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VOL. I.
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FAMILY READING
THE 0L1) LETTERS.
“O, Elsie! What must I <lu ?
There comes that odious Clifton
again.”
“My child, refuse JU> see him; sure
ly you are not obliged to receive him
whenever he chooses to come here ?”
“Oh, nurse, you cannot understand !
I mwst submit to that mail’s imperti-
WMTC.”
“futloed! I cannot understand
why this should be the case, and you
astonish me when you say so. I have
thought that this" Mr. Clifton’s calls
were so frequent, that Dr. Reed, your
betrothed husband, might not be;
pleased.”
“I must confide the humiliating se
•eret to yon, mamma Elsie. Years
ago, my own imprudence placed me
in that bold, bad man's power. But
listen —that is his ring at the door
bell. I will see him this evening, but, j
Elsie, this shall he the last interview
I will ever grant him. To-night I:
will tell you all.”
“Mv poor dearie! I fear some:
youthful folly is about to ripen into
"hitter fruit that you cannot easily put |
away. And motherly old Elsie sigh-)
ed deeply as the lady followed the j
servant.
It was hours after. The evening
had grown into night when Sybil
Bond crept back up the stairs to her
old nurse, whom she knew would he
waiting for her. Crossing the room
to the window where Elsie sat in the
shimmering light, of the full moon,
she sank on the floor at her side, bu
rying her face in the folds of her dress.
' Caressingly smoothing the dark
hair of her" pet, Elsie watched until
the storm had spent its fury, and only
ran occasional shudder or quiver of the
•slight form told the mental anguish
she was enduring.
“Tell me, dearie, what troubles you
mo greatly.”
“Ms.vim a Elsie, bear with me even
as yon haw always borne, with my
'waywardness since my mother placed
her twelve hour :' old babe in your
• arms and Tent to heaven.”
“0. Sybil, my dear young lady, it
was a pre-cions charge, coming as it
■did fcvva mv dear young mistress in
fine-'rrvlv bereavement, as you know
yon? sainted mother followed her
hJtdllzcd husband to bis last home, in
.one short week after his sudden
vies tli.”
“Elsie, do yon remember the sum
mer we passed at your sister'/, beauti
ful prairie home ?”
“Full well, my dear: it was your
fifteenth summer; you were, rather
delicate, and I thought perhaps the
country air might lie. ijeUeii. ial to you.
“You will remember that although
I did not like, going, I soon Jx'caine
well pleased with the and liked
staying so well tint I did not want to
return to the city till fcsli, when I sud
denly insisted on an. immediate re
turn.”
“Yes. I remember.”
“WelL nurse, it was time I met
AVsirrwn Clifton. I was young, ro
mantic, and easily tfaftef'ed by his at
tentions. I promised to be his wife.
After we had returned home, I had
time to think of my folly, and, after a
few months of childishly romantic
correspondence, 1 wrote to him, ask
ing to be released from my engage
ment, suadl requesting that he would
return all nay letters. This he re
fused to do."
“The cowardly rascal!” cried Elsie.
“I wrote again and again; but to
711 V eiiipcatic* he returned the same
answer. Then I went abroad, you re
member, and met Dr. Ileed. I loved
him, .Mini promised to be bis wife,
hoping t hat Clifton had forgotten me,
sir hod learned to be generous. You
see how mistaken I was. On learning
((.he news of my engagement, that bad
naan came here and threatened to
ssliow my foolish, sentimental letters
fo Dr. Reed if I do not instantly break
my engagement and marry him.”
Sybil burst into tears, and eease.l
speaking, while Elsie soothingly said:
"There, there, child, do not grieve so.
He’s a bad man, to be sure, but you’ve
nothing to be really ashamed of, after
all. Tell Dr. Reed" the whole story,
and he’ll not bo the man to judge a
more child harshly.”
A look of horror appeared on Sybl’s
pale face.
“Tell Dr. Reed! You kuow not
what yon are talking of,•Elsie. He
has told me over and over again,
that he would marry no woman who
loved another man. And will lie not
despise me for not telling him the
truth until forced to do so? He will
not understand that I never really
loved Warren Clifton after reading
those dreadful letters. Ho, I cannot
tell him.”
