Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

VOLUME VI. THU FIOWN BIRD. A JAPANESE SONG. The maple leaves are whirled away; The depth of the great piues are stirred; settles on the sullen day, As in its nest the mountain bird. My wandering feet go up and down, And back and forth from town to town, Through the lone woods and by the sea, To find the bird that fled from me. I followed, and I follow yet; 1 hive forgotten to forget My heart goes back, but I go on, Through summer heat and winter snow. Poor heart! we are no longer one; We are divided by our woe! Go to the nest I built, and call— She may he hiding, after all— The empty nest, if that remains, And leave me in the long, long rains. My sleeves with tears are always wet; I have forgotten to forget. Men know my story, but not me; For such fidelty they say Exists not such a man as ho Exist not in the world to-day! If his light bird has flown the nest, jShe is no worso than all the rest; Constant they are not—only good To bill and coo, and hatch the brood. He has but one thing to regret lie has forgotten to forget. All day I seo the ravens fly; I hear the sea-birds scream all night; The moon goes up and down tbo sky, And the sun comes on ghostly light. Leaves whirl; white flakes about me blow; Are they spring blossoms or the snow'? Only my hair! Good-bye, my heart, The time lias come for us to part! lie still! you will be happy yet, For death remembers to forget.- [Scribner. Mary’s Lamb. Miss Mary had a little lamb Its w'ool was white as snow— And Mary didn’t care a clam Where that young sheep did go. it lollowed her down town one day Into a dry goods store — The clerk he said it “shouldn’t stay,” And kicked it out the door. The lamb wout home both sick and pale, And gavo one awful jerk— It ceased to wag its little tail, And Alary lammed the clerk. MISCELLANY . [W KITTEN FOR THE EASTMAN TIMES.] A STOItV OF REAL LIFE. BY J S. T. In or.e of the eastern counties of the State of Georgia, in the year 1817, there lived a farmer whose name was William Wakefield. From some pe culiaiity in his voice he was better known by the cognomen of “Scream', hig Billy,” or “Old Screaming Billy/’ Being a man of generally correct hab its, ho had married at an early age a woman of some refinement, gentle disposition, and respectable family.— Mis occupation of tilling the soil prov ed remunerative. After two years had passed, the pleasures of his quiet home were enhanced by the advent of a babe. Lydia was the idol in this secluded home, and at her feet were daily laid many offerings from over flowing hearts. But as is often the cas*’, Billy got tired of liis old home, and longed for the fresher lands ot the far west. Having realized a few hun dred dollars from the sale of his farm and stock, lie wended his way to the then attractive lands of Louisiana, lie purchased a domain upon a largo river and erected his cabin and began his new life with flattering prospects.-- the few hundred dollars left to meet possible emergencies proved the be ginning of unexpected troubles in his new home. A peddler who carried his merchandise on his sturdy should ers, made an occasional tour of the neighborhood and little by little ac quired the confidence of Wakefield, and an exact account of his financial standing. His christian-hearted wife, with a woman’s unerring instinct, saw with painful forebodings a pack of cards placed upon the table, and Billy and tiie peddler engaged in a game merely to while away the long winter evenings She cried in her heart for mercy when die saw Winslow, ere ho departed with his wares, give a flask to Billy and take a parting drink with him. We now c >me*to the oft told tale— the career of the unsuspecting man thoroughly duped and ruined by a designing gambler. Wakefield soon became a habitual drunkard. Wins loWj the peddler, furnished much of the drink gratuitously when they were at cards. Sometimes he allowed him to win, thus bating him to final de stiuction. One day when they were playing, A\ akefield met with some suc cess, and being very drunk he staked his entire money, and seeming to grow furious and desperate compelled his wife to bring hirn his land deeds and staked and lost the entire pile. A ter rible fight ensued between him and the peddler, resulting in a serious injury to Wakefield. The sudden loss and ruin ot this little household proved too much for the hitherto heroic little wo man. She was seized with convulsions. In one of these attacks her arm was fractured, and finally from the effects of the injury, required amputation. The depraved