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YOL. I. SANDERSYTLLE, GEORGIA, FEBRUARY 21, 1873. NO. 34. r. 31. G. MEDLOCK. JETHRO ARLENE. E. L. BODGEBS. By ilcdlock, Airline & Rodgers. The Ht.bat.ti is published in Sandersville, Ga., every Friday morning. Subscription price TWO DOLLARS per annum. Advertisements inserted at the usual rates. No charge for publishing marriages or deaths. POETRY. Help the Weary on Their Way. BY CALEB DUNN. It is a simple thing to give A kindly word, a cheering smile, To those who in misfortune live. Whose days no pleasure e’er beguile; And better far it is to bless. Than heed not sorrow or distress. Happy the man who hath the power, • And hath the will, to uphold the weak— [ To all the poor in darkest Hour, And words of sympathy to speak; I For he in all the grateful land I Among the best beloved shall stand." JThere is nobler one than he In all the world; nor can be found |3Iore natural nobility Than that which his pure life has crowned JWith acts of love, with goodly deeds, {Which bravely meet misfortune’s needs. (Misers we find where’er we turn, Cold-hearted men who worship self, I Who every noble prompting spurn, Whose god is gold, whose joy is pelf: But though his coffers groan with weight, Vain is the miser's vast estate. Biches are good when rightly used, To elevate and bless the race; Riches are evil when abused, And gained to purchase power and place; Wealth is a glorious thing to own When garnered not for self alone. So let us strive the best we may To aid all fainting souls along, And lead them out into the c\ay From darkness, so they may grow strong; And for our willing sacrifice We’ll win the love that never dies. SELECT MISCELLANY. HOW TOM FELL IN LOYE. BY A. F. HHX. Tom Martin was a good looking young man, of a romantic turn of mind. And yet he bad never fallen in love. He bad seen many gb’ls that be liked —in fact, be “liked ’em all,” as be was wont to express it—but be bad never yet encountered tbe one whom, according to bis views, Nature bad fitted for him. Well, there was ample time yet. He was only twenty-four. One beautiful*day in May be got j an afternoon’s leave of absence from k tbe store in wbicb be was a clerk, r I and took a street-car for borne, as • be bad promised to take bis sister I lout in tbe country to see tbeir aunt. He occupied a seat in one comer of the car, and (Erectly opposite him, reading a letter, sat—be noticed it immediately—one of tbe loveliest creatures that be or anybody else bad ever seen. She—but it is no use to attempt \ to describe her. Tom’s heart gave one extra throb. It happened that, just as be bad fair ly caught sight of her beautiful face, she finished tbe page she was read- iug, and involuntarily looked up— with a pair of such eyes!—and tbeir glances met. It was but for an in stant—a mere fraction of a second— but it was long enough to fix those eyes on Tom’s heart forever. He bad always believed in love at first sight. It was no longer belief now —it was certainty. Yes, ah-eady * Tom Martin was in love with tbe beautiful stranger. Al ready be began to torture himself with tbe thought that be might never see her again—might never know her name—never have tbe privilege of speaking to her, and telling her bis love—that, in any event, her heart might even now be another’s. But in tbe midst of these painful I nflections tbe Fates seemed to favor lim. While tbe unconscious object bis admiration, intently read a second page of her letter, she, witli- t iut perceiving it, let tbe envelope all in her lap, right side up, and Tom’s keen eye at once deciphered tbe address. Yes, the full address—name, street and number—and—oh, joy!—it was in feminine band. It was no love letter, then, from a bated rival, be thought; for so suddenly bad the passion taken possession of bim that be already felt that, somehow, be bad a sort of claim, on the* charming girl. Romantic fellow! It was with eager, feverish eyes that be read tbe address on tbe tell tale envelope. He felt that be was taking a bberty, and be looked about him to see if be was observed, but to bis wonder not another passenger in tbe car was paying tbe shghtest at tention, either to him or the marve lous beauty in the opposite comer. Mentally pronouncing them a set of unappreciative churls,for not seem ing to be affected by such an unusual degree of beauty as should have been palpable to all, hejaroceeded to stamp her address on his brain. It was: “Miss Jennie Wright, No. 390 Mark Street.” Bless tbe