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EASTMAN TIMES. A Real Bive Country Paper. PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING -13 Y n. &. BURT ON. tkums OP SVUSCRIPTIOIIi Olio copy, ono year $2.00 One copy, eix mouths 1.00 Jen copit'H. in clubs, ono yoar, each 1.50 Siuglo copies 5 c tg SCENES OF MY YOUTH. ISY EDWARD nAS LON. ITnnn tilt' Hjiot mhero oft in youth I’ve stood, I stand once more, \ T i lon the Hcenen of our ago I gaze. While mem’ry rucheK backward o’er the lapse of years threescore, II, •railing ch< rished joys of boyhood days. The grass upon the hill grows just as fresh and green as when, \ i,lit <• and happy youth, I wandered free; T ~• little brook still murmurs on its way within the glen— p Hceuisto siiif; a requiem to me. The cooling summer winds are softly sighing thro’ the trees, \nd ,r ith my locks of whiteness gently play, While from the distant clover fields, borne to me on the breeze, I hccnt the perfume of the new-mown hay. My feet now press the hallowed spot where once my birthplace stood— An old log-house—since molderedto decay, And looking, from my aged eyes unbidden start a flood Of tears, to know that it has passed away. Within this littlo grove, beneath an old and gnarled oak tree, It mains the seat I hewed from solid stone, 0 And sitting here in sadness, where I often romped in glee, T realize that I am all alone 1 Yes, all alone! the onward march of time—the fleeting hours— Have taken youthful friends away flora me; To some the path of life was ever strewn with sweetest flowers, To some ’twas clouded o’er with misery. Tbero, to ray my right, I see a mound with mosses growing o’er, And once again ray eyes are filled with tears, For there lies one I hope to meet upon the un known shore— Ono whom I fondly loved informer years. We did not, lovoas children love; ’twasan undviim flame, That fiercely burned within each youthful breast- And when she drooped my heart was sad; but when death’s augel came, It seemed as though my soul would ne’er find rest. The weeping-willow bends with mournful mien above her tomb, And seems to weep in unison with me; The rare exotics planted there yield forth a sweet perfume, And birds pour out their plaintive melody. Irene, loved one, we soon shall meet, far, far above the skies, To there renew the vows we made in life; l;Vn now iu y spirit from this mouid of clay to heaven flies, lo join yon in the world o’er free from strife. Hi m i 1 my youth, farewell! on thee I’AsveJmiffe may gaz \ V lint while my feeble fooleteps totter on Within my memory will bo fresh remembrance to the days Of joy and sorrow now forever gone. THE GOBLIN RECORD. RY JOS. C, CANNING. Mini, its well the littered as the un -1 ottered, is attracted by mystery. While t!io educated ono ridicules the extrava gance aud the unchecked wildness of i 1 !- ignorant brother in his persistent • huHr after phantoms, he must confess iiht the same ghost is playing wanton with his own senses. ! have of leu been induced to invest i i o delusions, although convince and that I was hunting a shadow, if not a silly To dissipate all ideas in one’s mind of goblins, haunted houses, aud woirtl noises lias required more philos ophy than has yet been accepted. And ho wo must admit that if there is not cleverness iu a mystery there is that in it which fascinates in spite of a better judgment, and carris the oi polloi be yond the control of reason, while they listen with eager ears and excited brains. Tarrying at a friend’s house, I was in tormed that there was an unoccupied dwelling in the neighborhood fre quented by unseen spirits. It inter cH'ed me, and I shortly discovered that Ins sister was anxious and even willing to visit it. T offered myself as an es cort and protector, and’ was accepted, lue building was called the Redwood mansion, formerly the property of an old, aristocratic family of the district. . !<> >‘wt inmates were too elderly ladies, sisters of the Redwood lineage. For Years they had utterly refused commu i ication with the world, and were char itably rated as eccentric. Their wants were supplied by a slave of the bntoher, " 10 passed, at regular hours, all the necessaries of life through the gate of me ? a ™, and at each time found the money and other orders. They had been allowed their unsooial whims tiirough the indulgence of a kiud com muiuty and the esprit de corps of the vedwoods until dread circumstances ) , roke living chain. The reetor of 1,1 P l m s h, while passing one morning, ,' !lH shraoted by moans from the som- facing an entrance J he ddest sister in dying agonies „ ( , 10 other hurriedly i acing the apartment m a state of frenzv. The _ ' r , n "l a death to the one and the re tiv s°* le aurv * vor by distant rela yrp.' 10 1, was the history given to me by Mr ri a dded : “I have such a bnli , 68 r e *° this mansion, “ . ever foolish it may be.” ' dwelling was large, and in its • b. a ve been as famous for its Wfni Pnr a f lfc was P°P u^a r for its en • “iments when Col. Redwood with lori ![ !C’dy welcome was its courteous cliimr,/. °7, t , he wa U B were cracked, the and it en the windows broken, aliriit •• i PeCt I detected the mrinn s tremor in the arm of my com- Tic n pushed into its silence, der in ? ' °* neglect, the bat, the spi win,ir i r ma £nifi ce nt festoons, tattered „ ? gl "8 8 - anil decay Si? Weoonia almost im our V u ?, of uneasy spirits at room t I,,tr,lß ion as we passed from charnpi J OOIO, the stillness of a ~7l house only prevailed. ••tbit h 6 I ? nr d,” whispered MissE., whioi, V ro :S an desk, or cabinet, wonu ,i as uever been removed. It it and s r n S °) r *? an d romantic to find "ro.”