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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. &