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VOL. 1. i i ms»S£S^eBPSSSt x SA NDERST TLLE, GEORGIA, APRIL 18, 1873. NO. 42. O>i, c. k i'.t.ock. Jsrar.o at.i-TM.. f, r„ i.obo>. r»- jfjr.iisH'Ii, %rSihe &Sdds,w: never penetrated, of Hr t j_rj i H -pul-iis'’.'" 1 in San'.lorsviHe, ■ cverv Fri.V.v moniin.q. Subscription | ;'o TWO DOLL .IKS porannttxn. \ ln-rtisfinants inserted at the usual rates, j V ! charge for publishing marriages or i POETRY. Lcanin; towards Sa«li Other. The following poem was recited several years ago by Mr. Robert Morris, of Kentucky, at a di ine'rof the Knights Tomplar, in Rich mond. We republish it in the hop* that it may be read with the spirit, by the brother hood which was organized here last Saturday; the “Patrons of Husbandry.” The jolts of life are many, As we dash along the track; Its ways are rough and rugged, And"our bones they sorely rack. We’er tossed about, We’er in and out, IVe make a mighty bother; Far less would be Our pains, if we ■Would lean towards each other! Behold yon loving couple, Just started for a life! What care they for jolting, That happy man and wife! The cars may jnmp, Their heads may bump, And jostle one another; They only smile, And try the while To lean towards each other! Woe to the luckless traveler Who jouneys all alone: Well said the wise Solomon, "Two better is than one.” For when the ground’s Most rugged found, And great’s the pain and pother; He cannot break The sorest ache By leaning on another! There’s not one in ten thousand Of all the cares we mourn, But what if ’twas divided, Might- easily be borne. If we but learn, When fortunes turn, To share them with a Brother, We’d prove how good’s Our Brotherhood, By leaning towards each othrr! SELECT MISCELLANY. THE FAIRY AND THE GH0l T L. A LEGEND OF LIFE. ,jis that: iMus. ' , an , i 0. ill. soon. .able, i -um- be a shortlived one, and that he would doubtless soon again resort to his old haunts. At last he would re turn home for only a short period,, most of his time bffing spent in the gloomy valley. He drank still more of the dark waters, and sometimes waded in them almost beyond his depth, and would go home reeking and dripping, and bedraggled and smeared with the- filth that lurked in them, so that he was a sorry sight to those who desired his happiness, and wondered at his perversity, though he himself* was unable to perceive, any grounds for either their anxiety or their disgust. Finally, he ceased to will the pre sence of the little Princess and her fairy train altgether, the bright foun tain dried up, and the clouds and darkness and gloom of the valley of the Ghoul seemed to have extended itself over the once beautiful home and all that lay around. To the de luded man this was now all the same as though it had been bright as of yore; he had destroyed his relish for the beauties of Nature, and for the delights of social and domestic life; sweet flowers had lost their odor; the glad sunshine, the radiant day, had no power to make his heart leap with pleasure; and the voice of mu sic had no more charms for him. Friends fell away, and wife and chil dren were infected with the pervad ing gloom, so that the home was ray less, hopeless, and like the house of the dead. The fields grew wild for want of culture, the pastures dried up, the flocks and herds perished, or wandered away, the little songsters deserted the woodland, and the sway of the monster in the dark valley was was unbroken. Uppandown now hied to the lake, resolved to bathe to his heart’s con tent. He went in and in, till at last he got beyond his depth—there was no bright remembrance of happy days to buoy him up and prompt him to return, for all was forgotten, and he went down into the slugglish waters and died there, and his body was dragged ashore and speedily devour ed by the Ghoul and his hungry race. Put a good genius stole in one star lit night, and, gathering up his bones and dabble in 'them, as a child would j strewed them in the road that he play in a burling brook, for the vale j aUl E L P i ^ tia\ clers a no passed was so ■ dark that he could, not.tell ‘with what vile creatures it was.peo* and the son _ luxds were never heard—-where no sweet flower ever bloomed, nor pleas ant odor had been borne upon the wind. This was the uocli De Glume, and somewhere near its margin, in the tangled morass that almost wholly encircled it, in a horrid cavern, strewn with dead men’s bones, dwelt, with his family, a great Ghoul, who presid ed over the hideous vale and the slug- glish lake within it. He dwelt upon the