* p 7 1 ior re bcs, perhaps treas “Tl ' l ,?°, roora contained it. You D ,[\ 11 t:c ,' a he exclaimed. “Dare • up and explore?” mo aV l'*] 1 *° n w * a h t° accompany Mono ’’ tlie oourago to remain 7 the replv. Ambled <V°! Bllt ” hervoice to V s Quickly and talk . 1 aseen 1 \ . Ujformp i a, creaking flight and had discovers ! i I was busy at the below f awers . vrhen a scream from It was fm-sAr- nervousness, at her sidr 1 llßs an d instantly I was bad such a fright!” she said, danci (l u. i s , . rcse-like hue which trornop ; | J , ( 7' caee hs gave way to 6x “An ap pa __> Two Dollars Per Annum, VOLUME 11. Hush! ’ she whispered, with a huger to her mouth. “ I know lam foolish, but I distinctly heard—there ! Did you not hoar that ?—there!” It was even so ! I heard footsteps. “ Keep your courage,” I replied, i ho noise of steps grew more distinct, and a fair head fell heavily upon mv shoulder. S nnetimes it happens that a bright, courageous idea takes the plaeo of wan ing hope and fearful uncertainty, acting as a pendulum to the giddy brain aud the shattered nerve. Such relief came to my rescue, rendered as I was, hors de combat, and Miss E. to support. Angry as I was, from the force of cir cumstances, I laughed ! Looking up wildly, then inquisitively, Miss E. sprang from me, exclaiming : “ What is it then? I was frightened, and you are cruel to make light of it!” A dilemma I certainly was in. Ap pearances were against me, but my heart was not hard. I had laughed from thorough exasperation, for I was helpless. Could I have floated away with my charge I could then return and defy all the imps and goblins ever exor cised, and topple the wretched, moldy, ghostly old shell into utter ruins. It was at this crisis that a large, woolly head, with protrud ng eyes, a display of ivory, aud a breadth of lip, appeared at the door. “You black scoundred !” I yelled, “ do you know how you have frightened Miss E.?” “Gorry, massa ! I’se right sorry.” “ Never mind, Sam,” interrupted Miss E, “my wits have returned. I am so glad it is you.” It was her favor ite servant. We were to hasten back to accom pany a party to Anemone Yale, a beau tiful spot beyond the town limits. I was not sorry ; neither did Miss E. re gret the change, nor the assurance that the goblins of the Redwood man sion were not now likely to molest us. “But did you find anything?” she I eagerly asked. “ Wait and see ! ” was my answer. PTlie breeze was fresh in Anemone Yale, lovely in its carpet of the soft flower which gave it its name. “Thereus a taste of mnstiness about it, and an ancient look,” remarked my friend, as he unrolled a manuscript I handed him. “ Well, there might be,” replied his l ister. “It is snatched from the haunts of goblins—but let us hear it!” A piece of paper fluttered to the ground, as the pages were unrolled. It read : “November 10, 1870. Will this sheet ever mold ? It is p easaat to hope that it may be read when the writor is incorporated with mold. Read my story and learn to guard the heart aud control the passions. R. S.” Seating ourselves on a bank of wild flowers the manuscript was begun. “An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth—Holy. I am an invalid, waiting for life’s thread to snap. The present is a mixture of hope, memory, the fu ture. and reality. Hope results in dis appointment ; memory in dissatisfac tion ; the future is vague, while reality is fruition. Imagination is false, for it garnishes barren hills with verdure; transforms a face of ugliness to one of beauty; makes a miserly relative a gen erous donor; pictures yourself more perfect than the whispers of conscience, and causes the hopeful heart sadness. I will not deal with it. What I write is reality. It is hard to bid adieu to the old gables and the arched gateway, in doubt that one may see them again, not from age, not from the necessity of a long absence, but from the certainty that you are chased by disease at which physicians shake their heads but mutter hope. “ I had been upon the road several days before anything of interest aroused me from my depression. Passing a dwelling, whose appearance attract ed ray attention*, the notes of a pecu liarly plaintive song attracted me. T first reined my horse and then, dis mounting, I followed a winding walk, adorned on either side with simple flowers, to the open door. I had been noticed and was met by a young man who cordially bade me enter. “ *We were singing a song I learned at sea, of which my sister is quite fond, but we shall be glad for an interrup tion.’ It was the introduction of an im portant sequence, and the story which follows. “ Frank Lavender, the father of my host, and narrator, became, in the 'early years of his marrisige, entangled in wild dissipation witli a neighbor’s son, Dick Perry. Their recklessness in creased until the murder of a wealthy planter in the township made their flight necessary, and neither had ever returned. The exertions of justice proved futile, and with the lapse of years the supposition gathered strength that by some other means retribution had come upon the fugitives.” My friend, who had been reading the manuscript, exclaimed : “I well re member, my grandfather once related this very tr/le to me. His description of Lavender was that of a very hand some man, of fine figure and of a pre possessing air. I cannot recall the de tails, but the son and daughter here spoken of were very fortunate in inher iting a large estate quite strangely. My old sire made a moral, and, while upon his knee and staring into his wrinkles, I was warned from evil com pany and the haunts of the enemy.” The manuscript was resumed : “ There is no silver in my locks—-and never will be. The worm nas his mort gage upon them and he is already after a foreclosure. Recorded pharmaco poeia has not sufficient knowledge to deter the grim bearer of the hour glass. He knows it, and so do I. For months I have been absent from the gables. I have retured, patched up merely. Quid faciendum ?” At this point the manuscript had evi dently been laid away, for the remain der was traced in a different ink and by a feebler hand. It opens again with the same quaint repinings. “Life has qneer findings. The one who interests you to day is gone to morrow and forever, while the partner of an old life-game turns up suddenly to confront you with tedious memories oftener than with agreeable reoollec tions. Earnest yearnings are rarely re alized, but they have been once with me. The candor of my host, Lavender, EASTMAN, DODGE CO., GEORGIA, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 1871. and his sa i experience created an in terest aud a sympathy which was, y.-ars later, revived intensely. I was again compelled to seek the north, and had fixed a temporary abode in one of the pleasant villages of an eastern state. Among the few acquintances I formed was that of an eminent judge, who was at that time presiding at the trial of a wretch committed for arson and mur der. He was particularly noticeable, commanding in person—a deep, rich voice, a fine dark eye, and hair sprinkled with silver. He lived in elegant stvle, as I cau attest, at his place called Man grove Hall, without a wile, and child less. His card real, Poinse f Telfair. “At the breakfast table, tiK last day of the exciting trail, I was agreeably surprised to recognize my old friend Lavender. He had just arrived, in quest of a tarrying-place for the s ason. Circumstances at once determined him to remain with me. The pending case at the court-house, in which I had be come much interested, was the topic of discourse, and Lavender was induced to be present with me at its conclusion. “As we seated ourselves among the eager spectators, Judge Telfair passed in with elastic step, an air of calm dig nity, admirable in ripe manhood, Lavender whispered enthusiastically— ‘ What a lord !’ “ The case was given to the jurors and they had returned, giving as their verdict murder in the first degree! “ The prisoner will stand ! ” said the judge. ‘lt is a solemn charge, the sentence of death! None should receive it but the atrociously guilty. Just and righteous laws have been eu acted to prevent convicted felons even from inequitable decisions. The bene fit of these laws has been your claim and privilege. Weary days have been consumed in this unwelcome duty of finding you beyond the mercy of man, and now it is incumbent upon me to raske this finding fearfully exacting. Before I pronounce the dread sentence, let me urge your most serious attention to the awful fate that awaits you, and for what crim<‘ ? In the dead of night, when innocence sleeps and none but the plotter of evil seeks work, you entered a harmless household and sent an un suspecting soul swiftly to the judg ment, applying the torch to cover the horrid deed. You are soon to stau i before an offended Deity, with stains of blood so deep that none but Al mighty God can wash them out. Let your time be improved in recenciliation with that Being you have so desper ately mocked ! ’ “Au awful stillness shut down upon that crowded room. Yet upon the face of the prisoner was a villainous sneer, and struggling in bis eyes were the blaekest passions I ever saw flashed upon man. His teeth were firmly set and his hands gripped the rails so hard that his very nails were dark with his base blood. “ ‘ But the sentence ! “ ‘ You, Phillip Wing, will be taken to the prison, and on Friday, the seventh day of September, between the hours of eight and twelve, will be hung by the neck until you are dead, and may God have mercy on your soul !’ “‘And may He condemn yours!’ screamed the wretch, pointing his fin ger directly at the judge. ‘ Ay, yours, Frank Lavender ! Do you remember Dick Perry, now. Ha !ha 1 a murderer for a judge!’ “ Through the athletic frame of the judge a violent tremor was discernible. Falling heavily over in his velvet chair, his arm hung listlessly, and his face grew black. ‘At last!’ he grasped, while a purple stream gushed from nos tril and mouth. “ ‘ Gone first!’ again yelled the pris oner, still standing with outstretched hand and a demon’s grin upon his livid features. ‘ And dead first. Ha !ha !’ “Beside the dead judge there was another carried from that room insensi ble. It’was the son, the inheritor of the judge’s wealth and of Mangrove Hall!” Shadows were creeping down Anem one Vale as my friend finished the man uscript. “I have no doubt R. S. is the uncle of the weird sisters of the Redwood mansion,” he added. There is a dilap idated headstone in St. John’s church yard bearing|thiß inscription : “Rich ard Stepley, obit October 10, 1791, while recruiting his health at St. Thom as, West Indies, so tat thirty-eight years.” The Shepherd’s Crook. You have seen pictures of shepherds with the proverbial crook in their hands. I didn’t think a party could be a shep herd without this crook any more than a man could be a leader of an orchestra w thout a pair of pants. I was glad that the first man whom I saw tending sheep carried one of these crooks. T didn’t know what a crook was for, but always believed it was a badge of the occupation, whose origin I could not fathom, handed down from century to century since the time when sheep were invented. Imagine my genuine disgust when I saw this shepherd use the sacred crook to capture the straying animals by catching hold of one of their hind legs and tripping them up. The awful truth came upon me like a flash, and I sat down heavily, a broken-hearted man. I had thought it a beautiful emblem, and it proves to be a hind leg snatcher. Thus floated the wind from another sweet vision of youth. I must have more salary, or I will sink into an early grave, I fear .—Danbury News. “Saratoga” at a Discount. The recent consultations of railroad magnates has resulted in a war on that class of trunks which look like kennels for Newfoundland dogs. In other words, a “Saratoga” trunk must be filled with nothing much more weighty than gas if it escapes assessment. It has been ordered that on ahd after the first of November all baggage over one hundred pounds in weight must be paid for at the rate of fifteen per cent, of first-class passenger fare for the dis tance traveled. In short, the railroad companies do not propose to do a gene ral moving business without some slight compensation. It has become fashion able for persons to leave but very little at home when they travel; but, under the new rule, there will probably be a change in the fashion so far as huge piles of baggage upon a single ticket is concerned. I?i God Trust. ENGLISH GIRLS. ilow They Compare with the lireek Mai ileus. Canon Kingsley’s book on “ Health and Elucation” is out. Its views and statements bear mainly on the training if girls, and are likely to bo read with interest. Mr. Kingsley acknowledges that there is in England what he calls a period of exhaustion —a falling-off in healtn and vigor, for which he seeks the causes. He finds them first in the wars which raged from 1739 till 1815, and which carried off “the stoutest, ablest, healthiest young men, each of whom represented, alas ! a maiden left unmar ried at hom *, or married, in default, to aie s able man. The strongest V7eut to the war; each who fell left a w t ak lier man to continue the race ; while of those who did not fall, too many re turned with tainted and weakened con stitutions to injure, it may be, genera tions yet unborn.” The second and third causes of the evil are the unwhole some lives that people live, in bad air, with insufficient exercise ; and the pro gress of civilization and science which alive the class that used to die keeps them alive in their weikuess— “ preserves them to produce in time a still less powerful progeny.” Mr. Kingsley believes that not among invalids only but in a great majority of cases in all classes, the children are not equal to their parents; and that this de grading process goes on most surely and most rapidly in the large towns, an i in proportion to the antiquity of these towns, and the time during which the de grading influences have been at work. The first step toward the cure of the increasing evil is, he thinks, to establish public schools of health, where every girl, boy, woman and man shall be taught physiological laws, how to take care of himself and guard against the dangers which press upon him ; and, where, too, a knowledge of drainage, of the value of pure water and air, shall be given to all young men and women. In these schools the sexes shall be separated and the girls taught by a thoroughly edu cated and practical woman, the boys by a man. He maintains, too, and thinks he finds his proof in the history of Rome, Alexandria, Byzantium and Paris, that the mental work done by clever people without health is not good or trustworthy work. The type of brain that belongs to a week, scrofu lous, stunted body “ may be very active, very quick at catching at new and grand ideas; but it will be irritable, spas modic, hysterical. It will be apt to mistake capacity of talk for capacity of action, excitement for earnestness, viru lence for force, and, too often, cruelty for justice.” With reference to the health aud hard iness of our ancestors, Mr. Kingsley reiterates that only the strong aud ac tive lived. Population increased very slowly in the olden time ; and the de vastation by epidemics was terrible. The average of human life in England has increased 25 per cent, since the reign of George 1., owing to the more rational and cleanly habits of life. So it seems that life is saved by civilization and science, but saved in a miserable condition ; and now the study of polit ical economists and philanthropists is to improve that condition. Besides