dear dear, dis tinct chirography of her female friend; there could be no mistake about it. The beauty was still in tbe car when Tom left it, and he stood at i i the street comor, by a lamp post and gazed wistfully after, tbe rumbling vehicle as long as it was in sight. “I love her,” he said to himself, as be walked home. He walked on slowly, gaziug at the curbstone, and presently repeated:. “I love her, I love her—not for her surpassing beauty alone, but for tbe pure soul that shines unmistakably from her eyes. Miss Jennie Wright, Mo. 390 Mark street.,’ All that afternoon, during tbe pleasant trip to tbe country in com pany with bis own sweet sister—but be thought her very plain—Tom was morose and gloomy. “What’s the matter, Tom ?” asked bis sister. “Do you not feel well ?•” “Why, certainly I feel well,” die replied, half petulantly. “Do I look sick ?” “No—but you are rather quiet.” “No more than usual. You can’t expect me to be like a noisy, giddy young gb’l. I’ve a good deal to think about.” Yes; be bad Miss Wright, No. 390, to think about. Tom was in love’ His sister well knew that there was something on bis mind, for, not withstanding his implied assertion of habitual sedateness, be was general ly just as gay and lively as any “gid dy young girl.” So bis sister ceased questioning him, and be indulged in bis abstrac tions undisturbed. And tbe more be thought of Miss Wright, tbe more be was convinced that be loved her —that she was destined to be bis. “But,” said he to himself that even ing, “bow am I to make her acquain tance ? I know her name and ad dress, it is true, but I, a perfect stran ger cannot boldly wring tbe door bell, and ask to see Miss Wright, Nor do I bke tbe idea of writing. Would she, not knowing me, not knowing bow deeply I love her, ven ture to answer my letter? And yet, I verily bebeve that Providence has thrown this clue in my way, and that it is part of tbe great plan for me to write. Yes, I’ll do it. He did write that very evening, and mailed tbe letter next morning Here is what he wrote : “Miss Jennie Weight : You will be surprised when you receive this, I know ; but / beg you not to act hast ily in tbe matter, and, a{jove all, not to treat my letter as an impertinent intrusion. Where I have seen you, and how I have learned your name and address, I need not tell you now. I will explain all in tbe future. Suf fice it to say that I have seen you— gazed upon your beautiful face with a charmed admiration—and that you have awakened in my heart a senti ment that no other lady has ever awakened there, although I have been in this world nearly a quarter of a century. In a word, I love you! time upon your fair face, I love you truly—sincerely—with a love that can never grow cold. Pardon my boldness in thus addressing you; and I beg that you will not despise me— that you will not repel me without g ’ving me anoppotunity to meet you ce to face, and tell you, with all the candor of my soul, what I have here but poorly written—when I hope, so earnestly, that you may not find me unworthy of your affection. At least do me tbe great kindness to answer this letter, and tell me if I may ever hope to find favor in your sight. You see I do not conceal from you my name and address, and I trust in your generous heart that my confi dence will be sacred to you.” A day and night passed; then a day of feverish anxiety and anight of un rest ; then another day of torture and suspense, and another night of rest less longing. A whole week went by, and no letter from thebeautifulbeing who seemed destined to make him happy or miserable during the rest of bis life. Then bis heart sunk, arid tbe whole world looked dark and cheerless. He thought of bis revolver—of laudanum —of tbe clothes-line—of the calm river—and finally, in tbe melancholy mood, wandered what kind of a life a hermit’s life was. He thought be should rather bke it. No; be would be brave; A whole week bad passed, and bis love was unchanged; therefore it was no idle fancy. Now,hewouldnotgiveitup. He would write again and again— aye, call,jif necessary—but be would know bis fate. So he wrote again. He told her she was cruel, then told her she was just, as be knew be was not worthy of her, and a great many things like that. He also told her that be commended her discretion in paying no attention to a stranger’s letter—still be en treated her, now that he bad written a second letter, to consider bim a stranger no longer, but to grant him an opportunity to prove bis love. He