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INDEX
* TO
BUSINESS ADVERTISEMENTS
IS THE QEITHIH BASSES.
Asa convenience to the reading public, we pre
sent to-day a complete index to all business and
professional advertisements that appear in the
Bonner. It will be corrected weekly, and we
hope very materially increased within a few
weeks.
Quitman.
Bennetdt lane. Attorneys at Law.
Hunter * ttcGail, “
J. L. .VoAdeyTCollecting Attorney and Real Es
, tatc agent.
t. A. Jelks, Physiclaft.
D. L. Ricks, Dentist
3f. L. Battle, Dentist
8. w. Brooks, Warehouse and com. Merchant.
H. Padgett, Carriage Repository and Variety
. Worts.
CWpeimer, Creech <t Cos, Pry Goods and Groceries.
A. P. Parham, dealer in Dry Goods aud Groceries
J R JSdmotulsvn, Dry Goods and Groceries.
Smith A Walker, Dry Goods and Groceries.
Wuitman Hotel. Mrs. Mclntosh.
Dr. J.H. McCall, Druggist.
W. E. Barnes, Jeweller.
James B. Finch, dealer in Dry Goods.
T. J. Livingston, Livery and sale stables.
J. W. Stalnaker & Cos., dealers in merchandize.
Stevens A Rountree, Dry Goods merchants.
Isaac Mabbeth. dealer in merchandize.
Groovorvlllc.
J. ST. Raysor. Dry Goods and Groceries.
B. F. Linton & Cos, Dry Goods and Groceries.
Savannah.
IH4ALKRX IX rVRXm'RK.
A. J. Milter 1 1 Cos, 138 Broughton street
S. s. Miller, 157 Broughton street.
COMMISSION MERCHANTS.
Mercer <k Anderson, Bay street
Guerrard, Eerrill ts" Cos, Bay street,
A Dvlenhofer <t Cos, Bay street
A. S. Hartridge. »2 Bay street.
Pelot, Tucker & Wright, 177 Bay street.
Bryan, Hartridge 4 Cos , Bay street.
attorney at law.
Fitch and Pope , 163 Bay street.
BOOT, BHOK AND FL-RNTBBINO HOUSES.
Meinhard, Bro. <fc 00., 100 Bryan street,
WHOI.ESAIJE OROGERS AX'O LIQUOR DEALER.
H G Ituwe, Opposite Pulaski House,
DRY GOODS HOUSES.
Einstein <t tickman, 151 Congress street,
DeWitt <t Morgan, 137 Congress street,
DEALERS IN SASH AND BLINDS.
T IF Shea, St Julian street.
Blair * Bickford, 203 Bay street.
John Oliver, 11 Whitaker street
CONFECTIONER.
John E Hernandez. 146 Broughton street.
M. Fitzgerald, Whitaker street.
nOTKTiS AND BALOOXB.
Pavilion Hotel, D. C. Noe, Proprietor.
Screven House, G McGinly, Proprietor,
Marshall House, A 11 Luce, Proprietor,
Our House, EII Kirlin, Proprietor.
, DEALERS IX DELOS, AC.
W M Walsh, oorner Broughton and Barnard,
A A Solomons <fc co, Market Square,
W. W. Lincoln, Monument square.
HEALERS IN HAKO AND TIN WARE.
Palmer <t- Deppish, 148 Congress street,
XowBA LalUtnore. 155 Congress street,
BOOT AND SHOE MAKER.
James Roach, Whitaker street,
CROCKERV, GLASSWARE, AC.
Bolshov 4 SUm, 68 St Julian street,
SADDLERY.
E. L. Neidlingcr, corner Broughton and Barnard.
SETTING machine agency.
H D Hawley, 116 Broughton street.
GENERAL AGENCY OFFICE.
L. H. Bryant, opposite the Planter’s Bank.
CLOTHING BOISE.
T. Brown, 98 Bryan street.
DEALERS IN ICE, FISH, AC.
Forrester 4 Sullivan, 116 Bay street,
Haywood. Gage 4 Cos., Market square.
James J. McGoffin, Congress street Lane.
SAVANNAH If CHECH.
Theodor Mevls. Chippeway square.
PHOTOGRAPH GALLERY.
ft. U. Brown, 72 St Julian street.
TAPER HANSIXOR.
w. J. McLaughlin. Drmigbtoo stoeet
Baltisaoro.
Griffin, Brother 4 Cos., Grocers and com. merch.
Miscellaneous.
W h Evan«, Attorney, Waresboro.
Pr U VanGueso*, Dentist, ausokton.
D J. M. Ma4fi<*n, Physician, Okapilco.
£Uevons House,|*N. G. K. Chase & Cos., Prop.
'SFFLItTED REA [I THIS.
/Tfiayton’s Oleum Vitae.
rpuis Great German Liniment is an almost
• JL infallible cure for
Rheumatism, JtmruMa, Rheumatic Pains in the
Rack, Breast, Sides or Joints, Nervous
Headache, Toothache, Earache,
Sprains, Bruises, Swellings,
Outs, Bites, Burns, <fcc.
This great remedy should be in every bouse.—
For Horses this remedy has no equal.