“Depend upon it, dear child, it is
the best thing to do,” argued Elsie.
No, no ! Never speak of ’ such a
thing to me again. If he must know
it, I will not be one who tells him that
which could only cause him to scorn
me. To-morrow afternoon we must
be ready to go frouq here. In the in-
terim, wo will catch a few hours sleep.
And nurse, be sure you are ready.
Now good night.” And, kissing her
old friend affectionately, Sybil arose,
and went out of the room. ,
“She shall not commit this last fol
ly, if I have yet any wits about me,” ,
said Elsie, determined! v.
She caught up a light, shawl, and
hastily throwing it over her head, left
the room, but paused at the stairway
in the hall, counting the strokes of
the clock.
“Twelve," she muttered.
She listened a moment, and then
passed on down to the hull leading to
the front door. Standing on the out
side, she glanced eagerly up the vil
lage street.
“There is a dim light, and Ids lmg
gy is at the door. I must hurry,or I’ll |
be too late.” And she walked rapid
ly up the street.
It was eight o'clock on the follow
ing morning, and Dr. Reed sat alone !
in his office. A thoughtful look was j
on his face, ns, leaning forward on!
the table, he ran his lingers through j
his brown, curling hair, making it fall
in a heavy mass on the broad, white
brow.
“I have it at last! Just, the thing! 1
There will he some fun in it, too.!'
Taking his lxat, he started for tin•
door at a rate that brought him with!
force against a person just entering.
“Hello, Nod ! Just theman I want
to see -had started out to fiiiiVvon." i
“And you found me, as this knot on,
my forehead w ill testify to for a week."
And Nd Bowers rubbed his head;
dolefully. “But what's up? Got a!
ease for me ? Business is rather dull. 1
jus now—be glad to serve you.”
“I want you to help me play high
wayman.”
“What!”
Ned sprang to his feet in startled
surprise.
“There, keep cool; don't got excited,
as in that case you c;ui he of no use ;
to me. I said play highwayman, and !
1 want to start out in half an hour.
So be quiet, while I detail facts, and
explain why such a course might be
excusable.”
“Go on; I am all attention.”
“Five years ago, a fellow led a girl,
a mere child, into the folly of corres
ponding with him; and nil the years
since lie has kept her letters. Now
he is in our little village, keeping her
in mortal terror lost he gives those loi
ters publicity; threatens to do so un
less she gives him her hand in mar
riage. She now believes her only es
cape from trouble is an immediate and
secret, removal from this place. I
only learned this much, last: night,
from a, friend, who believes that I
could ami would help the lady in this
dilemma.”
T il help you.” said Ned.
“Thanks.” But it must be done
secretly and quietly. This is the
thing I propose: When AYarmi Clif
. ton rides to - station, this morning,
whither 1 have learned he is going to
meet the 10 o’clock train for the city,
we will he on the road to relievo him
of that Valuable bundle of papers,
which lie carries now on all occas
ions.”
“Hurah, Tom! Just the thine;.
Provided you permit disguise, I'll
give him a regular scare.”
“I will give up that part to you; ;ir
: range it as you will. But I will re
peal myself to him before wo part,,
i with a little wholesome advice thrown
; in to make the medicine go down; it
i will no doubt be a bitter pill.”
“Come with me to mv rooms,” said
: Ned Bowers, springing to his feel.
! “We will find everything wo need
there.”
“One minute: I will order my
horses to be saddled alid brought to
the door.”
j And the friends were soon seen hur
rying up the s-reet.
The pretty little clock in Sybil
Bond’s room was just striking eleven,
when she awoke, with a start, to hear
a loud, clear ring at her door-hell.
“So late!” said she, looking up at
the clock. “Is it possible I could sleep
so long? But then I did not fall asleep
until it was getting light. Come in,
i Mamma Elsie. I have shamefully
I overslept myself this morning.”
“I am glad, dearie. It .was good
i for you to sleep,” said tile old lady,
j entering. “But hurry now, let me
help you dross; there is a visitor be
low, whom you must sue before you
breakfast.”
“Pray who has called at this early
hour?”
“Dr. Reed; and he hade me say
that urgent business must be bis ex
cuse.”