mailed that letter, and, the same day, made 'eight mistakes in tbe counting room. Two days later be received a city letter, addressed to him in a feminine hand. With a throbbing heart, he opened it and looked at the signa ture. It was signed “Jennie Wright” A film came over his eyes, and he was quite dizzy for as much as a quar ter of a minute. He rubbed his eyes, chafed his forehead with his hand, took a glass of water, then read the letter, which was as follows: “Me. Martin—Sib: Both your letters reached me. When I read your first one I was almost temptgd to answer it, because I was so curi ous to know where you had seen m§, and how you had obtained my ad dress ; but the propriety of so read ily consenting to open a correspon dence with an entire stranger was not quite clear to me. Your second letter reached me yesterday, and, confident of your sincerity, I have concluded to reply. In the first place, -I cannot imagine what you see in me to admire. - My friends have not gen erally pronounced Me beautiful. I fear it is an infatuation on your part from which you may awaken sud denly by-and-by. I afh willing you should see me; but, not to act with undue baste. I must stipulate that you do not call for two months—if at tbe end of that tiihe you are still convinced that you entertain for me -a true manly regard, I am willing that we should meet. Remember, however, that I have not seen you— do not know how you will impress me—and therefore cannot give you tbe slightest encouragement t o hope for my regard. It is only at your earnest request that I concede so much.” Tom was delighted.. He could not have hoped for a more favora ble response. He saw in this letter an evidence of modesty, .good sense and a generous heart that was will ing to deal fairly with a man of sin cerity and uprightness. He wrote and told her as much. A number of communications pass ed between them, and Tom came to fancy, from tbe increased friendli ness and confidence visible in her letters, that she was beginning to like him. If so, be might hope for great results when she should see him—for Tom was an uncommonly handsome fellow, if be did know it himself. Two months rolled by, and it was like a kind of happy dream to Tom. Tbe anticipation of tbe joy that was to come hghtened every hour, and bis heart was unchanged; so it was mutually agreed that, on a certain Wednesday evening, bis fair corres pondent would receive him at No. 390 Mark Street. His heart was beating with un usual violence when be rang tbe door-bell. A servant came to the door, and, on bis saying that he wished to see Miss Wright, ushered him into a well-lighted parlor. Telling him to be seated, the ser vant withdrew, saying she would dall Miss Wright immediately. Then Tom found himself alone, and be sat there listening to tbe beating of bis heart, which, it seem ed, could not stay in there any lon- At last be beard fight footsteps on the hall stairs; then tbe rustling of female garments in tbe ball; then the door opened, and a person en tered. Tom could not look up at first, and thought be must be faint ing. a» *»*> mk But be summoned the last atom of courage, in bis nature.; then, arose and confronted the young lady. “Miss Wright, I—” But be started as though be bad stepped on some carpet tacks, and uttered an exclamation—almost a scream—because tbe being before, him was not tbe same be bad seen and adored at first sight in that hap py street car; nor was she so beau tiful. On the contrary, tbe person before him was strikingly plain, and her very age commanded respect. She was a muscular person, with an angular face, and bad she been at tired in male habiliments, she would have passed for a small man of thir ty-five. “Mr. Martin, I believe,” she said, with a smile. Tom was fairly stunned, but be could not delay speaking any lon ger. Yes; but—Miss Wright—I” Exactly. That is my name. Be seated, Mr. Martin. I have been quite pleased with your letters.” But,” said the amazed young man, “you are not Miss Wright, are you?” Yes, certainly. Now tell me where you saw me?” But—are you Miss—Jennie Wright?”. The same. It is I you have been corresponding with for some time. Where did you see me, Mr. Martin?” And she gracefully seated her self within three or four feet of poor Tom. . “I saw you in a street car; but it wasn’t you,” responded Tom, scarce ly knowing what be said. “It was— a—lovely young lady; she didn’t look a bit fike you.” “But how came you to write to me ? You got my address perfectly from some source.” “I saw tout address on an en velope, while tbe young lady sat reading a letter.” Miss Wright thought a moment; then laughed outright. Tom "stared and wondered. “Ob, just excuse me a moment!’ : she said-rising. “I begin tq geq b where tj[o mistake occurred.” And she flitted out of tbe parlor. “What in the world does all this mean 7* Tom muttered, as lie wiped great drops of prespfration from his clammy brow; Footsteps were again beard ip the ball, and plain Miss Wright reap peared followed by another lady. It was tbe adored. “Mr. Martin,” said Miss Wright, “allow me to introduce you to my sister”-*—Tom fairly sprang to his feet with joy-—“my sister, Mrs. Cooke. Sister, this is Mr. Martin, of whom I have told you.” Mrs. Cooke! Tom came near sink ing to the floor. His face was as pale as death. “Oh, Heavens!” be muttered, un der bis breath. “’Tis she—and she’s married!” Mrs. Cooke spoke pleasantly to Tom, who, to this day, does not know what be said in reply. Then all three sat down. At last Tom spoke rationally. . “Mrs. Cooke,” be said, “it was you whom I saw in tbe street car two months ago—you whom I ad mired and loved at tbe first glance— it was you whom I saw reading a letter, addressed to Miss Jennie Wright, and it is you that I have fancied myself corresponding with all tbe time. Ob, unhappy man that I am!” “I understand it all now,” said Miss Jennie Wright. “I remember giving my sister a letter I bad re ceived from a cousin, and as she was just going out, she said she would read it in tbe car—that was tbe way of it. You saw my address on tbe envelope, and naturally sup posed it was the address of tbe per son reading tbe letter. “Alas, it was so !” said Tom, who now felt that tbe world indeed bad few charms for him. - “It was in a street car, was it Mr. Martin?” said Mrs. Cooke, archly. “Yes,” be rephed sadly. “How I wish I bad not got into that car but it can’t be helped now. Miss Wright, I know you will pardon me when you see bow unwittingly have made this mistake and ad dressed you. I may have led you in my letters to think— r " “Oh, there isn’t tbe slightest barm done,” replied Miss Jennie, good- naturedly. “I am not so young as I once was, and do not lightly give away my affections. In fact, I am mo?-e amused than anything else at this mistake. Are you sure you fell earnestly in love with my sister?” “Yes*, but it is not right to say so now,” replied Tom gravely. “She is married; and I must bear my disappointment like a man; but it is tbe hardest blow of my life.” “But what do you say to my sis ter’s being a widow ?” asked Miss Wright, sfily. “Hush!” said tbe beautiful Mrs. Cooke, blushing. “Is she?” Tom fairly screamed, jumping to his feet. “Oh, don’t lead me to hope and—” “Yes, Mr. Martin,” continued Miss Jennie Wright—oh, bow be did like her for that!—“my sister was mar ried young, and her husband, hav ing met with an accident, and has been dead a year and a half. With that explanation, as this call was intended for her, I will leave you. Good-evening, Mr. Martin. I hope you and my sister may like each other. I have nothing further to say.” And she withdrew. It was nearly three months before Tom Martin—happy fellow!—led the blooming Mrs. Cooke to tbe altar. She looked prettier and sweeter than ever, and everybody present de- Mrs. Teredo and Her Family. BY BEY.' JOHN TODD, D. D. “This,” said Deacon Hays, “is irobably^tbe last ship I shall ever,. havebheaMfri ^perfect as p So he selected a beautiful model, f some-surprise. A Text for Boys. A man of very pleasing address; but very dishonest in his practices, Onco-said to an honorable merchant, "whose word is as good as his bond,” “Iwonld give fifty thotuSaifd dofidrst “Why so?”' asked' the ‘ oth<fr, in*' dared tliat no one living could ever have taken her for a widow. A Sufficient Vouchee.—Tbe La- Grange Reporter says: A friend tells us tbe following story, which is too good to keep: He was in a wholesale grocery bouse in Atlanta, a short time ago, when a man came in and aske$ the proprietor to sell him some cqm, telling him at the same time, that be bad no money to pay with then, but would before long. As tbe ap plicant was a stranger to tbe pro prietor, the latter, of course, hesita ted. While be was deliberating, a Primitive Baptist preacher, well known to tbe proprietor, entered tbe store, and addressed the apppli- cant, “How are you, brother ?”' Tbe proprietor immediately turned to one of bis clerks, saying:—“That’s enough; he’s a Hardshell Baptist. Let him have