Newspaper Page Text
VOL. II.
M (i 1IEDLOCK. JETHRO ARETNE. B. L. RODGERS'
PE v .^etiiock, Ariiue <orfgers.
Thd Herald is published in Sandersville,
G« every Friday morning. Subscription
pri:e TWO DOLLARS per annum.
Uvertisements inserted at tke usual rates.
Xa caarge for publishing marriages
deaths.
POETRY.
[Written for the Herald.]
The Death of Summer.
Farewell soft winds of summer,
X,i breath of fragrance by thee now,
X 3 wafted o’er .the hills;
Xo violets peeping from the moss,
Beside the sunny stream,
The air with odor tills.
Therms beauty in the forest yet,
lint there’s a rustling ’mong her leaves,
L’hat tell ns of decay.
'[ a' 1 music that they mate.
Is but a requiem to their fate,
That speaks of short delay.
The lily with her fragile stem,
Stoops low to hatheher petals
in the purling stream no more;
Au 1 bright winged butterflies',
Mirrored in its laughing face;
their transient joys are o’er.
The humming bird, with hill
Half buried in some opening flower,
Is not our guest to-day;
And the owl sits moodily on the pine
And hoots, as twilight supercedes
The sun’s last trembling ray.
The blue bird’s song has ceased,
lu the meadow by the brook,
Where her nest of moss she made ;
And the mocking bird has quite forgot,
The stately elm, and sturdy oak,
And its oft repeated serenade.
Soon the leaf will rustle down to die,
Beside the withering flower:
Deep in the woodland wild,
Where the widowed mother toils
Till late, for raiment, food and fuel,
For herself and helpless child.
We have no scented showers now,
Xo thrifty fields of waving com
“Arrayed in living green”;
No pasture lands with flocks
All dotted o’er their grassy knolls,
And verdant slopes, are seen.
The silver stream that pictured,
In its clear transparent depths,
The ethereal blue of heaven;
Is changed, like bouyant youth,
When o’er its fair escutcheon
The blight of woe is drawn.
Our gloomy mornings, and the mists,
The chilly mists that veil them,
From the highlands to the shores;
Are but shrouded signals hanging out,
Upon a shadowed sky, to warn us,
That summer days are o’er.
Tis but a type of our probation;
Our summer too will end,
Our youth, will speed away;
But what is song, or sunshine,
Or all the floral gems of Earth;
That bud and bloom, and then decay.
But there are hopes that brighter grow,
(The real flowers of life,)
When youthful joys depart;
Sustained by the sunlight of love,
That streams from the gate of heaven,
Into the Christians heart.
R. J. B.
Louisville, Jefferson Co., Ga.
SELECT MISCELLANY.
MARRIED BY TELEGRAPH.
“Mr. Leary, are you a married
an, sir ?”
“Very, sir.”
“Very, why do you say very?”
“Because my dear little wife and
are bound together by wires.”
“Latimer Leary, you talk enig-
ciS.
“Then sir, to be as plain as a
•inter, I will inform you that I was
arried by telegraph.”
“You don’t sav so!”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then tell the company all about
e affair.”
“I will, with pleasure. Ladies
id gentlemen, my wife is a second
msin, and was named Leary. She
tee resided in the city of Indian-
tolis, while I was a- resident of
mtreville, in the same State.
I was a batchelor of thirty, and
II of romance and general love. I
y general love, because I had not
tide a concentration.
“Why don’t you take a wife?” was
ernaliy buzzed in my ears.
“Whom will I take?”
“Your relative, Kate Leary.”
“Kate Leary, why she is my own
iusin.”
“Only a second cousin,” they
mild retort; “and your opposite,
atimer; Kate is a blonde, aud you
e dark as Erebus or the ace of
ubs.”
I never had seen Miss Leary, but
is continued association of tjie
>ung lady with my wedded life had
i influence.
One day a member of Congress
claimed: “Mr. Leary, were I sin-
e I would assuredly pay court to
,ur cousin. As I am married, and
>u are my best friend, I can earn-
tly hope that you will possess the
xury.”
At this period I was a merchant,
aving discharged a thieving clerk,
was so confined to my store that a
urney to Indianapolis was out of
e question. I was growing. al-
ost wild to see one whom all praised
so many wished me to wed.
