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JOHN H. SEALS, - Editor and Proprietor. MRS. MARV E. BRYAlf (*) Associate Editor. A. L,. HAMILTON, D. D., - Associate Editor And .Manager of Agencies. ATLANTA, GA., SATURDAY, NOV. 4, 1876. THE RICHMOND OFFICE Of The Sunny South is on the corner of Eleventh and Bank st. K. G. Agee, Agent and Correspondent. CLUB RATES. Clubs of four and upward $2.50 each. A Legend of Ho Springs—A Strange Story. We shall begin in onr next issue the publica tion of a most remarkable story, giving a ro mantic solution of the Mysterious Death of De Soto! It will be a singular mixture of history, geol ogy and romance. The National Election.—Before another issue of this paper, the great battle at the ballot-box will have been fought and won, and it will doubtless be remembered during the next cen tury as the fiercest contest in American politics. Both the great national parties seem confident of success, and no prophetic ken is sufficiently penetrating to foresee the result. The scales hang more nearly at an equipoise than ever be fore perhaps, and it is impossible to tell into which of them the preponderating power shall fall. The elections so far have only kept the scales evenly balanced, and served to arouse both parties to a sense of the fearful magnitude of the struggle and the uncertainty of the re sult. 'But let the end be what it may, the country will breathe more freely, and throughout all its wide expanse new life will he infused. The ad ministration will be changed, and any change from the existing one will be for the better. We heartily rejoice at the near approach of the end, and the whole American people, no doubt, feel the same way. During great political ex citement, all the material interests of the coun try are neglected, and it is a cause for congratu lation when they have ended. The Lores of Sand and I)e Musset.—So much has been written concerning the intimacy be tween the poet Alfred De Musset and the famous novelist Aurora Dudevant, self-styled “ George Sand,” that the story can well be said to have a !‘literature of its own.” “It has been told three times over; at first hand by Madame Sand herself in 1 EUe et Lui;’ by M. Paul do Musset in the answering tale of “ Lui et Elle;’ and by Madame Louise Colet in a third publica tion called ‘ Lui.’ The two later books are sup posed to give the poet’s own account of this fatal love, which is supposed on all sides to have been his ruin—given in one case to his brother on his deathbed, and (we are again to under stand) intrusted to the other writer in the confi dence of new attachment, which was broken by his death.” The story reflects no credit upon either of the participants, and is a lowering record of sensual passion, wild orgies, jealousies, quarrels and make-ups that only serve to show us how much of the earth earthy can habitate with the genius we call divine. Yet whatever of the dignity of real passion and suffering is attached to this liason is upon the side of the man. To the woman, in exception to the usual rule of female attachments, the affair was a mere episode, from which she gathered golden ore of experi ence, that her glowing imagination coined into that wealth of delineation and analysis of pas sion that makes her novels magnetic. We are given to understand that she played upon the sensitive soul of her lover, tortured it, drained it of its rich aura to enrich her own intellectual resources; and then when no more was to be gained, she put him aside as she would a quaffed goblet, lightly severed the connection of years, and went on her way without a scar, leaving her lover a wreck. Such it appears was the effect of this famous intimacy, upon the .great novelist, whom Mrs. Browning apostrophizes as “ Thou large-brained woman and large-hearted man, Seif-called George Sand, whose soul amid the lions Of thy tumultuous senses moans defiance.” But to the poet—the handsome waltzer, the golden-haired, gay, graceful, cynical young Apollo of the Bohemian Olympus—the connec tion was fatal. The passion so marred by sens uality and distrust had, strangely enough, been real, and the desertion was deeply felt. “ Life was no longer at his feet, a universe of hope and pleasure as even in his most cynical moods it had hitherto been. Broken and crushed, he came back from Italy, where his unkind love had forsaken him, stung to the heart with a thousand wounds.” Yet (so strangely does genius wrest all things to its use, even when the monument it builds is the funeral pyre of happiness), this connection seems to have been productive of intellectual Defit to the poet no less than to his treacher- While it paralyzed the creative power Jd, gloomy imag^^Hjl that had al- oyss in “ Rolla,” \ a human pathos d not before pos- f the poet, in Black- th his powers, often, h, doing his best or antried strength of Just conception; but Us desolation, the poor Ft sublime means of re- j lief, and poured out his suffering heart, not in | if offended, there may appear in the popular miserable display of his circumstances to the column some slyly-worded “ hit ” at themselves, ; world, hut in those profound outbursts of feel- whose sting will make them remember and ing, which