farther side of the water, and lived upon such victims as were fool ish enough to leave the brighter ways of the world to seek the ghosly pool, and perish by drinking or drowning there. There was an open way to the foul lake, down a gentle declivity on the side next to the home of Uppandown. Subject to the Ghoul were some evil genii, or little demons, who exerted all their skill to lead mankind down this road to Loch De Glume, and in to it, that they might fall a prey to the devouring monster. Now, although Uppandown was surrounded with most of the bless ings of earth, he would frequently leave his beautiful home and wan der off towards the dark dell and the sluggish lake. .The fairy Prin cess was always grieved, and the lit tle gay and tripping spirits of the fountain would hie away to their bowers when he turned his face away from them and started towards the execrated spot; for they could not live in the foul atmosphere that hung about it, and dared not follow, though ever so much, for his sake, they wished. Many was the time when the gargling water ceased to flow, for the little Princess retired to her chamber and shut herself up from every one about her own home and that of the wayward Uppan down, when he turned towards the regions of the Ghoul, and then the bright fountain was still, and all the attendants of the Princess were idle and listless. When he was first unfortunately betrayed into a visit down to the fet id pool, he must perforce taste of its waters, and then he must step into them ;i Jitt-le, and feel their depth, [Jc iHnxiE. Oace-Lifc was long ago, before the wisdom oi mail Iia-.i driven the as, the genii, the elfins, and the • ? .i ,. - i 1 o .vines ifoiu cue qav.t,u, anu .replac ed them with the col l abstractions of Reason—before philosophy had i.i , d the little cieatnre# of theFan- c v. • »<• sneering incredulity had buried away the ghouls imd gnomes -and g nsis beneath the inflexible Real—- that a man dwelt in one of the pleas ant places of the world, whose name, as known in those quaint old times, was Uppandown. fchs home, as we said, was in one of the pleasant places; if was on a gentle eminence, surrounded by the cimicest trees of the wood; that broke the blasts of winter, and'gave their shadows for the summer’s heat; a pleasant garden lay hard by, and the delightful fragrance of shrubbery and blossoms, hardy and rare, was borne on every breath of spring, every balmy breeze of summer, and every sighing wind of autumn; while stretch ing back in the distance were fertile fields, and pastures dotted with flocks —and in front the landscape gently declined towards a beautiful river, and thence rose as gradually beyond to almost mountain heights, present ing with every changing season of the year, its constantly variegated beau ty, In the woods the little birds, chirped and sung, and the squirrels gamboled upon the trees, while al most the whole year round the busy bee flitted hither and thither in the execution of its appointed task. Up- pandown had wife and children and friends who loved him; and with so much beauty, so much loveliness, such plenty around him, it would be strange if we should find that he was not always happy. To add to the charm of his situation, there was, in a delightful grove on the right hand, a bright and sparkling fountain, and a beautiful fairy Princess presided over it, while numbers of little spirits were at her command, and came and went at her bidding. The Princess was the friend of man, and it was her particular care to win Uppan- downorer to ;. auU s nj it pled, nor delect the putrid' appear ance of- everything around, and .the stagnant nature of the water; and the Ghoul, too, on such occasions, . would cause to shine from his cave a kind of weird, feud deceptive light,. i that gave the lake an enchanting ap pearance, and increased the desire of whoever- should step into its brink to advance farther, while there was a property in the -water itself that made its.