“ 0 Elsie! I cannot go to him this
morning. Ido not want him to sus
pect I am going away this afternoon.”
“It can do no harm to see him a
few minutes; you need not tell all
your secrets in that time.”
“Well, get my wrapper. I believe
I am ready for it.”
She finished coiling the heavy braids
around her shapely head, and taking
the snowy wrapper from Elsie's hand,
hurriedly finished her plain toilet, and
went below.
The pai'lor door stood open, and a
manly figure was pacing the fioor as
Sybil descended the stairs and cross
ed the hall.
“ Good morning, doctor; I fear I
have kept you waiting.”
“Not very long, my darling;” and
he eagerly advanced to her side, and
taking both hands in his, gazed with
anxious love into lier upraised face.
“Dear yog arc not well this morn-
QUITMAN, GA., THURSDAY, MARCH 19, 1874.
ing, my pet; perhaps my call is op
portune; you are looking pale.”
"Give yourself no uneasiness; I am
very well,” she answered, us he led
her to a scat.
“Sybil, my love, I will come to the
point at once. My business with you
this morning is to relieve you of a cer
tain embarrassment which I have
lately learned you have been under
for a long time. There, darling, is
the cause of all your trouble.” H.c
drew from his pocket a bundle of old
letters, yellow with age, and laid them
in her lap.
“O Tom! how came these in your
possession? Have you read them?"
And with burning blushes she lifted
her head to examine thorn closely.
"No, Sybil, to the last question. I
cannot say that I came by these let
ters in an honest way. I learned of
tlieir existence, and tin. annoyance
they were giving you, a short" time
ago, itfld determined to possess them,
that I might give them to yi u. AYitl.
this intention, Ned Bowers and myself
played highwaymen this morning, and
when the gentlemanly Clifton rode
to—-v station to go away, we called
on him to deliver over his valuables to
us, which ho made hast to do, the
shape of his purse and watch. AYlien
I hade him sln?.v the bulky object
which lie carried in his side pocket,
lie tried to evade me, but of course I
would not be put off. As lie gave
into my hands that precious bundle,
we pulled off our disguises and return
ed Ins property,. You should have
•-H i .is face when he reewgfiizcd us;
:i Uas a perfect picture of buttled vil
iainy, rage and hate.”
Sybil shuddered.
“O, Tom! how can I thank you?”
“By giving me a kiss before von go,
which I must do at once; I have a
ride of some miles to accomplish
before noon.”
“But, Toni Dr. Reed -you do not
know!”—she stammered, and blushed
painfully.
“I do not wish to know anything
about it. I know you are my own
darling, soon to be my wife, and that
you have already been too severely
punished bvyourown conscience, and
by (he base conduct of that fellow
Clifton.”
“And yon forgivc*mc for fancying
myself ill love? You said that you
could never be uh v one’s second
“My sweet girl, 1 understand how
to draw distinctions," he replied with
a kindly smile.
“But do you not wish to read 11 1- . •
letters before yon accord me full con
fidence?" And her pale face liana- I
•'No, darling,” said he gravely.. A
konwledge of their content: would
, not add to mv peace, so let us drop
: the subject forever. Believe nc. J
• have no desire to read them. If you
; wish to reward me for the slight ser
i vice I have rendered yon this morn
ing, just burn 1 i_ ■ letters, be your
ow n Lapp;. v ■ : i, and. hasten the
; day when I may call you my wife."
j And, holding her face between his
I hands, he kissed the upraised lips and
i was gone, leaving Sybil to carry a
lightened heart to liappy old Elsie,
i Girls, do you see the moral to my
story? Ite ar some of you exclaim,
ponutingly, “J. have morals!” To you,
l say, take care.
