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• . . . 0 . T jj. c,. MEDLOCK'.' ETHBO ARLINE. R, L. RODGERS jv Hcillock, Ariiae A Itoili'crs: XiiE Herald is published in Sandersviile, . every Friday morning. Subscription TWO DOLLARS per annum. ; \ 1 vertisements inserted at the usual rates. . large for publishing marriages or 11 POETRY. EJHic l.rowH filamts. drive home the cows from the pasture, through the long, shady lane C quail whistles loud in the wheat- ■ ids ' . Ihnv with ripening grain. r: hi the iiiiek, waving grasses, V, hew the scarlet-lipped strawberry grows; r ;d!,er the earliest snow-drops. Vu-i the first crimson buds of the rose. Tin v toss the new hay in the meadow ; •flu: v gather the elder-bloom white ; They iind where the dusky grapes purple In the soft-tinted October light. Thev know where the apples hang ripest, And sweeter than Italy wines ; Thcv know where the fruits hang the thickest On the long, thorny blackberry vines. Thev gather the delicate sea-weeds, Ami build tiny castles of sand ; They pick up the beautiful sea-shells— Fairy barks that have drifted to land. They wave from the tall, rooking tree-tops Where the oriole’s hammock nest swings, And at night-time are folded in slumber Bv a song that a fond mother sings. Those who toil bravely are strongest; The humble and poor become great; Ami from these brown-handed children Shall grow might rulers of state. The pen of tin? author and statesman— The noble and wise of the land— The loving and motherly woman, Who’ll wisely mold all with her hand. SELECT MISCELLANY. A PLACE OF SAFETY. BY A. F. HILL. Will Snider and I were boys of sixteen and seventeen years, respect ively, when it came in our way to render the community a great ser vice. We were employed in a store in the village of Brownfield, ill Wes tern Pennsylvania. It was an ordi nary country store, in which we kept for sale not only salt, calico and laudantim, but also hams, satin vests, shovels and gunpowder. Will and I both slept in the store, a precaution against burglars—who visited our section about onceYa, ev en- three hundred years—while/ we hoarded in the family of the propri etor. If I am correct in my estimate of the periodical visits of burglars to our quiet neighbliood, they porbably came about the year 1556; for it was in 1856 that they paid us the visit in connection with which "Will Snider and I did the public some service. During the summer of that year, a number of mysterious robberies were perpetrated in various villages within a radius of forty miles of Brownfield, country merchants being the victims. In every case the rob bers seemed to gain an entrance by a window, which, however securely fastened, they managed . in Some mysterious way to open. The stores were generally sup plied w ifh safes, whose doors were secured by ordinary locks, and the robber:- opened them as ;asily, ap parently as they would have opened a kitchen door with a wooden latch. As banking was not then much in vogue in that vicinity, they were generally rewarded by spoils am out ing to from five hundred to two thou sand dollars. Some one usually slept in these stores, yet the sleeper was never wak- ened or disturbed by the robbers. On the contrary, he slept more heav ily than usual on the night of the rob bery, and awoke later than usual in the morning, feeling dull and stupid. One day, late in the summer, two traveling merchants—Messrs. AY olf and Dodge—came to Brownfield, as they had frequently done before du ring several years past, and stopped at the tavern; and after dinner they drove to our store, to sell us some goods, if possible. They had an or dinary peddler’s wagon, drawn by two line horses, and their stock con sisted of fine goods and jewelry, which they sold at wholesale rates to country merchants. On this occasion, Mr. Clare, the proprietor of our store, puchased a little bill of fancey goods, which he thought he should need before going to the cities for his fall stock. When this was done, Mr. Wolf said: ]‘Now, can’t we sell you some jew elry?” “Doubtful,” replied Mr. Clare. “Y\ e have very little call tor, jewelry in this agricultural country.” “Well, we’ll show you a part of our stock, anyhow,” saic^Mr. Wolf. He then unlocked a compartment of the wagon, and drew forth a large trunk, which, with the assistance ot Mr. Dodge, he carried into the store. This he opened, and made a hand some display of watches, breastpins and rings; and Mrs. Clare did finally consent to buy a few gold rings,. af