are for mankind, which answer for ! regret their slight of that busy-bee, the reporter, all sorrows, and speak the infinite disappoint- More contrasts: Yonder come a bevy of coun- ments, mortifications, pangs of the heart, that try cousins, with the reddest of cheeks and the i occur in all lives. Here at least he has torever brightest of blue and lilac ribbons, ecstatically the better of the question. The woman whom enjoying their holiday; for are they not accompa- he loved held him up to the ridicule of the nied by their beaux, who have just treated them world, but he, magnanimous, made no reprisals: to the candy and apples they eat with such frank and the blow, if it broke his heart, made his enjoyment as they walk on, laughing and chat- fame. The ‘Nuits,’ which are almost his finest ting, unconscious of the supercilious smile that lyrics, the ‘ Letter to Lamartine,’ almost all his just touches the faintly moustached lip of the ‘ Comedies ’ and ‘ Proverbs ’ came in a rash of fop that passes. A curled darling of fortune, inspiration after this crisis. While his friends one might suppose from the gloss of his shirt- chattered over his disasters with sneers and with front and the glitter of his solitaire pin, but it is sympathy equally hard to bear, the sufferer more than likely that he is in arrears to his wash- sought for himself that noblest anodyne which erwoman for the polish of the one, and in debt which lies in work. They say he had recourse to the Dollar Store for the shin9 of the other, to coarser anodynes as well, poor soul! but at Everything is genuine, you can bet, about the least he was too noble to return evil for evil. A nex t comer. A solid farmer, one of those pillars rising flood of power, a more assured knowledge of our State - s prasperi ty, genuine from his suit of his own strength and exercise of his gift, ; 0 f home-made jeans to the grip of his hearty mark the period of this bitter disenchantment, j hand> and the plninpne ss of his worn leather which is a better issue than could have been hoped from such an episode.” In her “Elleet Lu Madame Sand has en tered into a minut d etail of her poet-lover’s mad jealousies, inconsistencies and caprices, but De Musset has made no retaliation. His al- pocket-book, swelled out by the proceeds of that pile of cotton-bags a little further down the street, and by the cash returns of bushels of wheat, corn, apples and potatoes, all grown on his “ little farm well tilled ” by himself and his stalwart sons, while his comely wife and daugh- lusions to the association that blighted his ters keep the tftb , e supplied with such blltt er, youth are full of a “desolation too noble for tbe creamj eggs and vegetables—such apple pies and subject.” The most detailed account is con- j deepi golde n-brown custards, as one can find tained in his “Letterto Lamartine,” from which we make a brief extract: " Singer of suffering, how then shall I say, That of thy glorious sickness. 1 too die; Clasped in my arms sweet life and hope once lay A dream, even like thy dream and soon to fly: How one fair evening when the breeze was halm, Lulled by beloved voice with heavenly strain, Like thee. I slumbered in the happy calm, And felt swift time stop short: and how again, Tell of another evening, when forsook And lonely on the earth, devoured like thee By memories, and the wonder how to brook Suffering so long ere death should set me free, I stood amazed at my own misery. ’Tvvas in a winding street, gray and obscnre, Of that abyss called Paris; to my ear Came ontcries of that railing crowd, secure No voice of the unfortunate to hear. On the dark pavement lanterns of pale light Threw forth a doubtful day more sad than night. It wag in spring, the time of Carnival; A noisy joy rang echoing everywhere; Masked drunkards, meeting in the gutter, call An ill word here, a loud-mouthed chorus there. Sometimes a group, heaped in an open car, Showed for a moment ’neath the rainy skies, Then in the town’s mad folly, lost afar With flare of torch, and shout of impure cries; In the mean taverns, foul with stains of wine, Lurked old men, women, children; and the while Priestesses of the night, through shade and shine, Inqniet moved about like spectres vile. Just God, to weep alone "mid such a crowd! Oh ! my lost love, what have I done to you. That you could leave me. you so late who vowed You were my life, and in God’s presence true ? Oh ! didst thou know, thou cold and cruel heart, That ’mid the dimness oi that shameful night, Gazing, as at a star in heaven apart. I watched outside the glimmer of thy light? No. no; nottiion. I saw no ghost of thee, No shadow at the window drawing near To look, perchance, if the night skies were clear, Or in that tomb to search some trace of me.” Every star must lie upon the night, and if the poet’s life had not been clouded by tbe shadow of suffering, we should probably never have had “Eantasio,” with its quaint gleams of wist ful pathos, and the strange drama of “ On ne badinepas avec Vamour," with its gay flowery ftnd hats a^.