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YOL. XI;
Professional Directory.
ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
ISAAC L. TOOLE,
Attorney at law,
Vienna* Qa.
, Will practice in the counties of Hous
ton, Dooly, Pulaski, Macon, Sumter and
Worth. Also in thp Supreme Court of
Georgia, and in the United States Circuit
and District Courts within the State. All
business entrusted to his care will receive
prompt attention. febl it
" 6. 0* HORNE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW;
Hawkiusville, Qa.
The Criminal Practice, a specially.
January 4,1877. jan4 ly
WOOTEN & BUSBEE,
Attorneys at law,
VIENNA, GEORGIA.
apr!3-tf
C. C. SMITH,
Attorney and Counsellor at Law,
. And Solicitor in Equity,
febVILLE, i-- - GEORGIA
Refers to Hon. Clifford Anderson, Capt.
John C. Rutherford aiid Walter B. Hill,
Esq., Professors of Law, Mercer Universi
ty Law School, Macon, Ga.
Prompt attention given t© all business
entrusted to my care. mavSS Cm
EDWIN MARTIN,
Attorney at law,
Perry* Georgia.
Will give immediate and careful atten
tion to all business entrusted to him in
Houston and adjoining counties
Office in Home Journal building,pn
jmbllc square. aprlS tf
ROLLIN A. STANLEY,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Dublin* Georgia.
Will practice in all the counties of the
Oconee Circuit, From long experience
in the Criminal Practice, much of his
time will be specially devoted to that
branch of his profession. feb24 tf
JACOB WATSON,
attorney at law,
Hawkinsville, Georgia;
Will practice in the counties of Pulaski,
Dooly, Wilcox, Dodge,Telfair, Irwin, and
Houston. Prompt attention given to all
business placed in my hands. aprß tf*
~ LUTHER A. HALL,
ATTORNEY AT LAW
AND BEAD ESTATE AGENT,
Eastman, Ga.
Will practice in all counties adjacent
to the M. & B. railroad, the Supreme
Court of the State and the Federal Court
of ttie Southern District of Georgia. For
parties desiring, will buy, sell or lease any
real estate, or pay the taxes upon the
same iu the counties of Dodge, Laurens,
Wilcox, Telfair and Appling, Office in
the Court House. aprlS tf
, .....as
J. H. WOODWARD,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Vienna, Ga.
WILL practice in the Superior Courts
in the counties of Dooly, Worth,
Wilcox, Pulassi and Houston, and by
special contract in other cour ts. Prompt
attention given to all collections.
tabh4 tt
j. C. RYAN. .T. B. MITCHELL.
RYAN & MITCHELL,
Attorneys at law
AND REAL ESTATE AGENTS,
Hawkinsville; Ga.
WILL practice in the counties com
prising the Oconee Circuit, and in
the Circuit and District Courts of the
United States for the Southern District of
Georgia; feblltf
J. M. DENTON,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
| )RACTICES in the Brunswick Circuit
.1. and elsewhere by special contract.
Office at residence, Coffee county, Ga. P.
6. address, Hazlehurst, M. & B. It. R.,
Georgia. leb4tt
W. IRA BROWN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Vienna, Ga;
PRACTICES in the Superior Courts of
,1. Oconee Circuit,'and elsewhere in the
State by special contract. Collections
and other business promptly attended
io 8-13-ly
john h. Martin,
ATTORNEY AT LAW
AND BEAL ESTATE AGENTS,
Hawkiusville, Ga.
tjRACTICjSS in the Courts of Pulaski,
A Houstfm. Dooly, Wliocx, Irwin,
Telfair, Dodge and Laurens. may-tt
CHARLES C. KIBBEE,
ATTORNEY at law,
Hawkinsviife, Ga.'
WILL piactice in the CircuU and Dis-„
trict Courts of the United States
lor the Southern District of Georga, and
n the Superior Courts of Houston, Dooly,
Pftlaski, Laurens, Wilcox, Irwin and
Dodge counties. junc39ly
JOHN F. DELACY,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
EASTMAN, GA.
Will practice in the counties of Pulaski,
B..dge, Telfair, Laurens, Montgomery,
Wilcox, and Irwin, of the Oconee Circuit,
and Appling and Wayneff of the Bruns-
Wick Circuit. ,
Prompt attention given to all business
entrusted to his care. junl7 tf
Aft. T. F. WALKER DU. F. M. JORDAN.
Drs. Walker & Jordan,
Having associated themselves in the prac
tice „f medicine, would rcspccttully offer
their professional services to the citizens
<jf Cochran and vicinity. Office on Second
Street, next door to postofflee. At night
Dr Jordan cun be found ;n bis room in
die rcaT at Ms office. ly
HAWKINSVILLE DISPATCH
BATES OF SUBSCRIPTION.
