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EASTMAN TIMES.
A. T?,al XMve Country I*apr.
PUBLISHBD KVKRT THURSDAY MORNING,
-IB Y—
n. is. 33tTHT oi\r.
IKK MS OF SVRgCRIPTIOX :
Ono copy, one year $ 2 00
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Ten copies, in club*, one year, eacb 1.50
Single copies. Set*
A J, OISE.
Tliroc Ktalwari sous old Swcyn, the Saxon, bad;
Brave, hardy lad for battle, or the ebae;
ADd though, like peasant, barbarously c'ad,'
Each wore the nameless noble in his face;
0 le o’er another rose their heads in tiers,
Htepe for their father’s honorable years.
One night in autumn sat they round the tire,
In the rude cabin bountiful of home ;
Mild by tile fe.trronce fine from child to sire,
Bold In the manhood unto mast’ry come;
Working their tasks o’er huntsman’s forest gear,
Loos’ning the bow and sharpening the spear.
Lost in his thoughts, old Kweyn, the Saxon, stood,
Loaning in silenee ’ga'nst the chimney-stone;
Staring unconscious at the blazing wood,
Steeped in the mood of mind ho oft had known ;
As a,n old tree whose stoutest branches shake,
Scares from their vigor slgu of life will take.
Athol, the bearded, with his bow had done,
Alfred, the nimble, laid his spear aside,
Kdrie, the fairest, tiring of his fim.
Left the old hound to slumber on his hide ;
Vet was their sire like, tine whose features seehl
Shaded by sleep, find all their light a dream.
Kohl in the favor of the . id ■ t born,
Athol, for both his younger brothers, spoke :
“ Lather, the fox is prowling in the corn,
And hear the night-owl hooting from the oak ,
Let us to conch.” Bixt Sweyn had raised his head,
And thus, unwitting what hat pass’d, he said :
" bee, from mv breast, I draw this chain of gold’
Lair in the firelight royally it shone, —
“ This for his honor that shall best unfold
Who, of all creatures, is the most alone ;
Take him from palace, hionast'ry, Of Cot,
Loving unloved, forgetting or forgot,”
Then Athol spoke, with thoughtful tone and look-
Ho is the loneliest—most altinc of all,
At ho, in a skifl to the mid-seas forsook.
Find* not (in echo, even, to his call;
'if'b.ho lived, not all alone webo he j
But thore’s no echo on the solemn sea!”
And Alfred next: “ But lonelier, brother, far,
The wretch that flies a just avenging rod ;
To him all scenes are wastes, a foe the star,
All earth ho’s lost, yet kuows no hrav’n, no God;
MoU lonely he, who, making man his foe,
tJttto man’s maker dareth not to go! ’
i litis spoke the lads, with wit beyond their years ;
And yet the did man held his beard and sighed,
As one who gains the form his wishing wears’,
lint misses still a something most denied;
Upon his youngest eager looks ho turned,
Aud Edric’s cheek with graco ingenuous burned.
“ I think, my father”—and his tones were low—
“ That lonelier yet, and most alone, is he
Scarce taught, though crowds arc leading, where
. .to go,
And one lace missing can no other see;
'1 hough all the Norman’s court around him moves,
He is ulone apart from her he loves.”
A hush fell on them. Then with loving air
And all the touching romance of Ihe old,
The hoary father kissed young E Iric’s hair,
Ami o’er Ids shoulders (brew the chain of gold;
1 lieu fell upon his darling’s neck and cried,
“ I have been lonely since thy mother died !”
THE AGATE CROSS.
The lute June twilight is loath to
lea\o the faintly starred, dim-blue
heaven. Wafts of delicious fragrance
Ooat along the garden paths from the
dewy heliotrope clusters and the vague
jungles of mignonette. Low above the
ragged line of distant forest hangs the
young golden crescent.
The lovers stand at the garden gate.
Lhe woman’s face is fresh and fair ; you
can see indistinctly lhe lustrous rich
ness ol her hazel eyes as the soft moon
light strikes them. The man is hand
some, too WU, wsll-shsped, with a
ftxoe of delicate, Bliglifly oval contour.
It is Elsie Warner’s voice that breaks
the stillness :
“And so, Paul, you really mean that
you will never forget me ?”
“How is that possible, Elsie?” Ho
holds her ha ids between both his own,
whilst murmuring the words; and now
he stoops to kiss her white forehead,
glittering purely in the moonlight.
’’ But New Orleans is such a great,
thickly-populated place,” the girl says,
giving a little mirthless laugh. “ Per
haps—who knows—you may see some
one there whom you couid love bet
tar—”
“ Hash, darling !” and he stops her
mouth very lovingly with his uplifted
hand. “ I won’t let you talk so ridicu
loiißly. Tam going to New Orleans, it
is true; but I shall write you from there
every other day, at least, during the six
mouths of my absenoa ; and you should
not feel sorry that I am to be away.
Remember that I have some pride about
taking a rich man’s daughter wiihont a
penny of my own to save me from be
ing what people can term an out-and
out fortune hunter. Your father has
obtained for me (kind man that lie is) a
situation of the most valuable character.
In a few months I am to return and
marry yon ; meanwhile I am to reap
all tjie advantages possible from your
lather’s benevolence. Surely there is
nothing in this prospect tVmake you
feel at all gloomy.”
