Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

WHITE & Proprietors. VOLUME VIII. poetical The Story of Life . Say what is life? Ti» to be bora, A ht'peiegs bubo to g eet the light With ft sharp wail, as ii the morn Foretold u cloudy noon and night; To weep, to Bleep, and weep again, With sunny smiles between, and then? And then apace the infant grows To be a laughing sprightly boy, Happy, despite his little woes. Wen* he but conscious ot his joy ! To be, in short, from two to ten, A merry, moody child ;and then ? And then the cast and Dowsers e’ad To learn lu «*/ the JJecaiogne, And break it, au unthinking lad. W ith mirth and mieebiet alt agog. A truant oft by field and fen And capture butterflies, and then? • And then increased in strength and size, To be. anon, a youth lull grown ; A hero in his mother s e\es, A young Apollo in hi< own ; To imitate the ways oi men In fashionable sin, and then ? And th- n at least »o be a man. To fall in love, to woo and wed ! With seedling brain to scheme and plan, To gather gold or toil tor bread ? To sue for fame with tongue or pen. And gaiu or loose the prize ; and then . And then in gray and wrinkled Eld To mourn tin* speed of life's decline ; To praise the scenes ot life beheld. \nd dwell in memory of Lang Syne, To dream a while with darkened ken, Then drop into his grave, and then? {ftUwrUancous. V VU [Written for the Quit man Banner.] KIND WORDS. BY VESTA. What irresistible efficacy there is in a kind word. How simply beautiful, yet how true the well known verse “A Hltlc word in kindness spoken, A movement nr a ear, Ha* often healed tie, heart, that's broken. And mule a friend -our ." Hearts are thus indissolubly knit to gether. When bowed in grief, and the flowers of life seem forever faded --when the heart is chilled, and the tears that would flow are frozen, a kind word, sn cerely spoken from a true and sympa thetic heart, comes like a ray of sunshine, and melts the cold snows of grief. They cause the bowed head to again look up, the tears unbidden flow, and the flowers of love bloom again in greater brilliance and beauty. Our sorrows often se m heavr, and at times almost unbearable; yet, a kind word, tenderly spoken, la! < some of the burden, and helps to revive the drooping spirits. The sweet thought of someone who feels forus, like an oasis in the desert, bids the desponding In art be buoyant and hopeful. When kind words were brought from Heaven by winged messengers, when the birth of our Savior was heralded throughout the world, what joy was felt, on earth and in heaven, while the innumerable stars sang together for joy. Pen nor art can ever portray the all pervading joy that then reigned—-produced by the kind words spoken to the shepherd by those n> aph ic beings. Kind words were taught by Christ on earth. How impressively beau tiful must have been the scene where he comforted, by kind words, the heart stricken widow, conveying her loved and only son to the grave. He ever cheered and consoled those whom mortals would shun. See. him again as he bids hope to the fallen, persecuted Mugdaline. His mission was love, and kind words bis on ly weapon. Yet, what art, what ingenu ity could devise more effective weapons for certain victory ? The hard-hearted, the cruel have often yielded to a kind word, and gentle, pleading look, when all else have failed to move the stubborn heart. Little troubles often weigh upon our minds, and we feel, to be relieved, we must open the burdened heart to some friend who would share our trou bles, and lend us sympathy. But to ■whom shall we go ? Closely we scan the faces, and weigh every word that falls from the lips of friends and loved ones. A kind word, a friendly look or smil will open the lips, and our burden is shared with another, our grief is told, and we feel relieved, and 3 inn choicl in unison with whet we feci. I« trashed within them, ami the heart replies Then let us ever speak- kindly. Cause not a shadow of sorrow to rest upon a fellow being’s countenance, by speaking harshly. Give not one p ing of pain to a friend’s heart, by an unkind word. Our pathway through life is beset with thorns, and the difficulties are numerous and hard to overcome. Notwithstanding, we can brighten, to an astonishing extent, that path by ever being armed with kind words. A fit word, spoken tenderly and kindly, may cheer some desponding so journer here, and be recorded in golden letters in the great hook of remembrance