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VOLUME VII. M m ft Vo ■ m 'IPV** Pft ONLY A NEWSPAPER MAN. IV'enre nobody then; it is curious! Only the slave of the pen! The }4ace where we designate “sanctum” Is the lair of a Ijeast, or a den. Oar work any one eonld accomplish? Just try it, dear sir, if you can, You'll find that in one thing you’re lacking— ’ fis the snap «f a newspaper man! I ve stood in the parvenu’s parlors. Where wealth to the eye is unrolled— Where maukind is put on the balance And weighed by the standard of gold; And creatures of beauty and fashion, Whose life is a frivolous span, Drew aside as if there were contagion Iu the touch of a newspaper man! Anil I Iho’t: Are niv haafk red with murder? Do I merit the nignet of Cain? N\v: surely I must bo u leper, All marked with the hideous stain! Hut, not there are more potent reasons For putting me under the ban; The sneer aud tho look say i’lia only— Only a newspaper man* la it wroun to use paper and scissor*? Is it crime to get broad by the pen? Would intellect shine like a diamond li newspapers never had beeu? The a an who absconds with a million Is goon welcomed back from Japau, While lie whose page sparkles with beauty J lnouly a newspaper man! I'm proud of my rail* nuil my station, As !i monardi Ls proud of hi* throne; I've kindred iu every nation, And brethren in every zone, The high, the rich, and the haughty—• Deny it to-day if you cau — Will fawn for the sake of a “notice" At the feet of a newspaper man. I wonder, sometimes, it my sanctum, When iiloue with the word of the day, If we bivvo a fight to that haven, Beautiful, bright, fur away. Will the angels who stund at the portals, To welcome whoever they can, Turn aside when they *.ee us, aud whisper, “He’s only a newspaper man!” MISCELLANY. US H> ; OH, I li o ui m a’s Ujft. 1'red was a stray dog whose origin i ami whose name even were shrouded j in mystery. In 1861 he had landed in Yokohama from an English tea-clipper, I in the company oi a melancholy trav I eler. Nobody, of course, took any no¬ tice of the dog at the time, and he, ou In’s part, avoided all familiarity with | strangers, having apparently, eyes aml ears only for his master, whom he [ followed everywhere. This master, Mr. Alexander Young, 1 was a rather mysterious character.— | Nobody knew whence he came or whither he was bound The captain of the Georgina had made his acquaint ance in Java, and had given him pas Mge on very moderate terms. During thevoyage, Alexander Young—or San as lie was commonly called—spoke very little and drank a good deal.— The captain, who, when at sea, made it a rule never to take anything stron than water, was not at all disin dined, when on shore, to indulge iu an extra bottle or so. In consequence he treated the weakness of his com panion with compassionate fellow-feel i n g. and even on that account, a sort of sympathy for him, which showed it«elf iinnany l.ttle acts of kindnesses, ?andy was very grateful, and in his dreamy blue eyes there was a ten. u *r and friendly expression whenever they rested on the rugged, weather heaten features of the captain. Fred was Sandy's constant compan lon , and the dog's nose was uever man y ioches distant from his master’s *‘ ee ls. Fred is a curious name for a dog/ 8, ‘id the captain ; ‘why did you call him 80 ?’ Sandy was silent for fully a minute, ail( l then answered slowly, ‘because ^ wag a present fiom cousin Lou «•»/ ray The captain was much impressed h thi* unexpected explanation hut ^ ( himself ; -o Has accustomed to clothe sH r ,j 8 j„ most enigmatical language I In a ^° no doubt that , * f deep Sandy's reply * 8oni c hidden meaning ; and ^ he made indulging many in efforts indiscreet solve ques- the Pioblcxn to Sand unaided. Fiom that time y rose in his estimation Neither Sii , \ ° r * ^ e evtr re err ed to the sub J loft but Whcn : wa» > at a later period, the asked why Mr, -—\ dog was called ‘Fred,’ he answered, authoritatively : ‘Because the dog was a present from his cousin Louisa. Fred was a thorough-bred bull-ter iier # snow-white, with one round black spot over his left eve. Ilis fore-legs were bowed, his chest was broad and powerful, his head broad and flat as a frog's. His jaws were armed with a set of short, uneven, sharp leeth^ which seemed strong enough to crunch a bar of iron. His eyes were set oh liquely in his head, Chinese fashion ; nevertheless there was an honest and trustworthy expiession in them. One could see that Fred, though he was a dangerous was not a savage or wicked beast. Fred e <uld smile in bis grim way, if his master showed him a bone and said smile, ‘Smile !’ But, as a rule he was as grave and serious as Young himself. He was no bully or street fighter. Confident of his own strength he looked with com tempt upon all the small curs who barked and yelped at him. But it a large dog, a worthy ad versary, attacked him, he fought with mute, merciless fury. He neither bark¬ ed or growled on such occasions, but Uie deep, quick breathing under which his broad eliest heaved, betrayed his inward f.ury. His green eyes shone like emeralds, and he fastened his fangs into his enemy with such mad violence that it was a matter of great difficulty to m ike him loose his hold. During six months Sandy and Fred led a quiet life at Yokohama. Sandy' was known, it *s true, to consume iu private an incredible amount of spirits, but in pubke his behaviour was unex¬ ceptional/e, and no one had ever seen him intoxicated A few days after his arrival lie had bought one of the rough, ugly little ponies of the country. Those who, for some reason or other, strayed from the beaten paths usually frequent¬ ed by foreign residents at Yokohama* declared that they had met Young, the pony au 1 Fred in the most unlooked for places The lonely rider, the horse and the dog appeared, they said, equally lost in deep reverie. Young s m o k e d, the po-y, wiili the reins hanging loose on i s neck walked t with ins head down, as though it were studying the road of which his master took no heed ; while Fred followed close behind, with his dreamy, half closed eyes fixed on the horse’s hoofs. ^cung never addressed anybody, but returned every salutation politely, and so to 4 spi‘uk, gracefully. The Europe¬ ans at Yokohama wondered at their fellow-exile, and the Japanese called him kitchinyay —crazy. Young rarely remained in town w hen the weather was fine. He would j hmve the settlement in the early morn w ’th his two fourfonted companions and not return from his ride till dusk, Dut if it rained and blew hard, one might be sure to find him on the bund —the street which leads from the Euro P^an quarter to the harbor. On such occasions Sandy, with his hands behind his back, walked slowly up and down tile broad with Fred at Lis heels, as U8U: ‘l 5 though it was evident that the P 001 ' drenched animal did not share his master's enjoyment of bad weather.— intervals Sandy would stop iu his walk and watch with apparent interest the boisterous sea and the vessels that tossed upon it. Whenever this hap P en cd Fred immediately sat upon his haunches and fixed Ins blinking eyes on his master's countenance as though he were trying to discover some indi cations that he was going to exchange the impaassible street tor the eomfor table shelter of his lodgings. II Young stayed too long, Fred would push him gently with his nose as if to wake him out of "his day dream. Sandy would t,le,r move on again; but ho uever went home till the storm abated or night set in. This strange, aimless walking up and down gave him the appearance of a man who lias missed his railway train, and who, at some strange, un nteresting station, seeks to while away the time till the next departure. Young must have brought some money with him to Yokohama, for he lived on for several weeks without seek ing employment, At the end of that time, however, he advertised iu the Japan Times to the effect that he had set up in business as public account ant. Iu this capacity he soon found employment. He was a steady con¬ scientious worker, rather slow at his work, and evidently not caring to earn more than was required for his wants. In this way he became acquainted with Mr James Webster, the bead of an important American firm, who, aftei era ploying Young several t-i^es, at last EAST&AX, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 27, 187/1, offered him an excellent situation as assistant bookkeeper in his house.— This Sandy declined with many thanks. ‘I do not know how r loag I may re** main out here/ he said. ‘I expect let ters from home which may oblige me to leave at once, Those letters never came, and San dy grew paler every day. One even ing he went to call on James Webster. A visit from Sandy Young was such an unusual occurrence that Webster, who as a rule did not like to be disturbed, came forward to greet hi* visitor.