Newspaper Page Text
F. R. FILDES, Editor.
VOLUME VIII.
Professional.
JDK. E. A. JELIvS,
Practicing Physic ian,
QUITMAN GA.
times : Brick building adjoining store of
Hessrs. Briggs. .Iriks & Cos., Screven street.
•January 31, 1873. 5-ts
JAMES H. HUNTER,
JUtomn anti Counsellor at fab,
QUITMAN, GA.
OmCR, IN THE Court House.-S^
March 17,1871.
\T. B. Bennet S. T. Kinusbeiuit
BENNET & KINGSI3ERY,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
Qn man, Brooks County, Geobuia.
February 7, 1873 6
EDWAR OK II ait DEN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
QUITMAN, GEORGIA,
Vsi- Ofllce, lu the Court House, second floor
May 36, 1872. ly
DENTISTRY.
Dn. i). Cricks.
HAVING recently
attended a tbor- > A /
ough Course of Lee- Ja v l . ; y C-: /-pip -
turea and graduated ££ss: i. W; - ’ ■
at the New Orleans . . iimattigV'-Y* .
Dental College, has r App
returned to Qnllioatt. \TJA , K r**
and teonened his of- ; / •
Bee. y "
Thankful to friends
and patrons for past favors, he will he pleased
to serve them in future. Good work uud mod
erate charges.
March 14,1873. 11-Cm
J)u J. S. N.SNOW.
D gN 11 ST,
QUITMAN GEORGIA.
TJE.STECTFCI.LY solicits tke
V , a*Milage of the Citi/.ens
Ur<". 1 -t totiniv and will endeavor.
by faithfully execution all work entrusted to
him, to merit their c< nfldenoe.
Charge* moderate, and work guaranteed.
*«*,Olßce, no stairs, over J. Tillman’s store.
March 21, 1873. 45 ly
Miscellaneous.
6UITMAN DRU3 STORE.
McCALL & GROOVES,
Duautits IN
Drugs, Medicines,
lNiiiils, Oils, 7
VARNISHES, Dye Stuffs,
BRUSHES, Perfume
ry, Toilet. Articles, Ac.
Notify the public that they will keep on hand
cemplete and fresh stocks, and sell the saute at a
reasonable profit.
This is Exclusively a Drug Store, and the en
tire attention of the junior member of the firm
will be given to the business.
We respectfully solicit the patronage of the
pnblic.
Quitraan, Feb. 2, 1873. lyj
r>K. Me C. WII.KI.VBON. I>R. A. I). SMITH.
LARGE DRUB SIGN.
WILKINSON & SMITH,
KEEP on hand a
Complete Stock
of Fresh and Pure ///,-.' mat J? &$-,
DKUGS
WEPtCI NES
And many of the best, v* f 'tj 7 '
Also, White Lead, Varnishes. Paints and Oils,
Soaps, Tobacco, Si-gars, Toilet Articles, Ac.
Ail of which will he sold on reasonable terms.
Prescriptions carol ttlly compounded
Kerosene Oil will hereafter be sold at
Forty cents per gallon.
Qnitman, Ga., Jan. 31, 1873. 5 ly
SAW & GRIST MILL,
3J Miles from Qnitman.
BOZEMAN & LEWIS.
TAKE pleasure in notifying the public that
they have still in operation a first-class
Saw and Grist Mill, in a fine lumber section of
JJrtftks countv, and only 31 miles from Quitman,
on the Tallokas public road, and are prepared
to furnish every kind and quality of Lumber, at
short notice, but exclusively for cash.
We will grind only on IV ednesuat and Sat
vkiiat of each week, and we guarantee good
m The following are our prices for Lumber :
For General quality of Lumber, cash on de
livery, $12.50 per lOhO feet.
When payment is'deiaved exceeding 30 days,
the bills will he immediately sued .without fur
ther noticejt.l parties. * .
For special bills, where ail heart is required,
the price will be $15.00 per 1000 feet, Cash.
These prices will be strictly adhered to.
We solicit the patronage of the public, and
will endeavor to give satisfaction.
February 14, 1873. "~J m
MEAL AND HOMINY.
THE UNDERSIGNED will keep.constantly at
the store of
MILTON C. WADE,
an extra article of
BOLTED MEAL AND HOMINY,
which will be sold verv reasonaoly for Cash.
r. c. Mclntosh.