the plan of health schools, Mr. Kiugsley proposes some improvements in the English methods of teaohing children. He says they are kept too still and too silent; they need to move about a great deal, to shout, sing and laugh loud, and every teacher who enforces silence commits an offense against reason, as well as against her or his pupils. Of course there is vehement denunciation of the usual dress of women, and of the drunkenness of both sexes, which they owe to “ this present barbarism and an archy of covetousness, miscalled mo dern civilization.” Ball-playing is es pecially recommended for girls, and the account of the game as played by Greek girls, with th* accompaniment of song, sounds like tl e r< port of a modern kin dergarten. Sea bathing does not meet with like approval, aud the picture given of it is not. attractive. In com paring the modern English girl, whom lie calls Nausicaa, with his favorite Greek maiden, Mr. Kingsley says : “She goes to the sea-side, not to wash the clothes in fresh-water, but her self in salt—the very salt-water, laden with decaying organisms, from which, though not polluted farther by a dozen sewers,) Ulyses had to cleanse himself, anointing, too, with oil, ere he was fit to appear in the company of Nausicaa of Greece. She dirties herself with dirty salt water, and probably chills and tires herself by walking thither and back, and staying in too long, and then flaunts on tbe pier bedizened in gar ments which for monstrosity of form and disharmony of colors would have set that Greek Nausicaa’s teeth on edge, or those of any average Hindoo woman now. It is not the old for whom wise men are sad, but for you. Where is your vitality, your enjoyment of super fluous life and power ? Why can you not even dance and sing, till now and then, at night, perhaps, n’hen you ought to be safe in bed ? Poor Nausicaa —old, some men think before you h ve ever been young.” The reader must remember that all this is written, not by a critic and sati rist of the follies of American girls, but by an English clergyman about the girls of England, who are held up in other countries as models of simplicity, freshness, good sense and health. Mr. Kingsley gives at length his reasonsjtor advising out-of-door games, and a train ing in natural science for young women; and he seems to think, if his advice is largely followed, that at least one Chris tian nation may approach his idolized Greeks, in the strength, beauty, grace, courage, intellect, purity and charac ter, which make that pagan people the greatest and best the world bas ever seen; for if we read Mr. Kingsley rightly, the ancient Greeks are the high est type of humanity, and Christian na tions have been drifting farther and far ther from this type into weakness and sin. —An old soldier in Sicily gave his wife a silk dress. His wife died and was buried in the dress. Some weeks after the old soldier saw this dress on a woman in the country, and, making in quiry, was told that she had purchased it from the Capuchin monks, who had the custody of the village oemetery. He reported the case to the police, who investigated and made the discovery that a regular trade was carried on in (fleets taken from dead bodies. There was even a trade ia hair. Easy Times of the Modoc Prisoners in Kansas. A lady correspondent of tbe Louis ville Courier-Journal, who paid a visit to the Modocs in Kansas, writes ; Lizzie, Capt. Jack’s widow, had quite a nice little tent, and she did not look more disconsolate than some “pale iace” widows of a year’s standing. * She had washed the pajnt. off her face. Do you kuow their way of wearing mourn ing is to print their face black ? They paint the entire face, or one-half, or the cheeks, or the tip of the nose, according as they feel more or less inconsolable. Schonehin’s widow, Mr. Jones said, had never washed the paint off her face; we saw her, aod she was by no means prepossessing in appearance. Every now and then Lizzie will daub her whole face up with black paint and keep it on for weeks. She was rather pretty for an Indian, and verj young looking. She is Mrs. Jack No. 2. Mr*. Jack No. lis old and ugly, and she takes care of Miss Jack (who is about eight or ten and her own child). She and Lizzie are quite friendly; they “accept the situation.” We saw Steamboat Frank’s mother. She is a hundred, the agenfcj said ; but Frank said, “ She strong, much good for work and, indeed, she did trot up and down the hill, carrying a bucket of water ia each hand, as lively as any one of them. After a while we all went up to the Modoc camp and played “ Inquisitive Jack” generally. Mrs. Y. and I went over to Lizzie’s tent. Mrs. Y. had promised to buy a basket of her. We asked some of them where it was. and Scar-faced Charley volunteered to guide us. He is well named, from a scar on his cheek that looks like the stroke of a hatchet on his cheek-bone. There were three women in Lizzie’s tent, and Mrs. Y. and I underwent a most minute scru tiny as to our dress. They decided in favor of her shoes on account of the buttons. She had on a scarlet shawl with black, green and gold itripes in it, and I wore my Roman scarf. They inspected both, and finally Lizzie patted Mrs. Y.’s saying: “Nice, nice,” and then mine, pronouncing it “much nice, nice,” aßd then “the three black crows” nodded