ter which they closed the trunk with out locking it. “That is a valuable trunk, Mr. Clare remarked. “Yes,” replied My. Wolf, “and we don’t feel quite easy carrying it around through the country. We hear that there have been some rob beries in this neighborhood lately.” ‘Wes, quite a number,” said Mr. Clare. “We parsed two suspicious-look ing fellows on the road this morning,” remarked Mr. Dodge. “Ah, where?” asked Mr. Clare, with interest. ■ “About five miles from here. They eyed us so sharply that I have not felt quite easy since, although I didn’t dell Wolf so.” “Were they afoot ?” '* “Yes; and they carried outlandish- looking bundles.” “Suppose,” suggested Mr. Wolf, “that we leave our jewelry in your store to-night,*Mr. Clare? I think, in case there are robbers about it would be safer here than at the tavern.” “Certainly, if you wish. We lock up here very securely; and I know you may trust the boys,” said Mr. Clare laughing. “You had better lock the trunk carefully, then,” I said, in a mischiev ous spirit, “for I feel sorely tempted to take one of those gold watches; and as for Will Snyder there, he has had his eye on them ever siuce you came.” “I don’t know,” - observed Mr. Dodge ; “he looks the more innocent of the two.” With this the trunk was locked, and Will and I carried it to a corner of the store, where we carefully stowed it. “We want to go to Geneva in the morning,” said Mr. Wolf, alluding to a village six miles distant; “but we won’t start before nine o’clock. So, if you want anything more from our stock, we can accommodate you be fore going.” “All right,” replied Mr. Clare. And going to bis safe, behind the old-fashioned counter, he took out some money, and paid for the ar ticles he had just purchased. Then the itenerant merchant walk ed out and drove back to the tavern. When Will and I closed the store that night, at about nine o’clock, we fastened the doors and window-shut ters with unusual care, both because of" the extra treasure we guarded and the report that suspicious per- ' sons had been seen on the road. Our bedding was stowed away un der the counter, and we brought it forth and put- it in shape as usual. It was our custom to place it on several boxes grouped together; and on this occasion we placed the valuable trunk among them, feeling sure that no one could run ofl with it while we were lying on it. It was fortunate that we did so. How long I had been asleep I do not know; but I do know that when I awoke I felt the firm grasp of a hand on my arm. Perfect darkness reigned in the building, and the silence was broken only by the dismal ticking of the clock. My first thought was of robbers, and ray first impulse to seize the ag gressive hand and engage in a des perate struggle. I had barely time to think, however, when a low voice —I recognized it as AY ill s—said in my ear : - “Cal! Cal! are you awake? It was his hand that grasped my ‘ arm. “Yes,” I returned, stratenmg up. “What is the matter ?”_ “There is somebody in the cellar. “How do you know?” “I am sure I heard voices. Listen!” We sat breathless upon our pri mitive couch, trying in vain to pen etrate the gloom, hearing only the al most painful ticking of the clock and the beating of our own hearts. These were the only sounds for a few seconds, but presently there came up from beneath a low, half-smother ed cry of distress. . “Do you hear that?” Will Snider whispered. }j “Yes; it is in the cellar. We remained silent for some se conds, a nervous shiver running through my frame, and a cold per spiration standing on my face. I liad never experienced so strange and un- comfortable a feeling. ... . A smothered cry was again heard beneath us—certianly in the cellar— and it was followed by several taint raps, apparently on the floor. Had I been alone I think I must have been paralyzed with teror; and, there was something so strange about lL Will got out of bed noiselessly and lit a candle. It sent a dull, sick y light through the store, and I ureacl- ed lest some menacing foe should come, like a ghostly shadow, stalking forth from the gloom: “Let us go down into the eellar, said Will. , ., I arose to go with him out hesita- 1 “These sounds may be intended to decoy us into the cellar, where some ruffians may stand ready to set upon us. I said. .. i There was another low wail, and several louder raps. Will had start ed toward the cellar-way carrying the candle in one hand, while with the other he grasped a large double barrelled pistol, which we kept for defensive