Quitman, April. 24, 1873. 1 1 ‘J
Quitman.
Dress Goods.
THE Ladles are particularly requested to ex
. amine my stock of beautiful Dress Goods.
Notions, etc., which are offered cheap for cash.
l«-tt NATHAN GAZAN.
I). W. PKICE,
MERCHANT TAILOR
QUITMAN, GEORGIA,
YT TOULD infor in
t V the citizens of
Quitman and ear
roundng country, f
that he has just op
eued a FIRST Class f
Merchant $9,5%
“AND-- J/ J' V -jjMti J
TAILORING 4
ESTABLISHMENT in Quitman , and has on hand
a liue lot ol'
Cloths and Cassimeres,
suitable for making Dress and Business suits.
He has also on hand a Select stock of
READY MADE CLOTHING.
js®**Cuttlng, Cleaning and Repairing done on
short notice. I‘rices modemite.
April 10. 1872. 15—1 y
Qroceries 2
PERSON in need of Family Groceries, Bacon.
Flour, Coffee, Sugars, Teas, etc. will do
well to catl at my store before purchasing else
where.
NATHAN GAZAN
Quitman. Ga., April 17. 1573. 16
CARPENTER’S WORK.
John D. Bozeman,
QUITMAN, GEORGIA,
riYAKKS this method of informing the public
X that his MILL business does not interfere
with his business as a
HOUSE CARP ENTER;
and he is fully prepared to do all work desired,
ou as
Favorably TerniH
as possible, and to the satisfaction of all parties
interested. He will also contract to
FURNISH LUMBER MATERIAL,
and build Dwelling Houses, Store bouses, etc.,
in pursuance with specifications furnished. Give
him a trial.
May 15, 1873. 20 ts
NATHAN CAZAN,
DRY GOODS. Sllii lIIIS, it
QUITMAN\ OA.
Terms, Cash. If you want Bargains give me
a trial before purchasing elsewhere.
.April 17, 1873. 16-ts
rollon Gin Repairs.
rjIIIK undersigned is prepared to repair ana
B. place in good order Cotton Gins. Saws
sharpened and Brushes filled, so as to make
them as good as when new. Will visit any por
tion of the country, when notified that services
are needed J. it. BALM HR.
Quitman, .Inly 26. 1872 20 tt
LOOK HEBE!
Good Calico at Cents.
Jacob Baum,
DEALER IN
Dry Goods, Notions, Hard
ware., Crockery, &c.
Quitman, Georgia.
rpAKES pleasure in notifying bin lriends and
I the public generally that he lias received
his
SPRING AND SUMMER STOCK
FOU IH7JS,
which will be sold on fair and honorable terms.
These goods were purchased on very f avorable
terms, and I am confident can and will be sold
as cheap as any house in town.
My stock embraces almost everything kept in
a retail store in the interior—
Dry Guilds,
Dress Goods ,
Domestic Goods,
Ready Made Clothing ,
hosiery,
Notions,
VSoots,
Shoes
Mats, dtc. &c.
The Ladies are specially invited to pay me a
visit, as I have many things that will meet favor
in their eyes.
Purchasers arc also specially invit
ed to give ine a call, as I am determined to sell
as low as any one.
Thankful tor past favors, a continuance of cus
tom is solicited. JACOB BALM.
March 21, 1873. ly
Boot and Shoe Shop !
e."reed,
A Practical and experienced Boot and Shoe
maker, has opened a shop in the town of
Quitman, an is prepared to put up work with
neatness and dispatch. Repairing done to the
satisfaction of customers. Charges very moder
ate. but cash required on completion ol work.
My shop is in the building adjoining the store
of Lovett & Bryan.
I respectfully solicit and will endeavor to de
serve the patronage of the public.
May C, 1873. 3ra E. REED.
<J HAPP ELL’S
Champion’ SUPERPHOSPHATE
4 FIRST CLAoS FERTILIZER. Over Four
Thousand Tons sold in Georgia, and not a
single ton repudiated ; giving universal satis
faction, and analyzing. according to State Chem
ist, higher than any brand in the market. Try
it. For sale by PAINE & HALL,
Feb. 7, 1872. 6-ts Quitman, Ga.
