after an infinite amhunt of sweating and puffing, ac complished the task, and just when they were not neeeded, of course the boys made their appearance. “ Where have you been, and what have you been about, I’.d like to know, that you could' not hear me call?” inquired the farmer, in an an gry tone, addressing the eldest. “ Out in the shop, settin’ the saw,” replied the youth, “ And you, Dick ?” “ Out in the barn, settin’ the hen.” “ And you, sir?” “ Up in Granny’s room, settin’ the clock.” “And you, young man?” “Up in the garret, settin’ the trap.” “And, now, master Fred, where were you, and what were you set tin’ !” asked the old farmer of his youngest progeny, the asperity of his temper being somewhat softened by this amusing category of answers. “ Come, let us hear.” “ Out on the doorstep, settin’ still,” replied the young hopeful. “ A remarkable set, I must con fess,” added the amused sire, dis persing the grinning group with a wave of his hand. The field is too wide, the harvest too great, the world to broad, and hu manity too precious, either for delays, for jealousies, or for strifes. Indeed, this human life is all too short to al low the indulgence of vain regrets. And when the sense of weakness, or of guilt and sin, overbears the weary head and heart, I cam but remember the trusting and triumphant joy of the Apostle. —John A. Andrew. The idie hour is the devils opportu nity. Charity is an eternal debt, and without limit. A poor spirit is poorer than a poor purse. It is fruition and not possession, that renders us happy. Whatever makes man really hap pier, makes him better. Gravity is the inseparable compan ion of pride. It costs more to avenge wrongs than to bear them. There is a heroic innocence as well as a heroic courage. A mild tempered woman is a bal sam that heals matrimonial sorrow. Hope is like a bad clock, forever striking the hour ofhappiness, wheth er it has come or not. We should not retain the remem brance of faults we have once forgiv en. The grand essentials of happiness are something to do, something to love, and something to hope for. To every praying man Jesus says, “ According to your faith be it unto you.” No man in possession of his mental faculties, is too small, too feble or too poor to be of service to his fellow-man if he has the will. It is a mortifying reflection for any man to consider what he has done, compared to what he might have done. Truth is immortal; the sword can not pierce it, fire cannot consume it, prisons cannot incarcerate it, famine cannot starve it. He that is taught to live on little owes more to his father’s wisdom than he who has a great deal left does to his fathser’s care. Birth into this life was the death of the embryo life that proceeded, and the death of this will be the birth in to some new mode of being. The best humor is that which con tains the most humanity; that which is flavored with tenderness! and kind ness. Agricultural Department. THE CULTURE OF BEANS IS A FIELD CROP. Premium Essay at the Atlanta Fair, Oct., 1871. »Y A. C. TAX KITS" From the Rural Southerner.] In this land of cotton and corn fields, embracing hundreds, and some times thousands of acres, bean culture may seem an insignificant business, when suggested as a field crop; yet thousands of bushels of this crop, grown in Northern latitudes, are an nually brought into the South, every bushel of which could be grown with profit, anywhere between the Potom ac and the Gulf. This is the time to diversify our crops, when that of our great staple so often foots up the year’s toil with a balance on the wrong side of the account. No crop is unimpor tant that can be made to pay, and finds a ready market. As an article of food, nothing grown in the soil equals the bean in its nutritious char acter ; containing, as it does, eighty four per cent, of nutriment matter. In the lumber business of the State of Maine, the employees, whose muscu lar power is taxed to an extent in ex cess of that of almost any other labor ing men, prefer the bean to any oth er staple article of food, as they can “do harder work on it than on any other diet.” PROPER KIND FOR CULTIVATION. That cultivated in largest quanti ties is a small, white bean, growing | on a bunch or bush, like that of the early garden bean; having scarcely any vine above the first cluster of ; pods, which is generally near the ■ ground. It is known as the Navy Bean , because made to form a portion of ship-stores for long voyages, and rated as medium beam in Northern market reports. MODE OF PLANTING AND CULTIVA TION. The culture is simple and easy. They are usually planted in April or May, in drills two and a half to three feet apart, and the beans dropped four or five together in spaces of twelve to eighteen inches in the drills. The after-cultivation is with the plow and hoe, as other field crops of level cult ure. Soil that will produce twenty bushels of corn per acre will produce a good crop of beans; but a better