above. Though Over cor hearts ana into our lives, Shadows will sometimes fall— let ua try to live and act so as to convince our friends and associates that— The sunshine is never wholly dead. And Heaven is shadowless over head, And God is over all. -a " HUM Ii Y ULAIMVIJVS WILL. BY ARTHUR E. CLESSON. The last sad rites had been paid to the remains of Henry Gladwin, and the friends interested gathered in the library of the old family mansion, a month later, to hear the contents of his last will and testament. The principal mourners were Edwin Gladwin and his daughter, Evangeline, and the natural supposition was that to them the brother and niece of the de ceased. would fall the part larger of the vast, property. ; Much had been the expectations of all; : ; and wlicn the seal was broken, and the 1 1 document found to contain a bequest of I only one thousand dollars each for Glad- j ! win and his daughter, every one appeared : I astonished, and looked toward his neigh- j j bor ns for an explanation of the mystery, j No one was made wi--cr by the move-1 nient, for the facts were plainly before! them, to the effect that, on the brink of j • eteraitv, with a long life, not in all re- i j speeds satisfactory as he looked hack up- j i on it. Henry Gladwin had bequeathed his : valualde property to several well known j charitable institutions, givingafew small ; presents to his kindred, and the two be j quests mentioned. j It seemed very strange, but there were I the facts, the legal form, and Lawyer j | Sharp read it in a distinct, rapid voice, | no that it was impossible to mistake its ! report. * I True he had left Mr. Gladwin without j a home to shelti r him; and as ho was a ; cripple, the disappointment was keenly | felt, lie had shared the good fortune of ; his brother for years- indeed, ever since Hu stroke of affliction which tool; from him a devoted wife, and left to his care ; a little daughter ten years of age. The brother had displayed toward him the utmost I indues!, and consideration. ! AY hat could be the meaning of this I most sinful will V Another strange feature was that,Law- i i yer Sharpe washy the will, appointed I ! exei ut,or and administrator. Wh.-n the father and daughter were i ! left alone together that evening, the old i gentleman, bowed down by grief and aj sells,' of utter helplessness, sc and : j “Eve, my darling, do von understand | bto'l" r 1 liny" , will, and that we i.r • ! without a hum. f.i shcl-. -r ns, and with ! almost nothing to provide for our actual ; necessities?” | ! “Yes, father,” replied the young lady, with ns cheerful a tone as she cootild I j command, while she tookon ' ofhishands | and kissed his careworn brow, “I tinder-! ! stood tlic import of the will, but you ! make a very sombre picture of the fu- j J turn. Tnii it, will be hard to give up j our old home, and leave writes around i ! which no many pleasantassociationsclus- j ter. Slii Iwe are not destitute. Wo have ; ! the t wo thousand dollars, which will pur- j ' (■)](>: • a lit tin cottage. :.ml we hove furui ■ turn -enough of our own to make it, very j j comfortable. I have good health and thanks to your efforts in my behalf, a ; good education; s<> It ivc no fears, for I can easily earn enough to supply your! wants and it will he a pleasure to feel; ; that, I can be of some use loyou.” “You are a blessed child,” said the old j gentleman, as he stooped to kiss the rosy j ; check so near his own; “but you have bad 1 ! as yet, only a rose-tinted view of this cold j ■ world.” ! “Oh, I’m not a child, father; you for- j ■ get that. I’m almost eighteen.” “So you are, dear- no you are; ami yet ! it seems i;u' a. short time since I took! vou on mv In; •• to ■ o pictures. Well, ; j well, we will not di- a-, this mi pleasant subject further to-night. rue. hear ! you play and sing a little now.” Eve obeyed, and soon her fair fingers j j were sweeping over the ivory lftys of the j . piano, while her sweet, melodious voice i echoed through the. old mansion with I some of those peculiarly sweet old Scot ch , airs, of which Robin Adair, was Mr. Gladwin's favorite. “By Jove, she sings like a nightin gale !” said Mr. Sharpe to himself, as he stepped out from beneath the window ; where he had been listening, and passed ! down the street. “It is a pity she must ! leave this fine cage, though,” ho ooniin j ued, with a shrug of his shoulder and a ! quiet chuckle, “perhaps she won’t he I compelled to leave it