HERE SiIALE TH3 PRESS THE PEOPLE’S Rlam S MAINTAIN, UNAWED BY FEAR AND UK BRIBED RY GAIN.
QUITMAN, GA., THURSDAY, MAY 29, 1873.
Miscellaneous.
to: mil
The only Reliable Gift Distribution in thv country
$100,000.00
Invaluable Gifts!
TO UK JHSTUIIU TKD IN'
la Da SIM E ’S
41st SEMI-ANNUAL
GIFT ENTERPRISE,
To be drawn Friday, July 4th, 1873.
One Grand Capital Prize, slo,oooin Gold!
One Prize, §5,000, in Silver!
Five prizes of SI,OOO, Five prizes of SSOO, and
Ten prizes of SIOO each in Greenbacks.
Two Family Carriages and Matched Horses,
with silver mounted Harness, worth $1,500 each.
Two Buggies, 1 Buses, etc., worth S6OO each.
Two line toned Rosewood Piano, worth SSOO
each; Ten Family Sewing Machines, SIOO each !
1500 Gold and .Silver Lever limiting Watches,
worth from S2O to S3OO each. Gold Chains, Sil
ver ware, Jewelry, etc.
Whole number of G'fts, 10,000. Tickets limit
ed to 50,000,
wanted to sell tickets, to whom
Liberal Premiums will be paid.
Single Tickets $2 ; Six tickets, $lO ; Twelve
tickets. S2O; Twenty five tickets, S4O.
Circulars containing a full list of prizes, a des
cription of the manner of drawing, and other in
formation in reference to the Distribution, will
be sent to any one ordering them, All letters
must be addressed to
Main Okeick. L. 1) SINE, Box 86,
101 W.
(tongc oi‘ Schedule.
GENERAL SLTERINTENI HINT’S OFFICE,)
Atlantic and Gulf Railkoad, >-
.Savannah, May 3, 1873. )
ON AND AFTER SUNDAY, MAY 4th, Trains
on this Road will run aa follows :
NIGHT EXPRESS PASSENGER.
Leave Savannah daily at 4.30 p.m
Arrive at Live Oak. daily at 4.05 a.m
“ Quitman daily at 3.57 a.m
“ Thomasville 5.30 a.m
lt -Bainbridge at 8.15 am
“ Albany at 0.50 a.m
Leave Albany daily at 4.45 p.m
“ Bainbridge daily at 6.00 p.tn
Leave Tkoinasville 8.55 p.m
“ Quitman daily at..: 10.32 p.m
“ Live Oak, daily at 10.30 p.m
Arrive at Savannah daily at 10.00 a.m
Connect at Live Oak with trains on J.. P. and
M. R. It., for and from Jacksonville, Tallahassee,
&c.
No change of cars between Savannah and A1 -
bany.
Close connection at Albany with trains on
Southwestern Railroad.
Close connection at Lawton for and from Flo
rida, with Western Division Passenger trains.
A C COMMO DA 7 TON TEA IN
West kiln Divjkion :
Leave Lawton, (Sundays excepted] 7.00 o.m
Airive at Quitman. [Sundays “ 10.42 arn
“ Thomasville “ “ 12.45 p.m
“ Albany “ “ 6.00 p.m
Leave Albany “ “ 7.20 a.m
“ Thomasville, “ “ 2.00 p.m
“ Quitman “ “ 5.04 p.m
Arrive at Lawton, “ “ 8.80 pm
Connect at Albany with night trains on South
western Railroad, leaving Albany Monday, Tues
day, Thursday and Friday, and arriving at Al
bany Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday and Satur
i!av.
Mail Steamer leaves Bain!.ridge every Wed
nesday at 0.00 a. in. for A|#l”'diicola.
Jl. S. HAINES.
£lO <0 Gen’l Supt.
NEW MUSIC.
ri-MI.ISHKI) nv
J. L. PETERS, 509 BroadwayN Y,
Mailed, post-paid, ou receipt of mirked price.
VOCAL.