soil is desirable, and will yield a better return than in cotton at twenty-five cents, and with one-fourth part of the labor. APPROPRIATE MANURES. The special fertilizers for this crop, when necessary, are phosphate of lime and woodashes. Ammonia, in all its forms and combinations, is not only worthless to this crop, but is injurious to it; producing too much vine at the expense of fruitage. The bean is a legume which extracts that alkali in its gaseous form from the nitrogen of the atmosphere, which, combining with one of the elements of water, forms ammonia. That ingredient in stable manure, Peruvian guano, etc., is lost on this crop. Stable manure, if applied to this plant, should be as thoroughly decayed as possible, with a consequent dissipation of a great part of its contained ammonia. This is not one of the exhausting crops; but on the contrary, is supposed to be beneficial to the soil, from its produc ing an effect similar to that of the clo ver crop, which has been shown by the researches of Prof. Vcelcher, to enrich the soil, even when the whole product is removed from it; although no experiments have thus far determ ined this fact as to the bean. IIOW GATHERED AND CLEANED. These beans grow on the same vine, all ripen about the same time. The work of harvesting is simple and easy. When ripe, the vines are pulled up by the roots and thrown down in the row to dry. In one or two days of fair sun-shine they are ready for threshing in the field on a threshing sheet or wagon-cover. With a small, limber sapling they are readily threshed, and on the vines being re moved, the beans are left nearly clean. If no fan-mill be at hand, the powder ed leaves and small trash left in the bulk, are easily removed by dropping from a scoop or shovel on a windy day. If planted in the latter part of April they can be gathered in July, and often in June, when they are ready for market. If thoroughly dry when threshed, they are kept in bulk without damage from heating. YIELD PER ACRE, AND VALUE OF CROP. The yield per acre, of course, varies with the richness of the soil planted; but what is termed a good soil for cot ton and corn, will produce twenty to thirty bushels of beans per acre, and forty bushels are sometimes gained from soils well adapted to the crop. The price in Northern markets for medium beans, ranges from two and a quarter to two and three-quarter dollars per bushel, according to the supply. The cost to our merchants is usually fifty cents or more, addition al for transportation and other expen ses. They usually command at least two dollars and a half, and sometimes three dollars per bushel in our mar kets. OTHER BEANS FOR FIELD CULTURE. The only other variety of bean wor thy of attention as a field crop, is the Lima Bean, large and small; the lat ter otherwise called Carolina, oriSew ee Butter Bean. There is no differ- i ence in the value of these two varie ties for cultivation or for market. The latter is a little later and continues longer in bearing in the field; but the product from the same area will be found about equal in bulk. The great drawback to the cultivation of the Lima Bean is the expense of setting poles to each hill, and the labor in gathering, which is considerable; but when the value of the crop is estimat ed, this objection loses its importance. The price in Northern markets is usu- f ally twelve to fourteen dollars per i bushel, and never under ten dollars, I in the ripe state. The poles should I be set in checks of about five feet, be- j fore the beans are planted, and the j ground in the hill should be fertilized | as for the navy bean; eight to ten ! beans being dropped to each hill, ini order to provide for the ravages of in-1 sects, and the failure of some of them I to make their way through the crust that rain and sun may form on the j top of the ground. There are but few ! neighborhoods in Georgia which do j not contain a swamp or spring branch • where the black alder abounds in j clumps, affording bean-poles in quan-! tity, and which require but little j trimming before they are ready for | setting, which is done by aid of a ! crow-bar. The labor in "getting out j and setting the poles is much less than what an unpractical estimate would assign to it. These poles can be used a second year by sharpening from the sound wood. After the plants have formed the second leaf, they should be reduced to four or five to the hill. It is the practice of market garden ers to plant two or three times as many seeds as are necessary for a stand, in order that they may “ help each other to break the ground.” There is good sense in this practice, in case of the Lima Bean. When a hard crust has formed in clay soil, by united action the germinating seeds lifts that crust entirely from the un der-lying soil; while two or three beans might not make their way through the crust they could not raise. If the beans are left to ripen they should be gathered as often as a