Ask for Kayton’s Oleum Vitae. Take no otoor
Sent by express for ei.oo
Kayton’s Magic Cure.
An Egyptian Remedy,
For the cure of sudden Coughs and Colds, Asth
ma, Acid Stomach, Heartburn, So re Throat, Sea
Sickness. Cholera. Diarrhoea, Cramps and I’ains
in the stomach. Sent by express for sl.
Kayton’s Dyspeptic Pills,
Are a sure and pleasant cure for DYSPEPSIA.
BII.LIOUS DISORDERS, CONSTIPATION, and
all disorders of the liver, stomach and bowels,
and when taken regularly will cleanse the blood.
These are the greatest Anti-Billious Pills ever
placed before the public. Sent by mail for 30
cents per box.
The above Medicines are prepared and sold by
PROF. H. H. KAYTOJf,
SAVANNAH GEORGIA,
To whom all orders should be addressed ; or to
his Wholesale Agents, A. A. SOLOMONS & CO.,
Savannah. Ga.
A liberal discount to parties selling again.
For sale in Quitman, at Dr. J. H. McCall’s drug
store.
February 22, 1867. ly
* SAMUEL W. BROOKSj
IWHAREHOUSE & COMMISSION
MERCHANT,
■ ~XT EEPS constantly on hand a general assort-
IJTV ment of Family Groceries, Liquors, and
other articles.
Quitman, December 21,1866. 49- f
L FOR SALE l
r y-vNE YOKE OF EXCELLENT OXEN.
Apply to
J D. DELAXNOY.
Quitmac, Ga-, March 29, 1867. 3-ts
F. R. FILDES, Editor.
YOL. 11.
Jjaetiral.
“ ill Quiet along the Potomac Te-night."
The following was published during the war, and
we reproduce it for its beauty.
All quiet %long the Potomac to-night,
Except now and then that a picket
Is shot, as he walks on his post to and flro,
By a rifleman hid in a thicket.
'Tis nothing—a private or two, now and then,
Will not count in the news of the battle ;
Notan officer lost—only one of the men,
Moaning out, all alone, the death-rattle.
All quiet along the Potomac to-night,
Where the soldiers lie peacefully dreaming ;
Their tent.* in the eye of the clear autumn moon,
Or the light of the watch-fires, are gleaming ;
A tremulous sigh, os the gentle night wind
Through the forest leaves slowly is creeping,
While the stars up above with their glittering eyes
Keep guard, for the army is sleeping.
There’s only the sound of the sentry’s tread,
As he tramps from the rock to the fountain,
And thinks of the two on the low trundle bed,
Far away in the cot on the mountain ;
His musket falls slack, and his face, dark and
grim,
Grows gentle with memories tender,
As he mutters a prayer for the children sleep.
For their mother-may Heaven defend her t
The moon seems to shine now os brightly as then,
That night, when the love yet unspoken,
Leaped up to his lips, and when low murmured
VOW’S
Were pledged to be ever unbroken :
Then drawing his sleeve roughly over his eyes,
He dashes off tears that are welling,
And gathers his gun closer up to its place,
As if to keep down the heart-swelling
lie passes the fountain, the masted pine tree,
The footstep is lagging and weary ;
Yet onward he goes through the broad belt of
light,
Toward the shades of a forest so dreary,
Hark! was it the light wind that rustled the
leaves?
Was it the moonlight so wondrously flashing?
It looked like a rifle—“Ha! Mary, goodbye 1”
And the life blood is ebbing and plashing.
All quiet along the Potomac to night.
No sound save the rush of the river ;
While soft falls the dew on the face of the dead,
The Picket’s off duty forever! #
Hlktlhtiuous Jleabing.
Mrs. Partington says : For my part
I can’t deceive what on airth eddication
iscomin to. When I was young, if a
gal only understood the rules of distrac
tion, provision, multiplying, replenishing
and tlie common donominator, and knew
all about the rivers and their obituaries,
the couvenants and their dormitories,
the provinces and the umpire, they bad
eddication enough. But now they have
to study bottomy, algerbay, and have to
demonstrate suppositions about the syco
phants of circusstangonU and diagonies
of parallelograms, to say nothing of ox
hides, asheads, cowsticks, and abstruse
triangles. And hco the old lady was so
confused with the technical names that
she was forced to stop.
- »
The most graceful principle of dress is
neatness —the most vulgar is precise
ness !
Better try all things and find all emp
ty , than to try nothing and leave life a
blank.
The way to make a tall man short is
to ask him to loan you a hundred dol
lars.
Why are soldiers like clocks ?—Be
cause their first duty is to mark the
time.
Wealth make a man proud when he
has little else to be proud about.
To cure the toothache let an omnibus
run over your foot.
A sermon in four words on the vanity
of all earthly possessions : ‘Shrouds—
have—no—pockets !’
Why is a retired carpenter like a lec
turer ? Because he is an ex-planer.
Good order is bread, disorder is starva
tion.
‘My heart la thino,> M tho onhhage
said to the cook-maid.
We can carry nothing with us to the
next world, save the good we have done
in this stage of existence.
‘Scatter the germs of the beautiful.’ as
the fellow said when be kicked his wife
and children out of doors.
If you see a wife carefully footing her
husbands stockings, yon may conclude
that he will not find it Laid to foot her
bills.
