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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 One cept, lix raontk* 1.00 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. RITES OF ADVERTISING: stack. i 3 m> 3m. 12 m. One square $4 oo! $ 7 W *'lo 00j $ IS #0 Two squares OM lion! is on 25 W) Four squares 975 19 00| 23 M #0 99 One-fourth col U 50 22 50i. 34 no 46 00 One-half col 90 00 32 50] 55 00 * o One column 35 0(1 B 0 OO' 80 00 lo no 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,