Above and Below. Socred Notig. by Jucli, $0..10
Buck to (lie Old Home; song and chorus 30
Beautiful form of my Dreams Stewart 30
Darling,weep no more; song and chorus.... 35
Do not weep so, sister darling; nirig 50
Don’t forget to write me; song and chorus,.. 3a
Fold we. our hands: song or duet; Boildleu.. 30
Gone to the Heavenly Garden; song 35
If you were I, would you? song 30
Kiss me, darling, ere we part 3«
Little Blind Nell; song and chorus 30
Little Dan , song and chorus 40
Lord, forever at thy aide
Meet me, Bessie, in the 1 >c!l 30
Meet me, dearest, with a kiss -,0
My bov across the sea 3o
Oh! Give me a home in the South 40
Oh, Sam! song and chorus 35
Only for You! Ballad .* J
Our Little Bet; song and chorus 40
Papa, stay borne: Temperance song 4.)
Save one bright Crown for me 40
We pray yon sing that song; duet 35
Wilt thou weep when I am low ? 25
INSTRUMENTAL.
Polkas —.Sunbeam, by Kinkle, 35 els; Belle of
Saratoga, by Victor, 35 ots.; May Flowers, by
Simon, 35 cts.
Mazcbkis. —Awakening of the Birds. 50 cts;
Happy Thoughts, by Walker, 30 cts,; Laughing
Wave, by Wilson, 50 cts.; Sunbeam, by Pacher,
40 cts.
Gallops.—Charlie’s and Freddie’s, by Kin
kle. each 35 cts.
SHOTTISpUES—FataI Glance, by Young, 20
cts • May Morning, by Schmidt. 50 cts.; Sun
beam,by Hampel, 35 cts.; and Willie’s, by
Kinkel, 35 cts.
Mabches.—Belie of .Saratoga, by *Baumbacb,
40 cts.; Mollie’s, by Kinkel, 35 cts.
Any of the above mailed, post-paid, on reeeipt
of price. Address
v J. L. PETERS,
599 Broadway, New York.
May Ist, 1872. 18-ts
i’oetiat.
A SIGN-BOA III).
I will paint you a sign, rum-seller,
Aud hang* it above your door,
And truer and better sign-board
Than ever you had before.
1 will paint with the skill of a master,
And many shall pause to see
This wonderful piece ol painting,
So like the reality.
I will paint yohrself, rum-seller,
vis you wait for that fair young boy,
Just in the morn of manhood,
A mother’s pride and joy.
lie has no thought, of stopping,
But you greet him with a smile.
And you seem so blithe and friendly
That, he pauses to chat awhile.
I will paint you again, rum-seller,
1 will paint you as you stand,
With a foaming glass [of liquor
Holding in either hand,
lie wavers, but you urge him;
“Drink! pledge me just this one!”
And he lifts the glass and drinks it,
And the hellish work is done.
And the next I will paint a drunkard;
Only a year has flown,
But into this loathsome creature
#Thts fair young boy has grown.
The work was quick and rapid;
1 will paint him as he lies,
In a torpid, drunken slumber,
Under the wintiy skies.
I will paint the form of the mother
Ah she kneels at her darling’s side—
Her beautiful hoy that was dearer
'1 hun all the world beside.
I will paint the shape of a coffin
. Labeled with the one word < •Lost!’ , +
I will paint all this, rum-seller,
And paint it free of cost.
The sin, and the shame, and the sorrow',
Th * ed.iee and want and woo,
That Is born there in your rum-shop,
No hand can print, you know;
But I’ll paint you a sign, rum seller,
And many shall pause to view
This wonderful swinging sign-board,
So terribly, fearfully true.
Miorrtlnncous.
VIAJ
1 liillPEiW STORY.
I shall never forget the commence
ment of the Temperance reform. I was
a. child at the time, of some ten years of
age. Our home had every comfort, and
my parents idolized me, their child.
Wine was often on the table, and both
my father and mother frequently gave it
to me in the bottom of the glass.
One Sunday, at church, a startling an
nouncement was made to our people. I
knew nothing of its purport, but there
was much whispering among the men.
The pastor said that on the next evening
there would he a meeting, and an address
upon the evils of intemperance in the
use of alcoholic drinks. Ho expressed
himself ignorant of the object of the
meeting, and could not say what course
it would be best to pursue in the mat
ter.