operations, in the event of a siege by burglars; but he now re turned to where I stood, near our ; bed. His face was as white as mine I probably was. “Hello! Look there!” heexclaim- I ed, excitedly, pointing to the bed. i I looked and saw our matress, j blankets and quilts, surging to and fro, and moving up and down, as | though a small earthquake had got j under them to have some fun; and | finally they slid from their place, and uncovered the valuable trunk. Then there was a tumult somewhere about the trank, the lid suddenly reared up, and displayed—not the rich jew elry we had seen when it was last closed, but a most villainous and re pulsive looking face, which popped up as though at the bidding of an ex orcist. “My God, ITn smothered!” came from the face, intermingled with a succession of short gasps; and a small man—the owner of the coun- | tenance—straggled up out of the ; trunk and fell over upon the floor j like one utterly exhausted. . As he did so, a revolver fell from his pocket, and I snatched it up. , “Villain!” I said, Savagely. “What are you doing here ?” “Oh, oh ! don’t kill me !” he gas ped, rising to a sitting posture. “I will,” I said cocking the revol ver, “if you don’t this instant tell me how yon came here. How did yon get in that trunk ?” He hesitated, trembling all over with terror. “I think we had better shoot him,” said AVill, leveling his pistol. “He would have murdered us.” “Oh, don’t!” the wretch gasped. “I wouldn’t have killed you. I was only going to rob the store. Oh, I was nerly smothered in there!” “How came you there ?• Out with it! A single lie, a moment’s hesita tion, and I will shoot!” and AATll looked particularly fierce as he stood there in his nightshirt, pointing the big pistol at the robber. “It’s all up with me,” whined the latter, speaking with a more ease, but not trying to get upon his feet, “and I may as well confess. I’m Wolf and Dodg’s man. They put me in there to rob the safe. But you went and put your bed on it, so that I could not get out; and some how I couldn’t open the air-hole only a little way.” “Do you mean to say that Wolf and Dodge are robbers ?” “Yes. How could I get into their trunk unknown to them!” “Cal,” said Will, “watch the fellow and keep him here while I go for Mr. Clare. If he offers to get up, shoot him!” “That I will,” said I, , trying to look very bloodthirsty. Mv companion placed the candle on the counter, drew on his clothes, unlocked'one of the doors and went out leaving me alone with the rob ber. The latter seemed thoroughly cowed. Once he made a slight mo tion as if to rise, when I said: “If you do!” “I’m not going to,” he whined, and he presented a very ridiculous figure, sitting there fiat on the floor, while I held the muzzle of the revolver close to his ear. In five minutes Will Snider return ed with Mr. Clare, when the robber made a full confession, and promised to turn State’s evidence against his confederates, in the hope of being mercifully dealt with. From this confession it seemed that Wolf and Dodge, the reputed traveling-merchants, were the auth ors of the recent robberies in neigh boring villages, and their plan of op erations was most ingenious. It was to leave their trank for safe-keeping in the store they wished to rob; hav ing previously concealed in it, under the compartment containing the jew elry this skillful little cracksman. When the lid was shut down, a spring-lock firmly secured it to the shallow compartment containing the jewelry, but the letter was easily de tached from the walls of the trunk by the person within, and lifted up with the lid. This our wiry prison er did at the proper time, when his first work was to stupify any one who might happen to sleep in the store , with chloroform. Next, by the light j of a dark lantern, he took cunning j instruments from the trunk and pick- j ed the safe-lock. He would then re- i move all the money from the safe to the trunk, and having opened a win- , dow, to leave the impression that rob- j bers had got in by that means, he | would return to his trunk and fasten himself in. In the morning, Wolf and Dodge would come for their trunk. They would hear of the rob bery, and express the deepest sym pathy for the unsuspecting merch ant ; would hope the fobber had not been at their trunk; would hasten to it and open it, in their way, dis playing the jewelry as on the previ ous dav, and express joy that the burglars had not touched then prop erty. Thus, traveling as peddlers, thev* had been