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VOLUME VI.
PEOPLE WILL TALK.
You may get through the world, but it will be
very tdow,
If you listen to all that is said as you go ;
You’ll be worried and fretted and kept in a
stew,
For meddlesome people will have something
to do,
For people will talk.
If quiet and modest, you’ll have it presumed,
That your humble position is only assumed :
You’re a wolf in sheep’s clothing, or else you
area fool;
Don’t get excited, keep perfectly cool,
For people will talk.
And then if you shew the least boldness of
heart,
Or a slight inclination to take your own part,
They will call you an upstart, conceited and
vain,
But keep straight ahead, don’t stop to explain,
For people will talk.
If threadbare your coat, or old-iashioned your
hat,
Soire will surely take notice of that,
And hint very strong that you can’t pay your
way,
But don’t excited, whatever they say,
For people will talk.
If you dress in tho fashion, don’t think to es
cape,
They criticise then in a different shape :
You’io ahead of your means, or your tailor’s
unpaid ;
But mind your own business, there's naught
to be made,
For people will talk.
Now my friend, the best way is to do as you
please,
Then your mind, if you have one, will sure
be at ease.
Of course you will meet with all sorts of abuse
But don’t think to stop them, it’s not any use,
For people will talk.
GOGH NIGHT.
BY INZE CLYDE.
’Tis a simple word, in careless glee,
Which echoes it so soft ;
But it bears a world of love to me,
In its music, sad and soft.
For I hear it first when a mother’s tongue
Sang but of the morrow bright,
And I hear it yet, as her accents sung,
“Good-night, my love, good-night.”
And it lingers still, as her summer eye
Looked love in its dying light ;
May the wing of the tempest pass you by,
“My orphan child, to-night.”
’Tis tho key to a thousand gushings warm.
To a thousand fancies bright;
A potent spell and watching charm
Are held in a soft good-night.
Tis a merry word when the gay quadrille
And the festive group disband,
For it singeth then with hearty will
And a grasp of the cordial hand.
Fis a magic word in the whispered tone
Of one who is loth to part;
It may fall on the list’ning ear alone,
But it viLrates in the heart.
MISCELLANY.
JUSTICE AT LAST.
BY L. H. WELLS.
Justice, like truth, is eternal, and as
immovable as the rocks that form the
kaseol the mountains. Crush it to atoms
ai ‘d reduce it to ashes, and the winds
gather it up and propagate it from
tue fragments. Its existence is coeval
W| Ui liberty. The contrivance of man
f° r a time pervert justice, but it will
nhvays triumph, and come forth clad
ln a panoply of steel.
ihe sun had almost disappeared,
leaving here and there a few golden
huces —the residue of former grand*
CUr * Ihe miner's work was finished for
the day, and the miners had gathered
111 a crowd awaiting the arrival of the
whose coming to the dis
trict was like a shower of sunbeams
after gloomy darkness.
Hie mining district here referred to
Was situated ou the Pacific coast, where
luen Baade fortunes in the day and lost
1 ' fSSSKS *
Jauihmw fpttwi
them at night. Every class was here
represented— the ignorant and the ed
ucated, the refined and the brutal—all
on common level.
As the postman rode up he handed
the miners several packages of letters,
and one to Henry the most
successful miner in the district. Mr.
Stantion immediately repaired to his
cabin door and opened the package—
letters from the old home, from his
father and Eugene Holmes, his be
trothed.
Hut here let us explain Henry Stan
ton's presence in this miniug district.
He was formerly of Cincinnati, Ohio,
where his father still resided, wealthy
and well respected. A disgrace had
fallen on Henry which caused him to
leave his home to seek his fortune
away from the scene of his humilia
tions. He has been a cashier in the
banking-house of a well known firm in
Cincinnati, and vvtjs trusted by this firm
with implicit confidence, frequently
being ieft in charge of the bank for
months. He was a skillful manager
and perfectly honest m all his operas
tions. At one of the monthly exami
nations by the trustees on the condi
tion of the bank, he was found de
faulter to the amount of ten thousand
dollars. The trustees considered this
some mistake in the cashier's account,
and gave him a week to readjust the
error. Henry worked hard to make
the correction but it was impossible
for him to discover where the mistake
was. The evidence was clear against
him, and he was placed under arrest.