the com; I know he will pay.” And the applicant went on his way rejoicing. t Tbe franking privilege, now doom ed to go out of existence on the first day ofne^t July, was born Janua ry 10, 1792, ana is consequently in. its eighty-second year. and knowing /that tbe owner wanted something very superior,' he spared no time or money in procuring the best timber to be had, and the best workmen to be found. And then he watched over every stick as it was heWn and fitted in its place, every plank that was spiked on the timbers, and every spar that was prepared. When they came to put the copper sheathing Over tbe bottom of the ship, the deacon watched it very closely. At one spot he found the head of tbe iron nail which fastened tbe sheathing split. The deacon’s eyes were becoming rather poor; but he saw the broken bead. “Jim Spiker, I see a nail broken, isn’t there a little hole by its side?” • “Not a bit of it, I’m sartin. There couldn’t a drop of water get in in a century.” So the word of Jim was accepted, tbe ship was finished, and launched, and made two or three prosperous voyages. During one of these, she lay at a wharf in Calcutta. Now these waters swarm with that Kttle pest, tbe ship-worm. They crawled all over tbe ship, but could not get through tbe copper sheathed. At length Mrs. Teredo, a very small specimen of her tribe, fit upon tbe broken nail, found tbe little bole and squeezed herself in- Then she be gan to eat tbe timber, and lay her eggs in it. Soon they hatched, and increased till that timber was full of tbe little Teredoes, and then the next and tbe next, till every stick in tbe whole ship was full, and eaten almost into powder. Still tbe ship looked sound, sailed well, and made her long voyages. At length, when in the middle of the great ocean, a ter rible storm met her. Tbe wind howl ed through the rigging, as if singin a funeral dirge. The waves rollei up and-writhed as if in agony. Ev ery spar was bent, and evefy timber and spike strained to tbe utmost The cargo wbicb filled tbe ship was of immense value. Tbe crew was large and the passengers many. Worse and worse grew tbe storm, till at last a huge wave struck her with all its power. Tbe poor ship stag gered, groanod once, and crumpled up like a piece of paper. She found ered—at sea—in the dark night—-by tbe awful storm! The rich cargo all went to the bottom of the ocean. The drowned men and women sank down, down, miles, before they rested on the bottom! ATI done through'the ne- ghet of Jim Spiker, whowas too un- faithfiifto mend the hole' made' hi tlie’ broken nail ' - " ’ _ f here'were watchings and anxieties by those on. shore—all. wondering why the richlyladen ship did not ar rive. Tbe cargo and ship were all gone, and many were made poor, be cause the broken, nail was not re placed! The wife waited long and tearfully for the husband—the children long ed for the father who never came. The little hole bad been left! The poor widow who depended on her oinly son, a kind, dutiful, manly youth, her stay and staff—looked out of her bumble-dwelling in vain. Her boy never came! Tbe nail bad been left broken! Scores of homes were desolated, and many bad their earthly hopes crushed by the sinking of. that ship, and all because the httle bole was left! Mrs. Teredo and her great fam ily bad never brought all this ruin— had not Jim Spiker been unfaithful. Ob! bow often is a child ruined by some.neglect, as to bis temper, bis easily besetting sin! The little foxes creep in easily and spoil tbe vines. The worm that eats up cha racter and wrecks all the hopes of life can crawl into a very small hole. A mother neglected to punish or even reprove her boy for stealing an egg, and that neglect, as he said on the gallows, brought him that shameful death. A single bow of a single smile may win the good-will of a child, that will lead bun to Chirst. A sm ile visit to tbe sick chamber, to the iabbath school scholar, a single conversation, may lead to the sal vation of an immortal soul. Great results often grow out of small things. Tbe loosening of a single grain of sand may end in the sweep ing away and destroying all the mills, and ruining a village. Beware of the first lewd word, the first profane expression, tbe first taste of strong drink, tbe first neglect-of your Bible tbe-first neglect of prayer, the first breaking of the Sabbath. You are leaving holes for the Teredo family to ruin you forever.