after all. We shall ■ see in good time.” ! A few days after the reading of his 1 brother’s will, Mr. Gladwin called Eve i into the Library and a smile was now on I the face on which, of late, she had seen ! nothing but marks and wrindes of care, j “Dear father,” said Eve, “I am happy !to see a smile upon your countenance. , | It really brings to mind the happy days j of the past!” | “I have cause to smile at the good for j tune in store forus, and cause to be proud ! of my.poor daughter; for it is your beau :; ty and goodness that, may again restore : us to our position with friends and ac quaintances.” “I don’t understand vou. father.” “No, I presume not; but I will explain. ; Mr Jasper Sharpe, who is wealthy, and ' has an honorable position in society, 1 j called on me yesterday, and after express ; ing sympathy for the condition in which : we are placed by circumstances, he asked ■ permission to visit us, with a view to ' making you his wife. Only think of it. 1 Eve, the wife of the Hon. Jasper Sharpe!” ! i The old gentleman rubbed bis hands i together with a self satisfied movement, | and looked up to see if a blush of modest joy was not overspreading his daughter’s cheeks. He saw instead a look of iil j concealed vexation and pain. I “Father, it cannot be,” she said, sink ing into the chair by his side. HERE SHALL THE PRESS THE PEOPLE’S RIGHTS MAINTAIN, URAWED BY FEAR AND UNBRIBED BY GAIN. QUITMAN, GA., THURSDAY, AUGUST 7,-1873. “Whv, ves, my dear; you do not un derstand.'.He has asked and urged my consent. He is a most sincere and de voted admirer of your excellent qualities. He is ” “Pardon mo, father,” Eve interrupted, “I do not. doubt his wealth, his regard or his position; but I cannot, will not, mar ry Jasper Sharpe, although his wealth were doubled, and his position the high est attainable by mortal man. 1 don’t even like him.” Mr.Gladwin was surprised at this spiv j it exhibited by his usually amiable daugh ! ter; but more surprised that she should refuse such an offer of marriage. The high hopes that, had dawned in the mind i of Mr. Gladwin, t.lie bright pictures painted for the future, all vanished. Op position from a. quarter whence it was j least expected acted with a depressing influence, and he sank back in his chair, almost helpless. Eve sprang to his-side, with endearing words and caresses Using all the efforts i in her power to restore her father to his usual frame of* mind. She felt that her action had been too sudden, and her po sition taken without consideration; so she tried to undo what she had tool quickly accomplished, and there she awoke a hope in Mr, Gladwin’s mind that after all Eve wouM consent, and all things would once more glide smoothly. “You won’t forsake your- old father when lie’s so feeble, and has only you to look upon for support, and loving carer” “O, father I will never leave you! I will work night and day, with head,heart and hands for vour comfort !” She saw, by the shadow of his brow, that the feebleness of her father "was in creasing how could she refuse him any thing ? But how could she consent to marriage with Mr. Sharpe when her young affec tions were in the keeping of another? How could she give up her love's hero, believing him to be all that was noble and good? Her father was not aware that Mr. Horace Kendall, a young lawyer, active, enterprising, hut almost briefless as yet, was the accepted suitor of Eve. Love does not need golden chains to rivet together hearts that, beat in sympa thy . their golden sympathy- their gold en dreams are part of the future. So, without thought of the morrow, Eve and Horace loved, and w< ro happy. Then ciiine thick shadows of grief and disappointment.. There had been long weeks since the, i lovers had met, until just a little shade j of doubt was rising in Eva’s mind; but j only for a moment did she allow it to ex • i * ! Ist. j Mr. Kendall had long been a friend of tin Gladwin*, and a frequent visitor at 1 their mansion; hut the fatherof Evahad not. for a moment suspected that, any thing more than the ordinary friendly relations existed between them. The young lawyer heard the singular will, in which one very dear to him was deeply interested. He knew, better than I those more nearly concerned, the charae j ter of Mr. Sharpe, and resolved to use j every effort in bis power to uplift, tho ; cloud of mystery, and restore to their : rights, if possible,the helpless father and i daughter. For a young man