husband now habit', ually abandoned his home, poverty and destitution joined to constant sick ness brought his wife to the very verge of the grave. Some years have elapsed since Lydia was born with this unfor tunate family, and she now proves a prop and solace when everything else was gone, Upon a cloudy, unhappy looking day the drunken father was passing his quondam and hear ing the wail of his daughter, turned aside in half awakened curiosity to know the cause. Entering the house bis besotted intellect still had light enough to receive the fact tnat a fond and faithful wife was in the article of death. When she had breathed her last lie laid the body upon a little cy press table in the room, and with the measure of the body in hand started to the village a long way off to get a coffin. Lydia noticed with overwhelm ing sorrow that lie hid a bottle under bis coat as he departed. Lydia spent the long day in her lonely watch at the bedside ol her dead mother, her little soid rising to the demand, as one after another these terrible events were crowded upon her. But when she had looked agaiiTand again down the way her father was expected to return, and lie came she could not longer remain at her post. The old time-worn clock struck four, the shadows began to lengthen themselvos eastward ; Lydia strolled down by the side of the river, hoping to meet her father. But the search was fruitless. Tnc sun was already hiding its golden tints behind the western hills. Lydia turned with a sad heart towards the lmuse. SheJiad gone but a lew steps when she was aroused from her gloomy reverie by a shrill, almost human-like scream. It could not be her father ; no, it was the voice of a ferocious panther, which had scented the corpse and started in search of it. The little girl had heard the terrible note before, and after a second thought started to the house with all possible speed. The panther pursued her. As she crossed the bars in front of the house she felt the hot breath of the animal on her hands.— Bushing into the house she retreated to the corner most remote from the door, beheld the beast infuriated by hunger and the scent of the body, tearing it in pieces, and devouring it with intensest fury. The tallow can dle that she had lighted and placed at her mother's head, according to the simple custom of the country people, was thrown down and ttiu clothing about the body of the corpse set on fire. The flames reached the roof. Terrible as were her surroundings, Lydia con ceived the idea of revenge upon the panther, and remembering the fact that under the bed upon which she was crouching there was a part of a keg of powder, stealthily and quickly left her place, opened the keg and strew ed some of the powder towards the fiirc, climbed up the wall, pushed off a board, escaped to a limb of a tree, and going down the body of the tree, ran for life towards the river. Her feelings may be better imagined than described, when a few hundred yards from the burning house she beard above the roar of the fire and the burst ing of the powder, the terrific cry of the panther in his death struggle.— The noise of the explosion aroused some of the distant settlers, who came and met Lydia and learned the facts that we have narrated. At sunrise on the following morn ing the drunken father was found un der a woodshed at the village, with a few yards of black cambric and a bot tle halt empty by his side. Here little Lydia wept in the over" flow' of her feelings by the side of the drunken father, feeling that his de" bauck represented him a thousand fold worse off than her mother. She was then an angel of light in the bet" ter world, and the father, yet here, but dead in trespasses and sins. A pious old deacon of the Baptist church took Lydia to his home and adopted her into his family, after they had gathered the ashes of her mother's body and given them a formal inter ment. The father recovered from his drunken stupor, but reason had fled. He was a maniac, and as such spent the remainder of his days in a lunatic asylum. Lydia was sent to school, decently clothed, and introduced into the best society in that neighborhood. When she was seventeen years old she found an opportunity to visit Georgia, in company with a family returning to this State. During her visit a well to-do mechanic became enamored with Lydia, and delayed the piessing of his suit till she was on the eve of her de parture to the far west again. He conceived the romantic idea of journeying to the west himself, and falling in with Lydia’s party. That this might appear