Not a few people imagine that chil
dren should learn politeness lrom the
public teacher. This 10 wrong that
brnnoh of tuition lays in the mother’s
lap.
A sensible ‘down east’ female is deci
dedly opposed to the interference of wo
men with politics. She pointedly asks:
‘lf men can’t do the voting and take care
of the country, what is the use of them?’
Dean Swift, hearing of a carpenter
falling through the scaffolding of a house
which he was engaged in repairing, dri
ly remarked that he liked to see a me
chanic go through his work promptly.
In Japan their horses are shod with
nothing but shoes of grass, dried and
twisted together in hard masses, and
then fastened to the hoofs by a thong of
the same brought up and fastened round
the fetlock.
A farmer who bad married a rich wife
after promising another of meaner cir
cumstances, endeavored to pallitate his
conduct to a clergyman, who told him it
was s i wrong that he did’nt know of any
thing like it. ‘lf you do not I do,’ says
Hodge ; ‘it is like your leaving A poor
parish for a rich one.’
A man very much intoxicated was
sent to jail. ‘Did you not bail him out?’
exclaimed a bystander to a friend. ‘Bail
him out! ‘exclaimed the othe; ‘Why you
could hot pump him out.’
A Western wag remarks that he has
seen a couple of sisters who had to be
told everything together, for they are
' so much alike that they could not tie told
; apart.
HERE SHALL THE PRESS THE PEOPLE’S RIOHTS MAINTAIN, UNAWED BY FEAR AND UNBRIBED BY GAIN.
Modern Purity, Virtue,Charity,4c
[The following sarcastic and pithy il
lustration of modern philanthropy, chari
ty, patriotism, etc., we find in the Metro
politan Record, over the signature of ‘R.
E. Bel.]
Purity? Virtue? Honesty? Philanthro
py? Charity? Patriotism? Relegion? What
are they? Are they not idle sounds, or
ghostly satires! Are they not words
without meaning?
“purity!”
What is it but a lustrous absurdity?
The snowy petals of the lily, the waters
of the crystal streams, are its highest,
purest symbols. Yet that lily’s stainless
folds are but a refinement of the filth of
the stable or barn yard; its soft perfume
but a modification of the vile odors of
muck-heap and the poultry house. The
glistening stream is hut the washings of
a thousand nauseous things. On its
clear, sparkling bosom, or beneath its
suriace, float unnumbered loathsome
types of death and rottenness. Here
the putrid, swollen carcases of some vet
eran watch-dog, whose bark has gone
down forever amid the silent waves of
oblivion; here a decaying porker, whose
soul has taken lodging in bog heaven, to
await the coming of Butler, Stevens and
Chandler; there a way-worn old ox who
has slipped off the yoke, and found, at
last a l.othe-like place of repose, where
wicked drivers cease from troubling and
weary oxen are at rest. Hore floats a
rat with his cue-rious appendage, and
side by side his old antagonist, her nine
lives all long since extinguished, "re
quies-cols in pace,” which is antiquated
Italian, for drifts in peaceful stink ing
ness. Yet these, the lily and the water,
are “purity’s'' choicest emblems! The
very air wo breathe comes to us laden
with reminiscences of pig-pens, back
alleys, butcher shops and dead horses,
with which it has dallied in its wander
ings. We ourselves, in the noonday of
our strength and comeliness and pride,
are but incipient carrion, futurity’s worm
feed! Purity, indeed! An'airy nothing’
an empty name without a ‘local habita
tion,’ the phantasm of a fevored or a
whiskied brain, the shadows of a lunatics
dream, an evanescent vapor, a myth!
And
“virtue!”
What is it? What but the mere ab
sence of temptation? It is the raising of
the hands with holy abhorrence, at acts
that our most righteous solves would
long ago have committed, if opportunity
had been given us. The arching of the
eyebrows, the pursing of the lips, the
toss of the head at mention of things
from which we have, been kept only by
UcV of sufficient Indurs*inftni H 4bo
pulling aside of the garments to avoid
the contaminating touch of some object
on which might justly be stamped, "our
selves if circumstances had permitted!”
Modern “Virtue” is the broad phylactory
of Pharisaism, the whitewash on the se
pulchre, the silken cap that hides the
scald head, the green moss that clothes
decay, the phosphorescent light that
gilds decomposition, the blooming rind
that encloses the aßhes of the apples of
Sodom!
“honesty!”
Ha! ha! I chuckle, I snigger and gig
gle like a whole bevy of rustic maidens
swinging on the schoolhouse gate, as I
think of it. Honesty, forsooth! It’s the
synonym of stupidity. “An honest man
is the noblest work of God,” sang a dis
tinguished blank versifier, and it was an
intelligent individual who completed the
sentence and the sense by adding: “And
a dem sight the scarcest!" Honestyl.bah!
’tis the weakness of an Idiot, the misfor
tune of a fool. Honesty is that sacred
principle that animates quartermasters,
commissaries, government contractors,
stock speculators and Wall street gamb
lers; it’s the high-pressure engine that
moves generals, Congressmen, legisla
tors, governors, chief-justices and "inves
tigating committees;” the divine afflatus
that restrains your fellow-traveler to
eternity from swindling you-—just when
ever he has no chance to do it! ‘Honesty’
is villainy too shrewd to be found out;
dishonesty is only the folly of being
caught in the act.