without means to proceed again-t. one who poses Hod wealth ; and elevated position in society, required j great caution and unfaltering zeal; and although Horace Kendall knew t hat these attributes were not lacking in his eompo : sition, yet after careful and persevering 1 search for long days and nights with no prospect of success even,he became some what. discouraged. But In 1 would not abate his activity, for Ia loved one’s interests were at stake, and I he still felt confident that time would. . bring to light the fact that JasperSliarpe : was a villain. Thus he toiled on, white, the most j nearly interested, were entirely uncon ; scions of hit labors in their behalf. One cold, windy night,the younglaw i yer sat in his office, writing at; rapidly as his pen could glide over the legal form before him, when his work was intter rupted by a loud, quick rap at tlie outside i door. Opening the door lie found a rough looking man, of middle age, in the garb of a sailor,-who asked if ho was lawyer | Kendall. “Yes, my man, whai can Ido for vour” | asked Mr. Kendall. “Not much for me, my lad, I don’t ; have much use for land sharks ; but a j shipmate is in distress, and wanted me to I gut on all sail; and bring you at once to his berth.” ! “But who is your friend, and why I does he not come to mo r” asked Mr. i Kendall. i “His name is John "Wilde, and lam ! Joe Hart, of the Tit* arora, at your ser vice, lie don’t come himself because he is ! fighting a fever, and he’ll not wait long to see any one I reckon, as he s shipped ; for a voyage under a captain who don’t, j bring his bands to these shores again.” “Do you mean that your comrade is dying ?” asked Horace. "“Well I reckon that’s about the way j to put it.” “Perhaps he has a confession to maker” “Don’t know. He spoke of Gladwin’s ; will, or something—” “Ah !• let us go at once. Where is your friend r” “In Fiendley’s Cove.” The sailor led the way,, Horace Ken- I dall following, both silent;, until they ; reaehed the sick man’s door. In a poorly furnished room, on a rough bed surrounded with a few comforts, and ; with bluff but honest .Toe Hart for nurse, j lay the wasted form of JohS W ilde. “You sent for me,” said the lawyer, j “and your friend informs me that vou have something to communicate in re gard to the Gladwin will. What do you know about it r” “ More than I wish to know,” groaned | the sick man. “But first tell me if you are Mr. Kendall.” “I am,” replied Horace, “and will amply reward you for any information you can give mo in this matter.” “My reward is near enough I expect, but I will tell you the whole truth, so far as I know about it.” The lawyer perceived that John Wilde was a person of considerable intelligence for one in such indignant circumstances. He took his tablets and pencil, and pro ceeded to write the sick man’s statement. By his confession it appeared that John Wilde had been tempted lo assist Lawyer Sharpe in forging a. will while a clerk in that gentleman’s employ. He performed his work faithfully ..ami success attended his wicked employer’s plans ; but this was the reward received by John Wilde: He was drugged, robbed and shipped on I oard a vessel bound for a three years’ cruise, without his e'onseiK. or knowledge. From this unfortunate position he was. rescued by honest Joe Hart who bad known him years before, and now mot him by accident, Then came the fever, the repentance, ami lastly, the confession. “Do you know the rcsnlts Jasper Sharpe expected to obtain?” asked Horace. “He hoped by making the Gladwins dependent, to win Miss Evangeline for his wife, and when that was accomplished the original will could, he produced, and tho one now existing set aside. Then you see the whole property would bo in his own hands.” “So then, the genuine will has not been destroyed ?” “O, no! It is at this moment in Sharpe’s private desk.” “How didyou happen to send for me when you wished to make a confession ?” "Because Mr. Sharpe warned me to beware of you ; that you were interested in the matter in some way, and might give us t rouble. So, as matters have turned, I thought you would bo the projtpr person to consult,.” “You are right, and shall ho rewarded. I will Bond a good physician to attend you, and such comfort as you need at present, hoping your illness may not he of so serious a nature as you imagine.” The lawyer left the sick man with his sailor companion, and rapidly hastened to the residence of a detect ive, with whom he was soon in consultation. The result was a midnight call on the Honorable Jasper Sharpe, who was po litely invited to produce the original will of Henry Gladwin. The gentleman ex hibited a great deal of indignation at the charges brought, against him, but when aware that his ads of villainy Were known, and when search was rewarded by finding tho genuine Gladwin will, he actually j trembled with cowardly fear, and begged | i for mercy. 