* scent and its taste not to seem disagreeable, though, often re peated, or once thoroughly bathed in, it was dead’y. At this first visit to the dismal place, he remained but a short time, for the remembranee of his pleasant home, of his wife and children, and friends, and of the laughing fountain hard by, came over him, and he hied away to them, and all was bright and joyous again, and Uppandown looked smilingly upon the beautiful spring, while the Prin cess and her fairy train tripped light ly and joyfully about, exerting all their skill to render home so happy that he might never again have a de sire to return to the poisonous lake. Family and friends and passing strangers all > partook with him of the pellucid fountain, and acknowl edged the sway of the little Princess, and wondered that any one could be so insensible to the charms of the place as to relinquish it for a moment. Uppandown vowed over and over again to return to the dark and nox ious vale no more, and never again to taste of the waters, that now ap peared, in comparison, filthy and repulsive; but, sad to say, it was not a great while before be was found with his face turned hitherTOird again,, and everything about his home straightway became clouded and sullen and still. The second time he went, he drank more freely than before, and ventur ed to wade still deeper in ; the lurid, ghostly light from the cavern in the tangled marsh beyond came more bewikleringly; the evil spirits who had influenced his heart to seek the sii k ning valley, busied themselves more and more to keep from Inin the remembrance of his fairy fountain, and even sung songs, in their doleful way, to please him more and more ■. ki.-TiKoy found-solitude. H *■ re- itUed alter awhile from iho s. cond that way his story, as he showed j them all that remained of the lost | ruan, to warn them against the fatal | spot. j Reader, skilled in the knowledge I of (he human iioart. it is scarcely' j needful to ay that the name of the i fai.y Princess was Cheerfulness, at whose beck the fountain of Pleasure flowed; that the Ghoul beyond the Loch I)e Glume was the demon Des pondency, lyiug in wait to devour him who yields himself to the influ ence of sombre thoughts; and that Uppandown was but the type of ma ny more, who, with the meaus of hap piness at hand, will yet yeild to the little evils that' infest the highways of life, and give themselves up to gloomy and despairing moods, to be led to loss of hope, and at last to ruin and death. Authorship.—Of all the qualities of the human mind, there is none to be so much coveted as that which enables us to write with facility and force. A man may be a great states man—the intellectual champion of a nation -the admiration of the world for ability; he may be a great orator, and sway multitudes at his will; he may be a great warrior—the hero of a hundred victorious battles; but the pen is mightier than the tongue or the sword; and when the memory of the statesman, the orator, the con queror, is buried in the “dead past” while their great efforts are lost in oblivion, he who speaks to mankind by the pen will live, and his influence be felt after they have been long for gotten. He will wear laurels fairer than those that deck the brow of the statesman and the orator, and win trophies prouder than those that are brought from the field of battle. From his desk, from the silence of his study, he sends forth the mes sengers that are to proclaim him heir to an immortality of influence, and, (if worthily he wields his power,) of fame. On Marriage.—'To the Yqung Men\-—The true girl has to be sought for.—-She does not parade herself as showgoods. She is not fashiona ble. Generally she is. not rioh. . Bnt Oh! what a heart she has when yon {And her! so large, so pure, and so •womanly!—When you seeityonwon- •ler if those showy things outside •were really women! If yon gain her love, your two thousand are a million She will not ask you for a carriage pr a first-class house. She’ll wear simple, dresses, and turn them when (necessary, though vulgar magnifi cence frowns on her economy.*. She .'will keep everything neat and nice fn your sky-parlor, and give yon such a welcome When yon come home that you’ll think yonr parlor higher than ewr, • -She’ll -entertain tsjie. friends on a dollar, and astonish you with the new thought, how little happi ness depends on money! She will make you love home (if- you.-don’t you’re a brute), and teach you how to pity, while you scorn, a poor fash ionable that thinks itself rich, and vainly tries to think itself happy.. Now do not-1 pray you, say, any more, “I can’t afford* to many.” Go find the true woman, and yon can! —Throw away that cigar, bum up that switch cane, be sensible your self, and seek your wife in a sensible way.—Dr. Crosby, in Association Monthly. Friendshp.