. r-.-s omv. ; ramaoi
Mother, Speak Low.
i I know some houses, well built and
handsomely furnished, where it is not
pleasant to he even a visitor. Sharp,
angry tones resound through them
from morning till right, and the iii
iiuiiees is as contagious as measles,
and much more to be dreaded in a
household. The children catch it,
and it lasts for life - an incurable dis
ease. A friend has such a neighbor
within hearing of her house when
doors and windows are. open, and
even Poll Parrot canglit the tune, and
delights in screaming until she has
boon sent into the country to,improve
her habits. Children catch cross
• tones quicker than parrots, and it is
! a much more mischievous habit,
i When mother sets the example, you
1 will scarcely hear a pleasant word
j among the children in their plays with
j each other. Yet the discipline of
: .sunii a family is always weak and ir
regular. The children expect just so
; much scolding before they do auy
• thing they are bid, v/liile in many a
: home, where the low, firm tone of the
1 mother or the decided look of lier
steady eye isdaw, They never think of
disobedience, either in or out of her
sight. (), mother, it, is worth a great
I deal to cultivate “excellent tiling in a
: woman,” a low, sweet voice. If you
are over so much tried by the mis
chievous or willful pranks of the little
1 ones’ speak low. It will be a great
' hol]i to you, to even try to be patient
I and cheerful, if you can not succeed
Anger makes you wretlied, and your
children also. Impatient, angry tones
never did the heart good, but plenty
iof evil. Read what Solomon says of
them, and remember lie wrote with
! air inspired pen. You can not. have
Ihe excuse for them that they lighten
I your burdens any; they make their
| ynly ten times heavier. For your
| own, as well as your children’s sake,
learn to speak low. They will re-
I member that, tone when your head is
| under the willows. So, too, will they
! remember a harsh and angry tone.
Which legacy will you leave your
i children?
At a revival in Montgomery county
recently, a young convert forgave all
! his enemies, “especially the fellow who
threw his pup iuto a yellow jacket’s
i nest.”
My Deal’ With and Aunt.
.1 had an aunt coming to visit me j
for the first time since my marriage,
and I don't know what evil genius
prompted the wickedness which I per
petrated toward my wife and ancient
relation.
“My dear,” said I to my wife on
the day before my aunt’s arrival, “you
know Aunt Mary is coming to-mor
row; well, I forgot to mention a rath
er annoying circumstance with regard :
toiler. Stic is very deaf; and ul-!
though she can hear my voice, yet I
you will have to spi ,ik extremely loud j
in order to he heard. Ft will he rath- !
or inconvenient, hut I know you will!
do everything in your power to make !
her visit agreeable.”
Airs. announced her deter
mination to make herself heard, if it
was in her power.
I then went to John N , who
loves a joke about well : s anybody
T 1 .enow of, and t.oli\ him to be in the
house at ti p. in. the following even
m - ami felt comparatively happy.
I went, to the railroad depot with a
carriage ne.xt’uiejht, and when 1 was
oil lily way lu y aunt., I
said: “My dear aiihSytlierv is one
rather annoying infinnitxßUyrt Annie
j (mv Wife) has, .which I
! tion before. She is very (leaf, unutete
Though she can hear my voice, to
j which she is accustomed, iti its ordi
; nary tones, yet you will be obliged to
; speak extremely loud in order to be
' heard. lam sorry for it.”
Aunt Mary, in the goodness of her
, heart, protested that she rather liked
speaking aloud, and to do so would
afford her great pleasure.
The earn,. .. !. .up—on the
| steps was my wifi*. tit t-1.• v.iudow
i was John N , with a as ut
terly solemn its if he had buried his
relatives that afternoon.
“I am delighted to see you,” sliriek
: od my wife, and the policeman on the
j opposite side was startled, and mv
aunt nearly fell down the steps.
“Kiss me, my dear,” bawled giv
aunt: and the windows shook as if
with the fever and ague. I looked at
the window; John had disappeared.
Human nature could stand it nolong
, er. I poked luy head into the car
riage and went iuto strong eoimil
’ sions.
When I went into the parlor my
: wife was helping Aunt Mary to take
; off her lint and cape; and there sat
John with his face buried in his liand
; kerchief.
“Did you have a pleasant journey?”
suddenly wi nt off my wile like a pis
: to], and John nearly Jumped to his
fe A
"Rainer ihnsfy." va a ib" response,
in a v.arwhoop, and the conversation
continued.
The neighbors for blocks around
must have h ard it. When I was in
the third story of the building I hoard
| every word.
iu tlm course of the evening my
aunt took occasion to sav to me:
“How loud your w : fe talks!”