1 The wretched mail was allowed to leave the place, and lie lost no time in placing an or- ,n bet ween himself and tho scone of his wicked exploits. Mr. Gladwin and Evangeline were, re stored to their proper positions as own ers of the vast e dates enumerated in tho will. •Mr. Horace Kendall was made the Imp-! piest of men by receiving the hand and j love of beautiful Evangeline Gladwin, i at the same time lie was congratulated j I on bringing to light the misdeeds of one | ! who imagined himself above suspicion. | John Wilde recovered from his illness i : and was not forgotten in the distribution | | of rewards. j Mr. Gladwin wn ; proud Os Ids soil-in- j law, notwithstanding a lack of the prefix, i “Honorable,” to Ids name, and au con cerned were made happy by the recovery of the orriginal will of Henry Gladwin. The Old Bull-wether to his Ewes. Brigham Young is reported to have expressed himself as follows in one of his recent “sermons” in Salt Lake City : “I wishffnv women to understand that what I am going to say in for them as well as others, and I want those who arc here to J tell their sisters, yen, all the women in j the community. lam going to give you i from this time t o the fa’th of October next j j for reflection, that you may determine . ! whether you wish to stay with your bus- j ; bands or not, and then I am going to set j ; every woman at liberty, and say to them, j i ‘Now, go your way.’ And my wives ] j have got to do one of two tilings, either j | round up their shoulders to endure the afflictions of this world, and live their re- 1 | ligion- that is, polygamy -or they must. leave; for 1 vyill not I; iv th on about me. j | I will go inf i heavi i. ulor. . rather than s j tp have scratching and lighting about.me. 1 If will si tall at liberty. What, first wife, | itoo? Yds, liberate yon all. I want to ! go somewhere or do something to get rid | iof the whiners. Ido not \p,nt them to i | receive part of the truth and spurn the I I rest out of doors. Let every man thus! ! treat his wives, keeping raiment enough ! to cover his body, and say to your wives, j take all that, 1 have and be set, at liberty; 1 but, if you st ay with me, you shall comply ! with the law of God in every respect, and ; that, too, without any murmuring or whining. You must fulfil the law of God in ’every respect, and round up your , shoulders to walk up to the mark with out any grunting.” In a recent article oil a fair in his locality, the editor of a Western paper says a brother editor took a valuable premium, but. hu unkind policeman made him put it right back where ho took it from. Sound travels almost four times as rap* , idly through water as through air. [From tbo Danbury Nows,] Mr. Covillr's ( «<ini>licnCt’(l ftllsfor lum'. There are men who dispute what they do not understand. Mr. Covillo is such a man. When ho heard a carpenter say that there were so many shingles on the roof of his house because the roof con tained so many square feet, Curdle doubt ed the figures, and when the carpenter went away he determined to test the mat ter by going on the roof and counting them. And he went up there. He squeezed through the scuttle— Covillo weighs 230 —and then sat down on the roof and worked his way carefully and deliberately toward the gutter. When ho got part- way down, he hoard a sound between him and the shingles, and become aware that there was an in terference some way in his further loco motion. He tried to turn over and crawl back, but the obstruction held him. I Then he tried to move along a little, in j hopes that the trouble would prove but I temporary, but an inerea.-ied sound con vinced him that oitbor n nail or a sliver had hold of his cloth, and that if he would save any of it lie must use caution. His folks were in the house,but he could not make thorn hear, and besides he did not want to attract the attention of the neighbors. So ho sat there until after dark and thought. It would have been an excellent oppor tunity to have counted the shingles, but he neglected to use it. 11 is mind ap peared to run into other channels. He sat there an hour after dark, seeing no one he could notify of Iris position.