operating all the sum mer, and had accumulated nearly thirty thousand dollars by these au dacious thefts. When our prisoner had frankly told us all this, I went and waked up the constable—a powerful and fear less man—and conducted him to the scene, where he assumed charge of the robber. Having bound him so as to render him helpless, and hav ing earnestly promised to shoot him should he attempt to escape, we car ried him to the cellar, from which there was no means of egress except through the store; and the cellar-way was vigilently guarded during the rest of the night. ~' We did not disturb the slumbers of Messrs. AYolf and Dodge, and in the morning they came to the store, after eating a hearty breakfast, look ing smiling, cheerful and happy. Mr. Clare, the constable, Will Snider and I received them, and after a pleas ant good-morning Air. Clare said: “I have sad news to tell you.” “What ?” both asked, in a breath, with an air of great interest. “My store has been visited by rob bers.” “What!” Gracious heavens, did they get at our trunk!” Air. Wolf exclaimed, and he fairly flew to the trunk, followed by Mr. Dodge, and unlocked it. “Safe, thank heaven!” ejaculated Air. Wojf. “Safe, thank heaven!” echoed Mr. Dodge. “Safe, thank heaven!” reiterated the constable, seizing each firmly by the collar. “Yes, safe for the next twenty years. .Oh, you robbers!” They saw in an instant that the}' were caught; both turned deathly pale, and struggled to free them selves; hut the constable held them as if they had been kittens, and giv ing them a violent shake, said: “Don’t try to escape, or I’ll snap your heads off with a jerk !” I then lifted up the jewelry com- j partment of the trank, and disclosed ! a dark lantern, a bottle of cliloro- j form, and divers burglars instru ments. “You see, we know the whole,” I said. j Air. Clare and Will Snider then went into the cellar, and brought up I our prisoner. “Dodge,” said AY oh, with an air , rendered calm by very desperation, j “it’s all up with tls!” And so it was. Alithe robberies j were traced to them, and enough ; was proved against them to have I sent them, had the}- been sentenced in each case, to prison for two hun dred and fifty years. As it was, Wolf and Dodge were sentenced for eighteen years each, while their ac complice—the gentleman who lived in a trunk—was mercifully let off with a seven years sentence, on ac count of his testifying gainst them. The affair was a lucky one for Will and me. It not only made lions of us, but it brought us hand some presents from merchants for miles around, who had been robbed, and through our entrapping of Wolf and Dobge, recovered nearly all their uioncy. AYolf died in prison, but the other two served out their terms ; and went forth into the world again j —I know not where. Esquire. The present use of the distinction. “Esquire,” conveys not the slighest idea of its origin or appropriation, in past ages. The esquire originated in chivalric times, when sons of gentle men, from the age of seven years, were brought up in the castles of su perior lords—which was an inestima ble advantage to the poorer nobility, who could hardly otherwise have given their children the accomplish ments of their station. From seven to fourteen, these boys were called pages or valets; at fourteen they bore the name of esquire. They were instructed in the management of arms, in the art of horsemanship, in -exercise of strength and activity, so as to fit them for tournament and battle, and the milder glories of chiv alrous gallantry. Long after the decline of chivalry the word, esquire was only used in a limited sense, for the sons and peers of knights, or such as obtained the title by creation or some other legal means. Blackstone defines esquires to be all who bear office of trust un der the crown, and who are styled esquires by the king in their com missions and appointments ; and being once honored by the king with the title of esquire, they have a right to that distinction for fife. It is touching in the extreme to read such obituary notices as the fol lowing: Stranger, pause— My*tale attend, And learn the cause Of Hannah’s end. Across the world The wind did blow. She ketched a cold What laid her low, We shed a quart Of tears, ’tis true, But life is short— Aged 82.” And thus is a flood of light thrown upon the oft-repeated question as to what- was the matter with Hannah. Dick’s Prayer. Dick stood in the doorway the chill breeze raising his hair. “Looks like a storm,” he