—Young men have com monly an unguarded frankness about them, which makes them an prey for the artfnl and experienci They are too apt to look oupon ev- eiy knave or fool who tells them that lie is their trend, to be really so—and hence, too often, loss and ruin fol low. Beware, therefore, of proffer ed friendship—receive all with civil ity, be slow to give your confidence. Do not let your vanity and self-love make you suppose that people be come your friends at first sight, or even upon a short acquaintance. Real friendship is of slow growth. Friend ship hastily produced is too much like, what the poet describes: "And wiiat is friendship bnt a name, A charm that lulls to sleep, A shade that follows wealth and fame, And leaves, the wretch to weep.” A wag of the incorrigible school— regular class, in fact—was sitting in a company of gentlemen, one of whom was a lawyer of no mean repu tation. The wag talked for the law yer aforesaid, stated that he desired the services of a good lawyer; that he an important case, out of which, if successful, as it could not fail to be, if the case was properly managed, a good.-thing could be made for him self, and a good fee made for the lawyer. At this p6int the legal gentleman in question put in: “What’s that you say; in need of a lawyer—good case—paying fee? The law is my profession. State your case.” Wag—“My case is undoubtedly an excellent one, and I am willing to pay a most liberal contingent fee; I can’t afford anv certain fee; I will give one half tfie amount if you suc ceed, which is five hnndred dollars. Do you undertake ?” -> Lawyer—“I will, sir, state yonr case.” Wag—“I wan’t you to borrow five hundred dollars for me, and we will divide it.” * Exit wag, with a ponderous boot in dangerous proximity to his coat tail. viKit, nut :i-0') ii-"Hanot t,' making a i i origin, with ln< .iJi'V culiig t iii ■; add evbrj thing ir unseen observed dive to the that that he ■ "Jms two kjnnties, j^hoifldyr, A Beautiful Tradition.—A trav eler, says an exchange, who spent some time in Turkey, relates that they have this tradition in the East, which was told him by a dervish, and is even more beautiful than Sterne’s celebrated figure of the ac- cvL-ing spirit and recording angel: “Every man,” said the dervish, angels, one on his right When It. oil --it ia-‘left, and not far • off. ; s 1 ! l dark and silent vale, j in the mil 1st of which was a profound, f ggisa, mod. putrid hvator; hidden j* away in the depth* of the forest, aur- ! ieuacieu by tangled briers* and r»ois- j ono-js vines, and rank and rotting I herbage, where tbe bright sunshine 1 , Localise she felt that fier power relaxing!, and the attendant fairies'! tripped less iigntiy than was their j wont,- so that everything grew 'dull i and lifeless in proportion. And thus ho went on—-sometimes.; well done, is done forever. When fre^dohs evil, the angel on the left vviiies it down., aiid waits till mid night; Ii before in at time ihdVtuan bows his li e ad ;qu! exclaims,. Gi'a- eioaa Allah V I have s urmd ; forgive it is true; at home and^pappy—but jjuef’ the angel rubs out the record; the happiness of all connected with l out if not, at midnight-he seals it, him was even then ihai're<£ by the j and the loving angel on the right thought this mood was destined to shoulder weeps.” A good story is told of Dr. Shelton Mackenzie. Some time ago the doc tor accompanied some fair ladies to the Navy Yard. The day was fine but gusty; he was eloquently describ ing on a ferry-boat the beauty of the surounding scenery, when a puff of wind gently lifted his hat off his head, and carried it like a bird flap ping its wings tip the river. ‘.‘Good heavens!” cried the doctor, “there’s a poor fellows hat in the air. Well, that’s a joke I always laugh at!” The roar of laughter which greeted him all around, and the direction all eyes took to his head induced him to put his hand there. “By the powers,” quoth he, “its my hat!” Bat his na tive wit returning, he said as he saw it plump itself into the waters of the East river: “That’s true to nature; a beaver always takes to the water.” He who teaches men the princi- S les and precepts of spiritual wis- om, before their minds are called off from foreign objects, and turned inward upon themselves, might as well write his instructions, as the sibyl wrote her prophecies, on the loos 3 leaves of frees, and commit them to the mercy oi the inconstant winds.