considerable quantity are found ripe, otherwise, on becoming very dry the pods burst and scatter their contents. After gathering, they may be exposed to the sun for a few hours, when the beams are readily threshed out and cleaned. The ripe beans are equally I as valuable for table use as those in i the unripe state, but require more ! time iu the preparation. The de mand for them in our cities and towns j is constant, both in the ripe and un ripe stage; the latter for table use, ! and the former for that use as well as for seed. The amount i>aid annually by the South for Northern grown Li ma Beans, for seed, would tax credu , lity, if it could Ik .scertained. Yet, i the South, rather than any other part of the Union, is the home of this bean. Northern growers, in a higher' lati . tude than forty-two degrees, cannot get the Lima to mature its seed; while hero, from an early planting, we can gather ripe beans from June ; to November; and in good soil, and with good tillage, a crop can be pro duced that is highly remunerative to the cultivator, and saves that much from Northern pockets to fill our own. IMPROVEMENT OF LIVE STOCK. Inferior stock should be got rid of as soon as jxissible. It is a very erro neous practice to waste provender by feeding animals which will make no adequate return for the outlay. Old horses, cows and sheep are very un profitable stock; the former are not vigorous enough to perform the labors of the farm, when the most needed. Old milch cows are not fit for dairy purposes, and old breeding ewes pro duce small weak lambs and very light fleeces. The improvement of his stock should be the constant aim of the farmer. This may be done by se lecting the best breeding animals that can he obtained. No money is more judiciously expended than that which goes to procure the services of a first rate stallion, hull, buck or boar. In order to produce superior stock, the breeding animals, male and female, must be of the best quality, and they and their progeny must have abun dance of good provender at all sen sons. Young stock of all kinds are sometimes injured for want of suita ble food and shelter at the most criti cal period of their lives .—Live Stock Journal. THE VALUE OF A SCRAP BOOK. Every one who takes a newspaper which he in the least degree appre ciates, will often regret to see a num ber thrown aside for waste paper which contains some interesting and important articles. A good way to preserve these is by the use of a scrap-book. One who has never been accustom ed thus to preserve short articles can hardly estimate the pleasure it affords to sit down and turn over familiar pages. Here a choice piece of poe try meets the eye, which you remem ber you were so glad to see in the paper, but which you would long since have lost had it not been for your scrap-book, There is a witty anecdote—it does you good to laugh over it, though, for the twentieth time. Next is a valuable recipe you have almost for gotten, and which you have found just in time to save much perplexity. There is a sweet little story, the memory of which has cheered you many a time when almost ready* to despair under the pressure of life’s cares and trials. Indeed, you hardly take up a pa per without perusing it. Just glance over the sheet before you, and see many valuable items it*contains that would be of service to you a hundred times in life. A choice thought is far more precious than a bit of glit tering goiil. Hoard with care, the precious gems, and see at the end of the year, what a treasure you have anticipated.— Exchange. PLANT IRISH POTATOES. <irish potatoes, if uot already plant ed, should be put in at once. Choose, if possible, a good black, moist, but not wet soil, and manure liberally, avoiding, however, too much crude stable manure if you desire tubers of the best quality. Wood ashes, chip manure, rotten saw-dust, and the scra pings of the house-yard, are excellent lor this crop. How to Plant Melons.— The best plan known for planting water melons cucumbers, and cantaloupes, is as follows: First, dig holes twelve feet apart each way, large enough and sufficiently deep to insert a usual sized barrell. Take out the upper head and place it down in the hole within two or three inches of the top. Then pack the dirt well around the barrel. Fill the barrel one-third full of lime stone rock, one-third full of wet straw well tramped in, and the other third, on the top ol the straw with as rich loam of dirt as you can get. About the 25th of April, soak your seed in warm water in which soap has been dissolved for twelve hours. Then plant three hills in each barrel, with the small end of the seed down and two seeds in a hill. They will need no cultivation, and from the time they commence bearing will continue until frost in the fail, and will yield ten times more than the usual way of planting. A SIMPLE REMEDY FOR DANDRUFF. There are doubtless few persons, especially among gentlemen, who do not suffer from