His fall was a great shock to all who.
knew him. His father paid the sum
to which he defaulte 1, believing, how
ever, that his son was guilty. He was
shunned by his former friends, who
basked iu lire sunshine of Iris prosper
ty, and when that sunshine failed, like
summer birds they sought other climes.
The beautiful young lady to whom he
was eugaged to be married within a
few weeks was forbidden to speak to
him, although iu her heart she believed
he was innocent of the crime of which
the evidence against him showed him
to be guilty. As soon as he gained
his liberty he secured a secret inter
view with Eugene, and there denied
his guilt and declared one day lie
would be known as an innocent and
honest man. They both pledged to
remain faithful to each other till they
should meet again, They parted, Hen
ry to biave the dangers of the far off
West. Leaving behind him all that
was near and dear, Henry started west
with no particular purpose or object in
view ; but at length drifted with the
tide of humanity into a noted mining
and by dint of hard work and
good fortune he accumulated an im*
mense sum of money and out of this
fortune he paid bis father the SIO,OOO.
Harry had just received letters from
bis old home, among them one from
his betrothed. She urged him to re
turn and establish himself in bis home,
and live down the disgrace on his name.
The assurance she gave him, and the
clear evidence of her fidelity to him,
shook tho resolution he had formed
never to return home until the stain
on his character was completely re
moved. She urged as he now had the
means he could more effectively prove
his innocence.
Her argument was supplemented by
the fact that Eugene's father had de*
termined that she should wed another,
one who had been installed in Henry's
place as cashier of the bank from which
he had been discharged. This man’s
father, Judge Wilson was president
of ihe bank, and made bis son Frank
assistant cashier uuder Henry Stanton.
Henry often thought that his assistant
had something to do with the error in
his account, but as he had no evidence
he prudently kept silent. Now that
Frank Wilson had not only secured
his position in the bank, but was about
to deprive him of his sweet Eugene,
he hesitated no longer.
On the following day he sold out his
rich mining claims to a company for
SBO,OOO, and this sum, added to the
amount he had prudently saved.while
working in the miue ; made a neat for-
EASTMAN, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, APRIL 25, 1878.
tune of $110;000. He wrote to Eugene
that he would be in Cincinnati three
months from the date of his letter, and
also to his father, inclosing both let
ters to his father.
Settling his business Henry started
home to brave the storm he well knew
awaited his return, but being confident
his innocence would be established af
ter the storm had passed, he did not
hesitate.
Eugene’s father was more determin
ed than ever that she should wed Frank
Wilson. He was deaf to her entreaties
aud the time for the ceremonies was
set about two weeks after the time
when Henry would return.
Ihe news that Henry Stanton, the
defaulter, was returning very rich,
caused quite a flutter in the city. His
friends telegraphed to him that the
bank officials were intending to arrest
him on his return, and Henry Stanton,
undecided what course t© pursue did
not go direct to Cincinnati, Lut went to
Columbus, to consult with a college
friend, who was at the time an able
and influential lawyer. Henry relating
his case soon enlisted the lawyer’s sym
pathies.
‘There’s one thing, Mr. Stanton,’
said Mr. Carpenter, the lawyer ‘that
is essential in this case, that is money
and plenty of it, too.‘
Henry carelessly threw down a check
lor $25,000, and remarked :
‘There's eiiough for present purpo
ses ’
A detective was immediately called,
and iu a few miuutes understood the
situation. Ho asked Mr. Stanton ;
*Who was connected with the bank
when the default was discovered?'
‘Assistant Wilson and an office hoy,'
answered Stanton.
‘How old was the boy ?'
‘About 18 years,.'