- ^gnt stockings'. How beginning, gradually unfolding the depths of! ,, , - , . .. _ . ® . , , . „ pretty, how fresh—even in the dusty city—are passion and despair. i I, , , , 1 these human blossoms ! with cheeks yet flushed nowhere but on the plentiful board of a genuine country home. No wonder onr farmer’s stride is independent, and he stops to drop a handful of nickles in the hand of that little beggar-boy leading his blind father—a generosity at which the lady iust behind him smiles a little con temptuously, as she gathers up her kilt-pleated silk from contact with the beggar’s garments. “Powerful rich she must be,” thinks our honest farmer as he notes the costly dress. He does not guess its history. At what cost of stinted meals and insufficient underwear and decent bed-clothes, to say nothing of days and nights of weary stitching at tailors’ work, taken in se cretly by an invalid mother and kept carefully hidden from Mrs. Grundy, before whose eyes appearances must be kept up, though the wolf be at the door. He little imagines—onr unso phisticated farmer—that such a price as this has been paid for that elegant silk which the young lady trails in the dust as she walks. No such weight of selfish vanity and cowardly sham drags at the pretty brown polonaise of that stately girl now passing. Her dress is earned by her own busy hands—hands that pick up types in our composing office as nimbly as though the letters were millet-seed and each taper finger was a rice-bird. It has grown later—the butterflies of fashion are all fluttering out, and yonder comes a stream of babies and trim nurses. Babies in satin- lined carriages, all bine hoods and embroidered cloaks; babies toddling beside their bonnes in the cunningest of braided gabrielles and jackets, People That Pass.—Our own genus homo is ! by the kisses of their doting mothers. Laces more interesting to ns as a spectacle or as a an d furs, and soft, bright fabrics, seem native to study than any other object within the range of ! their delicate-colored, silken-haired prettiness; nature or art. That stream of humanity flowing j it is every mother’s best delight to dress them so constantly beneath my window fascinates me ! and put their beauty in the most fitting frame persistently. Over the broad bridge, on a golden afternoon such as this, passes within an hour every variety, it would seem, of human charac ter. Men, women and children, beggar and aristocrat, country farmer in free and easy wool hat, and merchant prince in glossiest stove pipe, seedy lounger out of work snd hurrying man of business, whose moments are precious, fresh-faced country girls anxious about the “set” of their pin-backs, and city belles sweeping along in their graceful draperies, that seem as she can. No wonder, then, that a look of pain and envy is east upon these dainty darlings by the poor woman who w r alks wearily past with a baby wrapped in her faded shawl and another little one in a patched calico apron, stumping along at her side. Well; life, and especially city life, is full of these sharp contrasts. Yonder, in the wake of these gay promenaders in Gainsborough hats, comes the rag-picker, intent on securing the bits of cotton and paper much a part of their shapes as the plumes of a i their trains sweep aside. Yonder, are poor, de tropic bird are a part of himself. How they hurry by, appear and disappear like the shadows of a magic lantern—problems of a moment, of whose character and pursuits we make brief guesses, founded on the peculi arity of walk and dress, of gesture and expres sion. What strong contrasts, too! yonder a well-fed, broad-clothed gentleman, with the im- formed creatures, writhing painfully along, al most crawling on the dust, yet carrying little bundles of pine kindling or baskets of fruit and beseeching you to buy. What troops of sweet-looking school-girls ! all in coquettish overdresses and striped stockings, with books under their arms, apples in their hands, and alas ! chewing-gum in their mouths. Blessed be not the Yankee that first invented posing carriage of one who has money in his pockets and friends par consequence; and behind ! chewing-gum! * him, a meager, out-at-elbows, sharp-visaged in- j dividual, stopping to lounge on the bridge- Dull Mithiii, Bright Without.—We catch railing, and looking, with anxious eyes, for i ourselves yawning over a pile of half-read ex something to “turn up.” Now, a barefoot news- J changes. Dull they seem—“stale, flat and un boy, with a rimless hat on his head, a bundle of ; profitable’’—though it may be the dullness lies papers under his arm and a cheery, chirping ! within ourselves, for who can feel enthused over cry on his lips; behind him, a little gentleman printer’s ink on a day full of such out-door in kid gloves and shiny boots; and jostling him j suggestions of Indian summer sweetness? And a burly, red-faced son of Erin, who glances j besides, this laboring of the political mountain with momentary compassion at the pale young ! does b ‘gin to grow monotonous, and we long for cripple being trundled in her invalid’s chair to | the ides of November that it may bring forth the the Surgical Institute for her hour of “treat ment.” Yonder goes a personage at whose voca tion we can make a ready guess. Full-bearded, elect mouse and end the quaternnial turmoil. The same old programme of abuse and vilifi