The object of the meeting came up at
our table after the service, and I ques
tioned my father about it with all the
curious eagerness of a child. Tlio whis
per and words which had been dropped
in my hearing, clothed the whole affair
in a great mystery to me, and I was all
eagerness to learn the same strange
thing.
My father sffid it was some scheme to
unite Church aud State.
The night came, and troops of people
gathered on the tavern-steps, and I hoard
the jest and the laugh, and saw drunken
men reeling out of the bar-room. I urg
ed my father to let me go,, hut he first
refused. Finally, thinking it would be
an innocent gratification of my curiosity,
he put on his hat and we passed across
the green to the church. I remember
well how the people appeared as they
came in, seeming to wonder what kind of
an exhibition was to come off.
In the corner was the tavern keeper,
and around him a number of friends.
For an hour the people of the place
continued to come in, until there was a
fair house full. All were curiously
watching the door, wondering what would
next appear. The pastor stole [in, took
a seat behind a pillar under tho gallery,
as if doubtful of the propriety of being
in church at all.
Two men finally came in, and went to
the altar and took their seats. All eyes
were fixed upon them, and a general still
ness pervaded the house.
The men were unlike in appearance,
one being short and thickest in build,
tbo other tall and well formed. The
younger had the manner and dress of a
clergyman, a full round face, and quiet,
good natured look, as he leisurely looked
around the audiance.
But my childish interest was all in the
old man. His broad, deep chest and
unusual height looked giant-like as he
strode up the aisle. His hair was white;
his brow deeply seamed with furrows,
and around bis handsome mouth lines of
calm and touching sadness. His eyes
were black and restless, and kindled as
the tavern keeper uttered a low jest a
loud. His lips were compressed, and a
crimson flush went and came over his
pale cheek. One arm was off above fho
wrist, and there was a wide scar over the
right eye.
The younger finally arose, and stated
the object of the meeting, and asked if
there was a clergyman present to open
with prayer.
Our pastorjkepthis seat, and the speak
er himself made a short prayer, and then
made a short address, at the conclusion
calling upon any one present to make
remarks.
The pastor rose under the gallery, and
attacked the position of the speaker, us
ing the argument which I have often
heard since, and concluded by denounc
ing those engaged in the new movement
as meddlesome fanatics, who wished to
break up the time honored usage of
good society, and injure the business of
respectable men. At the conclusion of
his remarks the tavern keeper and his
friends got up a cheer, aud the current
of feeling was evidently against the
strangers and their plan.
While the pastor was speaking the old
man had fixed his dark eyes upon him,
artd leanod forward as if to catch every
word.
As the pastor took his scat the old
man arose, his tall form towering in its
symmetry, and his chest swelling as he
inhaled his breath through his thin, dila
ted nostrils. To me, at that time, there
was something awe inspiring, and grand
in tho appearance of the old man as ho
stood, with his full eye upon tho audi
ance, his teeth shut hard, aud a silence
like that of death throughout tho church.
He bent his gaze upon the tavern keep
er and that peculiar eve lingered and kin
dled for half a moment.
The scar grew red on his forehead, and
beneath tho heavy eyebrows his eyes glit
tered and glowed like those of a serpent.
The tavern keeper quailed before that
searching glance, and foltra relief when
the old man withdrew his gaze. Fora
moment he seemed lost in thought, and
•then in a low and tremulous tone com
menced. There was a depth in that,
voice, and thrilling pathos and sweetness,
which riveted every heart in the house,
before the first period had been rounded.
My father’s attention had become fixed
on the speaker with an interest I had
never before seen him exhibit. I can
hut briefly remember the substance of
what, the old man said, though the
scene is as vivid before me as any that I
ever witnessed.
“My friends! lam a stranger in your
village, and I trust I may call yon friends.
Anew star lias ariseu„and there is hope
in the dark night which hangs like a pall
of gloom over our country.” With a
thrilling dept h of voice the speaker con
tinued: “O (rod, thou who lookost with
compassion upon the most erring of
earth’s children, I thank thee that a bra
zen serpent has been lifted, upon which
the drunkard can look and be helped;
that a beacon has burst out. upon the
darkness that surrounds him, which
shall guide back to honor and heaven the
bruised and weary wanderer.”