— But Sandy would not come in , he re tnained at the entrance leaning against the door, His speech and manner were calm and even careless, and Web srer was consequently somewhat sur prised to learn that tie had come to take leave, ‘Sit down, man/ said Webster ‘and take a biandy-and-soda and a che root/ ‘No, thank you/ replied Young. ‘1 leave early to-morrow morning''; and I have only just time to get things ready, /So you are really going away?' said Webster. Well I am sorry you would not stay with us. As it is, lean only wish you good luck and a pros perous voyage. He Belli out his hand, which Young pressed so warmly that Webster look ed him wih some surprise, and as he looked it seemed to him that there was moisture in Sandy Young's eyes. ‘Why don't you stay V continued Webster, who felt a curious interest in the sad, silent man. ‘The plac*i I offered you the other day as still vacant.’ Young remained silent for a few minutes. Then he shook his lkead and said : 'No, thanks. You are very kind, but I had better go. What should I do here ? Japan is a fine countiy, but it is so very email—always the same blue sea, the same white Fussyama, and the same people riding the same horses and followed by the same dogs. I am tired of it all. You must admit, Mr. Webster, that life is not highly amusing out here.' There was a short pause, after which 0,1 bandy resumed, , . but _ speaking more slowly and in still lower tones : I think there must be a typhoon iu the air ; I feel so weary. I do not think Mr. We hater that you can ever have felt as weary as I do. 1 thougiit we were going to have a storm this morning. It would perhaps have done me good. This has been a very close, heavy day. Well, good-night I did not like to leave Yokohama without bidding you good-bye, and thanking you for all your friendliness.' He moved away with hesitating steps, and when lie had gone a few paces he turned around and wared his hand to Webster, who was following him with his eyes, ‘I thank you again, Mr. Webster/ he repeated, with almost pathetic earn estness. ‘I wish you a very good night. And so he disappeared into the dark ness. That night a terrible storm burst over Yokohama, but it came too late to revive poor weary Sandy. He was found dead in his bedroom the next morning, having hanged himself during the night. On the table lava large sheet of paper with the following words, vviitten in a bold hand,— ‘Please take care of Fred.' Nothing was found in Sandy's trunk but some shabby clothes and a bundle of old letters which had evidently been read over and over again. They were without envelope*, dated from Lim¬ erick, 1855 and 1856, and merely sign¬ ed, “Louis.’ 4 They were examined carefully in the hope that they might furnish some clue to Sandy's parentage and counections ; but they were love letters—mere love-letters—and con tained nothing that could interest any one but poor Sandy himself. There was frequent mention of a father and a mother in these letters, and it was very clear that they had not been fa¬ vorable to the lovers, but who this fa¬ ther aud mother were did not appear. Oiher persons wefe mentioned, as Charles, Edward, Mary and Florence, but their Christian names only were given. In the last letters of October, November, and December, 1856, there was constant reference to a certain Frederick Milner, a friend of Sandy’s* whom he had apparently introduced to his cousin and lady-love. In the first of these letters, Lou;sa wrote that her mother was much pleased with Mr. Milner, who was a most agreeable and charming companion. In thq course of time Mr. Milner became ‘Fre lerick Milner,’ then 'Fred Milner/ ‘F. and at last he was simply ‘Fred.— Fred had accompanied Louisa and her moth r to Dublin, where they had all been much amused. Fred was a capi tal rider and at the last meet he had # taken the big stone wall at the back of Hrachan Park, in a style which had excited the admiration of all present.— Fred accompanied Louisa frequently on horseback, and she had never had such cap tal riding-lessons as from him; he understood horses better than anybody^ and that ill tampered ‘Black bird/ tnat Sandy had never dared to ride, was as gentle as a la.rib with Fred. At the last athletic sports got ten up by the officers of the 19th, Fred had thrown the hammer farther than anybody, and would have certainly won the foot-hurdle race likewise, had he not have fallen at the last hurdle.