I told her deaf l: -ms talked loud
ly, and that my wifi being used to it,
: was is t . ;<1 by th< ex riion, and
.' that she w:: getting along .very nice
ly with her.
I’reseullymy wire iid softly: “Alt’,
how loud your aunt ! dks!”
I “Yes,” said I, "nil deaf persons do.
You’re getting along with her finely,
though; she hears every word you
say.” And I rather think she did.
I Exalted at tlieir success of being
! understood, they went it hammer and
i tongs, till everything on the miiutel
i piece' clattered again, and I was sc
.
| front of the house.
j But the end was near. My aunt
1 lining of an investigating turn of
mind, was desirous of finding out
l whether'the exertion of talking was
I injurious to mv wiie. So "Doesu t
i talking so loud strain your lungs? ’
said she, in an unearthly whoop, for
! her voice was not as musical as it was
when slie was young.
“It, is an exertion,” shrieked my
wife.
“Then why do you do it?" was the
answering scream.
“Because—b eea u . e—you can’t
hear if I do,„ t„*
i "What!’’ said aunt, rivaling a rail
! road whistle at the time.
I began to tliicis-4-i—time to evacu
i ate the premises; and glancing around
j and seeing John gone, i stepped into
! t-lio back parlor, and (here lie lay flat
■ on liis back, with his feet at right an
gles with his body, rolling from side
; to side with his fist poked into. Iris
' ribs, and a most agonized expression
of countenance, but not uttering a
j sound. I immediately and involun
j tarily assumed a similar attitude, and
! think from the relative position of
i our feet and heads and our attempts
to restrain our laughter, apoplexy
must inevitably have ensued, if a hor
rible groan which John gave vent to
in his endeavor to suppress liis risi
bility had not betrayed our hiding
j place.
In rushed my wife and aunt, who
by this tiiu* comprehended the joke,
and such a scolding as I got then I
; never got before, and I hope never to
! get again.
I know not what the end would
: have been if John, in Iris endeavors to
be respectful and sympathetic, had
not, given vent, to such a groan and a
hoarse laugh that all gravity was up
• sot, and we screamed in concert.
1 know it was wrong, and all that,
to toll such a falsehood, but I think
that Airs. Opie herself would have
1 laughed if she lmd seen Aunt Mary's
expression when she was informed
i that her hearing was defective.
The Dollar We Don't Spend.
AYe have to calculate pretty close
at our house, you know; and the
whole family arc called into council j
when any important expenditure is to ;
be made. W ell, the other evening we
were considering the small remnant of
the quarter's salary, and Airs. Dobbs
was trying to reckon how it could he 1
made to cover everything. There
was anew dress, and anew coat for 1
me, and anew carpet for the best par-1
lor, and anew hat for our (at present)
unmarried daughter, besides a great
many other tilings, with which I may
not occupy your valuable space. The
main point was the new dress, and i
Mrs. Dobbs was thinking of this;
shade and that pattern, wishing she
could buy them all, and doubting if:
she could buy any of them; and our j
faces grew longer as the salary grew ;
shorter. Presently, with one of my j
liappy inspirations), I said to her:
“Airs. Dobbs, there is no dollar that (
does you so much good as the one j
you don’t spend.”
She looked at me a little perplexed !
and presently she said, “Why, doctor, j
I don’t understand yon.”
“So I said, the handsomest dress is
the one you don’t buy.”
“Oh yes, that is true. The best
dress lever had was thq silk that Alrn
v>s.vg(diead gave mo, when she came !
from "Philadelphia. She bought it at
i Homer A Golladay’s; it couldn’t have j
j cost less than-•.” *
“Alls. Dobbs, sUMp interrupting
: her,"“tlie handsomest ami everv wav
the best dress is tile one ytW, don't
i have.”
She was more puzzled than ever. 1
i and I was forced to explain.
“Mrs. Dobbs,” said L, “all the dress
es vou ever bought have worn out.
i haven't they?”
“Yes,” said she, very promptly, all
of them. I haven't a docent thing to
luy name. There is my homliazim—”
“Wait a moment,” I said, for I was
mortally afraid to have her get up
I that topic, “and did you ever buy a
| dress, ever have a dress any way,
! that you din’t have some misgivings
over; that you didn't see ome de
fect in; that y...it didn't rather wish
that you had bought the other?”