It is strange what power there is in
some voices. Tho speaker’s was slow
and unmoved, but a tear trembled in ev
ery (-ye, and before 1 knew why, a tear
dropped upon my hand, followed by oth
ers like rain drops. The old rnan brush
ed one from his own eyes, and continued:
“Men and Christians! You have just
heard that I am a vagrant and a fanatic.
lam not. As God knows my own sad
heart I came here to do good. Hear me,
and be just.
“I am an old man, standing alone, at
the end of life’s journey; and there is a
deep sorrow in my heart, and tears in
my eyes. I have journey over a dark
and beacon]ess ocean, and all life’s hopes
have boon wrecked. I am without
friends, home or kindred upon earth, and
look with longing to the rest of the
night of earth. Without friends, kin
dred, or home! It. was not so once.”
No one could withstand the touching
pathos of the old man. I noticed a tear
trembling on the lid of my father’s eye,
and I was no more ashamed of my own.
“No, my friends, it was not so once!
Away over the dark waves which have
wrecked my hopes, there is the blessed
light of happiness and home, I reach a
gain convulsively for the shrines of tho
household idols that once were, now mine
no more.”
The old man seemed looking through
fancy upon some bright, vision, his lips
apart and finger extended. 1 voluntari
ly turned in the direction where it was
pointed, dreading to see some shadow in
voked by its movements.
“I once had a mother. With her old
heart crushed with sorrow, she went
down to her grave. I once had a wife —
a fair angel creature as ever smiled in an
earthly home. Her eyes 'as mild as a
summer sky, and her heart as faithful
and true as ever guarded and cherished a
husband’s love. Her blue eyes grew dim
ns the floods of sorrow washed away its
brightness and tho living heart was
wrung until every fibre was broken. 1
once had a noble, a brave and beautiful
boy, but he was driven out from the ruins
of his home, and my old heart yearns to
know if ho yet lives. I once had a babe
—a sweet, tender blossom, but my hand
destroyed it, and it liveth with one who
loves children.
“Don’t he startled, friends, I am not a
murderer, in the common acceptation of
the term. Yet there is a light in my
evening sky. A spirit mother rejoices
over the return of her prodigal son. Tho
wife smiles upon hkn who again turns
back to virtue and ‘ honor. The child
angel visits me at nightfall, and I feel the
hallowing touch of a tiny palm upon my
fevered cheek. My brave boy, if he yet
lives, would forgive the son owing old
man for the treatment which drove him
into the world, andjthe blow that maimed
him for life. God forgive me the ruin
I have brought upon me and mine.”
He again wiped a tear from his eye.
My father watched him with a strange
interest, and a countenance usually pale
and excited by some strange emotion.
“I was once a fanatic, and madly fol
lowed the malign light which led me to
ruin. I was a fanatic when I sacrificed
my wife, children, happiness and home,
to the accursed demon of the bowl. I
once adored the gentle being whom I in
jured so deeply.
“I was a drunkard. From respeetibil
ity and affluence, I plunged into degre-
dation and poverty. I dragged my fam
ily down with me. For years I saw lier
check pah?, and her step grow weary. I
| left her alone amid the wreck of her home
idols, and rioted at the tavern. She nev
er complained, yet she and the children
went hungry for bread.
“One New Year’s night I returned late
to the hut where charity had given us
roof. She was yet up and shivering
over the coals. I demanded food, but
she burst|into tears,land told me there was
none. I fiercely ordered her to get some.
She turned her eyes sadly, upon mo,
the tears falling fast over her pale cheek.
At this moment the child in the cradle
awoke and set. up a famishing wail, start
ling the despairing mother like a ser
pent’s sting.
“We have no food, James; I have had
none for several days. 1 have nothing
for the babe. My once kind husband,
must wo starve?
“That sad, pleading face, and those
streaming eyes, and the feeble wail of the
child maddened me, and I —yes, I struck
her a fierce blow in the face, and she fell
forward upon the hearth. The furies of
led boiled in my bosom, and with deep
er intensity as I felt 1 had committed a
wrong. 1 had never struck Mary before,
but now some terrible impulse bore me
on, and I stooped as well as I could in
my drunken state, and clenched both
hands in her hair.