In a few days from the call of my
rislative friend, his brother, a no
il judge, appeared at my stox*e.
The judge was also my devoted
Iv—a position intensified by his
collection of being educated by
y deceased father.
Drawing a daguerreotype from his
at, said he, “I wish to show you
SANDERSVILLE, GEORGIA, OCTOBER 17, 1873.
NO. 16.
something nice. There, what do
you say to that?”
“Who is it?” I cried with enthusi
asm.
“This, my dear friend, is Miss Kate
Leary, the young lady I wish you to
marry.”
“Tell me,” I exclaimed, “is she all
they claim for her?”
“My dear friend, honestly as I
value the truth, I have- not heard
her sufficiently praised.”
“Why don’t some man try his
luck!”
‘ ; I’m glad you ask. Simply be
cause she is over-courted, and con
sequently hard to please. She is
romantic, and, I clearly see, notwin-
able by ordinary methods.”
“You say she is very particular.”
“She is, sir.”
“Then good-bye for me.”
“Not at all; she is rapturous over
your likeness, and sends her cousinly
love, with an invitation to visit her.
I pledge you to not omitting a single
point in your body, caliber or char
acter.”
“Do you consider her daguerreo
type accurate?
“I can tell you it don’t flatter her.
She has extraordinary beauty, and
the kind that is more striking in ani
mation or conversation.”
While mutual friends in Centre-
ville were lauding my fair cousin,
mutual friends in Indianapolis were
decided in their eulogies of me, and
preparing her mind for an alliance.
I am not self-conceited. Believ
ing such a concord must be bom of
an obvious fact, I settled on the
idea of marrying this wonder in
beauty, soul and accomplishment.
My intent was quickly confirmed
upon hearing that a very wealthy
and influential banker from Gotham
was in the melting mood. I remem
ber it was midnight. I hinted from
my store the last batch of chronic
loungers, and selected the best
stationery in my establishment.
I was to write my first letter to
Kate.
Such a reply as Ireceived! Well,
you must see it—you shall see it. I
have good gas works, but am inade
quate. In a brief time we learned
that each knew the other well. The
much said by so many, many mutu
al friends, superadded to our daguer-'
reotypes and letters, made us a com
prehending couple. In fact we con
fessed our love—a full, round, ripe
and luscious article. There could
be no unsafety in the case.
Our lineage was in common and
every fact known; what followed is
clear—an engagement—yes, between
unseen lovers and cousins.
I was “dying” to fold her to my
heart, but my soul’s condition and
maturing appointments postponed
that indefinitely.
W r hat did you say ? Why did she
not visit some of our friends at Ceu-
treville? I answer you cheerfully.
Sfie had her notions and would en
tertain them. Though we were
plighted, she declared it should not
be said that she made the first visit.
Many believe her right. I don’t ar
gue the point, but merely answer the
question.
Weeks passed; letters were numer
ous and saccharine. The time ar
rived when I could endure my single
condition no longer. What if some
one were to cut me out at the eleventh
hour ? With such love, what would
become of me ? I was deter
mined to own her even if I did not
see her for a decade.
An idea dawned—a brilliant one.
It was to compass a speedy marriage,
and satisfy her thirst for romance.
After a flood of tenderness of drama
tic preparation, I wrote: “Kate, my
adored one, let ns depart from this
stale routine and wed by telegraph.”
The idea took her by storm. Her
answer was characteristic. It ran
thus :
“Darling, I null. The idea is
savory, but is it legal?”
Immediately I sent for my friend,
the judge. Soon as he faced me,
said I: “Judge, is a marriage by
telegraph legal ?”
“Certainly, sir, I see no objection
to a contract by telegraph. I readi
ly see how all those requirements
can be, accomplished.”
“Will you state this opinion on
paper and describe a formula for an
electric wedding?”
“With pleasure, sir.”
The judge understood me, and
gladly complied. The result was
forwarded to Kate by return mail,
and soon received word that on the
following Thursday she and the prop
er authority would present them
selves at the Indianapolis office, ac
cording to formula there to enter the
holy state of matrimony.