— Fred had a beautiful voice ; Fred danced well ; Fred here, Fred there, Fred everywhere. In t lie last letter it was said how “poor Fred had fallen with Blackbird at the last steeplechase and had broken his collarbone. Yet he did not give up the race, and came in third. Mother had insisted on his remaining here to be nursed by us till he gets well. He sends his best love and will write as soon as he is able. These letters were sealed up and deposited in the archives of the British consulate at Yokohama. Inquiry' was made officially at Limerick whether u Mr. Alexander Young and a Mr. Frederick Milner had been known in that place in 1855 and 1856. In tho course of time the reply came, but brought no satisfactory answers to the questions. Alexander Young was quite unknown. A young man named Frederick Milner had lived in Limerick at the date mentioned. After bringing shame upou an honored family, he had left the town in secret and had never been heard of since, As Alexander Young left no proper ty of any value, no further inquiries was made, and lie was s»on forgotten He was buried very quietly, and James Webster, the constable of the English consulate, and Fred alone accompanied him to the grave. After the funeral the dog returned to , -\r Yokohama. i i for ri several .j days searched anxiously for his master in His old lodgings and near the new made grave ; but he soon became con vinced of the fruitlessness of his en * dearors, and thenceforward became, as a Californian ca’led, “an institutio n °l Yokohama." Sandy’s last wish, ‘Please take of Fred/ was faithfully attended Many of the residents of showed themselves ready to adopt good dog ; but Fred did not seem iu dined to acknowledge a new and testified little gratitude tor the caresses besto wad on him. Revisited first one arid then another of his nu merons patrons, and did not object accompany any of them in turn du r mg a walk or a ride ; but uo oue coul d boast that Fred was his dog. His favorite resort was the club, where, in the evening, all of his friends met, and where he usually remained till the last,guest left. Then he took up quarters with one or other of his friends, and hospitality was readily extended to him, for he was both watch ful and well-behaved, , A year had thus gone by, when the Georgina once more arrived in Yoko¬ hama. The captain walking in the bund one day recognized “his former passenger, Fred, and called to the dog. Fred snuffed at him deliberately, drop¬ ped his head, and appeared for a few minutes to meditate profoundly. But suddenij* he showed the wildest de¬ light, leaped up a’ the captain and licked his hands, barking and smiling, then started down the street at full speed, and at last returned to take his old place at the heels of his new mas* ter. The captain^ we have said, was a philosopher ; he accepter! the adoption as a decree of fate, to which he bowed snbmissively. One evening not long after this, the captain was attacked by a party of drunken Japanese officers. Fred sprang at the throat of one of the assailant* and would have strangled him if an other of the Japanese had not cut him down with a stroke of the sword. The captain escaped with a slight wound and took refuge in a club, from which he soon sallied forth with a party of friends to give chase to his loes and try to save his dog. But his bravo friend and defender was dead. He was buried in the yard of the club house ol Yokohama, where a stone with the the inscription, place where ‘‘Fred, 186V still marks poor Sandy’s laithlul j companion lies. 1 “VY YAS DAT ?” A Good Dutch Story, Let me tell you a good Dutch story right herc^ because 1 - comes irom a Dutchman in the easttrn part of inn s>lv»nia and must be a true story.— The Dutchman was never ashamed of his religion. In his neighborhood was u skeptic, who said : ‘You can’t believe anything yon can¬ not understand/ Some of the people asked the Dutch¬ man if he would not have a conversa¬ tion with him. He said: ‘Yes. if you tink best. ‘Have you any objection to the neighbors coming in ?' 'No, sliest as you tink best/ So they made the appointment, and everybody was there The old gentle¬ man came in, and laid by his hat, and was introduced to the skeptic, and he began suddenly by saying: ‘Well ! now, look here, 1 pleefs the Bible—what you pleefs V Said he : ‘I don’t believe anything I can't un¬ derstand ' ‘Oh, you must be one very smart man. I was mighty glad to meet you. I ask ~ou some questions. The other day I vas riding along de road and 1 neet von dog; and the dog he had von of his ears stand up in this way, and the other von he stand dun so.— Now, vy was dat ?’ Now that was very unhandy just then, very unhandy. He either had to prove that the dog did not have one oar standing up and the other standing down, or else say he did not believe it. So be said : 4 I don’t know/ ‘•Oh. then you are not so very smart after all. I ask you anoder question.— I saw in John Smith's clover patch the clover come up so nice, and I looked over into the fields, and there was John Smith’s pigs ; aud dere come out hair on dere packs; and in the very saime clover patch was Ins sheep, and d ?re came out wool on dere packs.— Now vy was dal V Now that was as bad as the other, because the same perplexity arose.