Elsie sighs, though almost inaudibly.
“ I know it, Paul. I suppose lam hor
ribly foolish. But do you know that a
sort of a si ran go sadness comes over
me whonever I think at all of the fu
ture.”
“Nonsense.” He kissed her agaiu—
not on tho forehead this time. Then
he fumbles for a moment or two at his
watch-chain, presently saying:
“ Here, Elsie, is a little cross that I
a ant you to take and keep. Always
wear it whilst I am away ; and when
ever the least shadow of doubt in mv
perfect constancy, darling, visits yonr
p °ul, look at it and say to vourself:
“ Paul loves me.”
She answered him with a short, low,
passionate cry, eagerly receiving the
souvenir be offers. “ I shall, Paul. It
1 a sweet idea, and I am so glad you
thought of it.”
A little while afterward Elsie Warner
w i k > up through the vague-lit garden
the haudsome-fronted house
looms beyond, telling herself as
v ' oe * Bo . that sbo * 8 a dissatisfied
. >rv f or i ° f fc f oub * e aQ d does not de
“ d.'ar Pani half 80 devoted a lover as
W)^? a, )7 hile “ dear Taul ” strolls home-
What 16 placid dmk.
Far differ U f ß tho , ugh!H “he does so?
is te Int 1 ' ar f, th , ey horn Elsie’s. He
lines inr.f| ,US ' i f la * faf e has cast his
lus flip * i' er F.h'asant places : that he
roJ P l e m ,Dly °hdd of a very rich and
S ° 0 P f €nt lov h™ to dis
eph W Vn hat r one / day ’ " heu old Je
he looke r <lleS 5 (an event must
dis ant) d he wTfi rd t 0 88 not P arti ™larly
posit? n’ I . 1 x OCCUp - y a mo ®t enviable
la W • ,, U , a , B taat gentleman’s son-in
-I,Vi 'ua 7 ’ tha . fc he is in luck,
he whi!5 llßt thlu , ki ! Ug tliese thoughts
tivoly j) its ? on( '‘l alautl y, and figura
der as ninM Um ? e f 011 ns own phoul
voj Tr “ Paul Balistear,
innate ” ( el aud deuced for
agate Cross'? iw \ le remembftr the
sweet armnoi- he remember the
derly noon > Dg eyeathat dwelt so teu
femembersneUher g ago? Ee
8 ?n awkwa [d,” pouts Maud
Two Dollars Per Annum,
VOLUME 11.
smile and a frown. “ I like him; of
course ; that is, I used to like liim.
Now, things are different.”
“ Different, Maud I ’’echoes her mctli
er. “I sincerely hope not. Tnonas
Erskine believes himself to be your lu
ture husband.”
“ Let him believe what he chooses,”
snaps Maud, rosily beautiful in her ar r
ger. “I am not responsible for the
pranks which his imagination choose)
to play. He joined me in the avenue
yesterday,” she goes on with tossed 1
head. “I was so vexed. A moment
later I met Mr. Balistear. Of course
Paul couldn’t walk with me, poor deal
fellow, whilst Thomas Erskine was a;
my side. Ho did look so annoyed— ana
so handsome into the bargain.”
Mrs. Enuinger sighs faintly. **J
wish your father was living, Maud. It
will be a pity indeed if no one can pre
vent you from subjecting Thomas and
the whole Erskine family (whom we
have known for years and years) to such
a sad disappointment.”
“ A great pity, mamma. No doubt the
whole Erskine family, as you compre
hensively say, will never forgive me for
having deprived their esteemed relative
of mv rflemey. ” a *
“ Maud ! You know that is Shameful
slander. I wish you had never seen
this Paul Balistear,” adds Mrs. Ennin
ger, gravely. “Tt is far more probable
that lie is merely anxious to niarry yfciu
on account of your money than that—”
But Maud, the pelf-willed, petted
heiress, interrupts her mother quite
furiously, just here. Is she not of age
and her own mistress ? Shall she be
perpetually dictated to as long as her
life last#? et cetera, to an almost infin
ite degree. Finally, exit our impetu
ous, ppoiled Maud, with eyes a-glitter
and cheeks aflame.
That night Paul Balistear calls. His
visit is the ultimate stamping and seal
ing, so to speak, of Maud’s resolution.
Tom Erskine is very nice, but Paul is
immeasurably nicer. Tom lias good,
honest eyes, that aro bluo and pleasant,
aud nothing more. Paul lias dreamy,
langiioress eyes. Spanish in their black
ness and their lustre. Tom’s liose is an
nil eon trad pug. Taul’s nose is
thiu-nostriledjnelicatc, classic. Tom’s
voice is a sound. Paul’s is music—
divine harmony. In many other wnys,
the infatuated girl tells herself, the two
men bear sharpest contrast to one an
other. No; Tom is certainly not en
durable by the side of Paul.
“ You must come in tt day or two,”
she murmurs this evening, just before
he leaves her, “and be introduced to
mamma and little sister Bossy—that is
all our family consists of, you know.
And O, I forgot Miss Matthews; she
if-n’t precisely one of the family, how
ever though I love her dearly.”
“ Pray, who is Miss Matthews?” asks
Paul.