The Hawkinsville Dispatch will
be mailed (postage free; to subscri
bers in any part of the United States
orie year for two dollars. Six months
for one dollar.
A deduction of 25 cents will be
allowed each subscriber in a club of
six, and in a club of ten an extra
copy of the paper will be sent gratis
No credit subscribers taken, The
Dispatch has the largest bona fide
circulation of any weekly paper in
the State.
Geo. P. Woods,
tf Editor and Proprietor.
The damage to the cotton crop on
the Arkansas river by the late flood
is estimated at from 20,000 to 50,000
bales.
An Atlanta man is getting ready
for the State fair a machine horse
which he proposes to eat whole, cog
wheels, spokes and all, if it does not
out-run an engine on a smooth road.
The model town in the State of
New York is Alfred. It has 2,000
inhabitants, has never had a single
glass of liquor sold within its limits
and never a pauper to support.
We notice an item ifi an exchange
to the effect that a mother in Mary
land bit off her child’s toe in her
sleep; We have so often remonstra
ted with mothers against the prac
tice of sleeping with their children’s
toes in their mouths, that we have
little sympathy for this woman
Sooner or later the catastrophe Is
sure to come.
The LaGrange Reporter says Mr.
Alexander Piper, of Troup county*
has the breeches in which he was
married, in the year 1849. They
are made of the best white linen, and
every one of Mr. Piper’s sons, all
Of whom are how grown,' have worn
them.
The New York Sun publishes a list
of all the hangings in the United
States for the year 1811, so far. The
total number of persons hung is 48,
of whom 26 were in Northern, aftd
22 in Southern States. Of those in
the South, 15 were colored and 1
white persons.
The Galveston News thinks the
next census will show a larger in
crease in population and production
in Texas than in any other State, and
doubtless double the returns for 1810
when the population was only 818,-
519.
Politicians will fall out and say
naughty words of each other. This
time Proctor Knott, of Kentucky, is
after Mr. P. Donan. Donan replies
that he will “prove Knott to be a
well-meaning, perhaps unintentional
liar, if not scoundrel.
Says the Macon Telegraph : “We
tire informed that the peach ship
ments from this section of Georgia
have in general made very satisfac
tory returns.' A large shipment made
to Philadelphia sold at $2.50 per
crate of a third of a bushel, netting
the shipper about five dollars a bush
el. Peaches packed in cotton sold
for a dollar a crate mere than others
not so packed. All the peaches
so far shipped to Philadelphia have
arrived in good order. One or two
shipped to New York, Cincinnati and
Chicago were reported as arriving in
a damaged condition.
A siiit has been instituted in Ka
nawha county, West Virginia, in
which the plaintiff sues the defend
ant for the increase of 21 head of
sheep from 1851 to the present time,
fi period of 25 years. Adopting the
rule of double increase yearly, and
using geometrical progression to fig
ure by, the defendant would owe the
plaintiff 704,643,072 sheep ! And if
he is required to pay money at the
rate of $2 per head,' he will owe the
plaintiff fourteen hundred and nine
million two hundred and eighty-six
thousand one hundred and forty-four
dollars, or a sum equal to one half 1
the debt of the United States.
Dip the Atlantic ocean dry with a
teaspoon; twist your heel into the
heel of yoiir boot; send up fishing
hooks with balloons and fish for
stars; get astride a gossamer and
chase a comet; choke a musquito
with a brickbat—in short prove ail
things hitherto considered impossible
to' be possiple; but never attempt to
coax a woman to say she will when
she has made up her mind to say she
won’t.
There is a limit to everything but
the destructiou that follows the
course of a man’s big toe when he
gets it through a hole in the bed
quilt, and is suddenly attacked by the
nightmare;
The property of Mr. Sniffer, of
Maryland, was recently destroyed by
fire. Strange that he didn’t smell
something burning, in time to pre
vent a spread of the flames.
HAWKINSVILLE, GA., THURSDAY MORNING, JULY 12, 1877.
LEAFING THE HOMESTEAD.
You’re goiu’ to leave the homestead, John,
You’re twenty-one to-day,
And the old man will be sorry, John,
To see you go away.
You've labored late and early, John;
And done the best you could,
I aiut a goin’ to stop you, John,
I wouldn’t if 1 could.
Bitt one thing let me tell you, John,
Before you make your start,
There’s more in being honest, John,
Twjee o’er than being smart,
Tlio’ rogues may seem to flourish, John,
Aiiu sterling worth to fail,
Oh ! keep in view the good and true,
’Twill iu the end prevail.
Don’t think too much of money, John,
And dig and delve and plan,
And rake and scrape in every shape;
To hoard up all you can.