— He had to prove there was wool on the back of the pig, r or hair on the the s eep ; and he couldn t j 1 e,e ^ t ' e had no us lueSft to t leve it. ma y c sai . ‘I don't know/ ‘Well, you are not half so smart as you tink you are. Now I ask you anoder question : 'Do you pleef there is a God V ‘No, I don’t believe any such non* sense/ ‘Oh, yes ! I hear about you long ago. I know all about yon. My Bible knows all about you, for in my Bible He says: ‘The fool says in hi * heart there is no God/but you, big fool, you blab it right out/ A Splendid Wife We once knew a irran who was al¬ ways praising his wife. On the corner,, down the street, at the post-office; at the theatre, in the sal—that is, tje dioir meeting, he was adwaya telling what a happy man he w T as, just because he bad suds a spletr diil wife, audi ha* talked every IUnll tft to a Jrenzy ®f envy about her.. Wtdl, o?se winter morning, when iU was no't yet toe light to make one ap¬ pear ov er unostentatious, we sneaked into that neighbor's yard to steal a board for kindling,, and had to wait until that man’s wife came out and sawed a couple of airmsfal of rrood shoveled } out three snow paths fed and groomed f the horse, and cleaned out the cow shed ; ami when she went into the house, and we heard her call to her husband that the sitting room was warm enough for him to dress in if he wanted to get up, it so amazed us that we forgot what we were wait* ing for, and went back and kindled the fire with a corn-cob and a pint of ker¬ osene. Girls are advised by a Chicago physi¬ cian to always sleep on their backs if th?y wish to keep crow's feet from the corners of their eyes. These blemishes, he says, arc the result of sleeping on their sides. Tho pressure upon the temple and cheeks leaves wrinkles at the corners and underneath the eyes which disappear in a few hours, but finally become so fixed that neither hours nor abl ”tions will abate them. At a recent election in Wyoming territory, in which women suffrage P reVii, H, a fellow running for town clerk bribed eighteen female voters with a jingle pound of chewing g uin. Trwiw live Boys lor Business, There fe onb element iri Vie home instrttclio:* of bCVs to which, say.f a Boston paper, t«K> Ihlfle attention has been given, that*of the cultivation of habits of pr?nfile**Hty, system, order and responsibility tfoe masiy lease¬ holds boys from twelve to' seventeen years are too much admifttstefed to by loving mothers or other ferowlc mem lx*rs of the family. Boys' live ^during those years are halcyon days of their existence. Uo in the morning just, irt season for breakfast, nothing to do but start off’ early enough not to be late; looking upon an errand as taking so much time and memory away from enjoyment; little thought of personal appearance except when reminded by his mother to‘spruce up* a little; find¬ ing his wardrobe alway* where moth¬ er puts it—in fact, Hiving nothing to do but enjoy himself. Tims his life g#e» until school etxls. Then he is ready for business. lie ^oes into an office where everything is system, order, precision. He is expect¬ ed to keep things neat and orderly, sometimes kindle fires, file letters, do errands—in short, become a part of a nicely regulated machine, where every¬ thing moves in systematic groove»;»nd each one is responsible for correctness jn his department, and where, in plac«r of ministers to his comfort, he finds task masters, more or lenient, to be sure, and everything in marked con¬ trast to his previous life. In many instances the change is too great. Errors become numcn.us; blun¬ der*, overlooked at first, get to be a matter of serious moment; then pa¬ tience is overtasked, and the boy is told his services are no longer wanted. This is his first blow, and sometimes he never rallies from it. Then comes the surprise to the parents, who too often never know the real cause, nor where they have failed in training of their children. What is wanted is for every boy to have something special to do; to have some duty at a definite hour, and to learn to watch for that time to come; to be answerable for a certain portion of the routine of the household: to be trained to anticipate the time when lie may enter the ranks of business, and be fortified with habits of energy, ac¬ curacy, and application, often of more importance than superficial book learn¬ ing. A Peddler’s Pack. He was was a civil fellow, and be¬ stowed considerable time on his cus¬ tomer, a woman very hard to please. After examining bis goods she coolly observed that she had made her pur¬ chases tlx? week before and *only r wan¬ ted to see if them dry goods men h*d cheated me.