I tell you the appointed day was
great one among the mutual friends
at each end of the wire. The affair
was so novel that all else was eclipsed
by the contemplation of it.
Clergymen and witnesses assem
bled at the termini. There, in full
costume, two unseen lovers were to
be made man and wife. The instru
ment began its tick, tick, ticking.
The operator read, the clergyman
put questions, I answered, the instru
ment did more work, and soon I was
saluted as the husband of Kate
Leary. Happy was I, though the
possessor of a lady I never beheld.
One week passad, and I was still
without help. My brain was becom
ing frenzied. I must see Kate, and
I must go to her first, for it was her
fiat, and well did I know what a
Leary was.
By entreaty I prevailed upon a
brother merchant to loan me his best
clerk. Soon as he put his foot in the
store I put mine in the stage, en
'route for the capital of Indiana.
When about twelve miles from the
city we stopped for a passenger—it
was a lady. Such a beauty I never
beheld. She resembled my likeness
of Kate, but was far more beautiful.
I own my heart went out to her. Call
me fickle, say what you please, and
1 will bear it. I repeat, my heart
gushed forth a flood of love.
Here was a fix! I, a married man,
going to see his telegraphic bride,
and technically in love with another
woman. I began to repent my haste,
and when too late, saw the error of
marrying one I had never set my
eyes upon. What could I do ? The
lady was also married, for I heard
the driver call her madam.
How she eyed me I I spoke about
the coach window being raised to suit
her.
She thanked me in tones that act
ed like an arterial stimulant. I was
gone. Much conversation followed,
and I was a goner. I saw she was
giving me sweet, yet pleading looks.
Heavens, thought I, she is unhappi
ly mated; suppose I give her my
sympathy. Y’et, should I jeopardise
myself before such transcendent
charms ? Suppose I betray my love,
how would I feel in the presence of
my wife, and what favor could I con
fer upon a total stranger? I had it.
I would betray nothing, but offer
consolation to a flower most surely
neglected. We were the only pass
engers, and what a good chance.
“Madam,” said I, “please pardon
me, but you seem to exist' under a
cloud.”
She sighed deeply.
“Well, sir, I’m not a widow, though
I don’t live with my husband.”
“Poor soul!” continued I.
She put her handkerchief to her
mouth.
I thought about half of it went in,
but of course it was to hide her emo
tion.
“You are not happy, madam ?”
“Very far from it, sir; I am misera
ble !”
So was I—miserable to put my
arms around her neck.
“Where do you reside, madam ?”
“In Indianapolis.”
“Have you friends there ?”
“Many, sir.”
“No doubt of it. Allow me to ask,
do you love your husband ?”
“Devotedly, sir.”
Then you will live with him?”
“Would be glad of the chance sir.”
“When did you see him, last ?”
“I have never seen him, sir.”
Here she again half swallowed
her handkerchief.
“Never seen him! Why, whaJt do
you mean ?”
“Sir, have you not read of a tele
graphic wedding ?”
“Julius Ciesar!” cried I. Tell 4 me,
are you Mrs. Kate Leary ?”
“I am.”
As I relaxed, she said: “Go on,
Latimer ; I knew you from your dag- i
uerreotype.”
I will not prolong this, but merely !
remark that Kate is the most de- ;
voted of women. I have not felt
ashamed of my inconstancy, and
would not lose her now for the wealth
of the Orient. I ever consider us
as bound together by wire, and
when asked if I am a married man, :
I always feel like saying—very.
A Letter from Admiral Semmes.
Admiral Semmes writes to the
Mobile Register: “I perceive by
your issue of the 21st inst. that you
have fallen into an error with refer
ence to the action of the Southern
Historical Convention, lately in ses
sion at the Montgomery White Sul
phur Springs, in Virginia. It is not
correct to say that the convention
appointed General Jubal A. Early
the historian to write the history of
the late war between the States.
The convention was of opinion, and
so expressed itself, that that history
could not be written in the present
generation, because sufficient cool
ing time has not yet been allowed to
the passions which were engendered
on the one side and the other by the
conflict. Gen. Early was merely
elected President of the Southern
Historical Society, and the duty of
the society is copfined to the collec
tion and preservation of the mate
rials for the future historian. I hope
you will recall, therefore, your re
commendation to parties in posses
sion of papers, etc., not to send them
to the society. The better plan
would be for persons having materi
al in possession to do what I am glad
to see you are doing through the col
umns of -Hie Register—print it, and
send copies of the printed matter to
the society, instead of the originals.”