Tlio’ fools may count their riches, John,
In shillings, pounds and pence,
The best of wealth is youth and health,
And good sound, common seuSe.
And don’t he mean or stingy, John,
But lay a little ty
Of what you earn, you soon will learn
How fast-’twill multiply.
So, when old age crimes creepiug oh,
You’ll have a goodly store
Of wealth to furnish all your needs—
And may be something more.
There’s shorter cilts to fortune, John,
Wo see them every day,
But those who save their self-respect
Climb up the good old way.
‘AH is not gold that glitters,’ John,
And makes the vulgar stare,
And those we deem the richest, John,
Have oft the least to spare.
Don’t meddle with your neighbors, John,
Their sorrows or their cares;
You’ll find enough to do, my boy,
To mind your own affairs.
The world is full of idle tongues—
You can afford to shirk ;
There's lots of people ready, John,
To do such dirty work.
Be good, be pure.be noble, John,
Be honest, brave, be true,
And do to others as ye would
That they should do to you.
And place your trust in God, my boy,
‘Though fiery darts be hurled,
Then you can smile at Sataii’s rage
And face a frownin’ world.’
“The Man from Michigan ”
A Boy’s Desperate Fight With Nine In
dians.
“The man from Michigan !” That’s
the name he goes by in the Black
Hills. A boy of sixteen, lightly
built, a woman’s face, and one would
pass him by as having only a wo
man’s courage. And yet Buffalo
Bill, Texas .Jack, nor.any of the oth
er historic Indian fighters ever dis
played the cool courage and steady
nerve which that boy from Wayne
county exhibited one day last No
vember as he went out from Dead
wood City to visit a brother in camp
seven or eight miles away. He was
called a boy then, and now to tell,
you why they changed his name to
“the man from Michigan;”
The hoy, whose home haihe is
Willard King, was armed with a
Henry rifle, a revolver, and a light
hatchet, and he set out to pursue his
journey on foot. There were Indi
ans above and below and around
Deadwood. They had Killed two
men only the day before, and were
known to be lurking on the paths
and trails. Young King was strong
ly advised against leaving the town,
but having heard that his brother
was very sick he was determined to
go. He left Deadwood about nine
o’clock in the morning, there being
three or four inches of snow on the
ground.
“It’s like throwing that gun and
revolver into the sea, to say nothing
of his being scalped,” remarked one
of the miners as the boy set out, and
some of the men said it was a shame
for such good weapons to be carried
to the Indians.
The boy felt safe enough until a
mile or two out of Deadwood, when
he grew more cautious. His route
lay over hills, through, broken
ground and along a valley, being
mapped by compass and no trail to
follow; Three miles from Deadwood
he heard the neigh of a horse, and he
at once hurried from the open
ground to the shelter of timber.
Speeding along for half a mile at a
“dog trot,” he became certain that
the Indians were on his trail. He
had seen no signs and had heard
only the neigh of the horse, but he
had a presentiment, as b were; that
the red men had taken his broad trail
and were after him. King made tor
higher ground and sbori obtained the
shelter of a mass of rocks, which
could not be handily approached, ex
cept from one direction. He intended
to secrete himself Until certain that
his trail was or was not followed, and
he had not long to wait. In the
course of seven or eight minutes
■cine Indians, walking in single file,
appeared in view, following his steps
at a fast walk,
King Could have retreated bad hi
so desired, but the prospect of a fight
did not frighten him. The odds
were largely against him, but the boy
had nerve, a good position, and he
deliberately opened the battle. The
savages did not know how close they
were to him until a bullet from his
rifle cut the jugular vein of the first
one and buried itself in the shoulder
of the next. The first leaped from his
feet and fell back a corpse, while the
second went down but scrambled up
again and took cover along with the
others, so badly wounded that he
could take no part in the desperate
fighting which followed. The Indi
ans at first thought that the boy had
joined two or three hunters, but after
making a circle around his position
they found that he was entirely alone,
and they opened fire on him from
three different points. He was safe
enough in iiis retreat, and waited to
let them exhaust their ammunition.
As their fire slackened ho obtained
sight of one of them arid shot him
through the head!
The idea of a boy having killed
two of their number and wounded a
third drove the remaining six sav
ages to desperation, and they left tlftr
cover of their trees and charged on
his position, yelling fiercely as they
advanced on a run. He had not ex
pected such a maneuver, but was not
taken altogether by surprise. He
wounded one of them iu the wrist by
a shot from his rifle, and when they
were upon him he threw down his
gun and peppered away with his re
volver.