—Leighton. A jealous youth and his new mar ried wife, at Honstonic, recently agreed on separation and talked about, divorce, bnt he couldn’t en dure absence and came to be recon ciled. She cooled his ardor with a “not so fast,” and he resorted to a phial of arsenic; bnt—(das for the tragedy—his wife snatching it -from his hands, found it buckwheat flour. AX ACT. To be entitled an act to provide for return and payment of tax on wild land. Section 1. Be it enacted by the Gen- end Assembly of the State of Geor gia, That all persons' owning wild lands may return the same, as other taxable property, to the Ordinary of the county in which they reside, who shall, after receiving said re turn on oath, certify the same to be true and correct, and forward them to the Tax Receiver of the county where such wild lands are situated. As soon as such Receiver receive this return he shall enter the same on his tax digest. ’When the amount of State and.county tax *is assessed upon such wild tend,-* the Tax Re ceiver"aforesaid mhall at once for ward a certified list of the same to said Ordinary for collection. Such Ordinary shall give proper public notice of his receipt of such tax lists, and then proceed to collect the same, and when collected, forward the same to the Tax Collector of said county where the lands are sit uated, reserving for his trouble and expense ten per centum on the amonnt so collected. If such wild lands are not returned, or returned and the>taxes thereon not paid for two years, then they shall be levied on and sold for taxes due on the same in the county where the lands are situated. Sec. 2. Repeals conflicting laws. Approved February 24, 1873. * AX* ACT. To require Justices of the Peace, and Notaries Public who are ex officio Justices of the Peace, to furnish Receivers of Tax Returns a list of tax-payers in their respec tive Districts. Section I. Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives, in General Assembly met, and it is hereby enacted by authority of the same, That from and after the pas sage of this act, that Justices of the Peace, and Notaries Public who are ex officio Justices of the Peace, shall make a list of names of all persons liable to tax on property or poll in their respective districts, and return the same to the Receiver of Tax Returns at his second round to re ceive tax returns, in their respetive districts in each year. Sec. 2. Repeals conflicting laws., Approyed February 20,«1873. * Impulse and Reflection.—As the actions of meir may be considered to arise from the iwo principles of Impulse and Reflection, so, in the operations of the mind, we find our conclusions to partake of the same distinction. And this is the case, not only as regards things extraneous, bnt the very feelings and sentiments of our own hearts and minds. For illustration: there are two military officers, of the different grades, but in the same line of promotion. A holds the superior position, to which B is intitled by succession, in the case of As death. B is anxious to obtain the distinction of A’s place, and since by the deajffi of his superior he would be thus far advanced in his ambitious schemes, there is an im- >ulse at his heart that would lead lim to contemplate the removal of A with a certain degree of pleasure. This at first view, would seem to be a dreadfully wicked state of feeling; but if B be not malicious, or, we may toil to bless the world. Grace and utility are fellow-workers in a world where industryis the noblest herit age, and white-fingered indolence the most miserable stagnation.—Se lected. Hands: Their Characteristics. Among the prejudices whic still lin ger in the minds of young people is that small and white 'hands are a symbol of gentility. I heard recent ly an educated girl, who had.biit just left school, say; “I wonder Mrs. Notable should do so much in ar ranging her house. See how she has spoiled the shape of her hands; they do not look at all like a lady’s hands. “Do you then think it lady-like to have small,.pale hands?” was my re ply; and her answer was: “Of course: as if there could be any doubt on the matter!’. This set me to thinking, and I came to the conclusion that my young friend had adopted a Chinese notion. In that land, by man’s despotism, the poor ladies have their feet so de formed by bandages that they hob ble about lame and sickly, and they add to their miserable helplessness 1, by cultivating a growth of long nails, which require a sheath to preserve them, The hands thus become, from inactivity, thin and yellow, and re semble little withered, claws—a sad evidence of the blighting effects of human pride and folly. I once, in the old times of debtors being imprisoned,visiced White-cross street prison, and I recollect being struck with the look of the hands of the men in the ward. They were for the most part white, languid-looking hands, idle and purposeless. “Not many industrious men come here,” was my mental comment. London thieves, especially pick-pockets, are careful to preserve their flexible hands from all roughening, honest toil, “Light-fingered” has passed into an epithet of deserved reproach. The hand is the noble distinction of humanity. “The instrument of in struments is the hand.” Man has been defined by philosophers as a “tool-using animal,” and the hand is the wonderful manipulator bestow ed to aid him by a bounteous Crea tor. To foster a wretched habit of idleness, on tbe idea that it promotes beauty, is of all fallacies the most false and foolish. The due use of the joints promotes circulation and flexibility, and without these there can be no permanent grace or beauty. ’ ‘ JS&ZZ&ZfP'tt- 1 On A .H”l Z b“p.