—S. S. Times. Insults are fike codnterfeit notes; we cannot prevent tbeir being offer ed, but we can refuse tb take them. Tire North Pacific Railroad is con structed to the Missouri river. The expenses haye been $11,581,467. ^Because I <fould itfake a hundred thousand dollars out of¥t.” The honorable character which, was at the bottom of the good name/ be cared nothing for; it was oily tbe reputation, which be could turn to account in a money point of view, which be coveted. But a good name cannot be bought with silver; it, of all other posses sions, must be fairly earned. When it is possessed, it is better business capital than a great sum of money, It is a capital any boy or girl may secure. Honesty must be its found ation, even in tbe smallest particu lars. When an employer says, “That is a boy I can trust,” he will always find himself in demand, pro vided be joins with it industry.— “The hand of the diligent maketh rich.” It seems hard at tbe time, maybe —this ceaseless round of work, while other boys are lounging about’stone- steps, or playing on the green. But tbe reward will come if you are faithful. While loungers are drag ging out a miserable lifetime in pri vation and poverty, tbe hardworking boy lives at bis ease, respected pud honored. Remember this, if' you desire to make your way in the world. There is nothing that can serve your pur pose like a name for honesty and in dustry ; and you will never acquire either if you are a lounger about the streets and a shirk at your business. Everybody suspects a lad who is of ten seen about saloon-doors or tav ern steps. It undermines a boy’s character for honesty very rapidly to mix with society bo finds there; and such habits tend to anytliii^ but industrious ways. “A good name is rather to be cho- son than great riches, and loving fa vor rather than silver and gold.”— Print that text on your heart, and carry it with you in all your walk; and ways. It is worth far more than silver and gold to you.—Presbyterian Hc'pe for Bough Boys. Donot be discouraged, mother What'though the boys are rude am? rough, that shoulc|. not discourage you. The new farm is cough and ^ed when the /husbandman' firs< ns to*tifiritj<biifr- by patient toi, 1 dffflty extracts the roots, re moves tbe bbuldefs'levels the knolls, and fills '£He hollows. If tbe soil seems at first to refuse a return for his toil—presenting only heaps of rocks, and more unsightly heaps of barren earth—donot let him*be dis couraged, for there is a mine of wealth in the deeply-dug and well- wrought field, which shall soon yield ample profits for the labor and pa tience invested. Tbe old mars! shall blush with beauty and health. The sandhill shall yet be spread with a carpet of gr ; een a monarch might'be proud to own and tread. The boulders shall yet kiss the feet of both tbe proud and humble, the poor and the- rich, and draw forth praises from the man of science and of taste. The tough, unsightly tus- suck shall yet yield food that feeds the tiller. Do. not be discouraged mother, for those very forbidding characteristics in your boy, when checked and moulded by an intel ligent and persevering discipline will be of vast worth to him when a man. It may cost more to subdue and direct a stubborn will, but whet the work is done you have made an efficient commander. It may cost more to polish the rude boy, but yon have succeeded in giving the world a man instead of a statue. There is a jewel under that forbid ding frown and hostile resentment. If you would realize its full value, be very patient. Train surely and carefully. Your investment may not at once yield you a return; may, it may be years ere it affords you much fruit of a desirable beauty or rich ness; but be well assured of this: the more diligent and patient you toil, the sooner will you be blessed with a satisfactory return. Beady Money. Beady money is an excellent thing to have on hand. No matter if it is a httle sum. If it is only sulficient for the current expenses it is a great convenience to say the least. Any one who has tried and compared the credit with the cash system 17111 readi ly admit the correctness of the above remark.. When you buy .for cash you gen^fSTly" get things' ’'cheaper—get better weights and measures and all the fafoVs the de'aler' can extend to his patrons. On the efrrdfifc “credit system the matter is usually revers ed. If ybu try to avoid credit by borrowing, you improve' Matters ve ry little if any. Hence, we give this advice; ‘Turn an honest penny” when ever you can, and always have sufficient’money on hand to meet your small engagements. Farmers usually depend upon, their own crop for the means necessary for their ex penses of the whole year, and it is singular that they# should thus - de pend upon the one single source, while the opportunities for profit is more varied on the farm than in al most any other branch of industry. Put yourselves to thinking and do not miss a single opportunity for earning a dollar of a dime even. Per severing industry begets economy, aqd both combined-begets competen cy and fortune.