“I believe you are right,” she skid,
thoughtfully.
“But,” said I, “the dress that you
don't buy has no faults; you are never
tired of it; it never grows old; never
fades; never wears out; or if you want
jto change, how easily the change is
made!”
“Why, yes,” said Mrs. Dobbs; I
| never thought of that before.”
“And so,” said I, “of your dollar.
Von nev( r silent a dollar in your life,
that, you din t feel at least a doubt as
n> whether you had spent it wisely.
You wished you had bought some
thing else. But the wish was vain;
j you couldn't make a . change. The
! dollar that you spend you can’t spend
hut once, but the dollar that you don’t
spi iid you can spend a hundred times.
You can buy a hundred tilings with it
! every time you go out. If you are
dissatisfied with any of your puv-
I chases, you can go back and begin
all over. And so,” I continued, The
dollar that you don’t spend does you
i a great deal more good than the dol
lar that you do spend; and, better
than all, it brings with it no regrets,
| no misgivings.”
Airs. Dobbs looked as though she
i dindu’t know just how to answer me,
but at the same time as though she
; wasn’t quite convinced. Presently
j she sanl:
“Well, doctor, I don’t know that I
; see through it all; but no doubt you
| are right, for you are a great deal
i wiser than 1 am. And so wo will go
jon that principle. I will take the dol
! lar that we do spend, and you shall
| have the dollar that wo don't spend,
| which is. as you have showed, so much
the better of the two.”
Courtesy at Home.
No pleasanter sight is there than a
family of young folks who are quick
to perform little acts of attention to
-1 ward their elders. The placing of a
i big arm chair in a warm place for
I mamma, running for a foot-stool for
j aunty, hunting up papa’s spoctaclels,
! and scores of little deeds, show un
suppressed and loving hearts. But if
j mamma never returns a smiling,
“Thank you dear,” if papa, “Just
what I was wanting, Susie," does not
indicate that the little attention is ap
preciated, the children soon drop the
habit. Little people are imitative
creatures, and quickly eateli the spirit
surrounding them. So, if when the
mother's spool of cotton rolls from her
lap, the father stoops to pick it up,
bright eyes will see the act, and quick
I minds make a note of it. By example,
] a thousand times more by precept,
can children be taught to speak kind
ly to each other, to acknowledge fa
vors, to be gentle and unselfish, to be
thoughtful and considerate of the eom
! fort of the family.. The boys, with in
ward. pride of their father's courteous
demeanor, will be chivalrous and help
ful to their younger sisters; the girls,
imitating their mother, will be gentle,
and patient, even when big brothers
are noisy and heedless. In the home
j where true courtesy prevails, it seems
|to meet you on tlio very threshold.
You fool the kindly welcome on euter
! iitg. No angry voices are heard up
stairs, or an adjoining room. No sul
j ten children are sent from the room.
| No peremtory orders are given to cov
er' deliliquenees of housekeepers or
servants. A delightful atmosphere
pervades the house - unmistakable
I yet indeseriable.
SCISSORIN'! TI MS.
Douglas Jerrold, on being asked
what was meant by dogmatism, ans
wered, Puppyism conic to maturity.
The more a woman's waist is shaped
like an hour-glass, the quicker the
sands of her life run out.
A Portland editor speaks of an al
derman of that city ns "the wooden
headed fool from the Fourth AVard.
A clergyman removing from one
city to another marked a large box
containing liis sermons, Keep dry.
They did.
A divorce lawyer’s advertisement:
“Hymenial incompatibilities, as a
speciality, delicately adjusted. Tis
slavery to detain the hand after the
heart hath tied."
Eli Love, of AYiivno County, Ohio,
climbed n tree to shake out a coon. •
The dogs heard something drop and
went for it, but it was not the coon. \
It was Eli.
The pupils of the Dover, N. H., 1
High School are examined at, regular
intervals on topics which involve a
careful reading of the daily and week
ly' newspapers.