“I can’t tell you rm’rb. about her
family history, for I only know that she
used to be in much better circumstances
than she is row, before certain pecu
niary reverses forced her to go out as
governess.”
“ The old story,” comments Paul.
“Stop, sir! You must not sueer at
my sweet Miss Matthews. Perhaps if
you saw her you would fall in love with
her beautiful, sad face. She isn’t my
governess any longer; she lives with
me as my friend.”
‘' And gets paid for so doing ?”
queries Paul, with a little laugh.
Presently the lovers separate. Two
or three days pass. At length Paul re
ceives a little note from Maud Enniu
ger, telling him, in rather familiar
terms, that she will be glad to have him
call at about eight o’clock on the even
ing of that day r .
He goes, full of pleasant anticipations.
Beyond a doubt, lie tells himself,
Maud’s mother has at length consented
to receive him into her house as the
affianced husband of her daughter.
Whilst thinking these thoughts he pats
himself, so to speak, upon his own
shoulder, just as we know of liis having
done once before. He also passes a
mute mental criticism upon himself to
the effect that he is “deuced clever”
and “ deuced fortunate,” just as we
heard him do on ’e before. Bat does
any thought enter his mind concerning
Maud herself—her generosity, her sweet
winning caudor her eouutlcss charms
both of person and character ? No such
thought enters his mind.
“ Am I late ?” asks Paul as Maud en
ters the richly-furnished parlors to re
ceive him.
“ O, no,” is the prouq i answer.
She takes his hand ; she even lets
him kiss her ; but she is somehow not
the same Maud as when they last met.
Just then the soft—very soft—strains
of a piano begin at a little distance from
where they were seated. Paul looks
round. The back of tho lady’s head
and figure are plainly visiblo, whilst
the lady plays her soft little rippling
fantasia. Paul wonders whether her
playing is not low enough for her to
hem- Maud’s and his own voices.
“Miss Matthew's, I supposo?” he
presently says.
“ Yes,” Maud answered.
After this there was considerable talk
between them, on rather commonplace
topics. Paul is waiting for Maud to
speak first' on the important subject of
whether their engagement is to l>e im
mediately announced. But she does
not.
More commonplace conversation. The
lady at the piano continues to play her
rippling, tender melodies. Paul grdws
impatient.
“Maud,” ho munmus, “have you
mentioned our—our engagement to your
mother.”
She gives a rather cold laugh. “O,
dear, no.”
“And why have you not?”
She gave another laugh; louder this
time, and colder, The piano stops.
Paul does not uotice this. Ho too was
bent on the girl’s answer.
“ Because we’ro not engaged any
longer, Paul.”
He springs up with flashing eyes.
“ Then I have been merely dealing with
a flippant, frivolous coquette all these
mouths? 0, Aland, Maud, this cannot
be true!”
“Coquette, Mr. Balistear?” The
words came hard, ringing, and measured
now from Aland Enninger’s lips. “Do
you then so dislike a coquette? And,
if this is the case, what would your
feelings be toward a man who basely
dares to trifle with the affections ot a
EASTMAN, DODGE CO., GEORGIA, THURSDAY, MARCH 26, 1874. -
true, good women by first professing
the deepest love toward her and then,
when he has learned that her father’s
fortune has suffered min, deserting ner
without apparently a shade of compunc
tion ?”
Maud’s eyes are fixed with keen scru
tiny upou his face. It is intensely
pale.
“I don’t understand yon, he stam
mers.
“No. The story is a verysimple one,
lam sure. This man, whom lam tell
ing you about, gave this girl whom I
am telling you about, a little cross, in
token of liis life-long constancy. I
kuow the girl very well. She herself
gave me this cross, the other day, after
telling me this story. I have it here in
my pocket; would you like to see it ? ”
Paul Balistear’s face is white as mar
ble now. “A lie !” he burst out, “a
lie ! Whoever told you that’story was
trying to slander me.”
“ I told Mr. Balistear.”
Miss Matthews has left ths piano, and
has come quietly forward, and has spo
ken these words. Paul Balistear starts
back as if stung. “ Elsie Warner ! ”
Miss Matthews bows her head. “ I
call myself Miss Matthews now. It is
a whim of my mother’s, that I shall not
disgrace the name of Warner with any
so dreadful a connection as this of la
dy’s companion,” and she smiled care
lessly. “It was an unlucky event for
you, however, this changing of my
name. Otherwise you would have
known of my presence hero and retired
gracefully before any such embarrass
ing exposure as the present.”
Paul Balistear slinks from the room
in a mi- crab'le, Cowed way. An 1 during
his walk home that eveniilg let it be
chronicled that he does not pat him
self in metaphor upon his own shoul
der, nor pronounce himself either clever
or fortunate.
As for Maud, she is Mrs. Thomas Er
skine now, and has entirely recovered
from her weakness for dreamy eyes and
classic noses and voices of divine mel
ody. Elsie Warner is her constant com
panion, but will leave her before many
rrionths to gladden a home and a heart
that shall be all her own. And Elsie is
very sure that she has not fallen in love
with a second fortune-hunter this time,
as she has more than onco laughingly
said.
The Pulse.