-—Agriculturist. Forgive and Forget. . There exists a very beautiful cus tom in Germany, which it would be well to imitate everyhere. On the first day of the New Year, whatever may have been the quarrels or es trangement between friends and rel atives, mutual visits are inter changed, kindly greetings given and received—all is forgotten and for given. It may be that it does not :.n many cases continuer but who can tell, when the long frozen floodgates of affeetion are thus thawed by the jjenial influence of kind words, how noon the first step toWartTS reconcil- : ation, which pride or passion so of ten prevent from taking, may follow, and be the means of reuniting hearts ;;o often separated by such mere tri ples or misrenresentatibns!—Episco- A Bam on the Rampage.—The Danbury News says: A retired cler gyman sends us an account of a little affair that happened in his place. It appears that there was a young woman, a fine spirited girl, engaged at a wash tub opposite an open door. Just behind her was a young man, as is generally the case, - and in the yard was an old buck that was- allowed the freedom of the premises, which is not always the case, we arc .glad to say. Weil, this buck came up to the door and look ed in, and the young man, going close behind the young woman, pointed his finger straight at the buck, and the old fellow recognizing at once the - pressing character of. this mute invitation, put down his head and dashed forward, and the miserable iftm’stepped to one side and fled, fhixl the young woman, all unconscious of. the arrangements, received the- awful shock without warning, and passed over the tub, and the air for an instant appeared to be foil of slippers and wet clothes and soap and hot water and suds. And the next minute that goat came flying out of that door at a dreadful speed, bald the. whole length of his spine and with a wild look in hia eye. And for an hour afterwards die stood, back to the barn, scratch ing his'chin and frying to recall all the circumstances in the unfortunate affair. •les or misrepresentations !- ■mI Methodist. The last census of Palestine shows a Jewish population of 15,293 souls. Of these 8,000,. {^qre. than, half,) five in Jerusjale’m, 5 ahout-^jOOO in Safet, 2,000 in Tiberius, and; 800 in Heb ron. The remainder,-about 400, are divided between Aeco, Jaffa, Haifa, Sicbem and ShefaAman. The Stamp Tax on Checks.—The Committee on Ways and Means have decided to continue the stamp tax on bank checks, drafts and orders. The impression is abroad that this tax is about to be abolished. The action of the committee settles the doubt. Plato’s tradition of the lost conti nent is being verified by leading geol ogists, and that the space now oc cupied by the Atlantic Ocean was once.that continent. Upoff the Rocky Mountains abundant evidence of the theory that they are outskirts of it, are found in the aquatic plants and shells strewn over them. The White Mountains and the Adirondaeks are also recognized by those interested as high points of the boundry of the country which were under the sea. “What a nuisance!” exclaimed a gentleman at a concert, as a young fop in front of him kept talking in a loud voice to a lady at his side. “Did yon refer to me, su?” threateningly demanded the fop. “Oh, no; I mean the musicians there, who k^ep up such a noise with their instruments that I can’t hear your conversation,” was the stinging reply. When a Maine man has a to talk ative wife, he tells her he is going to Ansanahquatasogowmon^otonga hunting, and in his absence has his friends call at the house and inquire ’ tis whereabouts. When he returns is faithful wife is exhausted, and doesn’t want - to speak for a month. “Cast Iron Sinks,” is written up on the sign of a Hartford plumber. “Well, who the (hie) said it didn’t?” chuckled, an inebriated man after reading it over three times. “Sambo,-what is dar dat nebber was, nebber can be, nebber will be?” “I drnrno Caesar. I gibs it np.”. “Why chile, a mouse’!? nest in a cat’s r ...nrum-