the inconvenience of dandruff. Physicians seem to consid er it not of sufficient importance to engage their attention, and the poor victims are left either to practice tneir virtue of endurance, or for a cure, to try some of the many nostrums adver tised in the public prints. The intolerable itching which frequently accompanies the trouble some complaint, is not the only unpleasant feature, as, to persons of any pretensions to neatness, the ap pearance of the white scales on the coatcollar and shoulders is very ob jectionable. The writer, during a number of years tried the different alcoholic solutions of castor-oil, and many other preparations, without permanent benefit, and as a last resort, was led to adopt the plan of cleansing the scalp with borax and carb. potassa. This proved effectual, but after a persistant treatment of some months the hair beeamejsensibly thinner, and perhaps would have soon disappeared altogether. The belief that dandruff arises from a disease of the skin, although physicians do not seem to agree on this point, and the know ledge that the use of sulphur is fre quently attended with very happy results in such diseases, induced me to try in my own case. A prepara tion of one ounce flour of sulphur and one quart of water was made. The clear liquid was poured off, after the mixture had been repeatedly agitated during intervals of a few hours, and the head was saturated with this every morning. In a few weeks! every trace of dandruff had disap peared, the hair became soft and glossy; and now, after a discontinu ance of the treatment for eighteen months, there is no indication of the return of the disease. Ido not pre tend to explain the modus operandi of the treatment, for it is well known that sublimed sulphur is almost or wholly insoluble, and the liquid used was destitute of taste, color or smell. The effect speaks for itself. Other persons, to whom it has been recom mended, have had the same results, and I communicate the result of my experiments in the belief that it may | be valuable and acceptable to many who havesuffered in the same manner as myself. John L. Davis, In the Journal of Pharmacy. Courage when genuine, is never cruel. It is not fierce. It foresees evil. Its trepidations come either I before or after clanger. LAWSHE & HAYNES, ATLANTA, GA. H'*" AVE ON HAND AND ARC RECEIVING Vh» finest iitock of the itrle* of DIAMOND A GOLD JEWELRY In upper Georgia selected with care to r the FALL AND WINTER TRADE W ate lie* of the beat maker* of Europe and America. AMERICAN AND FRENCH CLOCKS’) STERLING and COIN SILVKU-WARE, And the best quality of SILVE PL TED OODS, At prices te suit the times. Gold silver A steel SPECTACLES TO SUIT ALL AGES, Watches and Jewelry repaired by Competent Workmen. Also Clock ami Watch Makers’ Tools and Materials. sep 13-ly 3r*oclcet and Table KNIVES and FORKS, SPOONS, CASTORS, RAZORS, SCISSORS, CARVERS, ETC., ETC. CROCKERY, CHINA, GLASSWARE, NOW ARRIVING DIRECT FROM EUROPE ! Diamond Oil, AT M’BRIDE & Co’s MERCHANTS! Consult your Interest Save freight and ruinous breakage by buying from Mcßride & co. BEAD THIS. Atlanta, March I, 1872. We, the undersigned, commissioners for the “ Atlanta Hospital Association,” have selected prizes lor distribution from the splendid stock of Mcßride & Cos. Ticket holders can see these beautiful prizes at Mcßride ft Co’s store. Z. H. ORME, M. D.. 1 J. F, ALEXANDER, M. D VCoin. K. S. RAY, M. D. | We offer real {inducements in Fruit Jars. Do not buy till you see our Jars. They are the best and cheapest in the market. nov3o—tf. FERTILIZBRS a Dickson’s Compound, SOLUBLE PACIFIC, Tanio Mininjr an! Mamfactnrlii Cos.. CABOUNA ATLANTIC PHOSPHATE CO., MAGNUM BONUM, PARAGON, ALSO PERUVIAN GUANO, GROUND AND DISSOLVED BONES, LAND PLASTER, SALT, Acid Phosphates FOR COMPOSTING, 171 OR CASH, or on time on manufacturer’* ■ terms—some guarantee 15 cts. for Cotton delivered. Please call and obtain circulars. Gilbert & Baxter, fcblS —lra. Agents. STERLING SILVER-WARE. SHARP Sc FLOYD No. 33 Wliiteliall Street, ATLANTA. Specialty, Sterling Silver-Ware. Special attention is requested to the man new and elegant pieces manufactured express ly to our order the past year, andqnite recently completed. An unusually attractive assortment of novel ies in Fancy Silver, cased for Wedding and Holiday presents, of a medium and expensiv character. The House manufacture on aa unparalleled scale, employing on Sterling Sil ver-Ware alone over One Hundred skilled hands, the most accomplished talent in Design ing, and the best Labor-saving Machinary, en abling them to produce works of the highest character, at prices UN APPROACHED by any cempetition. Our stock at present is the lar gest and most varied this side of Philadelphia An examination of our stock and prices will guarantee our sales. OUR HOUSE USE ONLY 925 BRITISH STERLING, 1000 jan 4—ts AGENCY GEORGIA LOAN & TRUST COMPANY D. W. K. PEACOCK, AGent. CARTE RSVIL.EE, GEORGIA. OF FICE