their heads in assent, as gravely as a judge. Th y were immensely amused at my cropped head, and made lots of fun of it, all through the camp. They had a general shooting of nickels up here. At last a gentleman offered a pound of tobacco to the best long shot, but Miss L. and I did not see the result of this match, as Bogus Charley and Shacknasty Jim wanted us to play cro quet with them, (A year ago it would have sounded singular to speak of playing croquet with the Modocs, wouldn’t it ?) Tbe grounds were in the agency yard, just by the camp, and Mr. Jones es corted us up, aud introduced us to his wife and mother. Miss -and Jim played together against Charley and me, and we had a funny game. Tbe Indians are splendid on long shots, and played remarkably well, too. You would have laughed to see Mrs. Young and Bogus Charley’s wife com paring babies. Mrs. Young’s baby was five months old and the squaw’s six, but the Indian baby was nearly twice the size of the other ; it was the fattest child I ever saw, and had the “ cutest” little hands and feet. Charley seemed very proud of it, and quite fond of his wife and children; says “his wife can cook much nice ;” then, pointing round his tent, said : “ See, my wife have things nice, put out of way, see in box, not on ground.” Hooka Jim asked me if I could read. (They all give R the sound of L ) When I asked him if he could, he said “little,” and I opened the book at the second chapter of Mathew, and he read nearly a page very correctly indeed. I did not think he miscalled a smg’e word ; but he read slowly, like a little child. How Little it Costs to Take an Ocean Voyage. A remarkable instance of the extent to which competition may be carried may be found in the wonderfully re duced rates of transatlantic passage at the present times. A steerage passage ’o Europe may be obtained as low as $lO, while the average prices are from sl2 to $125 dollars. During the past summer many Irish and English emi grants have gone back to their native land to visit friends and relatives, and they are now beginning to return—7oo having arrived at Castle Garden one day last month. The cheapnecs of the fare renders the European trip really little more than a pleasure excursion. The food consists of boiled beef and pork, salt fish, hot bread, crackers, rice and barley soup, potatoes, hard ship’s biscuit, porridge, molasses, and a poor grade of coffee. The passengers have to provide their own plates and table CHt lery. They also provide their own beds and blankets. A “kit” consists of a set of tin dishes, and a straw bed can be bought of venders on the wharfs for from $2.50 to $3. These, especially the beds, are usually thrown away at the end of the voyage. Water has to be obtained on deck, and it is generally much less plentiful than food. There are generally a number of musical in struments and many musicians. On the voyage they amuse themselves with music, songs and dancing. Every day those who are able to do so are required to go on deck to get the fresh air. Now, that this era of cheap fares to Europe has been inaugurated in one portion of the ship, it is morally cer tain that, sooner or later, it must come in the other. To be sure it does not cost so much to carry steerage as it does to carry cabin passengers ; but, w.th con tinually increasing competition, it is very certain that reduction must come in the higher class of fares, and the profits of steamship companies be great ly cut down. The man who, twenty ago, would have spoken of going to Europe for $lO would have been hooted at. That has come to pass, and it can not be long, with the fierce rivalry now waging, that even greater wonders may be looked for. —A dirge by the band is rather pleas ant at a funeial—that is to say, if the funeral is that of some other fellow, Payable in Advance. NUMBER 41. DIED FOR LOVE. An £:“UsU CJlrl'a All-absorbing I’aislon and Untimely End. A very strange story was told me the other day. In a town not far from London there lived a young lady who was handsome, tolerably wealthy, and more than usually well educated/ Her father was an invalid ; her mother was an insipid, cold and heartless woman. Two years ago a physician of London was called to attend the father : in this way the young lady saw him. He paid no attention to her—his mind was en grossed with his professional duties. A few weeks ago this doctor, after pay ing a visit to his patient, was somewhat surprised by being asked by the young lady to give her the favor of a private interview. She took him into a draw ing room and led him to the further end of the apartment. “Doctor,” said she, “I suppose that gentlemen of your profession are accustomed to receive strange confidences. I have a confession to make to you.” He supposed that the impending confession had some thing to do with the state of her own health, or with that of her father, and he begged her to proceed. “ You will, however, be scarcely prepared for what I am about to say,” she continued. “ But I wish you to hear it. It is now just two years since I first saw you. You have scarcely exchanged a word with me, but I have learned much about you. lam not miataken in be lieving that you are unmarried.” “No,” he said, “I am not married.” “And your affections are not en gaged ? ” “ You scaroely have the right to ask that,” said