‘Can you tell what month and week
the error in your account occurred V
again inquired the detective.
‘The last week in January.’
It was agreed that Mr. Stanton
should return to Cincinnati and be
placed under arrest, aud then bail him
self out. He was then to telegraph to
the detective, who was to repair to
Cincinnati, and, in the guise of a finan
cial reporter, examine the bank books.
According to agreement Mr. Stan
ton took the train for Cincinnati, and
registered his name at one of the pi inn
cipal hotels in the city, and then sent
his card to the bank. He took a news
paper and sat down to await result.
He did not have long to wait, for
within half an hour he was arrested,
waived examination, and his bonds
were put at $5,000, which he deposit
ed and was set free. He sent a dis
patch to the detective, who came on
the midnight train.
On the following morning Mr. Stan
ton was apprised of his son's return.
The old gentleman forgot his belief
in Henry's guilt, and rushed out to
find him.
Henry was consulting with the de
tective, who had just made an exumi**
nation of the bank accounts, when bis
father came. They met each other
cordially, and Henry told his father
he had come back to prove his inuo
cence, and related his plans. His fa
ther hoped for the best, but seemed
doubtful. Mr. Stanton was convinced
of nis son's innocence and offered him
money to any amount, which he de
clined; and he also refused to return
home tiil his innocence was fully es
tablished, and preferred remaining at
the hotel. He frequently met the de
fective, each occasion in different dis
guise, but all he could get out of him
was that he had a hard case, but
hoped to make something out before
his trial.
Henry had not seen Eugene since
his return, but had received her words
of encouragement and hope. She was
to be married to Frank Willson on the
same day in which the trial was to
take place, and Henry offered the de
tective SI,OOO to delay the marriage
until after the trial, but he considered
this impossible.
Henry Stanton seemed convinced
that his case was hopeless, and was
way. That night my T that
tempted to give up in despair. At
length the day of his trial came and
the court room was filled to its utmost
capacity.
In another house Eugene stood me
chanically obeying the directions o(
her dressing-maids, her young heart
dumb with anguish, face bloodless aud
lips parted as if to cry out in the ago
ny ot her soul: ‘Will no one save me?’
\es, there is one to save—‘Justice at
last!'
Every voice was hushed when Hen
ry Stanton entered the plea of ‘Not
Guilty.’
The testimony on the part of the
prosecution was strong for his convic
tion, while the defendant introduced
but few witnesses, and these only tes
tified to his good character. Convic
tion seemed inevitable.
Counsel for defendant demanded
that the office boy and the books of
the bank should be brought into the
court room. An officer was dispatched
for, and brought them in. Mr. Car
penter took the books, turned to the
cashier’s account in the last week in
January, three years previous; asked
the boy where he was on the morning
of such a date; boy answered in the
bank with Assistant Cashier Willson;
counsel again asked what the assist
ant was doiug; boy said assistant was
looking through the accounts of Henry
Stanton of the day before.
Mr. Carpenter passed over to the
jury and handed them the open bank
books, and told them to examine a
certain entry in each book, at the
same time handing them a powerful
magnifying glass. Great excitement
prevailed among the jurors. Mr. Car
penter made a poweriul speech in Hen
ry's favor, and ended by charging
•Frank Willson wiih changing Stan
ton's accounts.
The jury brought a verdict of not
guilty. An officer with a warrant was
dispatched for Willson. Henry was
surrounded by friends who had return
ed to again enjoy the sunlight of his
returning prosperity.
Another scene--a bride at the altar;
responses had been given and the
clergyman was about to pronounce
the twain one; an officer steps quickly
forward, places a pair of handcuff’s on
Frank Willson’s wrists, and Eugene
is saved by ‘Justice at last!’
In conclusion we may add that
Henry Stanton was satisfied with the
result of his trial, as it not only estab
lished his innocence, but showed him
the value and fidelity of that sweet
little woman whom he now calls by
the endearing title of wife.— [Chicago
Ledger.