“God of mercy, James!” exclaimed my
wife, as she looked up in my fiendish
countenance, “you will not harm Willie,”
and she sprang to the cradle, and grasp
ed him in horetnbrance. I caught her a
gain by the hair, and dragged her to the
door, and as 1 lifted the latch, the wind
burst in wit li a cloud of snow. With the
yell of a fiend, I still dragged her on,
and hurled her out into the storm.
With a wild ha! ha! I closed the door and
turned the button, ber pleading moans
mingling with the wail of the blast and
sharp cry of her babe. But my work
was not complete.
“I turned to the little bed where lay
my elder son, and snatched him from his
slumbers; and against his half-wakened
struggles, opened the door and thrust
him out. In the agony of fear, he Called
to mo by a name I was no longer fit to
bear, and locked his fingers into my side
pocket. I could not wrench that fren
zied grasp away, and with the coolness
of a devil as I was, shut the door upon
his arm, and with my knife severed it at
the wrist.”
The speaker ceased for a moment, and
burned bis face in her hands, as if to
shut out some fearful dream,"and his deep
cliest heaved like a storm-swept sea. My
father had arisen from his seat, and was
leaning forward, his countenance blood
less, and the large drops standing out
upon his brow. Chills crept hack to my
young heart, and I wished I was at home.
The old man looked up, and I never
have since beheld such mortal agony
pictured upon a human face as there was
on his.
“It was morning when I awoke, and
the storm had ceased, but the cold was
intense. I first secured a drink of water,
and then looked in the accustomed place
for Mary. As 1 missed her, for the first
! iine, a shadowy sense of somo horrible
nightmare began to dawn upon my wan
dering mind. I thought I. had a fearful
dream, but 1 involuntarily opened the
outside door with a shuddering dread.
As the door opened, the snow burst in,
followed by the fall of something across
the threshold, scattering snow and strik
ing the floor with a sharp, bad sound.
My blood shot like red hot arrows thro’
my veins, and I rubbed my eyes to shut
out the sight. It was OGod, how hor
rible! it was my own injured Mary and
her babe frozen to ice! The ever true
mother had bowed herself over the child
io shield it, her own person stark and
bare to the storm.
“She had placed her hair over the face
of the child, and the sleet had frozen it
to the white cheek. The frost was white
in its half opened eyes and upon its tiny
fingers. I know not what became of my
brave boy/”
Again the old man bowed bis head and
wept, and all that were in the house
wept with him. My father wept like a
child. In tones of heartbroken pathos,
the old man concluded:
“j was arrested and for long months
raved in delirium. I awoke, was senten
ced to prison for ton years, hut no tor
tures could have been like those I endur
ed within my own bosom. O God, no—
lam not a fanatic. I wish to injure no
one. But while I live, let me strive to
warn others not to enter the path which
has been so dark and fearful a one to me.”
The old man sat down, but a spell as
deep and strong as that wrought by some
wizard’s breath, rested upon the audi
ance. Hearts could have been heard in
their beating, and tears to fall. The
old man then asked the people to sign
the pledge. My father leaped from his
scat, and snatched at it eagerly. I had
followed, and as he hesitated a moment
with the pen in the ink, a tear fell from
the old man’s eyes on the paper.
“Sign it, sign it, young man. Angels
would sign it; I would write my name
there ten thousand times in blood if it
would bring back my loved and lost
ones.”
My father wrote “Mortimer Hudson.”
The old man looked, wiped his tearful
eyes and looked again, his countenance
alternately flushed with a red and death
like paleness.
“It is—no, it cannot be; yet bow
strange,” muttered the old man.- “Par
dou me, sir, but that was the name of
my brave boy.”
My father’trembled, and bold up the
left arm, from which the left hand had
been severed.
[52.00 per Annum
• NO M BEK 22
They looked for a moment in each Othv
er’s eyos, both reeled and gasped r
“kly own injured son !”
“My father !”
They fell upon each other’s heck ancf
wept until it seemed that their soul's
would grow and mingle into one. There
was weeping in that church, and sad
faces around me.
“Let mo thank God for this great
blessing which has gladdened my guilt
burdened soul!” exclaimed the old man?
and kneeling down poured out his heart
in one of the most melfing prayers 1 ever
heard. The spell was then broken;
all eagerly signed the pledges, slowly
going to their homes, as if loth to leave
the spot.