solilo quized. “I’ve a. mind to carry Aunt “Manda’s basket over now Tore sup per.” “Perhaps you’d better,” his moth er said, cutting the pie in nine pieces for the nine little Garys and giving Dick his; ‘better start right off. Them cloud banks over there looks like snow. Aunt ‘Manda,- as Dick had called her although she bore no kind of re lationship to the Garys, lived about two miles distant. Tfiat is, two miles by the main road. But Dick, when he saw how black and thick the storm was gathering around him, resolved to cut across, thus shortening the distance considerably. Buttoning his jacket tight around him and tying purple comforter over his ears, the brave little fellow start ed out. The wind whistled and tore away with all its strength at his wrap pings, but he kept manfully on his way. At last the storm came. “AVTiew,” thought Dick, as he he plunged along,” this isn’t as comfor table as it might be.” The driving particles of sleet, sharp as needles, stung his face ; the snow coming still thicker and faster, al most blinded him, filling his eyes, sifting in among the folds of his muffler. “ ’Pears to me I ought to be most there,” he said at last, straining his eyes in vain to 'discover some old land mark. Everything was so strange. Chilled through and through, he wandered on, now stumb ling, falling among the drifts of snow. Dick was lost. And Dick knew he was lost. He thought he was going to freeze, and falling on his knees, he asked God to guide him, and that if it should be His will that he should never see his dear home again, to take him to Himself in heaven. Then got up and staggered forward. His shoul der <jame in contact with a sharp corner, his foot tripped and he fell again, down, down against some thing soft and warm. A delicious sense of comfort stole over him, and he remembered nothing more. “An awful storm, wife,” said Mr. Gary, coming in from the bam. “I almost failed to get here. The horses —where’s Dick?” looking around the room. “He went over to Aunt ’Manda’s better than an hour ago,” replied the wife, looking worried. “I wish you and Sam would go after him.” “Pooh! he’s all right. Probably Aunt Manda wouldn’t let him come home, it stormed so. He’ll do well enough. I’ll risk him.” And with that comforting reflection, Mr. Gary posted off to bed. However the conviction that Dick was “all right” could not prevent anx ious feelings on his account, and did not deter Mr. Gary from going straight across to Aunt ’Manda’s the next morning after him. Great was the consternation when it was found that Dick had not been there at all. Mr. Gary at once instituted a search in which all the neighbors joined. High and low they looked, but no traces of the missing boy could be found. At last Mr. Gary spied what appeared to be a little ham mock of snow just at the edge of the woods. i “Frye’s old root cellar,” said a man to whom lie pointed it out! “Like as not the boy got in there.” * Mr. Gary shook his head sadly, going toward the mound. Stooping | low, he peeped into the darkness and I his face became white as death. “Sh-sh,” he said, holding up his hand ! and motioning back the men follow ing him.' • | “What’s the matter, Gary ? You look as if you had seen a ghost,” said Air. Baker leaning forward. “O, my!” he exclaimed. ' * There was Dick, his head resting on the shaggy coat of a huge black bear, fast asleep. Mr. Baker’s cry woke him, and with a shout he bound ed into his father’s arms, the bear making no resistance. Some of the men wanted td kill th6 creature, but Air. Gary would not allow it. He had saved Dick’s life, and should not lose his own. ’ > Of course Dick was scolded, and kissed and cried over, and made to j tell his story over again. But he al- ■ ways declared it was his prayer that j did it all; for if he hadn’t stopped to , pray, he should have gone right away I from the cellar. “But Dick,” his father would say, “it the bear hadn’t been there, you would have frozen surely.” “Well, father, I ’spose God put him there, and sent His angel to push me right against him.