purely accidental, he started one day sooner than Lydia. At the end of the first day's journey he obtained lodging at a clever-looking in what was then Jones county. On the following morning he paid his bill and went on his way re joicing in anticipation of the arrival of Lydia's party. He delayed much on the route that this happy coincidence might be realized. We little know what is just ahead. He IrAd gone but a few miles, when at a well known tavern on the highway, a sheriff made to hirn the startling an nouncement, “You are my prisoner.” A man had beeu murdered and conl - at the house where he had spent the n'ght, and in making change that morning ho bad received from the band of tire murderer a bill slightly stained with blood. This had escaped his ob servation. John Smith, for that was his name, tilled with horror and de manded a speedy trial. Lux,, the hotel keeper, appeared as a witness against him, in the commitment court, and testified that he saw him. inflict the fatal wound with a knife, and afters wards saw him handle deceased’s mon ey. Smith’s purse was examined, and the bloody bill foiled. He was com mitted. When Lydia and her party passed that way they heard from the lips of the wondering settlers the tale of blood and the conviction of Smith. It seems that the quiet current of Lydia's thoughts had been disturbed. She sought an interview, and there confessed her sympathy for him. lie made the simple request of her that she would not wed another until his fate had been decided—assuring her of his innocence and his strong faith in being eventually cleared. Lydia journeyed westward, and her pious soul sent up many a fervent petition for the incarceratad lover left behind. After weeks of travel the family she traveled with reached the hospitable threshold of the deaeorq and Lydia was once more in the midst of the duties of her adopted homo.— Meanwhile the regular session of the Superior court had convened, and hun dreds of anxious spectators witnessed the trial and sentence of Smith. The testimony was overwhelming, and though there was much sympathy for the noble looking youth,the conclusion was inexorable that he did the deed, and it was just that he should die the death. The 12th of October was the appointed day. The 10th had come. But that mysterious Providence who is ever working justice on earth, sent sickness into the Lux family, lie too fell a victim, and when the grim mon ster faced him, lie sent for the judge and the executioner, and confessed the murder. He implored the judge in his dying breath to release Smith. The innocent man resumed his journey , and just one week from the Friday appointed for his hanging, he stood before the astonished and happy Lydia —told his simple story of love, and received her betrothal. One week later the good old deacon j lined their hands iu holy matrimony. To-day while we write they live in a grand old farmhouse on the banks of the meandering Sabine, aud it stands on the very spot where her mother’s body was burned, and the tragedy enact ed that begins our story. False Swearing. If a man will not tell the truth with out swearing, his oath must be accep ted with many grains of allowance. Nobodg sicears’cept dem as lies, was the definition given by the old woman and one almost feels that it is too near the truth with many. To tell an hon est straight story is one of the highest achievements of life. An oath is a law form, but all men should always tell the truth independent of an oath. EASTMAN, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, JITTY I, 1878. The Reliable Man. Of all the qualities that combine to form a good character, there is not one more important than reliability. Most emphatically is this true of the char acter ot a good business man. The world itself embraces both truth and honesty, aod the reliable man must necessarily be truthful and honest We see so much all an#md us that exhibits the absence of this crowuing quality that we are tempted in our bilious moods to deny its very exis tence. But there are, nevertheless, reliable men to be depended on, to be trusted, in whom you may repose con fidence. whose word is as good as their bond, aud whose promise is a per formance. If any one of you know such a man make him your friend. You can only do so though by assimilating his character. The reliable man is a man of good judgment. He does not jump at con clusions. lie is not a frivolous man. He is thoughtful. lie turns over a subject in his mind and looks at it all around. He is not a partial 01 one sided man. He sees through a thing. He is apt to be a very reticent man.