“philanthropy”
Is a ravening wolf whose fangs and claws
are thinly covered with a lamb-like
fleece. Ship loads of red flannel shirts
and tracts on predestination for the
young cannibals on the banks of the Ni
ger; gushes of affection and cargoes of
provisions for the suffering Greeks; sym
pathy and testaments for the benighted
Hindoos and Siamese; overflowing ten
derness for Hayti, Hungary, Poland and
the Sandwich Islands; buncombe resolu
tions in behalf of Ireland; tat, tender,
juicy missionaries, in prime order for
barbecuing, for the Caribs, Feejees and
New Zealanders; and naught but hatred,
persecution, abuse, "arsenic” confisca
tion, damnation, and an occasional ship-1
ment of strumpets arid school-marms for j
the destitute millions of their own flesh |
and blood. This is “philanthropy?” Ears
acute, and hearts and purses open to ev
erv whimper of distress that comes a
cross the ocean from any heathenish, un
pronounceable Affghanistan, Belcochist
an, Timbustoo, or Booria Boola-Gba; but
the grindstone hearts, sole-leather con
sciences and ears of lead to to the wail
ings of their own despairing, perishing
brethren and sisters This is the acma
of modern “philanthropy!” Thirty years
of lachrymose harangues and lugubious
dissertations on the sufferings of the op
pressed and downtrodden African broth
er, loud professions of benevolence bran
bread, “anti-eruelty-to-animale” societies,
whaugdoodle sermons and sniffling pray
ers—four years of slaughter, outrage
and devastation, a million and a half of
human lives, three millions of widows
and orphans, a deluge of blood and horror
at which all creation stood aghast, to
tear a race of tailless baboons from com
fortable homes and kind protectors, and
tarn them out upon the highways of the
world, helpless, hungry, naked beggars
and vagabonds. This is the sublimest,
the “cari’t-fly any higher-on-mortal-wings
est climax of philanthropy!” Its all a
smiling, lying, horn blowing cheat! And
QUITMAN, GEO., AUGUST 2, 1867.
Sumner, Garrison, ’Qhase and Phillips
know it to the bottom\f their false souls
—if they’vo got souls at ail (and the
devil won’t get his dues if they haven't).
•‘charity 1”
What is il, and where found? Heav
enly minded charity, without which,
though I may be pure as Morton, vir
tuous as Fletcher, honest as Butler and
philanthropic as Wilson—without which,
though I may boast ail other good quali
ties and gifts, I am but a leaky brass
kettle and a tinkling pot-metal cow-bell!
Charity lounging on her luxurious sofa
weaves beautiful homliness on the sor
rows of the poor, and kicks the unhappy
Lazarus from her doorstep Charity in
spires onr "sewing circles,” whose nee
dles fly so briskly on linsey petticoats
for infantine Hottentots, whilst their
tongues are no less active and untiring
in abusing their neighbors, manufactur
ing at. least two substantial scandals for
every flimsey garment they produce.
Meek charity flaunts her gayest plumes
and brightest ribbons at "festivals” and
“fairs” for the relief of the destitute.”
Enter that brilliant hall. Hear the soft,
voluptuous mvmic that floats from a fairy
bower of evergreens and roses. Sec the
glare and glitter, tbo fashion and luxury.
Oboorve the innumerable munificent and
magnificent gifts. Note the pompous
placards that blazo on every article; “Do
nated by Ketchum & Skinnom, dealers
in staple and fancy dry goods, corner
Fourth and Locust, streets“ Donated by
Bunkum & Stuffem, grocers aud provi
sion merchants,‘2Bs Vino street;” “Do
nated by O. A. Blowhard, manufacturer,
112 Main street,” and so forth, and so
on, ad infinitum and ad disgustitum. No
business advertising about, that—oh! no,
all pure charity! Nut letting the left
hand know what the right hand doeth,
with a vengeance! Charity heads the
public contribution lisis with a thousand
dollars, and drops horn buttons and rag
ged three cent shinplasters into the col
lection plate and the poor-box. Charity
sympathizes with distress in an inverse
ratio to its distance and the likelihood of
being called on for aid. Charity but re
cently got up a three hundred thousand
dollar “fair” for the “Southern Relief’ in
one of our great cith s, and let a gallant
Confederate officer die on the streets of
“ starvation aud exposure 1” Charity
groans, "Lord help the poor in this hard
weather,” and forthwith doubles their
rent and raises the price of coal 1 Charity,
gives her fine sewing to emaciated seam
stresses, and then forgets to pay them!
Charity examines with a two-forty-double
back-action microscope the inflnitessimal
speck in hor brother’s optic, but fails to
perceive the raft of saw logs in her own!
Charity for three score years and ten
grinds the faces of the poor into knife
blades, wrings the last mite from the
famishing clutohes of the widow and
fatherless, and then on her death-bed,
when all her ill-gotten money-bags won’t
purchase another gasp of bieath, loaves
large bequests to hospitals, asylums and
churches, gets puffed by the papers and
canonized by the saintsl Charity is a
polished thimble-rigger, an accomplished
“now you see me,” a moral Barnutn, a
pious humbug, a player’s mask to be
worn under the eye of the world, and
jealously thrown aside in the privacy of
counting rooms and back parlo.s. Char
ity is charity—just when it “pays!”