“c Ike Partington’s Composition.— “Plymouth Rock,” being the sub ject given out for the exercises of the school, the teacher and boys were astonished at the. following luminous composition by Ike Part ington, which displays great histori cal acumen, and a most astonishing chronological faculty: Plymouth Rock.—This rock was brought to this country in the May flower, in the year 1492, by thg, Pil grims, under the direction of elder Osman Brewster, who afterwards moved to Boston, and became'an alderman of that city. It was on this Rock that Governor Carver first shook hands with Samoset, who said: “Welcome Englishman!” It is recorded that when Samoset came up, Governor-Carver asked him if he was a real Ingine, or only a mem ber of an Ingine company. The rock has long been regarded as a famous place. The American Eagle for a great many years used to come and whet his beak on the rock, but in 1653 Miles Standish, in order to keep it from being stolen, earned it and put it in front of Pil grim Hall, where it remains at the present time, invested with great in terest and an Iron fence. The fence bears tbe names of all the Pilgrims in cast-iron letters that can’t be rub bed out; The rock is a good deal worn out by the allusions touching it that are tfirown off by Fourth of July orators. Plymouth Riock is the corner-stone of the cellar wall of onr Republican structure, paregoricaliy speaking, and the spirit of Liberty sits upon it with a drawn sword in one hand, and the torch of freedom in the oth er; and if foes invade the shore of Plymouth at high water—for they never can get in at low tide—they will throw this rock in their teeth. It is a precious legacy from the Past to the Present, and from it may be reckoned the Pilgrim's Progress. iSh princess, admired for her genius as she is beloved for her virtues, whose skill as a .sculptor is said to have enlarged the size of her hand. Honor to her for having also enlarg ed the sphere of tasteful study and skillful execution among women; a wise and noble enlargement, for which all thoughtful minds honor the flexible fingers and the shaping hand. Then think of the lady nurses! Was it the preserving of white hands they thought of when they minister ed to the wounded and the sick? No{ the hands were tender with loving care; they were swift with Irindly aid; they were open witji ready bounty; they were firm with patient skill: dear, gentle, noble hands! They held gifts precious to mind, and heart, and memory. In the truest sense the giving, ministering hand is a lovely hand. Yes; and however large, it is a lady’s hand. The old Saxon word “lady” really means loaf-giver. And in th say, wholly given over to hardness*< olden time, when there was not the r ^ machinery to help the hand, or the division Of labor now employed, the lady at the head of her household sat at her spinning-wheel among her maidens, or gave directions for the labors of the loom. British ladies wrought the tapestry that made the bare walls of the old mansions glow with color, and in the bookless age . g ve records of the past to eyes that had but few means of learning or of heart, he will find, npon reflection, that his real sentiment or principle is a far different thing. If he ask him self seriously, and in the sight of God,* whether or not he would have A re moved by any violent calamity, the j answer would be, from his inmost * soul, no. f It requires, then, a careful self- ] examination to know ones own heart, as exhibited by his secret thoughts and feelings. On listening to the 1 amusement* Such a wretched no voice of simple * impulse, he might conceive himself a wretch beyond all hope of being reclaimed; bat the ! self-same individual, calling upon the ! inner man from bis most hidden depths, might find that there was a measure of Christian charity to thank God for. And, looking^at this prin-' ciple in a religions point of