“They were right upon me, and
we were all blazing away at once,”
he afterward explained, but the boy
was too many for them. The cow
ardly reds retreated after a moment,*
having wounded King in the side, in
the leg and in the cheek. In return!
two of them carried away some of
his lead, but were not too badly
wounded to use their rifles after
wards. The gang hauled off for a
whi|e, and then one of them crawled
as near as he could and shouted in
Broken English :
“White boy, come out—me no hurt
him 1”
But the white boy was going to
stay fight there for a while yet. He
knew the treacherous nature of the
savages around him, and he believed
he could whip the whole crowd,
wounded as he was. The Indian,
finding that young King cquld not
be enticed from his position, re
turned and reported, and for an hour
all Was quiet; The boy was begin
ning to think that they had with
drawn for good, when a savage ap
peared in View on the left and wanted
to have a talk. He indulged in fu
rious gestures, danced around, and
made every effort to attract King’s
attention to him and keep it there.
“White boy very brave—won’t
hurt white boy—like to talk to brave
white boy!” he called out as he
danced around.
Meanwhile the rest of the band
were sneaking up from the other di
rection, calculating on shooting King
in the back as he watched the single
Indian. He suspected the trick,
saw them coming, and drawing a fair
bead on the “talker/’ he dropped the
felloW dead as a crow-bar. Those
skulking up numbered four, being
all the Indians left aliye and un
wounded out of the nine first sighted.
They did not rush as the boy ex
pected. On the contrary, they hur
riedly retreated, and but little time
was lost by them in getting out of the
neighborhood. The boy waited un
til three o’clock in the afternoon be
fore leaving his retreat, and then,
his clothing stiff with blood, he pur
sued his journey, reaching his broth*.
er’s camp about dark in safety. The
men would not credit his story,
though his three wounds were plain
proof of a bloody contest. The next
day a band of a dozen went over to
the scene of the fight, and when they
had taken a survey they could no
longer doubt the boy’s story.' They
found trails of blood everywhere
around his position, and trails in the
snow where the dead Indians had
been dragged along, and the defense
was voted one of the bravest ever
made against the savages. * boy
Without sign of beard, and looked
upon as hardly fit to carry a pistol
around, had wounded or destroyed
five out of nine redskins who had an
ticipated securing his scalp without
firing more than one shot. It wasn’t
enough for the miners to pat theboy on
the back and give him all due praise,
brit to further honor; and distinguish
him they called hitn “The Man from
Michigan.” There are other men
from Michigan there, but young
King has the sole honor of being the
man, and of being looked upon as
the representative of the Wolverine
State.
“ENOCH ARDEN” WITH VARIATIONS.
An Enoch Arden has turned up in
Elko, Nevada, and the family com
plications are rather peculiar. The
lady in the case was married in
Oh'b in 1862. Her young husband
immediately started across the plains
with a party of gold hunters for
California. The wife waited long
and got no tidings from the wander
er. Then she packed up and went to
California to see what had become of
him. She learned that the whole
company to which her husband be
longed bad been murdered by the
Indians. In California she was mar
ried again, but she never told her
new husband of her former mar
riage. Why she concealed this im
portant episode in her life is not
stated. Perhaps she didn’t know
why herself. One thing is certain
No. 2 had never heard nor dreamed
of No. 1, until the latter popped in
on the family lately in Elko, and
made a sudden Unpleasantness. No.
2 put the interloper out of his house,
and. threatens him with a bloody
death should lie ever attempt to
cross his threshold again. He is
willing, to let bygones be bygones,
but he wants his wife, arid will
stand no nonsense from the other
claimant. And Enoch still hovers
around town and declares his inten
tions of recovering his lost bride of
•fifteen years ago. It is expected
that the contesting husband will
get up a lively newspaper sensation
in Elko.
The following is the verdict of" a
negro jury : “We de undersigned,
being a koroner’s jury to sit on de
body ob de nigger Sambo, now
dead and gone before us, hab been
sittin on the nigger aforesaid, and
find dat do said nigger aforesaid did
on de night ob de 14th of Novem
ber come to def by falling from de
bridge ober de river, where we find
he was subsequently drowned, and
afterwards washed on de riberside
whrir we spose lie was froze to def 1”
Extract from ,a Tetter from Atchi
son,"Kansas: “The ground is tre
mendousHA'ry here; the big rain of
last wafts? mu riot reach the ground; the,
stood on theif.hind legs’
and AVanljc the,water at fast’At itr frill.'
s*ff ft-rafter”
THe Lion’s Bride.
A STBANGE, SAD STOBY.
By chance, I was one day strolling
through an old and neglected church
yard in oue of our New England
villages, when I came across a weath
er-beaten and almost dilapidated
monument, which bore the following
, inscription:
“Sacred to the memory of Cseser, a
lion, and Mary, his bride.”