A Brooklyn man who sat down to
meditate in liis sweetheart's lap, had
occasion to caution her about looping
up lier skirts with pins. He found
that tlu^ consequences had a tendency
to disturb his mental poise.
Upon a mail whose body was found
in a river, a coroner’s jury in Ireland
returned the verdict that the individ
ual came to his death by a blow on the
head, “which was given either before
or after drowning.”
A Green Bay man called a young
lady bis “precious darling little liou
cy-iWw of a blooming rosebud,” and
: then st<a,i a breech of promise suit,
Before he eon'.l marry her.
A man was biap.tiag that he ha
been HA twenty years an,
. had never given luff wife a :Sll*rwi
Those who know him say liettete’t
! dare to.
“Paddy,” says a joker, “wily don’t
! you have your ears cropped ! —tliev
are entirely too long for a man.” I
J “And yours,” replied Pat, “ought to j
be lengthened; they are too short for ;
; an ass. ”
AYlien a young farmer’s wife in
, her first boy’s pants precise 1 the
same, before as behind, the f Lee x .
claintetl; “Goodness! L won't
j know whS'Hxr he’s go ; school or
coming home.
A good old elder ju. .shed liv
liis church on account of ms habit of
exaggerations responded: “I know
how prone I am to this fault, inybreth-!
ren, and it has given me tortures of
'pain; and night after night. I have!
shed banc .of tears over it.” The'
meeting adjourned in silence.
“Respectablepeople” are a singular!
set in Portland, Maine. Within a
! week one respectable citizen was
i caught stealing jewelry, another with
! kid gloves stole a ham, and a third
was arrested for stealing spoons.
“AYhat is a more exliileratiug sight,”
asks a Vermont paper, “than to see
i eighteen handsome girls sliding down
| hill on an ox-sled?” “Ninetem,”
says the experienced editor of the
; Boston Pod.
An American editor once wrote a
leading article on the fair sex, in the
• course of which he said, “Girls of sov-
I enteen and eighteen are fond of beaus. ”
; When the paper was issued, he was
I rather shocked to discover that an nu
] fortunate typographical error had
j made him say, “Girls of seventeen
or eighteen are fond yi beans. ’
| A lengthy article is in circulation
i telling how to make a good mustard
plaster. An article telling how to
I successfully dodge one is what a smit-
I eu people want.
j Several passengers on the lower
i Alississippi were attracted by the al
ligators basking in the sunshine.
"Are they amphibious, captain ?" ask
!ed a looker-on. “Amphibious, li—1!”
i answered the enthusiastic officer;
! “they’ll eat a hog in a minute!”
It was at a party that some young
I ladies were discussing the relative
I benefits of the sparrow and the worms,
when one of the fair ones appealed to
young Eizzletop, who hud just, joined
them, and had not caught the drift of
the conversation, “Which do you
think Hie worse, worms or sparrows?”
AYhat did the stupid brute doj.but in
nocently answer, “I don’t know; I!
never had the sparrows.”
A New Orleans merchant, moved
by the pitiful tale of a woman who
said her husband lay dead at home,
that she hadn’t the means of burying
him, charitably gave her sl4 to get
the poor man under ground. Before
giving the money, however, lie went
to takealook at the dead man. .Sure
enough, it was a swollen, discolored
corpse, that should have been buried
days ago, and in liis lmrry to leave
: the noisome tenement, lie forgot liis
umbrella. Soho reluctantly returned
to claim it. He hurried quickly but
softly up stairs, tiptoed to the door,
lifted the latch, and saw—the corpse
sitting up in the coffin counting liis
sl4 over very deliberately.
For pure grit and long-continued
patience you ought to go to Toledo.
A young liuly in that town has sent
one hundred and sixteen pieces of po
etry to the newspapers, and though
all have been rejected, she is strug
| gling with another.
A Peoria naturalist, in attempting
to warm the ears of a frozen wasp
nver a gas jet, discovered that the
tail of the insect thawed out first, and
worked with a rapidity that was as
i astonishing as the hideous profanity
of the naturalist., who held the insect
Iby the tail while thus experimenting.
I* ltd I i;ssion a 1..
Dr. E. A. J ELKS,
Practicing; Physician?
QUIT3IA3V, GA.