he. “Well, then,” she replied, “I will not ask it, but I must make to you my confession. I love you with all my heart. I wish you to marry me. I loved you from the first moment I saw you. I said to myseif, I will wait for two years—if he then speaks to me I will know what to say. You have not spoken ; and now I speak. I say I love you with all my heart; you are neces sary for me ; will you marry me ? ” The doctor, who although not a very young man, was twice the age of the young lady, recovering a little from his surprise, tried to turn the matter off as a joke; but the young lady was very se rious. “No,” said she, “ I am in very sober earnest. I know all that you may say or think as to the indelicacy of mv pro posal, but I cannot help it. 1 ask you ouce more, can you love me, and will you marry me ? ” “ In sober earnest, then,” he replied, “ I cannot marry you ! ” “Then I shall die,” said she, very calmly and left the room. The doctor had heard people say be fore this that they should die, and he left the house without attaching much importance to the prophecy, although wondering greatly at the other portion of this interview. A few days after the young lady was found dead in her bed. Two letters laid upon her dressing-table. One was addressed to her family solicitor. It re called to his mind a promise he had made her. She had gone to see him, and had asked him to make out for her a paper transferring the whole of her property to a person whose name she would not then give him. He was to prepare the necessary paper and send it to her to fill up the blanks and to sign. She had done this, and she now inclosed the papers, filled up and signed. Every penny of her property was given to the doctor, and the solicitor was instructed to make the tranfer to him, 'to ask no questions and to take no" receipt. The other letter was to the doctor. “ I told you I should die,” said she, “ and when you receive this I shall be dead. For ten days I have taken no food nor no drink ; but that, does not kill me, and now I have taken poison. I have no reproach to make to you, but I could not live without ycur love. When I am dead, look at my heart. You will see your name there. I have two requests to make of you. Go to my solicitor and take what he has for you, and then go off on a holiday to Italy ior a few months. The other re quest is that you never ask where I am buried, and never come to my grave.” There was a post mortem examina tion made of the young lady’s body. On her breast, over her heart, deeply imprinted in the flesh, were the initials of tlir doctor’s name. The characters seemed to have been made there two or three years before. They were proba bly imprint *d by her own hand on the day when she first saw him.— London Letter. Dry, Indeed! An honest old farmer from the country gave his recollections of the hot spell as follows : “It was so dry we couldn’t spare water to put in our whisky. The grass was so dry that every time the wind blew it flew around like so much ashes. There wasn’t a tear shed at a funeral for a month. The sun dried up all the cattle, and burned off the hair till they looked like Mexican dogs, and the sheep all looked like poodle pup pies, they shrank up so. We had to soak all our hogs to make them hold swill, and if any Cattle were killed in the morning they’d be dried beef at dark. The woods dried up so that the farmers chopped seasoned timber all through August, and there ain’t a match through all the country—in fact, no wedding since the widow Glenn married old Baker three months ago. What few grasshoppers are left are all skin and legs, and I didn’t hear a tea kettle sing for six weeks. We eat our potatoes baked, they being all ready, and we couldn’t spare water to boil ’em. All around the red-headed girls were afraid to stir out of the house in day light. Why, we had to haul water all summer to keep the ferry running, and— say, it’s'getting dry ; let’s take suthin’.” —The city of New York, at least so far as its municipal debt is concerned, is worthy to take rank with the very first cities in the world. The statement of the comptroller, just published, shows that on the 30th of September the debt amounted to $153,726,092, which is an increase of about $22,500,000 since the beginning of the year. There are, how ever, to the credit of the sinking fund, securities valued at $26,829,732, leaving the net debt on September 30, at $126,- 896,360. EASTMAN TIMES. KATES OP ADVERTISING: space. In. 3m. IS m. 13 m. One square $ 4 01) $ 7 00 $ 1000 $ 15 00 Two squares 625 12 00 18 00 25 00 Four squares 9 75! 