■ “Strange,” muttered, I, aloud, that
they should bury animals in this holy
place. It must have happened long
ago, and I’m sure there’s some story
connected with it.”
“You’re right, stranger,” piped a
weak, tremulous voice beside me,
“and it’s a sad taie, to®,”
I now beheld standing beside me
an old man almost bent double with
age, and whose form was propped tip
by the cane he held in his hand.
“Do you know anything rifcdut
it?” asked I, seriously.
“Why shouldn’t I,” replied he,
“seeiDg that I’rft old Peter, the show
man, and Mary was my daughter ?”
“Your daughter!” ejaculated I,
somewhat bewildered.
A mournful smile flitted over his
withered face as he replied :
“You thought it was a lioness,
didn’t you ? Many people think so*
but it was my own child. She was
a bright, beautiful girl and accompa
nied me on all roy tours from town
to town. My menagerie was but a
small affair, the principal attraction
being Caeser, the lion who lies buried
there.”
He seated himself on a grassy
mound beside the grave, and contin
ued.
“When she was hut a child, a gen
tleman, recently returned from Africa*
presented the lion to her as a birth
day present. Closer was but a cub
then, and of about the same age as
his j'oung mistress.”
“Easily tamed by the kind atten
tions paid.him, lie suffered the child
to take all kinds of liberties with
him with impunity. He would lie
on his back, while she, laughing with
ehildlish glee, would fling herself up*
on him and hide her head in his
silken fur.
“If overcome with the fhtigue dur
ing these sports, he would pillow her
head on his breast and fall asleep as
peacefully and securely as at her
mother’s bosom.
“Thus they grew up together.'
“The cub became a lion, my girl a
lovely woman.
“Theif mutual affections had been
increased instead of being diminished
by years.
“She alone fed him and attended
to his comforts, she alone dared to
enter his cage and gently stroke his
flowing mane.
“To all others he was the majestic
ferocious monarch of beasts, to her he
was as gentle ns a lamb.
“One day we gave a show in the
village here, and my girl gave a per
formance in the lion’s cage.
“Among the audience was a rich
man from New York who had a
country residence near by, and a
student from Yale College.
“Both of them fell in love with
Mary, but she dtdii’t fancy the rich
mau and told him so to his face.
, “That made him mad, and being a
Tricked fellow, lie determined to steal
her from me arid lock her up in his
villa.
“Qur show,tent was pitched on an
open plain near by, and borides the
animal’s cages contained Mary’s and
my lodgings.
“You see we couldn’t afford better
accommodations, and when the show
was over we used to raise a linen
partition in the vacant space before
the cages, and thus formed two sleep
ing apartments, one for me and one
lor Mary.
“Well, one night when she had
just gone to her room and I was
alone, a couple of ruffians rushed in
on me and before I could make any
resistance they gagged and bound
me.
“Then the villain who was after my
daughter ran to her room.
“Mary told me afterwards that she
was reading her Bible by the
light of a candle, and was so fright*
ened that she dropped the holy book
against the light and extinguished
it.
“I could hear her call me, but alas,
what could I do? Suddenly,howev
er, I heard her scream :
“Cseser, Cseaer, save me, save me.”
“Then a growl as if thunder
sounded through the air, the strong
iron bars that guarded the beast’s
cage were heard io creak and break,
and a black form crashed through
the partition.
“I knew that the faithful creature
had heard his mistress cry and had
sprung to the rescue. The ruffians
who had bound and gagged me rail
off in terror; I heard a shriek of hu
man agony, and then all was still;
“A minute later Mary came rush
ing out towards me followed by the
lion, whose paws and jaws were drip
ping with blood. My daughter soon
released me, and having secured the
noble lion in another cage I entered
her room, where I beheld the scoun
drel lying on the ground a bleeding,
mangled corpse.
“The affair became quickly know
and created the wildest excitement.
Crowds upon crowds flocked to the
menagerie to see the brave animal
that had performed such an heroic
deed. Mary was even more, affec
tionate to the lion ; she spent more
time within his cage, and not only I,
but almost everybody noticed that
he seemed joyful and glad only when
she was with him, while, ns soon as
she disappeared from view, he be
came sorrowful and dejected.
“‘A strange animal,’ sai<| the stu
dent' tome one day. ‘Were he liu
rpan I wbuld think he was in love
j with Mary and become jealous of him.
iil wonder bow he will boar her ap
' ftftfstchlnj* separation.’
“For, sir,” continued the old show
man, ‘you must know that it had ail
been arranged that Mary should mar
ry the student and go with him to
his parents’ house in Hartford.
. “A friend in the village where Ma
ry had .been staying ever since the
attempt had been ipade to cai-ry her
off presented her with bridal robes
and outfit. .