A healthful, grown person’s pulse
beats seventy times in a minute ; there
may be good health down to sixty : but
it' the pulse always exceeds seventy,therc
is a disease—the machine is working
too fast; it is wearing itself out; there
is a fever or inflammation somewhere,
and the body is feeding on itself, as in
consumption, when the pulse is quick—
tUat is, over seventy—gradually iu
ereasiug with decreased chances of cure
until it reaches one mnTttrrra ana ten or
one hundred and twenty, when doath
comes before many days. When the
pulse is over seventy for months, and
there is a slight cough, the lungs are
affected. Every intelligent person owes
it to himself to learn from his family
physician how to ascertain the pulse in
health ; then, by comparing it with
what it was when ailing, he may have
some idea of the urgency of his *case,
and it will be an important guide to the
physician. Parents should know the
healthy pulse of each child, as now and
then a person is born with a peculiarly
slow or fast pulse, and the very case in
hand may be that peculiarity. An in
fant’s pulse is one hundred and forty ;
a child of seven about eighty ; and from
twenty to sixty years it is seventy beats
a minute, declining to sixty at four
score. There are pulses all over the
body, but where there are only skin and
bone, as at the temples, it is most easily
felt.
Mexican Manners.
A writer in the City of Mexico says :
I doubt if any capital in the world con
tains so many handsome women and
wealthy gentleman, or lias so many poor,
hideous-looking people. Like all .Span
ish towns, the rich are very rich, and
the poor very poor. The wealthy are
handsomely, tastefully, and fashionably
attired; while those of the middle
classes affect the chivalrous dress of old
Castile—cloth jackets with metallic
buttons, gaudy sashes, sombreros with
embroidered bands, and gold and sil
ver clasps down the outer seams of the
pantaloons. The women promenade
with no head dress, their faces protec
ted from the sun by parasols, which
they coquettislily c tfry. From ten to
twelve in the morning the streets are
thronged and the shops crowded until
four or five o’clock in the afternoon,
I after which hour few ladies are to be
seen on the thoroughfares until late in
; the evening. Then the parks, plazas,
! and p omenades wear an animated ap
pearance. Ladies are to be seen float
ing about gracefully, followed by their
servauts; and caballeros, in full dress,
swords, boots, and spurs, ride slowly
around mounted upou superb horses,
whose heads aud loins are nearly cov
ered with elegant trappings.
The Lapland Church Awakener.
Even in Lapland the sermous are
sometimes dull, and listeners are occa
sionally sleepy, but the Laps have a way
of getting around the difficulty which
may be recommended even among us to
all whom it may concern. In Lapland,
it appears, the preacher is armed with
a large baton, and with this he beats a
sort of hermeneutical upon the
pulpit whenever he catches any of his
congregation in the act of nodding.
But, lest some slumbering delinquent
should fail to attract the attention of
the preacher, the sexton is uti ized as a
co-worker in the gospel, and keeps him
self awake by meandering about the
church, wielding a long stick, mitigated
by a cushion at one end. With this
stick he diligently pokes sleepers iu the
ribs, and goads on their faculties to the
sad duty of attention. Thus the Laps
have an arrangement for punching the
congregation when they get sleepy.
They do not seem to have devised any
method for punching the preacher when
he makes them so.
—“What is heaven’s best gift to
man?” asked a yonDg lady Srmday
night, smiling sweetly on a pleasant
looking ck-rk.. “ A hoss,” replied the
young map, with great prudence,
In God V e Trust.
WOMAN’S WORLD.
AH Stills of Items Fcrtn.iniig to the
Fairer Sex.
Horace Greeley used to say that he
had rather see an old woman take suuff,
than to stand before the finest painting
in the world.
A wealthy Buffalo lady of sixty ha3
just married her own widowed son-in
law, and the children of two families
are now puzzled to settle their relation
ship.
The Empress of Japan received call
ers On New-Year’s-day. She had pres
ence of miud not to dress, as did many
of the ladies of her court, in European
style, but continued ala Japan aise.
Tortoise-shell buttons, both plain and
carved, are announced at the fancy
stores as likely to supersede the metal
buttons new used. Cut steel buttons,
it is said, wili remain in fashion.
The Polish Princess Czartorvska has
made over the whole of her immeuse
fortune and vast lauded profession to a
Roman Catholic convent at Posen.
The Marie Stuart ruff, very high,
very full, and flaring, will continue to
be made of the dress material. The
English collar with turned-over points
will also be used, as well as the round
ed Medici s.
English embroidery will be much
used for cashmere and silk during the
spring, and on the muslin and batiste
dresses of the summer. This, it will be
remembered, is the open eyelet-work so
fashionable a few yeai’3 ago.
Embroidered sashes are something
new. They are of black watered silk,
embroidered with black floss and fine
jet beads; or of black, embroidered in
colors. They are very handsome, and
destined to become very fashionable.
When a married man goes to roost on
an ash-barrel under the stoo o from one
o’clock a. m. until daybreak, instead of
seeking his own comfortable bed, there
is hardly a doubt of the fact that some
thing is the matter with his night, key.
Detroit Free Press ; “A band of Ohio
women gathered iu front of a lawyer’s
office by mistake and prayed and sang
half an hour before they learned that
they had been throwiug away time. It
is calculated that their prayers wouldn’t
have had any effect under eighteen
months.”