— Then he saw two hoys approach the gate from the house, and reaching there, stop ped. It was light enough for him to see that, one of the two was his son, and al though ho objected to having the other boy know of Ids misfortune, had grown tired of holding on to the roof, and con cluded he could bribe the strange boy in to silence. With this arrangement mapped out, lie took out his knife and threw it, so that it would strike near the hoys and attract their attention. It struck nearer than he anticipated. In fact it struck so close as to hit the strange boy on the, head and nearly brained him. As soon as he re covered his equilibrium be turned on'Oo ville’s boy, who, ho was confident, had attempted to kill him, and introduced some astonishment, and braises inhiß face. Then lie threw him down and kicked him in the side and hanged him on the head, ami threw him over into tho gutter and pounded his legs, and then hauled him back to the walk a,gain and knocked hia head against the gate. Am! all tho while t!w elder Covillo sat. on the rqpf and cried “.Police,” but could not get away. And then Mrs. Covillo dashed out with a broom, and contribut ed a few novel features to tho affair at the gate, and one of the boarders dashed out with a double barrelled gun, and hearing the cries from the roof, looking up there and espying a figure which was undoubtedly a burglar, drove a handful of shot into his legs. With a howl of agony Oovillo made a, plunge to dodge tho missiles, freed him self from the nail, lost his hold to the roof, and went sailing down the shingles with awful velocity, both legs spread out, liis hair oh end, and iris hands making desperate but fruitless efforts to save himself. He tried to swear, but was so frightened that ho lost his power of speech, and when he passed over tho edge of the roof, with twenty feel, of tin gutter hitched to him, the. hoarder gave him the contents of the other barrel, and then drove into tho 'house to load up again. The, unfortunate Oovillo stuck into a cherry free, and. thence bounded to tlje ground, where he was recognized, picked up by tho assembled neighbors, and carried into t he house. Anew doctor is making good day. wages picking the shot out of his legs, The boarder has gone into tho country to spend the summer, and tho junior | Oovillo, having sequestered a piece of brick in his handkerchief, is laying low for that other boy. lie says that before t.hi' calm of another Sabbath rests on New ilnglaud there will l>e another hoy in Danbury who can’t wear a cap. A Young Woman Slaving a Panther : with a Pink Knot. On Thursday last ; a party of young women went out from j Quern's Hun on the mountain just back ; of the settlement, gathering huckleber- j ries. One of them, Jerusha Bryan, ad vanced a little further into the woods than the others, when she was attacked by a huge panther. Her companions, hearing the brute scream, sought safety in flight, but Miss Bryan, finding escape impossible, determined to stand her ground, and (seizing a huge pine knot gave her enemy battle. The contest was a dost" one for a few piinutes, hut human courage, judgment and coolness,soon ! | triumphed over brute strength, and the I : heroic woman soon had the. satisfaction ! 1 of laving the bloodthirsty monster dead 1 lat her feet. Her garments were torn , I into sliri ds, and her fa •,• and arms badly i I scratched, but she walked home with a j ! firm step and the light of triumph in her | eye, and was able to give a good account j i,f herself. The dead panther was soon afterward found by the people of Queen’s : Pen, and proved on measurement to be sex fee* and t"U inches long. Miss Bryan i is the lien (or lioness) of the neighbor hood, and she well deserves to be. We doubt whether an instance can be found , on record of more cool, heroic bravery and wise discretion, developed by any woman, even in the umst historic and i perilous days of Pennsylvania.