“On the day appointed for the
wedding, she, dressed in her bridal
array, accompanied by her intended
husband and myself, issued from the
friend’s house.
“We were about to proceed to the
church where the ceremony was to
be performed, when Mary halted and
said :, ~
“ ‘Oh, let me go to Cseser to bid
him good-bye. We are to leave the
village immediately after our mar
liage, and perhaps, shall never
again behold the friend of my youth.
I cannot leave without seeing him;
“Oh, sir,’/ continued the showman,
“had we but refused .that request the
dreadful tragedy would not haye en
sued.
“We saw, however, no reason for
objecting, and soon ffe stood before
the lion’s cage.
“As soon as the animal beheld her,
he sprang up from the drooping po
sition he had assumed, and uttering
a joyful cry strode up and dbwn his
narrow confines.
“Without hesitation, robed as she
was, Mary entered the cage and em
braced her trusty friend.
“ ‘My dear, good Closer,’ 6he mur
mured, with tears in her eyes, ‘I go
aiid will never return. You will
watch for my coming, but in vain.—
I shall be far, far away from .you.—
But wherever I am I will never for
get the happy hours we passed to.
gether. I will , ever remember your
faithful devotion. Good-bye, CseSer,
forever good-bye.”
“Then she bent her head to his
and kissed him.
“She was about to remove her
arms from around his neck, when the
lion uttered a low deep growl, that
struck terror to all our hearts.
“A deathly pallor overspread Ma
ry’s countenance, she strove to step
backwards, but at the slightest mo
tion of her body, the animal, that had
suddenly become savage, emitted
that terror-inspiring growl.
“He reared himself on his hind
legs, and wound his paws around her
body,
“Trien turning towards us* who
stood horror-stricken before the cage,
he uttered a wild, ferocious cry,
which said as plainly as though lie
had spoken the words :
“ ‘She is mine; the lion's bride.'
“I, with a supreme effort, roused
myself from my stupor, and shrieked:
‘“The beast has gone mad! lie
will tear her to pieces.’
“ ‘Oh heaven 1’ ejaculated her bride
groom,' ‘what is to be done?’
“There stood my pale
atid motionless in the lion’s embrace.
She was a bride. But of whom ?
“I snatched a gun that stood near
by, and aiming at the lion’s head dis
charged the weapon.
“The bullet inflicted a mortal
wound on the animal. Maddened by
the pain, he again uttered a fearful
grow], and with one of his terrible
paws felhd Mary to the floor of the
cage.
“Then springing on her prostrate
body, he inserted his sharp fangs in
her snow white neck.
“Poor Mary. She uttered a pierc
ing shriek—-then all was over. She
was; dead.”
Overcome with emotion, the old
showman broke dotvn at this point of
the recital, and wept bitterly. It
was some time before he continued :
“The lion, having accomplished
his fearful object, uttered a low, des
pairing moan, and folding my poor
dead child in his embrace, rolled
Over—a corpse. ,
“We could not separate them, sir,”
concluded he, “even in death, and
the villagers here were so moyed by
the sad occurrence that they declared
that the lion and my daughter should
be buried here in the same grave
They raised ■ that monument, sir, to
her memory.”
“And you ?” asked I.
“I am poor and old, and after my
daughter’s death I could not bear to
keep any wild animals any longer
The good people here take care of
me, and I wander out to the church
yard here every evening to pray be
side the grave of the lion and his
bride.”
A young man rcceritlv indited and
sent the following beautiful poem to
his sweetheart:
If I was a hog,
(And you a dog,)
Sooting away in the yard,
And the old man should say,
, . Drive that hog away,
Would you worry or bite very hard?
To which, she briefly replied :
When I’m a dpg,
And you a hog
Wandorinz from the stye,
I’d breathe not a bark,
But merely remark
Go it, porky, root hog or die.
Dr. Lawson, late Surgeon-General
of the United States army, says he
often observed that when the wolves
and buzzards came npon the battle
fields to devour the slain, they’ - would
not disturb the bodies of those who
had chewed or smoked tobacco
until they bad consumed all the oth
ers.
; —-m ♦
“sVhal would you do, ynadame„
it you were a gentleman?” “Sir,'
what would you do if you were
one 7”
An Eastern man, in writing tp
friends of his marriage in Califor
nia thus tersely describes his bride.
“She has a head as red as a wood
pecker's and owns sheep until you
c’iin’t rest-*’
What Became of Her.
In a little village church in a small
American country place, a small con
gregation gathered together one Sun
day to hear the old minister preach
one of his old sermons; Every pew
held people well knoWn to each other*
and who knew each other’s business.