The Effingham Comity Tragedy.
A Card from Justice Henry A. Wallace.
Ecyt, (No. 4 C. R. R.,) Ga., )
October 7, 1873. (
Editors Morning Neics:
In view of the fact that there arl
many of the citizens of Effinghai)
county who are hurling their demur
ciations and anathemas against rue
as a citizen and as a Justice of tie
Peace, because of the effort that vis
made on Friday night last to capture
Henry C. Wilson, who, accordingto
the verdict of the jury of inquest is
the murderer of Joseph A. Willisms,
I desire to make a statement oiiActs
which I am persuaded will satisfy
any reasonable man or woman as to
the propriety and legality of my ac
tion. At about 6 p. m. of the 1st
inst., Mr. E. E. Foye filed before me
the necessary affidavit for me to is
sue a warrant for his arrest. The
warrant was issued and placed in
the proper officer’s hands for execu
tion, but the officer could not find
Wilson.
At a late hour on Friday, tlia 3d
inst., Mr. David Lee and Mr. Joseph
Wilson came to my house and in
formed me that Wilson was ia the
neighborhood; that they had met
up with him very unexpectedly, and
thathe could be captured beyond all
question of doubt, if I, as magis
trate, would discharge my duty, and
that he was most unquestionably
then at his mother’s house. These
two gentlemen insisted and deman
ded that I do my full duty tinder the
law, and said repeatedly, “We want
your action; we demand it, and
there is no time to lose.” I there
fore sent those two men to notify
the citizens to report at my house
without unnecessary delay—with this
exception, that they pass by Mr.
Andrew J. Wilson, as he was an own
uncle of the man charged with the
crime of murder.
In the meantime, I went after the
constable. After waiting some time,
the two men I sent out to notify the
people returned, one of them (Mr.
Joseph Wilson) being quite sick.—
However, be had got Mr. E. E. Foye
to send the news for him to other
citizens. We waited a little while
longer, and two white men and three
negroes came ; also the aged father
of Mr. Joseph A. Williams.
Now, Mr. Editor, these are the
facts, and these are the men, inclu
ding the officer—three whites and
three blacks—who were able to go
on such duties. Other white men
were notified, but did not arrive till
after daylight, and these men (white)
insisting upon going immediately to
capture him with the men we had,
refusing to wait any longer for the
arrival of the other white men who
had been notified. I insisted on
waiting for the arrival of the other
white men, cherishing a hope that
they would soon arrive, and then
we could dismiss the colored men
and go only with whites. But the
white men insisted on going imme
diately with the men we had without
delay; for, said they, just as sure
as we delay, just so sure the accused
would make his escape*; and they
held forth to me in manner and lan
guage that were unmistakable that
if I did not act and bring to bear to
the full extent the authority that
was vested in me as an officer, there
by assisting the accused to make
good his escape, I, even I, would be
deemed and held as an accessory
after the fact. Still I waited and
insisted on other men arriving, in
order that we might dismiss the
blacks, but I had to yield the point
or criminate myself. So I told the
constable to go and capture him un
hurt by all means.
Now, Mr. Editor, for the above
recited action on my part as Justice
of the Peace, there are many citi
zens of Effingham county hurling
their denunciations and anathemas
upon me as a citizen and as an offi
cer; and upon the authority of
Madam Rumor they are asserting
many things as facts, which I know
to be false, one of which is that I
have issued a bench warrant for
Henry C. Wilson. I am happy to
state that I am better acquainted
with my duties than that.
I claim that I have done nothing
but what duty, law and my oath de
manded. The matter that seems to
grind the people so is that I pressed
negroes to assist in the arrest of him,
who according to the verdict of the
jury of inquest, is a murderer; that,
because Wilson is a white man, I
shonld have shouldered all responsi
bility, and delayed to the bitter end,
regardless of consequences, which
were inevitable, and taken only
white men to discharge this duty.