— He does not have to talk a great deal. He is a moderate man, not only in habits of body, but also of mind. He is not a passionate man; if so by nature he has overcome it by grace. He is a sincere man, not a plotter or schemer. What he says may be relied on. He is a trustworthy man. You feel safe with your property or the administra tion of aflairs in his hands. He is a brave man for his conclusions are log ically deduced fioni the sure basis ol truth, and he does not fear to main tain them. lie is a good man, for no one can be thoroughly honest and truthful without being good. Is such a quality attainable? Most assuredly so. It is not born, it is not made.— Character may bo of course then its component parts may be molded to that formation. Outdone by ix Boy. An exchange tells the following sto ry of a boy who showed himself the superior of four men: A lad in Boston rather small for his years, works in an office as errand boy for four gentlemen who do busi ness there. One day the gentlemen were chaffing him about being so small, and said to him: ‘You never will amount to much; you never can do much business; you ate too small ’ The little fellow looked at them. ‘Well,' said he, ‘as small as I am, I can do something which none of you four men can do.' ‘Ah! what is that?' said they. ‘I can keep from swearing!’ said the little fellow. There were some blush es on four manly faces, and there seemed to bo very little anxiety for further information on that point. Ungatlicred Sweets. Evening before last Justice Moses married a high-toned Chinese couple — Ah Suee to Miss All Moy. The cere mony being concluded, some of those present thought to joke Mr. Ah Suee by telling him of the American custom ot kissing the bride. ‘Welly good,’ said the husband of a minute, *s,pose you likee kiss her, you pitch in. Me tell you, she one welly good kisses. John then explained to the bride in Chinese the curious custom. She blushed a little, looked askance at the outside barbarians present and smiled in a moderate and modest way. ‘You no kiss her,' said glancing from one to another. No one responded, though the bride was quite pretty. — The young wife was not pleased. Her nose went up and her diagonal eye brows went down. She took her lord by the sleeve, and as she led him to wards the door, turned about and re marked: ‘Hi yah, you all too muchee dam foolee!' which showed her to be a woman of spirit.— Virginia City (Nev ) Enterprise. Never despond. Keep up your courage, whatever happens. The most perilous hour of a person’s life is when he is tempted to despond. The man who loses his courage loses all ; there is no more hope for him than a dead man, but it matters not how poor he may be, how much deserted by friends, how much lost to the world ; if he only keeps up bis courage, holds up his head, works up wi*b his hands, and w>th unconquerable will deter mines to be and to do what becomes a man, all will be well. Interest. Interest is the worm that gnaws un ceasingly into the vitals ot industry. It outnumbers the grasshoppei s on the plains. It consumes seven-eighths of the products of busy” hands. It brings ruin upon thousands of enterpi ises ev ery year. Nearly every dollar in cir culation is drawing interest from some body, and the little that doe3 not is being withdrawn by evil-doers to give place to that which will. The largest proportion of tilled lands arc infested with interest. Towns, cities, counties, States, and even the natiou, arc all drained by interest. The great mass of busy people, and all the homes that are mortgaged, are victims of this in satiable worm—interest! It is the greatest curse entailed upon labor irf our age and civilization. To get rid of it should exercise the best euergies of every lover of bis race, every patri ot to his country. The vicious schemes through which it fastens itself upon all public enterprises should be opposed. Our industries are nearly strangled, millions of our countrymen arc impov eiislied and dependent, and our very national existence is ondangered by this curse of curses—this scourge of the land—interest. Keep yourself free from its fangs, if you would em joy the products of your own labor and enterprise. Little Danny and His Dead Mother. I've just been down in the parlor to see mama. She's in a long box with flowers on her. I wish sheM coine and bathe my head—it aches so. Nobody oyer makes it feel good but mama.