Nobody there but had heard that
Thomas Benton had courted Annie
Redwood, and how all was going on
we 11,,, when the two grand-fathers
quarrelled about an acre of ground
in a stony’,.unproductive spot, and a
family feud cpmrpenced, and they
were separated. Anhie wfis six and
twenty now, and had never had an
other suitor—and Thomas had left
home for good. And the obstinate
old grand-fathers sat, not caring a
whit for all the trouble they had
caused, and never forgiving each
other’s trespasses, despite the fact
that they repeated the Lord's prayer
together every Sunday’.
Sothetirnes in summer there would
be strange boarders from the city in
church ; but now it was winter, and
every one wondered to see a large
old woman in a great plaid, old
world-looking cloak, and a fur hood,
and a deep cap border, e,ome into
church, and seat herself in a back
pew. Who she was no one could
guess, and why she came to church
with such a cold as she seemed to
have, was a wonder to all. She
coughed loud and long, interrupting
the fiettnou and the prayer, and at
last was seized with such a fit of
choking, that every head was turned.
She spemed to try to rise, but found
herself unable to do so. Then Annie
Redwood, loaning toward her mother,
whispered
“lt s a shame. People ouglit.to be
more Christian-like in their conduct.
I’ll go and help her out.”
Then she arose and went softly
down the aisle, and bent over the old
lady arid whispered something, on
which the poor old soiil arose and
took her arm, and they went out of
church together. The coughing was
heard outside for a moment or two,
but the services went on as before,
and no one wondered that Annie
Redwood did not retunis
The family expected to find her
when they reached homo, of course ;
but she was not there. She did not
come in to dinner, nor did she come
to tea. By evening much alarm was
felt, and inquiries were made, but
Witßorit fit-ail, No one had seen the
girl since she left the church doors.
There was a Sunday train to a
large city, and a man kept watch at
the station all the day. lie, seeing
fewer passengers on Sunday than al
ony other time, had noticed them all.
The old woman in the plaid cloak
had come to tiie station, but Miss
Redwood was not with her.
A young man spoke to the old
lady—flay, she had his arm—but he
might have been a stranger who was
assisting her. No oue could tell.
The old lady could not he traced
alter that, and nothing more was
heard of Annie Redwood.
Many thought the old woman was
some dreadful person in disguise,
who had uiurdered Annie for the
handsome watch and ring she wore.
Then, too, she had quite a little sum
in he!' pocket; for she had had money
leftßer by an aunt, and was not de
pendent on her father’s gifts of pock
et money, as the other girls were.
The woods were searched, the
ponds dragged, but in vain; and the
poor girl was at last given up for
lost.
The old people had beefl very
cruel to her about Thomas; now
they shed bitter and unavailing tears.
How much better would it have been
to let Annie marry and have her
still with "them !
The old grandfathers shook hands
for the first time for years. The
families were reconciled ; but Annie
was gone, and Thomas was gone, and
what was the use ?
“If only I knew what became of
my girl,” sighed Mrs. Redwood.
“Ah, yes, and if I knew my boy
was alive,” said Mrs. Benton.
They were all very sad, but good
cofintry people never stay away from
church for that.
Sqnday after Sunday they met with
their sad faces, and the black gar
ments they had put on.
And a year passed ; and it was the
day that Annie had disappeared;
and they had all gone as usual, and
were going homeward.
Mrs. Redwood was in tears.
“I think of Annie all day to-day,”
she said. “Oh ! i,t is more than I can
bear. Who was that old woman ?
What did she do to my girl?” >
“Oh ! mother 1 there she is f” cried
one of the daughter's.
All looked. Before them on the
road tottered a large figure in a plaid
cloak, coughing violently. The same
old woman, no doubt. But who sup
ported her ? Who—
“Good Heaven! is it a ghost ?”
screamed Mrs. Redwood. “What is
it? Oh ! wh,at is it?.’
“Annie f” screamed the girls to
gether ; and screaming, sobbing, re
gardless of what any might think of
them, they surrounded the pair.
It was Annie, alive, and holding
fast to the arm of the old woman she
had helped out of church just a year
before.
“Don’t question me on the road,”
she said. “Let us go home.”
And glad and angry, and a little
terrified, the Bentons and the Red
woods entered the Redwood home-,
stead, and closed the door on intru
ders.
”Wc thought you dead, Annje ("
sobbed the mother. “Ob, you have
been cruel 1”
“But I see my death has reunited
you all,” said Annie, returning the
embrace. “All here but Tom.” *
“Oh, poor Tom I” said his mother.