“patriotism!”
“Patriotism 1” I idly repeat an Idle
word. Patriotism 1 Sacred flame that
fired the bosom of Le nidas, of Tell, of
Wallace and of Washington, what art
thou now ? The gaudy circus tent that
covers the uncountable and never-ending
tricks, tumblings and hocus-pocus-inge,
wheel-abouts and turn-abouts, somer
saults and wintersaults of political gym
nastic riders and clowns. Patriotism !
Tear to shreds the Magua Oharta of oor
liberties—and shout,‘Loyalty and Union.’
Dot the whole land with graveyards, let
our rivers run blood, rear pyramids of
fraternal skulls, lay waste with fire and
sword, leave vast districts so that to pass
over them even the dove of reconciliation
“must carry her rations with her”—and
shout “Humanity and Union!” Enlarge
our bastiles, crowd our dungeons with
captives, fill our penitentiaries, jails and
calabooses with preachers, priests, Sis
ters of Charity and children—and shout
“Freedom and Union !” Murder our wo
men as at Kansas City, seat our old men
aud boys on their coffins and butcher
them, as at Palmyra, at Kirksville, at
Macon City, at Paducha, Lexington, and
a hundred other places; torture men,
women and children to extort “confes
sions,” as in Arkansas, in Tennessee, in
Georgia and the Carolinas—and all the
while shout, ‘Magna imity and Union 1’
Roll up our debt by billions, pile on the
taxes till every bone in our wretched car
cases cracks, build up the rich, trample
down the poor, stick an infernal revenue
stamp on every breath we draw, on evej
ly morsel we swallow and every rag we
I wear, on everything we use, from the
j cradles we are rocked in to the coffins
we are buried in—and shout, ‘Progress
and Union!’ Make ‘government’ the
paradise of thieves, steal by legislative
enactments, steal like highwaymen, vi et
armis, steal like pickpockets, by slight of
hand, steal openly and secretly and any
way at all; steal everything from a pew
ter spoon, or a pocket Bible, to the con
tents of a tomb or a bank, as Butler did
—and shout without ceasing, “Hallelu
jah and Union!” Rend the country asI’rider, 1 ’ ri
der, kick ten States back into utter nihil
ity, turn them over bound and bleeding
to the merciless mercies of shoulder
strapped w masters, like bickles,
and land pirates like Sheridan—and
shout “Equality and Union!’’ Clap the
knife to the throats, the revolver to the
breast of eight millions of people, force
them at the point of the Bayonet to doff
their hats and bend in low reverence be
fore some petty satrap’s dirty shirt, .or
sortie Strong-minded female’s petti-skirt,
suspended on a ( liberty ) pole; compel
eight thousand free born citizens to go
down on abject knees and lick the dust
from the feet of their former slaves —anff
shout, ‘Hail Columbia, happy land, John
Brown’s soul, Yankee Doodle and Union!
To-day, point to the ‘Star spangled ban-
ner,’ and howl with Greeley, ‘Tear down
the flaunting lie;’ to-morrow, roar with
Dix, ‘Shoot down the first roan that rais
es a hand against that flag!’ For four
years chant, ‘Stand by the President and
save the country 1’ and in the very next
breath yell, ‘To hell with the President;
support to him is treason to the nation!’
—and all the tirao shout, ‘Constitution
and Union?’ Refuge of all things abomi
nable, varnish that cunning smears over
rascality, lid on the stink pot of official
scoundrelism, demagogic fig-leaf that
hides every iniquity and impurity— This,
THi-s ais modern ‘Patriotism!’ And last
of all the sacred band—■
“religion,”
heaven-descended female, dost thou not
shudder, dost not tby very “waterfall”
bristle with indignation and horror at
the profanation of thy name, at the vile
uses to which thou art put by those who
profess to be thy chief guardians, thy
principal protectors? Poor fallen, degia
ded, dirty skirted creatures as you are,
don’t you sometimes sigh your gaiter
boots into your throat as you think of
your lost estate? Unhappy beer-jerker in
the doggery of politics, do no gleams
ever visit you of your former beauty and
purity and glory? Miserable dam-sell,
I pity you—pity you from the crown of
my feet to the sole of my head. Religion,
fi°?L fi^w« D TO lo 6c«i n «iirto
inenl’ Religion of the lowly Savior, who
when smitten on one cheek, mildly turn
ed the other! Religion of the Prince of
Peace, whose every breath was love!
Are not your celestial robes all bedrag
gled in mire and blood? Ilavo not your
temples, those training places for the
peace of heaven, rang lor years with the
bugle calls of savage war? Have not
your churches been turned into recruit
ing offices, and your ministers, succes
sors of Ihe meek Apostles, heralds of
universal peace, have they not been the
fiercest urgers on of deadly strife, the
loudest clanging trumpet' rs of revenge
and hate? Have they not cast out of
your sin-agogues with execration and
contempt the few who have dared to
raise their voices, as their Master would
have done, for peace and reconciliation?