Wliy a Child Loves Sugar.
Tbs craving of children for sweets
is well known to be one of the most
imperious of their appetites. It lias
reference probably to that ceaseless
activity which especially characterizes
the age of childhood. It may be
sugar performs, in their systems, the
part enacted by fatty substance in the
bodies of adults. As it undergoes
oxidation, is burnt up, and circulated
with the blood—it may be the source
of the power which enables them to
keep in motion from morning to night.
Besides this,it is known that it renders
easier and more perfect the digestion
of the albuminous food upon which
growth depends. In respect to these
offices, it is, therefore, nearly essential
to their well being. And yet, how
strong, for generation, has been the
prejudices against sugar! Under what
difficulties, and in the face of what
discouragements and protests, have
our children obtained the luxuiw!
A physician in Minneapolis urges
the use of Peruvian bark (tincture oi
cinchona) as a cure for a morbid ap
petite for strong drink. Take one tea
spoonful every two hours during the
time the ‘spree’ is corning on, or work
ing off. ‘ln a few days,’ he writes,
‘the antiperiodic properties of the cin
chona begin to tell, and he loses not
only all taste for the tincture, but also
foi everything in the way of alcohol.'
This is a pretty tough story; still it is
worth a drunkard's trial.
’oil bej
United Prayer.
For ten long years Mrs. H. prayed
for her infidel husband. She knew
that the Lord had heard, and that ‘He
is faithful in that had promised;' but
as yet the answer did not come. The
thoughts of her kind, indulgent com
panion seemed as far from her as when
in the joy of her new found she
had told him how ‘God so loveth,’ and
asked him to join her in a life of loving
service Yes, the Lord was leading
her gently, that she might know and
do His will.
One evening at the church prayer
meeting, her heart was more than usu
ally burdened, and near the close of
the service she rose timidly and said :
‘For many years, dear fiieuds, I have
longed to ask you to help me pray. It
is not customary with us for ladies to
speak out in the meeting, and I have
feared to be intrusive, but I can for
bear no longer. Will you pray for my
husband ?’
Every heart was touched. A good
brother immediately led in prayer, and
another took up the petition. Mr. 11.
was well known and much loved in
the community, and they poured out
their hearts before the Lord, pleading
‘as one pleadeth for a friend.' Last of
all a colored brother led in prayer, and
in humble confidence seemed to enter
into the very presence of Jehovah.
Just after Mrs. 11. had made her re
quest, her husband, as, was his cus
tom, came to the church to accompany
her home. Finding that the service
had not closed, he entered, unobserved
and took a seat near the door.
‘Tell me, wife,' said he, as they were
leaving the vestibule, ‘who was the
gentleman they were praying for just
now ?*
Tie is the husband of one of the
sisters of the church,' replied Mrs. H.
‘Wife,’ he said again, as they ascend
ed the steps at home, ‘who was it they
were praying for V
The husband of one of the sisters,
Charles/
"Well wife, that man will certainly
be converted; I have never heard such
a prayer before/ he replied.
Again as they were preparing for
the night, he remarked :
‘Those were wonderful prayers wife
—can tell me the gentlemai/s
name ?‘
‘He was the husband of one of the
ladies present/ replied Mrs. 11., and
she retired to her closet for prayer and
praise.
Vt midnight she heard her busband‘s
voice again :
‘Wife, wife, God heard those prayers
—I cannot sleep, wife. Will you pray
for me ? Can the Lord show mercy
to me, wife V
There was joy in the presence of the
angels that night. When the faithful
pastor called the next morning he
found Mr. H. ‘praising and blessing
God/
Blessed words of Jesus, ‘when two
of you shall agree, touching anything
that ye shall ask, it shall be done of
my Father/
Beginning of the Day.
We all know how hard it is to go
on pleasantly if we have made a bad
beginning. Breakfast time gives the
turn to the whole day. If father is
stern and mother is cross; if the big
brother gives a short answer, the lit'-
tie children catch the feeling and the
infection; one discordant note sets the
whole household choir jarring; one
cross face repeats itself in many vari
ations; one angry word challenges an
other.