While, besides > all that I have stated
above, the laws which I am sworn to
execute, and the constitution, that I
am sworn to support, make no such
distinctions, and even debar me as
an officer the right to know and make
such distinctions in my official capaci
ty between white and black. I do
not wish to convey the idea that I
believe in social equality or any other
kind of equality. I do not, for I am
Southern in every true acceptation
of the term. But when the spilt
blood and brains of the murdered
call for justice—when the laws and
constitution which I am sworn to
support and administer without fa
vor or affection—yea, when my
fellow-white men call upon me and
demand a faithful and full discharge
of my duty as an officer, and speak
and act in a manner that is unmis
takable that I will be held and re
garded as an accessory after the
fact if I do not act, and that im
mediately, and bring to bear to the
full extent the power and authority
that is vested in me, if need be, as
an officer, that this man may be ar
rested. f
Now, Mi\ Editor, these are the
circumstances, and these are the facts
that calls me to action, and while I
do most emphatically assert that so
far as the negroes were concerned,
it was altogether compulsory with
me, yet I also assert that I have done
my duty under the-law, to the best
of my ability, and consequently
have no apologies to make until it
shall be shown me that I acted im
properly either as an officer or as a
citizen.
9 Very respectfully,
Henry A. Wallace, J. P.,
12th Dist. G. M.
The Financial Question.
Editors Morning Nacs:
In the year 1761, Swedenborg pre
sented to the House of Nobles of
Sweden, which is similar to the
House of Lords of England and the
Senate of the United States, a me
morial on Finance, which is so oppo
site to the present condition of af
fairs that it is hereby submitted
without further comment.
Nous Verrons.
MEMORIAL RESPECTING FINANCE.
“If the States do not, during this
diet, make some arrangement for the
gradual recall of the notes now in
circulation, and the substitution of
pure coin in their stead, it is to be
feared that the present prevailing
dearness will constantly increase, un
til the country becomes exhausted,
when a national bankruptcy in all
paper money must be the conse
quence. This must be evident to
every reflecting person, when he con
siders, that a note of six dollars is
now worth only three dollars in plats
(a former Swedish copper coin) in
foreign trade, and two in domestic ;
and if the high prices stiR continue,
it will probably come down to one
dollar. In such case, how can the
nation be preserved from ruin ?
These grievous and dreadful events
can only be prevented by the resto
ration of a pure metallic currency.
“Many plans might be devised
and proposed, to compel the circula
tion of the notes at their original
fixed value, and thus meet the high
prices ; but they must all be of little
or no avail, with one exception, and
that is, the restoration of a proper
metallic currency, as it was formerly
in Sweden, and is now in every other
country in the world. In money it
self consists the value of notes, and
consequently of all kinds of goods.
If an empire could subsist with a
representative currency, and yet no
real currency, it would be an empire
without its parallel in the world.
Em. Swedenborg.”
A Stop-Mother’s Trials.
Judge Guild refused a divorce at
Nashville Saturday. The Banner
publishes an abstract of his opinion,
from which we take the following:
“The position of a step-mother was
not to be envied. She went into a
family to take the trying pari of act
ing as the mother of the children of
another, whose place it was impos
sible to supply. The children con
sidered her an intruder, and enter
tained a hate for her which was not
altogether unnatural. In the pres
ent case a high-minded young wo
man had attempted to fill that diffi
cult position, and was tormented
almost to death. The husband had
grown cold to her, they had both,
perhaps, been somewhat mistaken
in their affections, and it was not
difficult to see that when a husband
and wife got as cold toward each
other as two frogs, they could no
longer live happily together. The
husband had put out an advertise
ment saying to the world that she
had left him without a cause, and
that she was not to be trusted. This
was, in itself, sufficient to prevent
reconciliation with a high-toned wo
man. The man who would adver- j
tise his own wife as he would a stray
horse, could neither have respect
nor love for her. It was in the very
nature of woman to love, and that
love should always be cherished by
the husband. No man had a right j
to treat the affection of a wife with ■
coldness. It was to the indifference
to her finer sensibilities that might j
be traceable numberless separations, ‘
which might have easily been avoid- i
ed. In the present case the hns-
band had sent mediators, and she
had said that if he desired to bring
about a reconciliation, it was his
duty to see her, and not to act
through other parties.