The old man is dead, bu£ the lesson!
he taught his grand-child on the knee#
as his evening sun went down without a
cloud, will never ho forgotten. His fa
naticism has lost none of its fury in my
manhood’s heart.
Bad News for lialdlieixicd Men*
Dr. J. M. Toner, of Washington, sE
physician of large experience and a close
observer of facts, says that according to
his observations nearly all persons of
both sexes who lived to the age of eighty
years and over retained a considerable if
not a complete suit of bair at tbe time of
their deaths. He concedes that there
are exceptions to this rule, but insists
that a large majority of persons living at
the age of eighty or upward retain A
comparatively good suit of hair, or are
not bald. His liypothosis is that a per
son who retains his hair past the age of
sixty-five has a good [prospect of living
to be over eighty. The rule may be tes
ted by any one calling to mind the ages
and condition of the hair of persons of
his acquaintance of the ages indicated/
the condition of whose hair is known tef
him. The vast majority of persons *ho
become bald, or lose their hair, do so be
tween tbirty-fivo and forty-five, and theset
rarely live to be over sixty-five or seventy
years of age.
A German paper contains a reply
from a clergyman who Was traveling,-
and who stopped at a hotel much fre--
quented by what are termed “drummers.’*
The host, not being used to have clergy
men at the table, looked at him with .sur
prise; the clerks used all their artillery
of wit upon him, without eliciting a re*
mark in self-defense. The worthy cler
gyman ate his dinner quietly without;
observing the jibes ami sneers of bis
neighbors. One of them at last, in des*
pair at bis forbearance, said, to him:
“Well, I Wonder at your patience! Have
you not heard all that has been said a)*
gainst you?” “Ob, yes, but lam used
to it. Do you know who I am?” “No#
sir.” “Well, I will inform you. I aid
chaplain of a lunatic asylum; such re
marks have no effect upon me.”
BACON ON RICHES.
Believe not them that seem to despisS
riches; for they despise them that des*
pair of them; none worse when they
come to them. Be not. penny-wise; rich
es have wings, and sometimes they fly
away of themselves, sometimes they must
ho set flying to bring in more. Med
leave their riches to either their kin
dred, or to the public; and moderate)
portions prosper best in both. A great
estate, left to an heir is as a luro to all
the birds of prey round about to seize od
him, if he be the better established id
years and judgment; likewise glorious
gifts and foundations are like sacrifice™
without salt, and but the painted sepul
chers of alms, which soon will putrefy
and corrupt inwardly. Therefore meas
ure not thine advancements by quantity/
but frame them by measure; and defer*
not charities till death. For certainly#
if a man weigh it rightly, he that doth
so is rather liberal of another man’s thad
his own.
Dkink and Wobk.—“l drink to make)
me work,” said one. To which the old
man replied : “That’s true, drink add it
will make you work. Hearken to mes ti
moment, and I will tell you something
that may do you some good. 1 was once!
a prosperous farmer, I had a loving wife)
and two as fine lads as the sun ever shone
on. We had a comfortable home and
lived happy together. But we used to)
drink to make us work. Those two lads
I have now laid in drunkard’s graves, I
My wife died broken hearted, and now,
she lies by her two sons. lam seventy
years of age. Had it not been for drink
I might now be an independent gentle*
man; but I used to drink to make me)
work, and mark it, it makes me work;
now. At seventy years of age lam ob*j
liged to work for iny daily bread. Drink! ]
drink ! and it will make you work.” I
A young woman at Lawrence recently
lost her husband. Bid ween his decease
and his funeral she seemed to be quite'
cheerful, so much so that her absence Os
grief was remarked. “I know,” said she
recently to a friend confidentially, “that
I ought to have cried a good deal, but id
tell the truth, I hadn't a handkerchief
that was fit to be seen except one, andg
that you know I had to keep for the fuJI
neral.” Ij,
Lemon Fob a Cough.— Roast the lenfH
on very carefully without burning itS
wbcii it is hot cut anil squeeze into a cilil
upon three ounces of sugar, finely powj
dered. Take a spoonful whenever yotfJj
cough troubles you. It is good an 9
agreeable to the taste. Rarely has n
been known to fail of giving relief. ■
An Early spring—Jumping out of (blfl
at 5 o’clock in the morning. &