—Addie Corle- ton. Here is another, awful example for the anti-tobacco-men. At Columbus, Ohio, a bank robber had successfully broken in and entered, when he couldn’t resist the temptation of tak ing a pinch of snuff. His sneeze betrayed his presence; and they don’t allow snuff in the penitentiary, either. From the St. Louis Dispatch] Tom Benton’s Family. “Baron Boileau, who was sentenc ed to imprisonment by the French court for liis connection with the Memphis and El Past) railroad affair, is confined in the Conciegerie at Paris. Mme. Boilieau is at Boulogne. She and six children live through the generosity of their friends.” To many people of Missouri, this brief paragraph will convey more than a passing interest. Nine or ten yeai’s ago Baron Boileau was the French consul at New York city, trusted and respected by the government, and papular and accomplished in his in tercourse with the people of America. He married, while consul at New York, Susan, daughter of Col. T. H. Benton. The marriage was .a most happy one. Baron Boileau was af terwards appointed Minister to Ecu ador, and it was while performing the functions of his office in that locality that he was called and dis charged by the French authorities. During his stay in New York he had become involved in railroad schemes, and had been induced in an evil hour to recommend, in his capacity as an How to be Happy. I will give yon two or three rules which may help you to become hap pier than you would be without know ing them; but as to being complete ly happy, that you can never be till yon get to heaven. The first is: “Try your best to make others happy.” “I never was happy,” said a certain king, “till I began to take pleasure in the welfare of my people; but ever since then, in. the darkest day, I have had sunshine in ioy heart.” My second rule is: “Be content with little.” There are many good reasons for this rale. A Ye deserve but little, we require but little, and “better is little, with the fear of God, than great treasures and trouble therewith.” Two men were determined to be rich, but they set about it in different ways. The one strove to raise up his means to his desires, while the other did his best to bring bis desires down to his means. The result was that the one who coveted much was always repining, while he who desir ed but little was always contented. My third rale is: “Look on the official agent of the government, the | sunny side of things, negotiation of the El Paso railroad bonds. In this he violated the plain law of his country. Bigid in all such matters, the French Govern ment carried on t the law to its utmost , , , „ . , „ ~ and imprisoned him. Fremont is lark, and the leaping fish tell us that the brother-in-law of the Baron and | happiness is not confined to one place the same court which tried and found ^ od ■“ lns goodness has spread it Look up with hopeful eyes, Though all things seem forlorn: The sun that sets to-night will rise, Again to-morrow morn. The skipping lamb, the singing his connection guilty also sentenced the General to serve a term of years. He made good his escape from France, however, and, in the absence of anything like an extradition treaty, will probably keep it good. There was once a period in the affairs ■ of abroad on earth, in the air, and in the waters. Two aged women lived in the same cottage. One was always bearing a storm, and the other was always looking for sunshine. Hard ly need I say which it was that wore a forbidding aspect or which it was » U.O WliLL (t 17C11UU 111 I'llC (Uiclll O -j n 1*i!i q , Missouri when Colonel Benton was ? llose ace w as itened up with its political autocrat. Troubles not * ^ ^ ■ Force of Habit Strong in Death. The friends of an old sport hit a few have come to those whom he nurtured and loved. Airs. Fremont is the wife of a man who has been declared nr felon, because of a specu lation which has rained his brother- in-law, bankrupted his family, aud consigned his wife and children to charity. Another daughter, Mrs. AY in. Caiy Jones, now a widow, re siding in San Francisco, California, has felt almost terribly the misfor tune of life, and, though not endur ing all the privations of extreme poverty, is supporting herself and children on the small wages paid to her as a teacher in the public schools. .Mark Twain’s Lecture on Women. Afer a lengthy, and of course hu morous lecture upon AYMman, inLon- don, lately, Mark seems to have for gotten himself and wound up in this wise: “I will not call the mighty roll; the names rise up in your own memories at the mere suggestion, luminous with the glory of deeds that cannot die, hallowed by the loving worship of the good and true of all epochs and upon the following expedient of ef fecting his reformation: Having a couple of coffins prepared and placed in the family vault, on his being brought home one night in a sense less condition, they conveyed him thither and stowed him snugly away in one of them; a member of the family occupying the other to watch his movements. After remaining for some time encased in his “prison house,” he aroused from his stupor, and in astonishment at his new resi dence, exclaimed: “Am I dead?”