Oh, religion! religion! once so fair and
holy; the radiant star that pioclaimed
the coming of unending day I What art
thou now? A black cloth coat, a white
choke-rag, a cat-like walk, a sanctimoni
ous roll of the eyes, a mouth demurely
drawn down at the corners, long whining
prayers, psalms droned through the nose
—-in public; meanness, knavery, licen
tiousness, doviliam— in private! Wanton
paramour of one-horse politicians, last
resort of disappointed schemers; sancti
ty-daubed bundle of bypoorrey, disguised
ambition, ill-corkod malevolence, and
maggot-like lusts reveling in moral car
rion. This is modern ‘religion.’ What
is true? What can be trusted? Which
is which and what is what?
Equality.
On last Sunday night, at the speaking
on Broad street, we noticed a Radical
who was talking with the negroes about
equality, advising them to demand their
social rights. A tall negro, evidently
from tho country, but sharp withal, said
to him:
“Are you willing for us niggers to sit
in your parlor, court your daughters, ac
company them to church and balls, and
marry them?”
Mr. Rad commenced to explain what
equality was, mid what he meant.
‘No, no!’ cried tho negro, ‘what I want
is an answer, yes or no.’
‘Well,’ said Mr. Rad, ‘I was raised,’—
‘No matter whar you was raised" in
terrupted tho negro, dat ain’t got noth
ing to do wid it, you is either in favor or
you aint.J and I would like you to answer
tny question.’
Mr. Rad tried again and again to ex
plain his position on that particular fea
ture of negro equality But the, negro
would stop him aud demand a 'yes or no;’
so he finally gave it up, leaving the ne
gro master of tho field. Wo believe in
the old negro’s manner of answering
white Rads when they preach negro
equality— Nash. Gazette.
Would Diserace the Radical Party
We heard oi a conversation in our
streets tbo other day, that may servo to
‘point a moral.’
A white Radical was electioneering
with some froedrnen in behalf of his par
ty, when a Conservative came up and
remarked that it was very’ strange that
the Radicals were so very anxious to
get votes of the negroes, but never
proposed to give their votes to the ne
groes for aoy office; that for his part, if
the blacks were to be allowed to vote, he
was wilting to give them offices too—
would fleet them to Congress.
'Ah, “exclaimed the white Radical,
‘I see what you are after—you want to
disgrace the Radical party I’— Columbus
Sun.
Under the Rose.— That is, secretly;
unknown to others; on the sh 1 . Origin:
Amirig the ancients, the rose was re
garded as the emblem of silence, aud a
custom prevailed among them of sus
pending a rose from the ceiling over the
upper end of the table, a3 an intimation
of whatever transpired there was of a
confidential nature. The same is also
used in its Latin original— sub rosa.
Affection. —On the proper and com
plete exercise of the affections alone; the
best happiness of life depends; and as the
meanest scrap of gauze, of bead or of
tinsel, looks beautiful aDd costly through
she reflecting mirror of[a kaleidoscope, so
does the most common and dreary scene
acquire attraction and value when be
held through the beautifying medium of
gratift and affection.
As an EngTishnjan and an Irishman j
were passing By a gallows, the former |
asked :
‘Pat, jf that gallows had its due, pray i
‘Ocb, faith, and fd be i iding to town
all alone,’ wao the quick reply.
| $3.00 per Anntiitu
NO* 26.
i Familiar Conversation.
i
NUMBER ONE;
“Ah, Mr Editor, I wish to advertise by
the year in your paper. What Will four
squares cost I”
“Fifty dollars, sir.”
“Fifty dollars 1 Why I it Red to get it
done for thirty, before the war. I can’t
pay any more now—there is no justice
or reason in such high prices.”
"Very well, sir, if you don’t like the
price let it alone. I wish to buy a pair
of good sewed shoes. "What is the
price.”
' ix dollars, sir—a very nice article.”
“Ahem ! what was the price of such
shoes before the war ?”
“From two and a half to three dollars,
sir 1 everything in our line, you know, is
higher now.”
“Yes, sir, have you some coffee, and
what is the price ?”
“We have some very nice Java at
fifty cents.”
“Fifty cents 1 What was the price be
fore the war ?”
‘‘From eighteen to twenty sir,”
"Well, Mr. Graspall, let me see some
of your bleached shirting. What is the
price of that ?”
“Bleached shirting is worth half a dol.
you uot formerly sell it from fif
teen to twenty cents per yard ?”
“Yes, sir : but as I before remarked,
eveiything in our line is higher tlan for
merly.”
“Well, sir, I see I can’t afford to buy
dry goods aud groceries, but I am ob
liged to have some flour, bacon, and corn.
What arc the articles woith ?”
“Flour is from sixteen to twenty dol
lars per barrel ; corn two dollars and a
half per bushel, and bacon twenty-eight
cents per pound."
“Don’t you remember when I advertis
ed for you at thirty dollars, you sold
flour at five dollars per barrel ( corn at
sixty cents per bushel and bacon at I3J
cents per pound ?”
“Well, yeß, I believe so.”
“How then ; do you expect me to pay
from one to two hundred per cent, ad
vance on former prices and not raise my
rates ?”