The Footless Child.
One day recently a respectably
dressed man carried a well-grown
child, muffled up and apparently
sick, into French’s Hotel. He plac
ed the child on the stairs and began
to talk to it in a very unkind, rough
way. The attention of the guests
was attracted, and the gathered
around.”
“You are able to walk up-stairs
by yourself,” the man said, “and I
won’t carry you.”
“Oh, oh,” the child sobbed, “do
carry me up; please”, pa, do. You
know ever since I was run over by
the cars and lost both of my feet I
can’t walk up stairs alone.”
“That’s all stuff,” the man an
swered ; “get up at once, or I’ll
make you.”
The poor child began to sob worse
than before, and the brutal man
gave it a severe thump over the side
of the head. The child moaned pit
eously. The indignation of the by
standers was excited,- and one of
them said to the man, “Is that child
yours?”
“What’s that to you,” the man
answered; “I won’t tell you.”
‘He’s—my—father,’ the child sob
bed, ‘and—he—killed—my—mother
—just—as—he’s—agoing—to—kill—
me.’
The man doubled his fist and
made as though he was about to
give the child a savage blow. One
of the by-standers interfered and
said, “Say, if you don’t stop this I’ll
call a policeman. I never saw such
a brutal father in all my life.”
The man began to fumble in his
pocket, and the child cried out,
“Take care ; he’s got a knife. He
is going to stick you.”
Sure enough the man produced a
knife and opened it. The crowd
slipped off one by one except two.
“Bring an officer,” one of these
cried to a friend.
“If I am arrested,” the man said,
“it shall be for something,” and
thereupon he plunged the knife into
the body of the child. The child
shrieked, “I’m murdered, I’m mur
dered,” and a crowd rushed to the
spot. The man quietly raised the
child in his arms, and removed his
hat, said: “Gentlemen, this is a
wooden child. I’m a ventriloquist,
and any little offering you may be
pleased to make will be very accept
able.”
Kiss me Mama.—Kiss me mama,
before I sleep.” How simple a boon,
yet how soothing to the little suppli
cant is that soft, gentle kiss. The
little head sinks contentedly on the
pillow, for all is peace and happiness
within. The bright eyes close, and
the rosy lips is revealing in the bright
and sunny dreams of innocence. Yes,
kiss it, mama, for that good-night
kiss will linger in memory when the
giver lies moldering in the grave.
The memory of a gentle mother’s
kiss has cheered many a lonely wan
derer’s pilgrimage, and has been the
beacon light to illuminate his desolate
heart; for remember, life has many
a stormy billow to cross; many a
rugged path to climb, with thorns to
pierce; and We know not what is in
store for the little one so sweetly
slumbering, -with no marring care
to disturb its peaceful dreams. The
parched and fevered bps willbecomc
dewy again as recollection bears to
the sufferer’s conch a mother’s love—
a mother’s kiss. Then kiss your little
ones ere they sleep, there is a magic
power in that kiss which will endure
to the end of life.
Energy.—It has been said that
energy is the mind’s hammer, hatch
et and plow. It is a goodly weapon
to hammer down all obstacles in the
pathway; it cuts away all difficul
ties; it plows the roughest soil. Did
even a nation achieve renown with
out energy ? Was there ever a per
son of note who was not energetic ?
No, the attainment of eminence is
only reached by diligent study, close
observation and unwavering energy.
He who has a thirst for knowledge
and resolves in the language of the
good old Roman adage to “find a
way or make it,” will be sure to suc
ceed in any undertaking. He has
the will—the way can be found.
Look at that man in the pursuit of
“worldly wealth.” He pauses not
to consider his own enjoyment or
ease, but straining every nerve to
obtain that boon which his heart is
set upon.
Energy is the key to success. It
unlocks the secret of heroic deeds
of those great and grand ones whose
names are illustrious upon the pages
of history, or as Longfellow express
es it, have left their “footprints on
the sands of time.” Energy is firm.
It shrinks not from labor; it faints
not at danger. The irresolute may,
after, a few vain attempts give up,
in despair, but not so with the en
ergetic man. He will labor and
persevere until his efforts are crown
ed with success.— Young Folk's Ru
ral.