—Pilts -1 burgh Commcreial. j Mind your own business, if you would have your business mind you. i Patrons of Husbandry and their Granges. The great farmers movement does not seem to be received with as much favor in the Northeast as in the South and the great West. A Boston paper takes strong ground against the organization. The objection taken by our New England masters, as they say, is that the Granges represent a “class interest.” It seems to us, however, with the lights of the past and of the present before us, that our New England masters do not state the case correctly. Their real ob jection to the Granges is not that they represent a “class interest,” but that the class interest the Granges represent is not “the interest of New England.” New England never objects to any party or or ganization, or to any legislation that has for its special object the advancement of I I ho fishing interest, the ship building iu ! forest or the manufacturing interest. In | Now England eyes, everything in New England is of national and universal im portance, and, as a matter of course, everything that conflicts with a Now Eng land interest comes at once to be that ter rible thing called “class interest.” The interest of New England is the manufaetufing interest. The interest of tho Patrons of Husbandry is the farming interest. Between the farming interest, and tho manufacturing interest-, there ever lias been and there ever will be, so long as men are selfish and covetous, an irrepressible and never-ending conflict. Mon may talk what they will, but the farmer and the manufacturer will never agree upon prices until the millnnium shall come. It, is not-to be expected that tho New Englander should look with favor upon the great movement that is making itself felt so plainly throughout tile South and West. In the conflict be tween the farmer and the manufacturer the Journal unhesitatingly allies itself with the cause of the farmer. The United States have been ruled by tho manufac turers long enough; the United States j have been ruled by New England long | enough, and we hail with pleasure the i advent of any movement that promises at | once to free us from the dominion of [ manufacturers and of New England. New England is the manufacturer who 1 enjoys the profit. The South anil West j are the farmers who do the work. It Is | time to break up this arrangement and the order of Patrons of Husbandry prom ises to do so and that speedily if it be discreetly managed.— Wil/ninylon Jour nal. “No More Jacobs.” A good story about sermons is told by John Miller Boss, formerly of Edinburgh, now pastor of the Cl,aimers Presbyterian church, Manchester, England. The pas tor of a large Edinburgh church being unexpectedly called qwav three Sabbaths, was,.unable to do better than engage, as his supply, a young student from the university. Knowing the high standard of his people, and fearing the weakness of the student, he told him he had laid upon his study-table three of his own earlier sermons, never preached to that people, and that he was welcome to make any n oof them he pleased. On the first Sabbath morning the young minis ter looked the sermon over, and being much delighted with one on the text, “Jacob was a plain man, dwelling in tents," Gen. 25: 27, resolved, in accor dance with the hopes of the absent pas tor, to preach it instead of his own. The people were much delighted, and not a little surprised, to get such good food! from the young minister, who leaving the sermon where no found it, went, [his way to return, as he supposed, and take an other from the same pile the next eab bath. Alas/ as Scotland’s Burns be moans, so did i t befall our young Scot lander, who, being sick, was in his turn obliged to procure a substitute, to whom he forgot to mention the three sermons. They, however, attracted the eye, and won a careful perusal of the second sup ply, who unconsciously acquiescing in the wise judgment of his predecessor, announced to an appreciative audience the text, “Jacob was a plain man, dwell- j ingin tents.’,’ Quite pleased with the j sen ration which he perceived lie had j made, the young man replaced the ser i mon and departed. Yet another substi ! lute, on the third Sabbath, following in Iho footsteps of those wllo had gone be i fore, again pronounced ns his subject, j “Jacob was a plain man, dwell ” when he was silenced by an old woman, who rose near the desk, exclaiming in broad- j est. Scotch : “Awa* with y’r Jacobs w’li | ha’ no more of y’r Jacobs!” ’ Wife, MiSteews and lAm.- Who j maries for love takes a wife, who mar- , ries for fortune takes a mistress; who j marries for position takes a lady. \on j | are loved by your wife, regarded by your | 1 mistress, tolerated by your lady. lon ! have a wife for yourself, a mistress for | j your house and friends, a lady for the ! world and so -i.