. “Certainly,” replied the person in the other coffin. “How long have I been dead?” he asked. “About three yea>s,” was the an swer. “And how long have you been Tiere?” he again enquired. “Seven years,” responded his com panion. “Well, as you have been dead lon ger than I have, I suppose, you know the best place where a man of all climes. [Cheers.] Suffice it for our pride ahd honor that we in our can get something to drink! day have added to it feuch names as ! , , m , . those of Grace Darling and Florence j a Sagaciuos Dog.—The Portland, Nightengale. [Cheers.] AA oman is , (Me.) Advertiser reports that as agen- all that she should be—gentle, pati- ; (leman was’ walking down Temple ent, long-suffering, trustful, unselfish j stl . e et, in that city, on Monday, he dropped oh« of his mittens down a grating by. the Adams House, and as it was an okl one he thought he would leave it, and walked along. In a moment he felt the cold nose of a dog touch his hand, aud looking down saw a Newfoundland dog looking up in his face. Paying no attention he passed along, but had not proceeded far when the dog touched him again. A third time this was repeated, when a hackihan sang, put, “You’ve lost something and that dog wants you. to go and get it.” The gentleman re traced Ids steps, recovered his mit ten, and the dog. was satisfied. full of generous impulses. It is her blessed mission t6 comfort the suffer ing, plead for the erring, encourage the faint of purpose, succor the dis tressed, uplift the fallen, befriend the friendless—in a word, afford the heal ing of her sympathies, and a home in her heart for all the braised aud per secuted children of misfortune that knock at its hospitable door. [Cheer] And when I say ‘God bless her,’ there is none among us who lias known the ennobling affection of a wife or the steadfast devotion of a mother but in his heart will say ‘Amen.’ (Loud and prolonged cheering.] The Columbus Enquirer fathers this: There is a station on the Sel ma and Aleridian Railroad named Cuba. A few nights since, as the train, with an emigration agent and a crowd of freedmen going AVest, reached this point, the brakesman put his head inside the car door, and sung out, “Cuba !” One old darkey rose, and as his wool straightened out said: “Dar! ’fore God, I kuow’d it! Heah we is in Cuba, an’ dat’ar white man gwine to put us in de war, or sell us ’fore day. Oof! I’so gwiae from heah.” And he, with about thirty more, leaped off into the woods, leaving the agent to use big “enss words” about Cuba, brakesman, and the uncertainty of the “nigger.” Highly Indorsed.—A colored min ister, who lives in an adjoining coun ty, in writing to a friend here about the decease of a relative, says:. “De poor fellow is gonq. I preached his funeral. He was onfce’t a- sinner, but died a Christian, and 1 darefore re commend the insurance company to pay his policy.—Columbus Enquieer. Bishop Hall said: “I would rather suffer a thousand wrongs than, offer one. I have always found that to strive with a superior is injurious; with an equal doubtful;, with an in ferior sordid and base; with any, full of unquietness*!’ - Among the thousands who wear alpaca cloth very few know what ifc is made of. Tfie alpaca goat is- a species of the liaina, whose home is. in the mountains of Peru. It lives on the-coarsest fare, the scanty herb age of the rocks, and has a beautiful U'avy coat of light chestnut-browm wool, wiiich is nearly a foot in length, very soft and elastic, and nearly as. fine asthat of the Cashmere goat. This- is sheared off and sent to England^, where it is sorted, woven, dyed, steam ed, signed and tuniedfinto tire mar ket. _ The Grangers in Oglethorpe re cently adopted the following: Re solved, That we respectfully ask our- representatives in the Legislature,.at- its next session, to fise their utmost- efforts to have the statutory laws: giving.liens on growing crops of all. kinds and for fertilizers, repealed;.to- take effect immediately after its pass age. ^ An. Indiana editor remarks: “If.* you can’t bring us wood, remember us in your prayers. It is something to know, as we sit and shiver, thafc. we are not forgotten, if the stove is. cold.” Philadelphia has 50 B a p t i si?, churches, the last one having organized a few days ago..