“If he were only here, too 1”
“But I must have an explanation,”
cried Mr. Redwood, turning ujJon the
NO. 28:
old woman. “Who are yon, madam 1
And what life has my daughter led
with you ? i ,
“A happy one, I hope, sir,” said
the old womaa, tossing other bonnet
and throwing of her cloak; and be
fore them stood a tall young man
1 homes Benton, and no other, who
said: ,
. “In this disguise I ran away with
Annie a year ago. We changed cos
tumes in the church porch, and so
got safely off. "Now we are here
again, ready for your blessing, if you
will give it to us. Are we forgiven
It was Annie’s mother who saict
“yes” first, but the others followed
in chorus.
down they go.
Failure of a Man with Eight llimdred
Thousand Dollars Income.
A New York correspondent of the
Boston Journal says i __ ;
One of Our heayicst real estate*
men has been under the barrow for
some months. To-day he has aban
doned the fight, and given up every
thing to his .creditors. Ho was , a
very successful cotton broker- All
the money he made he put into real
estate. His revenues were very
large. His income was eight hun
dred thousand dollars a year. Ona
building, near Trinity Church, yield
ed him a rental of ninety thousand
dollars per annum. Everything .he
touched turned to gold.' lie was
loaded down with eottpp;, One day
a merchant handed , him a check o£
three hundred thousand dollars ta
cancel a cont! act: He took it With
in ten days cotton surged up and he.
made a fortune. He owned an ele
gant on Fifth avenue. He
crowded it with paintings, statuary',,
and works of arts. Not content
with this, he was induced by a spec
ulator to take hold of a railroad. 110
bought bonds at sixty. Soon after
they went down to forty, and thp
gentleman bought all lie could lay.
his hands Om He took the road.
He proposed to run it. He f?und it,
unfinished. He equipped it i spept
three hundred , thousand dollars in
locomotive?,and rolling stolk. Iluin
came to him as it comes to every one
who dabbles in outside matters.
The panic completed liis demorali
zation. His fine New York property
was mortgaged for more than it was
worth. Few men will be warned
and few men will be the wiser for all
this. Here is a man who a few’
months ago had a royal income of
eight hundred thousand dollars a,
year. He wanted to make it a mil
lion. To-day lie is hopelessly bank
rupt.
AS IROS.fJI.AM CAT-FISH.
A boy, while fishing in Lake Butts,
dcs Morte the other day, felt a nibble,
and, drawing his hook toward the.
shore, observed a tin fruit-can trail
ing on the bottom. Having secured
the vessel, he was greatly surprised
to find that a large cat-fish had taken;
up its abode therein, and remained
until his increased dimensions did
not admit of egress. He had evi
dently flopped around in his tin par
lor until a hole was made in the rust
eaten bottom, through whieh his tail
protruded. In this condition the
cat-fish had power to navigate from
one place to another, and must have
been regarded by his aquarian neigh
bors as,a kind qi iron-clad minitor.—
‘ Meiiasha ( ILis.J Press.
Should any,, one ask, “How doth
ithe little bisy bee?” say that the
bees of the United States make wax'
and honey every year to the value of
fifteen million dollars.
“Mary,” murmured lisping Alfred,,
undecided what to say, “Mary, if you,
do not love me, thay tbo ; that’th the
only way. But, Mitli Mary, if you
love me, and you wouldn’t like to
thay tho,” pressed the wretch in ac
cents bland, “then Mitli Mary,
thqueeth my hand.”
The man who talks little to a roan,
who talks much, gets the best of the,
argument. The one collects ideas
while the other wastes breath.
“llow much did be leave ?” in
quired a gentleman of an acquaint
ance, on learning of the death of a;,
wealthy citizen. “Everything,”,
sponded the truthful man, “he didn’t
take c( dollar with him.”
An extra-sentimental youth killed
himself leaving as a reason: My
Annie is dead, and I must be witlj
lest some'rival angel should win
her affection/’ A
“ What d’ye think of that ?” asketf
a Nevada man who had boasted that
his dog could track him twenty
miles. “Think of it!” retorted a by- r
slander; I think you’d better go
home and take a bath.
IVhen y6u havc'notbing to say.
say nothing; a weak defence strength
ens your opponent, and silence is Jess
injurious than a bad reply.
None are so fond of secrets as
those who do not mean to keep them u
such persons covet secrets, as a
spendthrift covets money, for the
purpose of circulation.
Two ojd bachelors meeting after a
long .serration, and each findingi
that tho other continued in a state ol
“single blessedness” one exclaimed •
“Well, lam sorry for your forloi n
condition I” “And I,” replied hi*
friend, “am equally sorry lor yours.”
‘Tifen,’ rejoined the first, “we are a
couple of sorry fellows!’
Don’t denounce the whole world'
because you fail to make it adopt
your ideas. It is a sort of self-willed!
world any way, and perhaps the best
one you will ever get iutb.