-ty. Your wife will agree | with you, your mistress will rule you, ; vour lady will manage you. Your wife : will take care of your household, your i mistress of your house, your lady of ap : pearanoes. Ii you are sick your wife will | nurse you, your mistress will visit you, j vour lady will inquire after your health, i You take a walk with your,wife, a ride ■ with your mistress, and go to a party , ; with your lady. Your wife will share j : vour griefs, your mistress your money, | | your lady your debts. If you die, your | I Wife will weep, your mistress will lament, j j and your lady wear mourning. Which j I will you haver' i Marriage makes a man and woman j ; one; but the trouble is to tell which of j thorn is the one. [52.00 nor A "in NOMBill 32 Plain Talk, * | The Granges are refreshingly j.de ; n in | their resolutions. Thor" is no machine ! ring about the following, ;• Iby a farmers meeting held at C. ton, HI. i “Resolved, That we belie'-" - a thief should bo called a thief, without regard to social or political standing, and vri characterize tho recent salary grab by our Congress and President as no better than a steal.” Nor is there any ambiguity in tho fol lowing mottoes inscribed on the bu.rtu'*# of the farmers who celebrated Indepen dence Day at Lanark, in Carroll count v, 111. : “No more Republicans! No tow* Democrats ! Wo want and must h*v* honest men to fill public positions.” “Salary grabbers, hunt your holes !" “Salary of otlr Congressman, one hun dred bushels of corn a day. Poor fel low !" They might have added that tho gala-y of President Grant is over six hundve f bushels of corn a day, with house, fu , lights, stables, and grounds free, Poor fellow!— N. Y. Sun , Kindness to Brutes.—An Engf«’« gentleman was visiting a- farm hofls**, when a horse came to tho door, grasp, I the handle of the door with his mout , opened it, and entered the room. The mistress of the hotlSe, who knew wird he wanted, put a lump of sugar into lm mouth. The horse then backed out of tho room, shut the door, and march,' 1 bank to the barn-yard. The woman said he often came this way for a lump of sugar. The gentleness was the effect of kindness. Roughly treated, a horse be comes ugly; kindly handled and gently spolo n to, it is willing, gentle and affec tionate. Boys, try it on your fathers* horses. Depend upon it, kindness ise magic wand. It will tame both brutes and men. Try it. flow to. Choose a Good Cow.—A •writer in the Northwestern Farmer says : The erurnply horn is a good indication ; a full eye another. Her head should b» small and short. Avoid the Roman nose ; this indicates thin milk and but little of it. See that, she is dished in the face sunk between the eyes. Notice that she is what stock men call a good handler skin soft and loose, like the skin on a dog. Deep from tho loin to the udder, and a very slim tail. A cow with these marks newer fails to be a good milker. “Has that gal got fits ?" asked an old farmer who had paused to see a fashiona ble young lady go through her-calisthen ic xerei. •s in the garden. “No,” replied the servant • >1; “that’s jimiinastics." “So,” sudd the farmer in a pitying tone, “how long’s she had ’em ?” 1 rofe.ssional. flli K. A . .1101,10, Pr actici xc* Physic tax, crriMAN oa. Oitht : Prick building adjoining fdorn *>f McssrH. PriDf' • Jclkrt &. Cos., &cr«vun street. .Limuirv HI 18711. 5-rs JOHN (x> Mcl'AXdLj ATTORNEY AT LAW, QUITMAN, GA. ;:<>• Office erst to Pinch’s building. East of (Join t I loupe ~(j 11 :f e. duly IM, 18711. ly James ii. Fium-inT Atonic? niit) <1 cmiscllor atXato, QIHTMAN, CA. Oi-Kii k. is the Corht Louse. March 17. I*7.*. W. li. lIENNKT S. T. KIXmitKRUT HEIN’SET S. KJMediERY, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, in Cos: vrv, (troiion. Febrimn 7 Is7:i _ <1 III;V, hJD if HARDEN, ATTORNPY AT LAW, QUITMAN. GEORGIA, >.,1 . net.-,-, in’ ll.u Court lleuso. second fir- May ZB 1877. lv DEHTISTHY. L\. I), L. RICKS 1 i ’ '• ! -> / vi yj .YYY JJ\ ' , 1 o '"A til the NY A Orleans N (ICO. * *- •' Thankful friends ond j -tft . favors, he will be pl«w to sewn them mi future. Cos <d woik and mot crate charges. M ic per. H-OiW Dr. J. S. N.SNOW, dentist, QUITMAN ,; 1 ORGIA. i) ; SITCTFUI.’ Y solicits flic lirooks and will ,'nil,uv"r. w sHnX> l.y faitiifitUy ‘■••.•••ifliMT i,!t »„rk entrusted to him. to melit their c nfidewv. Charges moderate, end work envanired.. ■ up staits, in Filed,’- building. March 21. 1873 4o 1J