“Well, I don’t know, Mr. Editor, but
it does seem to me your prices are very
extortionate 1 1 !”
Reader the above is no fancy sketch ;
nor does it apply to merchants alone.
NUMBER TWO.
“Hello ? is the Editor in ?”
“Yes, walk in, Mr. Muggins—take a
seat, sir.”
“I justjcalled to see about taking a pa
per, Squire. What are they going at
now?”
“Four dollars a year, sir.”
"Four dollars 1 why I never heard of
sucbextortioD.”
"Well, Mr. Muggins, I understand you
have some wheat—w hat, do you ask for
it ?”
“Three dollars a bushel, sir.”
“I also want some bacon. What is
the price ?”
“Twenty eight cents per pound, sir.”
“I wish likewise to get some corn and
fodder—what are the prices of those ar
ticles ?”
“Corn is two dollars and a half per
bushel, and fodder a dollar and a half
per cwt. But hold on let ns settle that
newspaper affair. Can’t you let me have
it for less than Four dollars ? Ido not
see any good reason for asking more
than you formerly did—which was two
dollars, I believe.”
(Editor, somewhat excited) “The
thunder you don’t I formerly bought
wheat at a dollar a bushel—yon now ask
three 1 I bought bacon at 12J —noiV
you ask 20 1 I bought corn at 50 to
TO—you now ask two dollars and a half!
I bought fbdder at 60c pet cwt—you now
ask $1,50 1 And so on to the end of the
chapter,, Let us look at tho practical
working of the thing. I offer you my
paper at two dollars—the old price—if
3'ou will pay in produce at, old prices
This you decline to do, because it would
take two bushels of wheat it would take
four bushels of corn, which would at
the present price amount to ten dollars.
It would take 400 lbs. fodder for which
you now ask six dollars.”
“Hold on. Squire—don’t’go any further
Here are four dollars ; put down my
name. I find editors are not after all
as unreasonabl as some’ of the rest of
us.”
—.—
The Colonel’s Horse.
I have never been able to ascertain
the cause of the quarrel between the
Crickley’s and the Drakes. They have
lived within a mile or two of each other
in Illinois for five years and from their
first acquaintance there had been a mu
tual feeling of dislike between tho two
families. .
One day Mr. Drake the elder was re
turning with a pocket full of rocks, from
Chicago where he had been to dispose of
a load of £’rain, and Sam Barton was on
! the wagon with him. As they approach
ed the grove Which intervened between
them and Mr. Drake’s house he observed
to bis companion :
“What a beautiful shot old Cricklcy’s
roan is over yonder,
“Hang it, so it is,” muttered old Drake.
The horse was standing under some
trees twelve rods from the to a;t.
Involuntarily Drake stopped his team.
Me glanced furtively around, then with
a queer smile the oicl hunter took up
his rifle from the wagon, and raising it
to his shoulder,' drew a sight on the
colonel’s horse. .. . - v
“Beautiful,” murmured Drake, lower
ing his rifle with the air of a man who
lias resisted a pojyerfnf temptatiqp. “1
cou)d drop tho old roan so handsonie ”
“Shoot !" sugested Barton who lovod
; :Mn in Any Shape. ~, „
I “No’twon’t do,” sairf the old hunter,
I glancing cautiously around,
t “I won’f tell,” said Sam.
I “Well 1 won’t shoot f'rae, tell or
in tell, 'i'tm Uorse'ts 100 nigh—if he was
fifty rods off twelve uo Ttieve
would be a mere risibility of mistaking
TERMS FOR ADVERTISING
INVARIABLY in advance. „
One square, (10 line!!, or less,) flt|t llttsrUea
$2.00; each |o)lowing Insertion, SI.OO.
When advertisements are .continued
month or longer, the charge will be as follows )
12 Months.. ■
6 Mentha. -
1'
3 Months.
1 Month.
Number
of
Squares.
1 $6 00 *lO 00 1* i$ 00 It 20 TO
2 800 15 00 25 00 35 IN*
3 f* 00 18 00 35 00 4? 00
4 .. . 1b 00 24 00 40 00 63 00
5 20 00 S5 00 46 00 ,-W 00
AOol’mn 35 to 85 00 80 00 Wto
i•• 60 oo so oo 130 oo 200 oq
OfcUiiarj notices, 'liributeaef Respect, and *R
articles o la persona! character, charged far ad
advertisements. .-*< - !■
For annonneing candidates for office, SIO.OO ,
him forT^eerTTlotTy - As it iis I’d
give old Crickley five dollars for a shot."
At this moment the colonel himself
stepped from behind a big oak, , not half
’ a dozen paces distant and stood before
’ Mr. Drake.
“Well,.why don’t ypu shoot ?”
The oldbdtiter stammered otit Some
■ words in confusion. ■ j
“That you color el ? I—l was tempted
| to I declare. But as I said I’ll give you
a V for a pull. ,
“Say an X and its f- bargain.” +
Drake felf for his riflo and looked ks
the old horse. ■ t , . ;
“How much is tlie cld roan worth ?”
‘Fifty dollars’ he,.whispered jfi Sam’s ear.