view, it is with this impulsive principle, even in a well-disposed mind, with which the devil works. In the matter of faith, it is one of his wiles to have us halt at the impulsive thought, and conclude ourselves in the unbelief, when a moment’s searching reflec tion would develops the gratifying truth that he could exclaim, with holy Job, “I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that He will stand at thq latter day npon the earth.” Impulse is the outward wall of the spirirs fortress, the entire control of which will soon render the inner de fenses powerless. But, if when the euetny gains this outer work, the re doubt of Reflection is put in action, he must at once draw off abashed, and wait for a more unguarded mo ment. A mountain settler in Tennessee learned for the firs'! time the other day that Dave Crockett was dead, ana sat down on a log and oriod like a child. • , tioif as that a small, pallid hand was an evidence of high Dreeding could not have prevailed then, and cer tainly has no sanction in the Book of books, for in that wonderful des cription of virtuous womanhood, in the last chapter of Proverbs, we have the work of the hands very fully de scribed: “She layeth herhahds to the spindle, and her hands hold the distaff She stretched out her hand to the poor; yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the needy.” Honored be such hands! Nor let it be supposed that the ac tivity of the hand need prevent the thoughtfulness of the mind. One fact is undeniable, that exertion promotes strength; and if people would have a swift, active, flexible hand, useful and serviceable to themselves or others, they mtist acquire industri ous habits in the days of yonth, and lay np a store of Strength for old age. The musician’s skillful touch is a matter of practice and habit, as much as of taste and genius. The painter’s ’and graver’s, and modeler’s hands must early learn to convey his thoughts; or his Ideas, however fine, will not be embodied. And so with all works of beauty, use, or benevo lence. The hands—the patient, la* borious, bounteous hand?—must ‘Never was a higher tribute paid to tbe marriage state -than was giv en by the married men who were passengers on the wrecked Atlantic. The reqord of their fate is extremely touching. With few exceptions, they all perished, refusing to desert tiieir wves and little ones. Wives beg ged their husbands to seek flight from the sinking quarter-deck, but they never stirred. Hand clasped in hand, husbands, wife and child went down together. In the supreme moment of life, wife and hnsband for get all past bickerings, and lost fear of death in the companionship of each other. They recked not of the opinipns of the world, while the .waves swept over them and the hor ror of sudden destruction was immin ent, but were simply true to their instincts. One such fact will out weigh volumes of argument in favor of free love and easy divorce.” The editor of the Frankfort Yeo man is in the field ^gainst Craddock for marvelous stories. This is his latest: A colored citizen placed some eggs in some wool, among which was some sawdust, and was very much startled the other day by hearing some chirp ing of young chickens in Iris cup board. Upon examining his egg box he found some eight or ten chickens which had been hatched without the assistance of a hen. It is a well known in piles have a tendency to produce spontaneous combustion, and we sup pose the same cause produced the artificial heat which hatched the chickens. * A Test of True Affection—A mid dle a"ed single man was dangerously ill at St. Omer’s. He threatened to disinherit any nephew or niece that persisted in attending on him. All but one left him—of course, they could not disobey these very strict mjunctions of a dying man; but Josephine would not desert the per verse sufferer—he might disinherit her, if he liked. He died; and it was then discovered that he had con sidered Josephine as the only rela tive who had proved disinterested, and he left her all his property, valu ed at eight thousand pounds. Laughter.—We love to hear peo ple laugh. Not with a stupid man ner, not with certain pent np into nations, but openly, boldly, freely, and loud—it may be'broad, or boister ous, even coarse, so it is hearty. It may be *‘a horse laugh,” as the fastid ious say—(fastidious people beat us all using coarse terms)—but. what if it w, if it only have the spirit mt fun and enjoyment in it. There is no stronger proof of a man’s honest- heartedness than to hear him laugh as though bis soul were in it.