The Duchess of Alexamlrina, a nioce
of the Emperor William, has demanded
a separation from her husband, Duke
William of Mecklenburg, aud a great
family council will be held accordingly.
It appears that the duke has attracted
s© much attention bv his intimacy with
aft [/uranic of tho Theater Royal, Cas
sel, that it was thought proper to recall
him to Berlin—and to himself.
Russia has costumes, both male and
female, of tho most picturesque de
scription The touloupes, or sheepskin
coats of the peasantry, the caftans of
marfliiintn ttua ft to KnT-crorrucit
hats of the Isvostchiks, or droschky
drivers, are familiar to all ; but ladies
have yet to become acquainted with the
sarafan, and especially with the kakos
chnik, worn by the Russian women.
The last named article—a glorified ar
rangement of satin and lace, tinsel and
seed pearls—is not precisely a turban,
and not exactly a crown, but something
between the two, and may perhaps be
akin to those “round caps like the
moon,” against which the Hebrew pro
phet testifies strongly. The kakoschnik,
in all its glory, is now very rarely seen
in St. Petersburg, save on the heads of
the comely peasant women who come
up from the provinces to act as nurses.
The old style of combing the hair
over the ears has ben revived. This is
supposed to presage the revival of the
old style of wearing original home made
hair.
Chinese Ideas.
The (miscalled) Celestial is a narrow
min led but exceedingly practical sort
of being. He wants an ordered world,
but one ordered only in a certain kind
of way. Before his rapt Celestial v ision
lie the fruitful plains of tlie Great
F owerv Land, lively and bright with
the normal life of China, guarded on
the north by snowy deserts which are
happily far away from him, an 1 on the
south by stormy seas with great winds
and waves which ho does not tempt.
His ideal is a happy family life, wuth
age benignant, youth reverential, three
or four generations living contentedly
under the same roof ; the fish-pond in
trout well stocked; grain abundant; |
tea fragrant; the village harmonized ;
the school well taught; the young Con- j
fucius of the family preparing for com
petitive examinations; the ancestral
tablets going far back and recording
honored names; the ancestral halls
well gi ded, and a fit meeting-place for
the wise elders ; the spirits of deceased
ancestors comforted with offerings and
loving remembrances, not left to wander
friendless in the air; the holidays
cheerful, with bright silks and abund
ance of savory dishes ; the emperor be
nevolent; the people obedient; foreign
devils far away or reverential ; evil ap
pearing only in the form of impossible
demons, and hideous, wicked emperors,
painted on the walls of his house as a
earning to foolish youth ; no change in
wld customs io perplex the mind; the
sacred books reverentially read and re
membered ; tho present definitely ar- i
ranged ; the fruitage of the past stored; !
behind, sages and emperors ; around, I
happy families; beyond, a darkness
with which he little concerns himself,
but into which his spirit may occasion
ally float a short way on some Buddhist
or Tauist idea.
The Sea Mouse. —The sea mouse is
one of the prettiest creatures that lives
under the waters. It sparkles like a
diamond, and is radiant with all the
colors of the rainbow, although it lives
in the mud at the bottom of tbe ocean.
It should not have been called a mouse,
for it is larger than a big rat. It is
covered with scales that move up aud
down as it breathes, and glitters like
gold shining through a flocky down,
from which fine silk 4 v bristles wave that
constantly change from one brilliant
tint into another, so that, as Cuvier ilie
great naturalist says, the plumage of
the humming bird is not more beauti
ful. 8?a mice are sometimes thrown
up on the t each by storms.
—A fine equestrian painting, nine by
seven feet, representing the last meeting
between Gens. R. E. Lee and Stonewall
Jackson, on the day before Die battle of
Ctancellorsville, painted by EA B. O.
Julio, of New Orleans, is on exhibition
at Richmond. It is valued at SIO,OOO,
and will be presented to the Lee Memo
rial Chapel, at Lexington.
The Practical Uses of Poetry.
Everybody rejoices when a lazy fel
low is compelled to work. It gives su
preme satisfaction to seo an habitual
shirk effectually cornered. The most
economical and conscientious will now
aud then rejoice at the destruction or
injury of the most beautiful fabrics, it
they have seemed to give any factitious
importance-to the body they covered.
The neat kids, the shiny boots, the fine
broadcloth, never give their wearer so
keen a pleasure as they afford to his
homespun and hard-worked neighbor
when any contingency compelling him
to put forth his strength in some meni
al occupation, splits the kids, muddies
the boot,and rumples the broadcloth.
I supose it is on this principle that
all those good, sensible, practical
people who consider poetry the natural
loafer o£ literature, seize every oppor
tunity to put it to some homely two,
and seem to delight in seeing it*liar,
nessed down to a plain, healthy moral,
or made to express a geographical or
meteorological fact. The despiser *>f
Tennyson, and ignorerof Whittier, in
variably resorts to
“Thirty hath September,
April, June aud November,’’
when he wishes to verify his dates. He
looks forth from his window, and dis
cerns the signs of the sky with a mut
tered
“ Evening red and morning gray
Takes the traveler on his way.”
He even regulates his household econ
omy with such questionable synopsis as
“ A stitch in time
Saves nine.”