cation, the same raking among the ashes of the eusy-coated, independent of carriage, looking ! candidates’ past lives for some smutty fault that about him with a kindly yet critical survey, we | shall score a black mark on his record. Is recognize that half philosopher, half bohemian, nothing new possible to the American election- the editor of a daily paper, whose somewhat rol- ! eering e ampaign ? licking tastes are held in check, and his private And the literary periodicals ! Really they are contempt for many of the humbugs he profes- : hardly more refreshing. There are few elec- sionally advocates is restrained by his some- trical scintillations, or else our brain is poorly what exaggerated sense of his own importance charged. Paucity of imagination marks the as the head-centre of one of those “lights of poems; sprightly society talk, commonplace sit- the world a printing press. | uations, graceful mediocrity characterize the Just behind him trips one of his satellites— stories and are hardly sufficient to keep one’s the ubiquitous reporter and purveyor of news, eyes from straying to that strip of tender blue without whose infusement of local sparkle the ! sky—that feathery cloud—like the stray wing of daily sheet, in spite of the heavy political strength an angel that shows above the rows of brick of his chief, would be as champagne without the walls. I know in what glory of blue and scarlet bead. Note-book and pencil in side pocket, and gold, in what brooding purply mist and hair unkempt, sharp, restless eyes on the look- caw of crows and whir of partridge wings and out for an item, but not too intent upon busi- ! music of bird and brook, the Autumn holds her ness not to beam with pleasure as that trio of j levee away out among the hills, beauties nod to him in passing—nod most; That glimpse of hazy blue sky suggests it all. graciously, too, for it is well to keep on his right j side; there is no telling how soon he may be j ... , , , . ’ , . , t • .1. • . Notwithstanding the increase of Sunday-schools called upon to expansively Jenkinize their wed- : tbe R ev yj r Spurgeon, of London, is afraid “there ding receptions, or chronicle some “society ; jg a plentiful lack of good, old-fashioned study of movement ” of theirs among the local items; or, j the Bible.” Dull Farmers.—A pleasant writer gives us the following picture of the mental barrenness of certain New England farmers. Is the type he describes altogether unknown upon our side of “Mason and Dixon’s” line? We have among us intelligent, wide-awake farmers, who keep pace with the world’s progress and cultivate their minds and hearts as well as their acres. But there is another class who drop behind and grow vacuous through a neglect of the social affections, and a proper interest in what is going on in the great world outside their fences. They set their faces against the “nonsense,” which they style everything not connected with work or saving—against all beautiful ameliorating in- , fluences, such as the introduction into their homes of books, of modern life, pictures, mus- j ical or social recreations, and even against that ; best and cheapest of mind brighteners—the fam ily newspaper. Here is what our author says about the “West Pekin ” farmer: “Great men have come from the rural stock of our nation before now; and perhaps the people of West Pekin have earned the right to lie fallow; but whether this is so or not, it is certain that they often evince an aptness to open the mouth and stand agape at unusual encoun ters, which one cannot well dissociate from ideas of a complete mental repose. “ If they have no thoughts, they have not the irrelevance and superfluity of words; they are a signally silent race. I have seen two of them, old neighbors, meet after an absence, and when they had hornily rattled their callous palms to gether, stand staring at each other, their dry, serrated lips falling apart, their jaws mutely working np and down, their pale-blue eyes va cantly winking, and their weather-beaten faces as wholly discharged of expression as the gable ends of two barns confronting each other from opposite sides of the road; no figure can portray the grotesqueness of their persons, with their feet thrust into their heavy boots, and their clothes—originally misshapen in a slop-shop after some by-gone fashion, and now curiously warped, outgrown, outworn—climbing up their legs and mounting upon their stooping shoul ders.” More gracious and encouraging is the sketch the same anthor gives ns of the wives and daugh ters of these New England farmers; and here too we may mark a similar difference in the male and female members of many of our Southern country homes. The latter are unusually more bright, more alive and interested, more fertile in resources and suggestions than the male members of the household, though their sur roundings are the same. “Onr Anglo-Saxon stock in many country neighborhoods of New England seems weather, beaten in mind as in face; and this may account for the greater quick-wittedness of the. women, whose in-door life is more protected from the inclemency of onr skies. It is certain that they are far readier than the men, more intelligent, gracious and