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VOL. I. rrTDi.mmso i’.vkbt tm'iinny iiy WHITE At MrIXTOSH • • ■ Ih'mtrlrtnrs TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION: 1 copy one year ............ $2.00 1 “ <> month* 1.00 AD VKHTISIS'O HA TES: One Dollar per square fir first insertion ; fifty cents for each subsequent insertion. Local notices will lx* charged 20 cents per line. Special arrangements can le made for advertising bv the quarter or by the year with tlie proprietors. mmmmrtxmmmmKmmmmmmsemmmmmmmmmammmm 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.