His children are taught their first les
sons of thrift in the couplets—
“Seo a i in and let it lav,
And you’ll have bad luck all day;
Seo a pin and pick it up,
Aud all tlie day you’ll liavo good luck.
As often as there is a funeral in his fam
ily, he searches the hymn-book for a
rhyme to be placed on the tombstone ;
and, if the event calls out a few origi
nal stanzas from some local muse, the
copy is preseived forever in the family
scrap-book.
It is but a few years since one of these
geniuses, who periodically burst upon
the public schools with a scheme of
learning, so sugared and honeyed that
the children cry for it, turned j “ Peter
Parley’s geography ” into verse, and set
thousands of classes to singing, in con
cert, complete list of bays, rivers,capes
and capitals. He was followed by one
who developed tho same idea in the
realm of philosophy, and whose crown
ing triumph was the couplet by which
bf-, C-i-nelll: fbo oifior of tlo oolnro of ibro
rainbow ; /
“ On memory's tablet these shall live,
While we can spell the word R-O-Y-G-D-I-Y."
But more troublesome to remember
than dates, facts, and geogriqrbical sta
tistics, yet more mortifying to forget,
are the requirements of etiquette. The
completest victory of those who lash
solid facts to buoyant r poetry, that the
whole may float gracefully in the mem
ory, has been achieved by a genius who
reduees theVhole science to plain rules
and puts every rule in rhyme. Landor’s
couplet—
“ That is foolish who supposes *
Those dogs are ill that have hot noses” —
was one of the accidental touches which
so often precede a great discovery. The
riper genius grasps the principle, and
gives it a complete application. Thus
we read :
“ ’Tis pity if 'Xu have a cold,
But worse if the sau fact be told
By every kind of uncouth sound,
Annoying every one around ;
So let the secret be confined
To your own handkerchief and mind.”
Here is an essential principle of po
liteness so wedded to sweet verse that
even a child cannot misunderstand or
forget it :
“In company your teeth to pick,
Would make refined beholders sick.”
Tlie world-wide discussion on tho
proper use of the knife and fork is all
summed up and settled by this sugges
tive passage :
“ If you should, in a moment rash,
Reverse their use. perhaps you'd gash
A mouth already far too wide,
And shock all who might see beside.
Bread, nuts, and fruit, deer sir, or madam,
Eat in the mode of Eve and Auam.”
Verily, poetry is good for something,
after all! but, like a willful child, one
must know how to manage it.
Isothermal Lines.
These lines, as their name indicates,
are lines of equal temperature, and vary
greatly from the lines representing the
latitude of different localities. It would
naturally be supposed that localities sit
uated at the same distance north or
south of the equator would be of the
same average temperature throughout
the year, but an examination of a map
on which isothermal lines are repre
sented will show a remarkable variation.
Take the isothermal line of forty degrees
of animal temperature. It runs through I
the southern part of the Gulf of St.
Lawrence, thence south of Iceland
and through the center of Scandinavia.
It is as warm on the western coast of
Europe as it is on the eastern coast of
the United States, 600 or 800 miles
further south. Grains will ripen in
these latitudes in this ratio. A similar
statement is true of the west portion of
the United States. Take the parallel
of.fifty degrees of equaj/iPhifal temper
ature—it runs by A)Ga y, the south
shore of Lake Erie, through Northern
Illinois, then northward to Northern
Oregon and away to Puget’s Sound,
hundreds of miles further north than
it is on the eastern side.
Music of the Heart. —As the French
physic an, Laennec, applied the reso
nant principle of the trumpet to the
stethoscope, so that the action of the
lungs could be made audible, Dr. Vi
vian Poore, of London, has utilized the
guitar for the heart. He places a pa
tient flat on his back upon a table, sets
an upiighi rod on his chest, and careful
ly balances the musical instrument
thereon. The beatings of the heart are
thus conveyed by vibration to the guitar,
which emits corresponding sounds.
—I thine enemy wrong thee, buy
ep. ih I children a drum,
Payable in Advance.
NUMBER 9.
ARKANSAS POKER.
llow Four j* cs were Beaten bj Five
Jacks.
The following related of
Scipio Choteau, a Creek In-
Ho tlic man
had four aces beai^P^
He answered : “ Tes sail; I’s de
man.”
“ Will you have any objection to tell
ing it?”
“ I’s afeard it will git me into trouble ;
but if de judge is willing,” appealing
to the foreman, “ I will tell it.”
• The judge consented, when Scipio
said :
'•‘You see, I lives on de cattle trail
from Texas through de Creek country
to Kansas, and I was in de road one day,
and T meets a gentleman ahead of a big
drove of cattle. He say, 4 Old man, do
you live in dis country ? ’
“ I says, ‘ Yes, sal).’
' “He says, * It’s a mighty poor coun
ty, How do you make a livin’ ? ’
_ “I says, “ Sah, tis putty good couta
tiy ; we has plenty of meat and bread,
and I makes a good livin’ a ’
“He says, ‘Old man, do you ever
jil ay keerds ? ’
“I says, ‘Yes, sah; I does, sometimes.’
' “ He says, * Would you have any ob
jection to play a little draw ?’
“ I says, ‘ No, sah.’