graceful, and with their able conni vance the farmer stays the adversity creeping upon his class,if he does not retrieve its old pros perity. In the winter his daughters teach school, and in the summer they help their mo ther through her enterprise of taking boarders. The farm feeds them all, but from the women’s labor comes thrice the ready money that the land ever yields, and it is they who keep alive the sense of all higher and finer things, Heaven knows with what heroic patience and devoted endeavor. The house shines, through them, with fresh paper and paint (year by year they add to those comforts and meek aspirations towards luxury which the summer guest accepts so lightly when he comes, smiling askance at the parlor organ in the corner, and the black- walnut-framed chromo-lithographs on the walls. ” j The Society is out of debt and has a surplus of cash on hand, and is better able than ever to 1 give a grand exhibition next year. We have had nothing from the Newnan Fair, j The Washington County, Ga. and Richmond, Ya. Fairs take place this week. EDITORIAL MENTION. Oue able Health Editor, Dr. J. Steinback Wil son, has just returned from New York and the Centennial, vastly refreshed and with a budget of new ideas on the Turkish Bath, and for his already popular department in this paper. We welcome him hack. We are pleased to know that the beautiful “Centennial Poem” of ourpnpnlar and talented minister the Rev. J. H. Martin, of the First Presbyterian Church, has attracted much atten tion among cultivated people. We give here a letter he received sometime since from the Uni versity of Virginia: Libeaby University of Ya., Sept. 5th, ’76. Rev. Joseph W. Martin—Deab Sib: I have the honor to acknowledge the receipt of “The Declaration of Independence, A Centennial Poem,” and have been instructed by the Faculty of this Institution to tender yon their sincere thanks for the same. Most respectfully, your ob’t servant, Wm. Wertenbebkeb, Librarian. Local Fairs in the South.—The Greenesboro Georgia Fair passed off successfully and pleas antly last week in the good old town of Greenes boro, and we hope it will prove largely benefi cial to the Agricultural and home interests of that splendid county. Among the notable events of the week was a delightful Musical en tertainment at the hospitable residence of Dr. Wm. Morgan. He is an enthusiastic genius, a passionate lover of music and a most hospita ble and public spirited citizen. Misses Leila Davis and Lula Allen, two of the sweetest little girls (little when we knew them) in Georgia, won the palms for proficiency on the piano. Master Boswell, of Penfield, 12 years of age took the prize for declamation. Miss Gussie King, of Athens, was declared by a formal vote to be the prettiest and most accomplised young lady at the Fair. The Hotels were all crowded to overflowing. Judge Dougherty, Col. Wm. T. Doster, Col. W. G. Johnston and Mrs. Jeff Mapp, all keep good houses. The Rome Geobgia Fate is pronounced by correspondents to have been decidedly credita ble, The portraits of McDonald, Dr. Dagg and Rev. Dr. Hillyer, in the Art Gallery were gen erally admired for the exquisite skill displayed by the fair Artist, Miss Kate Hillyer, of Rome. The Griffin Georgia Fate passed off success fully week before last. We have had no par ticulars. The Eighth Annual Exhibition of the Lynch burg, Ya., Agricultural and Mechanical Society ended on the 28th, and the Daily News of that city says the friends of the Society have cause to congratulate themselves on the beautiful weather which contributed to the enjoyment of the oc casion. The exhibition was a grand success. Prof. B. Mallon, the very efficient and popu lar Superintendent of the Public Schools of the city has this to say of them in his third annual report : “The schools have passed through the first five years of their existence without suspension or serious interruption of any sort, and it is not too much to say that they have firmly established themselves in the affections of the people of our city. It is true that from the beginning there were those who opposed the movement; some because it was a change, others because they could not think the schools, would be good enough for their children. Others still, who, having no children to be educated, were un willing that their property, although enhanced in value by the existence of the schools, should contribute to the support of such schools. But the experiment of public education of the chil dren of the entire community has been made, and has proved successful, as it always will with a fair trial. The schools have given instruction to about six thousand children since their estab lishment, more than twice the number, it is safe to say, that would have received instruction without the existence of the public schools. The children of all classes of our citizens, rich and poor, have had free admission to these schools, with equal privileges. The schools have been steadily improving in the character of their management and discipline, the equality of in struction, and the general results attained. This progress is chiefly due to the fact that in the public schools the teachers have a common in terest. They are constantly