— She knew how it hurt me, and she used to read to me out ot a little book how my bead would get well and not ache any more some day. I wish it was “some day” now. Nobody likes me but mama. That’s cause I've got a sick head. Mama used to take mo in her arms and cry. When I asked her what's the matter she would say, ‘l’m only tired, darling.' I guess aunt Ag nes made her tired, tor when she came and stayed all day mama would take me up in the evening on her lap and cry awful hard. I ain’t had anydinnei to-day. Mama always gave me my dinner, and a little teenty pudding with “I).'’ for Danny on the top. I have little puddings with D’s on the top. I like to sit in my little chair by the fire and eat them. I wish mama wouldn't stay in the long box. I guess aunt Agnes put her there, cause she put all the flower trimmings on and shows her to everybody. There ain't any fire in the grate, but I guess I’ll sit by it and make believe there is.— I’ll get my little dish and spoon and play I've got a pudding with D for Danny on it. But any way I want mama so bad. —New Orleans Picay une. “Only a tress of a woman's hair 1” The lover musingly, fondly said ; “And yet it forms a halo fair To-night above her sacred head /' “Only a tress of a woman’s hair i" The maiden, smiling, sweetly said, And laid it on the back ot a chair And went to bed. Baron Ileinchenbach says: /Always sleep with your face to the equator/ 'Jesso, Baron/ riplies a convivial wri ter; ‘but when a fellow gets home at 1 a. m., and sees the bed and mantel" piece spinning around like bobbins iD a mill, how’s he going to know where on earth the equator is?' Society must reform. You have no right to ride in a carriage when you owe for it. But if you are in debt, hopelessly in debt, get down, walk like the rest of us. As soon a3 you see a man-deliberately consent that Lis outgo snail exceed his income, you may know he is on the broad road to bankruptcy and moral ruin. He was making a call, and they were talking of literature. “The Pdgrims Progress," she remarked, “always seemed to me painful. Of course you have read Bunyan V* lie said he had one on each foot, and they troubled him a good deal. Here is some spring poetry : Her cheeks were very ruddy, And the streets were awful muddy, And she loudly shrieked, f O thunder/ As her feet flew out from under. It was really very shocking, For she showed her striped stocking. Abolish the Parlor. What horrible associations crowd into our rain 1 when the word ‘parlor* is mentioned. We immediately pic ture in our imagination the terrible oppressiveness of that best room, where the sun is never allowed to shine for fear of fading carpet and fur niture, where the chairs have all a stately, polished and still look about them, where the children are never allowed to enter, where what little air there is may never be allowed to change, and where there is something akin to that of a family tomb. This is the best room, and is too sacred for the use of the family, and is only kept for the purpose of ceremony, and for the convenience of those people for whom we do not care a rush. People whom we like and with whom we are on familiar terms, come right into the living room and have a good chat in a pleasant way; but the ceremonious visitor, whose departure gives us re lief, is ushered into the 'parlor.’ The principle upon which this room is founded is all wrong. Let us have no such room in our house. Open the shutters and windows. Admit the sunlight and air. If the carpets and furniture fade, let us enjoy their use in that condition. Abolish the ‘par lor* and enjoy the home. —Rural New Yorker. Pretty Near True. Longfellow came pretty near utter ing a truth in writing that what we admired in woman is her affection, not berintellect. The proposition is scarce ly to be admitted in its whole length and breadth; yet even in this form it is"nearer right than the converse. It is generally the fate of witty women to be unloved. Whenever you see an old maid, unless she has a hump on her back, you may safely conclude that in youth she had a reputation for bril liancy. No man ■would offer himself to a young lady who would call him an owl because he looked somewhat serious before asking to bo allowed to support her and pay her millinery bills, nor would any man marry a wo man when the possibilities and proba bilities were that she would place chestnut-burs on his side of the bed, or fill his boots with hot mush in the morning, by way of a joke. If ever you have a lady acquaintance who de sires to introduce you to an intimate friend of hers, because “she is so orig inal and so witty that you will be sure to like her,’* plead business and res pectfully decline