“Well I’ll do it. Here’s an X.” ,
“I’ll be hanged if I thought you’d do
it,” muttered the colonel, pocketing the
money. ,
Witn high glee the old banter put a
fresh cap on his rifle, stood up in his
wagon and drew » close sight on old.
roan. Crack wtht the rifle. Tlie hunter
let out in a horrid oath which I will not
repeat. Sam was cstonished : the colo
nel started ; old reap never.stirred. —
Drake stared at.his rifle with "'a face as
black as Othello’s. , .
“What’s with ( you hey ?—;
Fust tirtie youTver served me such a
totoK I jIWSUI."
And Drnhu *-. Am pAmm " ‘ Lli
wrath and indignation. . , ,
"People say you’ve'lost your knack of
shooting,” said the colonel, in a ton* of
cutting sarcasm.
"Who said so ? It’s a lie 1”, thunder
ed tlie enraged old hunter. “I can shoot
“A horse at ten rods 1 Ha 1 ha 1”
Drake livid. ..,, .< I
“Look here, colonel, I can’t stand that'
he began. j
"Never, mind, the horse can,” sneered
the colonel.
"Here, I’m bound to have my shot,’’,
growled Drake grinding his teeth aud
producing anothpr bank note.
"Crack away” said the colonel, pocket
ing the money, ■ ... .
Drak. did crack away ; with deadly,
aim too, but the horse did not mind it in
the least. To the rage and disgust of
the old hunter, rone stared him right in
the face as if he liked, the fun. , t
“Drake,”Jcried Sam, “you’re drunk—a
horse at a dozen rods ! O Lord !”
“Shut your mouth or I’ll shoot you,”
said old Drake. , “f'bc man lies that;
says I can’t shoot. Last week I shot a
goose’s head at fifty rods and l cau do it
ngain. Crickley, you cau laugh now,
but I’ll bqt yoq fifty dollars that I can
bring down old roan at the very next
shot.” ■_ .
The wager, was readily accepted. rti»
Blakes were placed in Sam’s hands. Ela
ted with the idea-of winning back his
two tens, and making atyX in the bar
gain, drake carefully selected a perfect
ball, and with a buckskin patch careful
ly loaded his, rifle., ■ • »
It was now near nigbt, bpt the hunter
was in the habit of boasting that he
could shoot a bat on the wjng by star
light and without .hesitation he drew «t
bead oq rokti’s head. .
A moment Inter and Drake was driving
though the grove, flic most enraged and.
desperate oi men. . His rifle innocent vie
limos hie ife lay with brqken stock in the
bottom of the wagon. Sam Barton was
too frightened to laugh. J
In the meantirho the gratified colonel
was rolling on the ground .ponvulsed
with mirth and the. oid roan was stan
ding flndet the. tree.
When old Drake reached home his two
sons discovering his ill humor, hastened
to arouse, his spirits _VHtb' the news,
which they were sure would make him
danpe with joy. • t ■>
“Clear quV' growled the angry old
man. ..“I don’t wjao’t to hear any news 1
get away or I'll knopk you dpyvn.” :
“But father it is such a trick played
on qlfl Crickley.” .
“Old Ctjckley ?” said-the old tnan getj
ting interested. "Glad you haye playe<k
the colonel $ trick; let’s have it.” “Well
father .Ted and I tliie evening went for
deer—” , . .
“Hapg : the deer ; let's hear about
yonr trick.’
‘Could’nt find the deer, but I thought
wp must kill something,.so jed
away at the colonel’s old roan—shot him
dead.’
‘Shot old roan!’ thundered the old hun
ter. 'Jed rfid you shoot the colonel’s
lIOBS ?’ • , , 4
‘Did’nt do anything elec. Then,’ said
Jed confident that the joke must be a
grecable to his father. Jim and I prop
ped him up autl tied his head back with
a string and,left him standing under the
tree just as if he wete alive. Ha! ha f
isn’t it a joke ?’ ~ .. ,
Old 1 Drakes head fell upon bis breast.
He felt his empty pocket book,and looked,
at Ipq .rifle. Then in a rueful tone bo
whispered to tpe boys. ~.
It's a joke but if you ever tell of it—;
or if yon do Sain Burton—l'll Rkin you,
alive. I’ve been shooting at that dead,
host for over lit If an hour at ten dollars
a shot.’ , r „
Seasonable Hints.—These seasonable
hints .if true, will l;elp to keep many a,
fail .one from having th< ir faces aqd.
arms, etc., bitten by these, annoying lit
tle bugs,.called mowpl.i tocs, some
friend try it, ? 'Thp. oi,! of, pennyroyal
will keep mosquitoes put of a room if
scattered abopt even in small quantities.'
Roaches,sre exterminated by scattering
a handful of fresh encumber parings 14-
bout the Ijoupq. No fly will light
window Vfhich has been with
water’d which a little garlicY has been .
boiled.” . .
Eating while the body tt fatigued, is a
very injurious *ev e labor
soon alter a hearty meal, is none the
less so. A large sharTn&j{ital force is
inquired tq'prpperjy perforw7te"procfSS.
ot digestion, and if this is called away*
to tho muscles or brain to accoropliau
severe physical or meuta labor, tho
. stomfkJus left ineufiicienty supplied*
anffthe tood remains for a lova ti»‘“ h*'
digested’.