preparing their work with regard to both their methods and re- suls, and are learning from one another—the younger and less experienced from the wiser, and all are imbued with a spirit of progress and a professional zeal and pride not likely to he found in isolated work. Parents in general have given a cordial sup port to teachers, and have required their chil dren to conform to the rules of the school. The children themselves are attached to the schools, giving steady attendance, and exhibiting an in terest in their work, and affection for their teachers. The pleasant relations existing be tween the scholars and teachers in most of the schools is a noticeable characteristic, and has been frequently and favorably commented upon by intelligent visitors from abroad. We are pleased to note the existence of sev eral musical clubs in this city, and it is grat ifying to know that all of them possess much fine musical talent. The “Rossini” and “Bee thoven ” are the leading clubs, and we believe there is a commendable rivalry between them. Among the members of the “Beethoven” we find the following array of brilliant amateurs, many of whom have made considerable reputa tion in the world of song. Mrs. L. H. Clark, Mrs. P. H. Snook, Mrs. Ed. Werner, Mrs. Gads den King, Mrs. Moore, Mrs. Robert Farrar, Misses Emily Harper, Lula McClendon, Wurm and Moore. And among the male members we find Professor Wurm, Messrs. Ed. Werner, Gus Haines, Percy Stevens, W. H. Parkins, W. D. Luckie, Alex. King and Mr. Bellingrath. Pro fessor Shultze, of the Savannah Musical Con- servatary, is the Director. It has a large hall and a thousand dollar piano. The “Rossini” club, we learn, has the “ Bohemian Girl” in re hearsal for public rendition at an early day. Success to all our amateur musicians ! CREAM OF THE NEWS CONDENSED INTO A NUTSHELL. One of the largest droves of cat tle ever seen in any place was driven from Texas a few weeks ago from Captain King s ranche, Nueces county, to Kansas. The herd numbered 30,000 horned cat tle, and was attended by seven hundred drivers. On the 8th inst. Prof. Starkes’ Female Acade my, at Paris, Texas, was entirely destroyed by fire, with all its contents. The young lady boarders lost their wardrobes, and two new pianos were consumed. The heirs of William Penn now receive from the British Government, and are to receive “forever,” §20,000 a year, in compensation for their pro prietary rights in Pennsylvania. The Secretary of the Treasury has been notified of the shipment of three-quarters of a million dol lars of gold by Rothschild, direct to the United States Treasury, in payment for four and a half per cent, bonds. The five largest nations, according to population, are in the order named, China, Great Britain, Rus sia, Germany, United States, Brazil; according to standing armies, Russia, Germany, France Aus tria, Great Britain. The German Parliament opened at Berlin, Oct. 30., with a speech from the throne. The relations existing between Germany and all foreign govern ments are represented as satisfactory. The Em peror desires to maintain friendly relations with all the powers on the subject of the Turkish diffi culties. The Emperor says the German govern ment will only attempt mediation if the peace of Europe is threatened. Whatever may arise trom the present eastern complication, Germany will not shed her blood except in the event of her interests and honor becoming imperiled. The Centennial Bourses interpiet the speech of Emperor William on the opening ofi the German Parliament as unfavorable. M. DuSoumard has replied to the inquiry of the French government, touching the authenticity of the official letter alleged to have been written by him against the Centennial Exhibition. He de clares the letter a fabrication. TheN. Y. Tribune says it is settled that there will be three tickets in the field this year for county and city offices. The Republicans have refused all coalition with Mr. Green and his independents. Mr. Jno. A. Dix will be the Republican nominee for Mayor. Lightning, at Searton, HI., Oct. 30, struck Con- ded’s warehouse. Loss about S60.000; fully in sured. Artists in France—The State an Alma Mateb. —It is easy for a man to rise in France. The paths of ambition and honorable distinction are open to the humblest artisan. If a working-man have artistic or musical tastes he can cultivate them to their full at the expense of the State, and in the working-classes, as they now exist, there are innnmerable musical and artistic proficients, who have educated themselves, by means of the help and encouragement of public institutions, to a higher level than that of the mere mechanic. In music especially the workmen of France are ad vanced. If you pass a work-shop in the streets you hear the full voices of the cheery, happy-natured workmen combine in a glee or a round; and as I write I can hear the strong notes of a house-painter opposite, who is executing some of the most diffi cult airs in “LeNozze di Figaro” of Mozart. “If we were obliged to pay to enter life,” says the younger Dumas, “how many would demand the return of our money on departing ?’ ’ Aye, eye, Master Dumas, life’s “all a fleeting show, for man’s illusion given.”