the honor, say that you have no Sunday clothes. Simple Cure for Earache. Many years ago two of my children, one aged three the other one year, had a terrible attack of earache all oue day and night. I worked over the little sufferers, doing all I could think of, and trying remedies suggested by our neighbors. On the second morn ing of the attack, a lady came in and asked me if I had tried burnt sugar. I told her no, I had not heard of that. She told .nu to put some live coals on a tin plate,sprinkle some brown sugar on them, set a funnel over it and then hold the child so that the smoke could go into the ear. I did so, using the remedy for both the little ones. The result was marvelous; the pain stopped instantly, and soon both sufferers were in a sound refreshing sleep.— Mother , in Exchange. A Backward Lover. ‘Don’t you know I dreamed of von the other night?’ said an audacious young lady to her backward lover. ‘lndeed! And may I venture to ask what was the dream’/ 'Oh, nothing much—l thought you asked me to raarty you/ ‘And did yon consent?’ he inquired eagerly. ‘Why, you see yon asked in such an indirect and unfair way that I would not give you an answer/ ‘Ah! my dear Julia, how can I thank you for this opportunity! Let me ask you now, fairly and directly, will you marry me?’ ‘No, sir, I woi/t/ ,f We earnestly recommend every man who is languishing for a job to retire to the country, rent a farm, raise everything that you will need for the support of your family ; sell what you cannot use ; be frugal, enterprising and industrious, and all the panics that the world has ever seen may come and go, for they will not affect you in the least/’ —Wheeling (Fa.) Standard. The easiest thing for a negro to do keep dark. ■ It is a tight squeeze when a drunk en man hugs a lamp post. No man, let him be however wise, Can sell goods unless lie advertise. ■# • 1 When you dispute with a fool, he is very certain to be similarly employed. What is the difference between a man and a tired dog ? One wears a coat, the other pants. Mr. Post, of Ohio, who is nearly 100 years old, is missing. lie is probably held for postage somewhere. The Norristown Herald insists that no man likes to hold a girl baby in his arm until she is 16 years old. 4,* I sot me down in thought profound, this maxim wise I drew : it’s easier to love a girl, than make a girl love you. A barefoot Syracuse girl kicked a burglar out of the bouse, and an ob serving mule went behind the barn and wept. Josh Billings says: “If I was in tho habit of swearing I wouldn’t hesitate a moment to cuss a bed-bug right in his face.*’ A man in Maine applied for five gal lons of rum for mechanical purposes. *‘Pcr what mechanical purposes ?’* ‘*For raising a bam*.’ If the strolling temperance lecturers keep on enumerating the crimes for which they are guilty, wo shall yet find out who killed old man Nathan. Just about now if you hear your neighbor, during the night, slam a pillow against the bed room wall, you may he sure that the mosquito got away. Before a man deliberately makes up his mind tew be a raskal, he sliood ex amine hisself closely tew ascertain if he ain't better constitooted for a fool. —Josh Billings. A little urchin in a school being asked, ‘‘What is llliode Island cele brated for?’' replied, “It is the only one of the New England States which is the smallest/’ • “Paper, sir?” asked the newsboy. "N T o, I never read," answered the man. ‘‘Hi ! boys, come here l" called out the gamin ; “hire's a man that is practic ing for the jury !" — It is said that nine Chicago lawyers and nine insurance men are matched to play a game of biseball. They will have no need of wire screens for protecting their cheeks. 'Tis sweet, when the berries arc ripe, And the lily pads bend Tieath the snipe To sit at your ease With your fair Eloise, Did give the mosquito a swipe. The simple iron-cast fact stares the public iD the lace, that when a mos quito has made up big mind to come in and spend the evening with a family, he means to put up with abuse and ex pect no praises. A man may face death with compo sure, and adversity with smiles, but the cuances are that he will swear and hop when he discovers that a twenty cent silver piece has been palmed off on him for a quarter. “We have got to practice the most rigid economy in such times as these/ remarked a man to a crowd on the side walk, the other day. ‘1 have stopped all the papers to which I for" mcriy subscribed and dou’t buy any candy, toys and trumpery for the chiU j dren ; times are hard. Come in, hoys ; and take a drink/’ NO. 27.