in the Store-room of A. A SKINN E ft A CO., Main Street. Monej received on Deposit. Exchange nought and sold. Advances made on Cotton and other Pi< duce. dec. 6-sw VOL. 12-NO. 37 The Western Antidote I McCUTCHEON’S I CHEROKEE INDIAK BITTERS. This highly valuable Indian Rsmedy is too well known, whenever it has been need, to require epeeial notice. Those who ere unacquainted with its won derful operation upon the system will tad it a certain remedy in all Diseases es the Kidneys, Bladder and Urinary Organs. It is very useful in Rheumatism, Liver Cesa> plaint, Ague-Cake Dysentery and ether complaints. It warms the stomach and bowels; cures Colie and Obstructions es the Breast; sustains exoessive abor of both tv dy and mind; cures ihe Piles, promotes the Appetite, assists Digestion; prevents un pleasant dreams and frights; strengthens** judgment; cures Nervous, Asthmetieal and Hysterical Affections; removes all the din. orders of weaknes and debility ; punts* the Blood; cures Neuralgia and Dispcpsia. te gether with moat Diseases peculiar te {fe males. Old and young, male and female, have been greatly benefited by its ust, as hundreds*, letters from sll parts of the United Staten will certify. Let those who are unae> quainted with McCutchkos’s “Chereks* la dies Bitters, n before saying this ie tec much, try a bottle, and all who do ** will unit* in testifying that th* half has not beam told. Cheroke* Indian Bitten possess** an ener gy which seems to communicate new life In the system, and renovate the feeble, fainting powers of nature. Its operation upon th* tissues of the body doe* not consist in affect ing the irritability of the living fibre, bat in imparting a sound and healthy stimulus Sc the Vital Organ*. It strengthens substantially and durably the living powers of the animal machine; is entirely innocent and harmless; may be ad ministered with impunity to both sexes, and all conditions of life. There is no disease of any name or na ture, whether of young or old, male or fe male, but that it is proper to ndmin ; ster it, and if it be done seasonably and parser#?- ingly it will have a good effect. It ic per fectly incredible to those unacquainted with the Bitters, the facility with whieh a heal thy action is often in the worst case restor ed to the exhausted organs of th* stStik; with a degree of animation and desire far food, which is perfectly astonishing to all who perceive it. This Medieins purif ** th* blood, restores the tonie power of the flbM* and of the stomach and digestive organs; rouses the animal spirits, and substantially fortifies and reanimates th* broken down constitutions of mankind. Indians are the most healthy of the human race. They take an abundac* of physical exercise, breath* pure air, and live on tisa ple diet. When sick, they us* no mineral poisons, but select roots, herbs, and plants “from the great drag store of their Own tor.” McCctchiox’s “ Chbeoksi Ibdtai Bittibs” is a combination of these vegeta ble substances which render it entirely in nocent to the constitution of th* most deli cate male or female. The wonderful power which these “Bitters” ar* known to pea scss in curing diseases, evinces t« the world that it is without a parallel in th* hietary of medicine, and afford additional evidence that the great benefactors of th* country ar* not always found in the temples of wealth nor the mazy walks of science, but among the hardy sons of Nature, whose original, untutored minds, unshackled by tk* ftntfa of science, ar* left free t* pursue tk* dic tates of reason, truth and common sense. Since th* introduction of this remedy in* o the United States, thousauds have bees raised from beds of affliction whose liven were despaired of by their physicians and pronounced beyond th* reaeh of medicine McCuteheon’s “ Cherokee Bitters ” kas driven the most popular medioines es every name, like chaff before the whirlwind, from every city, town and village where it kas been introduced, and is destined ere long te convince the world that the red man’s rem edies are the white man’s choice. For die eases peculiar to the female sex there in nothing better. Old and young, male aad female, have all been greatly benefited hy its use. Hundreds of certificates, frem all parts of the United States, which ar* enti tled to the fullest confidence, speak of it in the most favorable manner.? These ar# no only from persons who hav# been eured hy it, but also from some es the most eminent physicians and druggist who have sueeeee fully tested it in their practice, and velnn tarily offer their testimonials in its fnvoc For sal* by all D«»l* r *- Special- Notio.— Merchantsjand drug gists doing business at a distance from the railroad, when ordering my “ Choreke* In dian Bitters,” will please state tk# depot * which they have their goods shipped, so doing, I can sometime* snppl wants much earlier. Address all orders to R. H. Mos • i Who alone is author? th* original and ger oet 20—ly