19 00| 28 00 82 00 One-fourth col U 60j 22 50; 34(H) 40 00 One-half col 20 ooj 82 :>u > 80 00 One c01umn..... ...1 35 nui 1.0 i ; 130 00 Advertisements inserted at the rate of $1.50 per square for the first insertion, and 75 cents for each subsequent one. Ten hues or less constitute a square. Professional cards, $15.00 ppr annum; tor alt months, SIO.OO, in advance. FACTS AND FANCIES. —“Go to grass” is swearing when used in New Hampshire. At least they are churching a deacon down there for using the expression. —A Russian proverb says: “Before going to war, pray once; before going to sea, pray twice ; before getting mar ried, pray three times.” —lf yon are going to Montana put a few apples in your coat-tail pockets. They will sell for forty cents apiece when you get there. —A lady correspondent of a western journal thinks there ought to be a stat ute of limitation against the reappear ance of long-lost husbands. —Thirty-five thousand lowans over ten years of age can neither read nor write, and the rest of the population read and write to little purpo e. —A Belgian has Mar ted an egg farm near Marietta, Ga. He has eight hun dred hens and fifty cocks. The bus iness now yields 27,000 eggs and 2,120 chickens per annum. —“ Is that nankeen?” asked the great Mencius as he carelessly examined the robe that enfolded the bosom of the fair Yau Sing. “ No,” replied the mas ter calmly, “that’s Pekin.” —ln October the affectionate husband weeps to see his wife skip about the house florisbing a duster, and to hear her shriek, in accents wild, “ Kill him ! There’s another moth miller !” —A strong-armed American tooth-ex tractor has just opened his tool chest in Rome. Persons who have seen him go through the m tions think that he is destined to make “Rome howl.” —Now is the proper season of the year to get up donations for your min ister, and carry him a few pounds of dried apples, a bushel of potatoes and three yards of cotton, and damage his house to the extent of fifty dollars. —lt is stated that the Lutheran church is the largest Protestant body in the world, having a membership of 4,- 000,000, distributed among all languages and nationalities. In this country the church numbers 600,000 communicants. —No man can spin around on the re volving seat of a three-legged stool so proudly, and at the sa . e time carry a pen full of ink in such close proximity to his eye without blinking, as the newly-appointed secretary of a life in surance company. —“Do you know why you are like the third term?” said Susan Jane to her brother, who lingered to talk with her Adolphus after the old folks had retired. “No, I don’t.” “ Well,” re plied his sacharine sister, “it’s because you’re one too many.” —lt is stated that an exceptionally large group of spots is now visible on the surface of the sun. They may be perceived with smoked glass without the aid of a telescope. According to W. F. Denning, of Bristol, England, the spots cover an area of nearly 78,000 miles. —A teacher, questioning little boys about the graduation in the scale of be ing, asked: “What comes next to man?” whereupon a little shaver, who was evi dently smartiug un ler a sense of pre vious defeat, immediately di tanced all competitors by promptly slioutiDg “His shirt, ma’am !” —An aged backwoodsman was re proved by the clergyman for allowing his sons to go bunting on the Sabbath. “ You ought 1o bring up your children in the fear of the Lord,” said the minis ter. “ Fear of the Lord ?” said the old man. “’Sjiss what I’ve done. Don’t one o’ them boys and tre g’wout doors Sunday ’thout a double-barrel gun.” —We turn to the right on the street, rather than to the left, as is the English rule. Our custom leaves the two dri vers on the outside, where they cannot well Bee whether their vehicles will col lide or not, whereas under the Euglish rule the iwo drivers come together on the inside so they can see the danger of a collision. —A Richmond tobacco house lately had returned to them by their agents in England two hogsheads of tobacco, which was pronounced by the govern ment analyzers as being too sweet for consumption under the law governing the manufacture and sale of tobacco in that country, it containing, according to analysis, 12j per cent, of sugar. —“I shall insist upon a quiet and very unostentatious wedding,” said Miss Wriggle to her future mother-in law. “Ma has ordered 1,500 cards for the church and one-half as many for our reception at Delmonico’s. Tiffany’s man will see that the presents are ar ranged where all can see them, and I think Bernstein’s is the best orchestra we can hire. I shall wear white silk and my six bridesmaids white tulle. Pa says a bishop and two clergymen will be ample to perform the ceremony, and—” She paused, for the mother in-law elect had left the room to search for her son. There is a rumor that an engagement is “off.” A Romance of Two Continents. Fifty years ago a young English offi cer named Hendricks was traveling with his sister in Italy where he met, wooed, won and ran off with the charming daughter of a rich and proud nobleman. Even as the father of DesdemoDa dis owned her, so the Italian count swore never again to acknowledge his recreant daughter. Nothing disturbed thereat, she accompanied her husband to the British dominions in North America, thence to New York, where, after giving birth to a daughter, she died. Hen dricks, having thus lost his wife, gave himself up to dissipation, but was so mindful of his motherless infant as to marry a German woman who had taken a fancy to the child. The girl grew to maidenhood, receiving little education, for the family was poor, and when still young was married at incennes, In diana, to an Ohio river mate named Hiram Titus. They lived happily enough until Titus died, when she re moved to Louisville, where she led if not a dissolute still not a virtuous life. Now the count, her grandfather, has yielded to Heaven his vital trust, and as sole lineal heir she has gone to Italy to claim his title and wealth. The fortune which thus falls to her is variously esti i mated/at from $200,000 to SBOO,OOO.