A Western girl after giving her
lover a hearty smack, exclaimed,
‘Dog my cats if yonkain’t been taking
a little rye, etd hoss.”
The Gentleness of Power.
There is no gentleness in the world
like that which is manifested by
power. To see a strong giant-built
man meet in the way a little child,
and raise it up, and say to it, “bless,
you, my darling;” to see his great,
coarse hands, and his arms that are
like bears paws, go down, and ac
companying the act with some
sweet words, lift the child to his
bosom—that is a most beautiful sight.
There never was a breastpin in a
man’s bosom to be compared with a
sweet little child. To see a slender,
pale-faced woman and mother take
up a child is beautiful ; we expect
that; but to see a great, brawny
man take up a child, with tenderness
and gentleness, is beautiful indeed.
Everybody marvels at that. “A little
child shall lead them.”
Nothing is so sweet as the soft
ness and gentleness of power. A man
that has a gigantic intellect; a man
that can control battalions and armies
in the field; a man that has courage,
and will, deterination; a man that
has a lordly pride, and knows his
strength, and moves among men with
power—such a man,.who is subdued
by the influence of the dear spirit of
God, and who has such sweet and
gentleness that lie treats all men
with lenity, and kindness, and for
bearance, and patience, has what is
here meant by 'gentleness.—II. W.
Beecher.
The Editor.—A schoolboy’s com
position on “The Editor” runs as
follows, in a school not far off:
“The editor is one of the happi
est animals in the world. He can
go to the circus afternoon and even
ing, without paying a cent; also to
inquests and hangings. He has a
free ticket to pic-nics and strawber
ry festivals, gets wedding cakes sent
to him, and sometimes gets a licking,
but not often, for he can take things
back in the next issue, which he[gen-
erally does. I never knew but one
editor to get licked. His paper bust
ed that day, and he couldn’t take
anything back. While other folks
have to go to bed early, the editor
can sit up late every night and see
all that is going on. The boys think
it’s a big thing to hang on* till 10
o’clock. TV hen I am a man I mean
to be an editor, so I can stay out
late of nights. Then that w’ill be
bully. The editor don’t have to
saw wood or do any chopping, ex
cept with his scissors. Railroads
get up excursions for him, knowing
if they don’t he’d make them git up
and git. In politics he don’t care
much who he goes for, if they are on
his side. If they ain’t he goes for
them any way; so it amounts to
nearly the same tiling. There is a
great many people trying to be edi
tors who can’t, and some of them
have been in the profession for years.
If I was asked if I had rather have
an education or be a circus rider,
I would say, let me become an edi
tor.” _
The British American Claims
CoMMissiON.-Tke Commission, which
was organized under the twelfth ar
ticle of the Treaty of Washington,
for the adjudication of the British
and American cliams other than the
Alabama claims, has concluded its
business. The Commission met on
the 26th of September, 1871, and it
was agreed by the treaty that the
business of the Commission should
be closed within two years from the
date of the organization of the Com
mission. During their sessions the
Commissioners have had under con
sideration four hundred and seventy-
eight claims of British subjects
against the United States, and nine
teen claims of citizens of the United
States against Great Britian. AU
the latter have been disallowed.
The entire amount of awards against
the United States does not foot up
to more than §2,300,000. The Amer
ican claims were based upon the St.
Albans raid, and the ships at Cal
cutta detained because they were
loading with saltpetre, the British
Government having declared that the
ships of a neutral nation could not
load with war supplies whUe the re
bellion was going on. The awards
made by the British-American Com
mission are to be paid within one
year from date— that is, on the 25th
of September, 1874.
Just So.—A Southern correspon
dent of the New York Tribune ex*
poses one of the blunders of farm
ing in which Southern planters stiU
indulge. He shows that the hay
crop, among others, is wholly neg
lected) in spite of the grass that
springs spontaneously, and that the
South buys its hay from the West,
a thousand miles distant, where hay
crops are made profitable on more
costly land by higher priced labor.
Joshna Owings, aged eighty-one,
married a Mrs. Beagan, aged thirty-
two, in Lexington, Ky., the other
day. There was to have been a
grand wedding, but the grandchildren
threatened to shoot the parson who
married them, and the affair did not
come off.