Office : Brick building adjoining toro
of Messrs. Briggs, Jelks & Cos., Screven
street. [l-tf
W. B. BENNET. 8. T. KlNo-sil^KY.
BENNET & KLNUSBERY,
Attorneys at Law,
QUITMAN, BROOKS CO., GA.
February 14. 1874. tf
EDWAIiD K HARDEN,
Alloitiey 11 1 Law
QUITMAN, GEORGIA.
r Office in the Court House, tirst lloor.
1-tf
O. A. HOWELL. B. A. DENMARK*
HO BELLA DENMARK,
ATTOHN KN S VT LAW,
NO. S DRAYTON ST.,
SAVANNAH - - - GA.
Refer, l\v permission, to Messrs. Groover,
Still.]is A Cos., mill 11. 11. llf.]>]iuril. Savannah.
Hon. A. H. Hansoll. J. 1,. Seward, Ttiomas
ville. Rennet & Kiugsberrv, Quitman, Gtt.
IllM-ly
M I S<‘K I, LA X EOF S.
IUV PRICE
DEALERS IN
General .Merchandise,
Ootlis and Cassimerds,
Kir’ MADE CLOTHING,
j. '* {>*. S); •< Trunks, Valises, Ac.
would th: > s it f Quitman and
surroundi.., oVi\ rl. their Full nut!
Winter stock ;**st ami bust
assortn nt of
Viim ii'/ Fi vnisT.
' <■ •• ‘to this mark't
I>. AV. FT!ICE
will continue his business ns
r S\\ 1 B A >ll,
and will cut-and make suits 'at the'shortest
lY'dieo. ajid satisfaction guaranteed.
( utHiim. ('leaning and Repairing done
w ith neatness and dispatch upon reasonable
terms.
AA o invite tin* public to call and examine
tip’ quality and prices of our goods before
purchasing elsewhere.
i). \\\ rmcic s- sons.
1-tf
V. R. HARDEN,
DKA
I)I V \ (* O )1 •
N O T IONS, X
Hoots and Slioes*
FANCY AND
FAMILY GROCERIES,
qUMT.MAX - - - - GA.
DESIRES TO NOTIFY his friends and
the public generally that he is now lo
cated on Screven street, one door West of
( apt. Brooks’ store, in the building formerly
occupied by Mr. AV. S. Humphreys, with a
complete assortment of Family Groceries,
Dry Goods, Notions, etc. consisting princi
pally of
l?:tc<m. Onmed Goods,
Flnur. I‘icklcs,
Cotlee, Fruits,
Calid uts,
ICheese,
Dress (roods, Dnuiesi ies,
Sliivt i niSH, A ugs,
l.'riiitrs, .See*., SwC.
All of which he proposes to sell cheaper than
the cheapest, for the cash.
The highest market prices paid for Coun
try Produce.
Thankful for pasMuvois, a continuance of
custom is solicited. r
R. HARDEN.
l-tnpls
A.J. ROUNTREE
YirOTRD INFORM HIS FRIENDS and
v t the public generally that he has now
lou hand a good assortment of
Dry Goods,
* Groceries,
1 l ai*d YVMi*e,
f&c., &c.
and will sell them as cheap as the same
| quality of goods can bo bought from any one
1 else in this market.
r ro I>KIITOR :
rm THOSE INDEBTED TO HIM ho
[ would say that he is obliged to have the
i money to c rry on his business, and he cun
i indulge, no longer. Mo hopes they will set
tle without dt 1 in', and save costs of Court.
A. J. ROUNTREE.
1-tftpl
T \ \\ IT JT F
Hoot & Shot 1 Maker,
QUITMAN, GA.
I >F,OS LEAATi TO INFORM his old eus
-1) towers and the public generally that- ho
is still at his old stand mi Dejxit street, and
will continue to keep ■ instantly on hand th
best-quality of mat tu. and us active
and experienced. to work it upas,
his patronage may i ire.
Boots and shoes cut and nw%d,. to ogite i,
and a neat tit always gunrrautc'-d. *
Repairing neatly and expeditious,r done,
at prices t suit the times.
• ALL WORK IF.I
! ' l-tf ,£ %
NO. 5.