“So we gets off our horses along side
de road, and sat down, and I pulls out
de keerds. Well, in a short time I
beats de gentlem n out of sixty-two
dollars and a half, and I t’ouglit I had
him ; so I puts up a hand ©n him—for
I is, do I say it myself, a mighty smart
hand at keerds—and I know’d he would
hab tree jacks and I would hab tree
aces, and in de draw I know’d he would
git de oder jack, and I would git de
oder ace. So he raises a bit, and I
raises on back, till at last I put up all
de money I had winned from de gentle
man and all de change I had, and I
know’d I had him. Well, in de draw
de gent got do odor jack and I got do
oder ace. De gent wanted o bet, but
I claimed a sight for de money, ami told
him I had an inwiucible hand dat could
not be beat,”
“He says, ‘ Old man, dem is right
good britches you is got on ; how much
did dey cost ? ’
“ I says, ‘ Yes, sah ; dey cost me ten
dollars.’
“He says, ‘l’ll put up ten dollars
agin dem.’
“ I says, ‘Berry well, sah, but I tells
you I got a inwincible hand.’
“He puls up de money, and I holds
up my legs and ho pulls off de britches
and lays dem down . -
“ Now, sal),’ I savs - i told you Iliad
a inwincible hand what can’t bo beat.
I’s got fo’ aces. ’
“ ‘O' T .ytj,-, vrm
ever hear'of five jacks beatin’ fo’ aces^
“I says, ‘l’s heard it, sah, but Is
never seed it; and if you conwince mo
of it, de money’s yourn.’
“ ‘ Berry well,’ he says, laying down
one keerd, ‘ ain’t dat de jacks ob clubs?’
Yes, sail,’ says I, ‘ dat am de jack
ob clubs.’
“ He lays down another keerd. ‘Ain’t
dat de j ck ob spades ! ’
“ ‘Yes, sail,’ I says,‘ dat am de jackob
spades. ’
“He laid down another: ‘ Ain’t dat de
jack ob diamonds ?’
“ ‘ Yes, sah, dat is de jack ob dia
monds. ’
“ Den lie runs his hand in his bosom,
and pulls out a great long pistol and
points it at me and says, ‘Ain’t dat
jack ‘ haul ’? ’
“ I says, ‘ Yes, sah.'
“ ‘Ain’t dat five jacks? And don’t dat
win de money ?’
“ And I says, ‘ Yes, sah, dat is Jack
Haul, and dat is five jacks, and five
jacks beats an inwincible hand.’
“ So he puts de money in his pocket
and ties my britches on ’hind oo his
saddle and tells me to scatter and I did.
“ You see, it sarved me right, fori
t’ought de man was a green Missourian
when I put up de hand on him, but he
was an Arkansaw chap, and I finds dem
mighty sharp, judge."’
Moving the Stove.
A reader who is recently married
writes us asking which end of a stove is
the lightest. A stove is very deceiving,
and one has to become well acquainted
with anew one to find its points of ad
vantage. Our friend should not be too
hasty in taking hold of a stove. A stove
that is to be moved should be visited in
the still watches of the night before,
and carefully examined by the light of
a good lamp. The very end we thought
the lightest nny prove the heaviest (in
fact is extremely likely to), or it may
be that tue lightest end is the most dif
ficult to| jtt hold of hang on to. It
is a very distressing undertaking to car
ry a haif ton of stove by your finger
nails, with a cold blooded man ea ily
holding the other end, and a nervous
woman, with a dust-pan in one hand
and a broom in the other, bringing up
the rear and gett nv the broom between
your legs. In going up stairs it is best
to be at the lower end of the stove.
Going backward up a stairway with a
stove in your hands requires a delicacy
of perception which very few people
possess, and which can only come after
years of conscientious practice. If you
are below, you have the adva r tage of
missing much that must be painful to a
sensitive nature. The position you are
iu brings your face prerfy close to the
top of the stove, and -be
expected to see what irJMHwhen
thus situated, you all
responsibility and the mat
ter, with nothing‘to ao™>ut to push
valiantly ahead think of Heaven.
Then above you is s, the carman whom
you do not see, witbsjfis lipj two inches
apart, his eyes protending, and his
tongue lolling on his chi£. Ai dit is
well you don’t see him, f<3r it is an aw
ful # sight. But the chief advantage in
being bilow is that, in cese of the stove
falling, you will be caught beneath it
and instantly killed. Nothing short of
your death will ever compensate for the
scratched paint, soiled carpet, and torn
oil-cloth. And no man in his senses:, and
with his hearing unimpaired would
want to survive the catastrophe.—Dan
bury News.
—A lady asked a veteran which rifle
carried the maximum distance. The
j old chap answered, “ The Mini©
EASTMAN TIMES.
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Advertisements inserted at the rate of $1.95 per
square for the first insertion, and 75 cents for each
subsoqnent eue. Ten lines or less eoustitwto a
square.
Professional cards, flt.M p.ar anuius; for blk
months, SIO.OO. t*t advance.
FACT AND FANCY.
—A genius is popularly said to bo
one who can do everything except make
a living. ’
—“All right, old boss, I’ll bo there,”
said an Alabama boy when sentenced to
be hanged.
lam no herald to inquire of men’s
pedigrees; it sufliceth me to know their
virtues. —Sir J\ Sydney.