‘ With commendable good nature the disappointed fellow repack¬ ed his goods and went his way. A month oi- so passed, and once more he kuocketl at tlie same farmer^ door, this time not to sell, but to buy. ‘Can you get me up a first class dinner?' be asked. ‘Something good; I've got money, and I want to see your verv best/ The woman bustled around at a iively rate, the vision of a good fee for the meal lending alacrity to her movements, and presently she returned to the room where the peddler was waiting, amd announced that dinner was ready. After examining the vi¬ ands critically^ lie said composedly:— ‘1 don't want anything; ljust paid for mv dinner at the hotter below and I r> thought I'd find out whether t* )e y cheated me. 4 And then he vanished. Grains of Gold. A curt answer has two edges. The doctor's memory is apt to fail. None are oversticked with patienep. The right must sometimes yield or fight. Death lias nothing terrible in it but what life has made so. Censure is the tax a man pays the public for being eminent. The man lacks moral courage who treats when he should retreat. Motives are like harlequins—there is always a second dress beneath the first. Make a man thiuk ho is more cuu ning thau you, and you can easily out¬ wit him. If you would render you children helpless, never compel or permit them to help themselves. Never reflect on a past action which was done with a good motive and the best judgment at the time. Absence destroys small passions and increases great oues, as wind blows out tapers and kindles firei* NO. ft. IT humor/* ■ - SsyBt Do you really, truly love me. More than auy s^iri you know? Well, tbeu, bnH nie just u little. If you must, nn go. Fold your arms .inmnd’ me tighter, Have you never hugged before? Draw roe nearer, draw uie closer; Can't you hug me any more? Keignkig favorites—Umbrellas. Excellent wash C>r the face—Water. A bad thing to' sharpen—The wa¬ ter's edge. ... ....... .. -*m • mm -*- If a small boy is a hvd y is a large boy a ladder? The convict’s serenade to tin? war¬ den: IIow can I leave thee? Brown thinks that all-absorbing tales should be printed on blotting paper. The onion originated in Europe.— So important facts leak or.t one by one*. If a word spoken m time is worth one piece of money, silence in its tvm* is worth two. Dr. Holmes says that crying widows marry first. There is nothing like wet weather for transplanting! Why dots the new moon remind one of a giddy girl? Because she is too young to show much reflection. Give us liberty—to hang over front gates with the girls, or death—by loss of sleep on the parlor serfa. A sociable man. is one wlu .when lie hasten minutes to spagoes and bothers somebody who ha^/t. It is just as easy to. collect a back subscription as it is . tt>-— to—set typo with a pair ot leatKen mittens on. There are too many women ,walkists, and too many kilb washtubs. At na¬ tional washing match rnigki wiry tho monotony. The latest ren Jirtgrsof the proverb is: People wbodivo io gPass- houses, and who wants, tb put their awns around the girV should pudi dowiii the blinds. walked the floor alt night with tho toothache/ he said. To which his un¬ feeling listener replied: ‘Yon didn’t ex¬ pect to walk the ceiling with it did you?' The very latest euri"sity spoken of ift Die papers is a wheel that came off % dog's tail when it was a waggin'. The /nan who discovered it has retired from public life. 'Madarn/ said the. c look maker, ‘you must bring me your clock/ ‘Oh, no!' said the old lady, ‘the clock is all right; it’s only what you call the pendulum that won't go.' Mr. lie up said to a drunken fellow; ‘1/ I were in your place, I would go out to the woods and hang myself.’ The answer was, 'If yooz in rav plaish you couldn't get there.' The dass i» grammar will please stand up and answer this question:— 'IIow do you* parse the word dollar?' ’Please, sir, if it5* a trade dollar you } parse it for ninety cents.! ‘Could you tell me, sir, which is the other side of the street?' On being told that it was over the way^ the tight one siid, ‘That's what I said; but a fellow over there .sent me over here.' Samantha Jane writes to inquire:— NV hat is it a sign of to see a young m an chewing doves? That he has a few faint, lingering sparks of self-r°spect le.'t among the embers of a once noble nature. No man can know all things^ but there are lots of men who think they do. They are the fellows who give an editor so ranch valuable information as to how to run a newspaper—into the ground. Just while we think about it, why didn’t the individual who invented button-holes get up something equally durable to fit into them? We have yet to run across the first button that. would hold out with half tho persis-