Let us be careful to begin right iu
the morning. Are we careful to pray?
Do we open the day with a petition
to the Mighty One who guards us in
life and death? Sunny faces at the
breakfast table and cheerful good
morning to each other, are blessed
missionaries; they start everything
right, and all housekeepers know the
value of that. Others who are not
housekeepers, know it too, aud bene
dictions follow the man or woman
who goes down the street in the morn
ing witli a bright smile and a word
of cheer for every one he meets on the
way.
‘Good morn fug/ said a compositor
to the head of a flourishing family,
‘have you any daughters who would
make good type setters V ‘ No, but I
have a wife that would make a good
devil/
‘You will observe/ said the host as
he showed a visitor through the house,
‘that we have two halls/ ‘Yes/ said
the guest, he was a book-keeper, ‘I
am glad to see you live on the double
entry plan/
A man who eats fried onions can
make more enemies in a shorter time
than any other human being, with one
exception, and that is he who devours
them raw. We couldi/t help but let
this fact leek out.
‘You must cultivate decision of
character and learn to say ‘No/' said
a father to his son. Soon afterward,
when the father said to the son, ‘Chop
wood/ the boy said ‘No/ w'th an em
phasis that showed a remembrance of
the lesson.
Two card-playing friends were pas-*
sing through a fine forest, when ono
asked the other this audacious ques
tion: ‘Why cannot the proprietor of
this forest fell his own timber?' ‘Be
cause/ was the reply, ‘no one is allowed
to cut when it is his own deal.’
An'honest ignoramus, who had es
caped a great peril by an act of hero
ism, was much complimented for his
bravery. One lady said: ‘I wish I
could have seen your feat/ Where
upon he blushed and stammered, and
finally pointing to his pedal extremi
ties, he said, ‘Well, there they be,
mum/
A physician, who had been annoyed
by numerous questions concerning the
condition of a patient, was stopped,
while on his busy rounds, by a man
with the old question, ‘How's M.?'
‘lll/ was the reply. ‘Does he keep his
bed?’ ‘Of course he and es. You don't
suppose he's fool enough to sell his
bed, because he's ill, do you?’
Lindley Murray, whose grammar is
so curiously incorrect, is said to have
resided for the space of two and twen
ty years in one front parlor, without
once going out, attended upon by a
kindly old maid, enamored of partici
ples and his preterpluperfects, living
chiefly on bulled mutton and turnips,
and solacing himself in the intervals
of conjugating verbs by grinding a
barrel-organ.
They tell a fair story on one of the
best Mississippi pilots. During a dense
tog the steamer took a landing. A
traveler, anxious to go ahead, came
up to the unperturbed manager of the
wheel and asked why the boat stopped.
‘Too much fog; cau't see the river/
ans wered him of the helm. ‘But you
can see the stars overhead/ came back
from him who had paid his fare. ‘Yes/
replied the urbane pilot, ‘but till the
b’iler bu’sts we ain’t going that way/
Passenger went to bed satisfied.
The other day Jimmy, a four-year
old, found one of those bone-rimmed
circles which, I believe, ladies call
eyelets, and while playing iu the gar
den swallowed it The family were
in the house, busily engaged with a
work on entomology, when Jimmy ran
in with mouth wide open and eyeg
distended to their utmost capacity.
His mother caught him by the arm,
and trembling with that deep anxiety
w’hieh only a mother can feel, inquired,
‘What is the mattei? What has hap
pened?’ ‘Water!’ gasped little Jim
my, nearly scared to death. It was
brought him, w T ben, after drinking co
piously, he exclaimed, ‘Oh, mother, I
swallowed a hole/ ‘Swallowed a hole,
Jimmy?' ‘Yes, mother, swallowed a
hole, with a piece of ivory round itl*
no. 17.