—New York Commercial: “Curious
ly enough, it was at Wagga-Wagga that
the Tichborne talo was lirst set in mo
tion.”
—When the waiter passed Spicer
some very old cheese at i>otoi
the other day, ho responded : “Not a
mite.”
—ln Naples a barber will shave, cut
hair, comb, brush, black boots, and give
you a cigar aud call it square for ten
cents.
—The Congregationalist explains
what it means by “lightning-bug piety”
—bright while it lasts, but cold and
soon out.
—A man writes tc au editor for $4.
“ because he is so infernally short,”
and he gets in reply the heartless re
sponse, “ Do as I do, stand up on a
chair.”
—A Kentucky paper apologizes for
having spoken of the “ red-lieaded,
malignant mule who dispenses the
county money,” by saying that it wrote:
“Big-hearted, valiant soul.”
—A young lady spent four years in
the study of Greek, Latin, French and
Spanish, and then gave a still more
convincing proof of her inordinate love
for “roots” by marrying a vegetable
peddler.
—lt is proposed to prevent the~'nui
sance to railroad travelers arising from
the smoke and fine ashes from the loco
motive, by attaching a pipe to the
smoke stack to carry the smoke to the
end 6f the train.
—The Savannah News says a negro
was buried alive in a well at Butler re
cently. His friends dug down to him in
about four hours, and found him alive
and well. He said that lie never wanted
to sneeze so bad in his life, but was
afraid he would jar down some more
dirt.
—The following atrocious paragraph
appears in an exchange: “Dorothy
Williams, of Wyoming, started to walk
three miles to church the other Sunday,
and they found her torn into about fifty
pieces, the result of meeting a bear
whose moral character was at a low
state.”
—Said Lord John Bussell to Hume, at
a social dinner : “ What do you consider
the object of legislation ?” “ The great
est good to the greatest number.”
r (1 °
“ Number one, my lord,” was the com
moner’s prompt reply.
—Tennyson has been engaged on au
ode of welcome to the duchess of Edin
burg. From the manuscript which ho
sent us to revise, we have taken the
liberty of erasing the third stanza,
which was as follows :
“ The birds and bees, and wind-Rwept trees,
To praise tlieo, shall conspire,
With voices born from frozen seas
Mariar ! O Mariar!”
—“ You see, gr vndmamma, we perfor
ate an aperture in the apex and a cor
responding aperture in the base, and
by applying the egg to the lips, and
forcibly inhaling the breath, the shell
is entirely discharged of its contents.”
“Bless my soul,” cried the old lady,
“what wonderful improvements they
they do make ! Now, in my younger
days, we just made a hole in each end
and sucked.”
—An exchange tells us that a school
boy’s toothache generally commences
at 8 a. m., reaches its high test altitude
at a quarter to 9, when the pain is in
tense to au extraordinary degree ; com
mences to subside at 9, and after that
disappears with a celerity that musf be
very oomfortable to the sufferer. If at
night that boy hasn’t got four quarts of
walnuts spread out to dry, up stairs, it
is because there is no place up stairs to
do it.
—Little five-year old Annie, who was
suffering from a bad cold, went to pay
a visit to auntie. During the daj r she
l elated her various successes at schoel,
and ended by saying that she could read
a great deal better than Sabina, who was
eight years old. “Well,” questioned
auntie, “would it not souud better if
someone else said it?” “Yes,” an
swered Annie, with a very sober coun
tenance, “I think it would. I have such
a bal cold that I can’t say it very well.”
—North Adams lias a tailor long
known for his keen, pui gent wit. Not
long since a well-known clergyman call
ed at his shop with a pair of pantaloons,
and asked him if they could be repaired.
The knight of the shears unrolled them,
held them up in the most artistic man
ner, carefully examined them, and re
plied : “Yes, yes; ilie knees are the
best part of them.” The reverened gen
tleman saw the joke, smiled blandly,
and gracefully bowed himself out.
—lt is related of the late Senator
Wig’all that on the collapse of the con
federacy, while crossing the Mississippi
to make his way into Mexico, in the as
sumed character of an ultra union man,
be was informed by a federal soldier,
who was on board the ferry boat, of the
intense satisfaction he would experience
if he could fail iu with and hang to the
topmost limb of the tallest tree the
- Texas arch traitor. “Yes, I too would
be pulliDg at one end of the rope,” ve
hemently remarked Wigfall.
—One ton (2,000 pounds avoirdupois)
of gold or silver contains 29.163 troy
ounces, and, therefore, the value of a
ton of pure gold is $602,799.21, and of
a ton of silver, $37,704 84. A cubic
foot of pure gold weighs 1,218,75 pounds
avoirdupois ; a cubic foot of pure silver
weighs 636 25 pounds avoirdupois. One
million dollars gold coin weighs 3,658 8
pounds avoirdupois : One million dol
lars silver coin weighs 58,925.9 pounds
avoirdnpois. If there is one per cent,
of gold or silver in one ton of ore, it
contains 291.63 ounces troy, of either of
these metals. The average fineness of
the Colorado gold is 781 in 1,000 and
the natural alloy ; gold 781, silver 209,
copper 10; total 1,000. The osleula
tions at the mint are made on the bar
that 43 ounces of standard gold, or
fipe, tcoiu) is worth $12.80,