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Hitter-Sweet.
I am building oe’r buried pleasures
A cair” that shnll mark their bed;
I am telling the tale of treasures
That have turned from tine gold to lead;
I am tuning my lute to measures—
Dear measures!—whose soul is fled.
Bitte- sweet in the sad December,
The remembrance of May, Juliette'!
Say, love, do you dare to remember?
Sweet love, can you bear to forget?
I am strayi g by sullen rivers
That prattle no moTe of spring—
By glades where no sunbeam quivers—
In woods where no linnets sing,
But only the cypress shivers.
Brushed.by the night-bird’s wing
And yet would I fain remember
That once it was May, Juliette!
Not even the sad Df cember
Can force us to quite forget-
Oe’rtfcis cairn shall I c ase to ponder,
And scatter it stone from stone?
Shall I break, ere I grow yet fonder,
This lute with its mocking tone?
And 6hall I no longer wander
In woods wheifce the birds have flown?
Ah! bitter-sweet in December
The remembrance of May, Juliette!
Sweet love, do y u dare to remember?*
Sweet love, can you bear to torgel?
“FORTY YEARS AGO.’’
Drifting Sands from the Mountains
and Foot-hills of Northeast Georgia-
A Brilliant Romance Based Upon Facts.
By G. J. N. WILSON.
CHAPTER I.
Georgia is justly called the Empire State of the
South, and yet how few, even of Georgians
know that their State once bore the beautiful
name of Aziliaf ... . .
Historians while delving amid the tomes of the
past, bave strangely failed to note the existence of
a gram, from the Palatine of the Pro' ince of
Carolina, to Sir Robert Montgomery, of all the
land lying between the Savannah and AJtamaha
rivers and inwaid tothe ApaJachianchain of moun
tains, under the name and style of “The Margra-
vate of-Azi ia.”
This charming name was lost in the coramot ons
of the times. The unknown region to which it ap
plied was almost forgotten until fifteen years after,
when the cruelty of a London jailor induced the
first steps in a series of events which resulted in the
establishment of the great Commonwealth of Geor
gia, and opened the way to a field of labor " he- e
the innocence of the Moravian, the fortitude of the
Saizbuigher, the benevolence of Herbeit, the devo
tion of M’Leod, the pietv of the Wesleys, the zeal
of Whitfield, and the philanthropy of Oglethorpe
found a congenial clime—where all those who em
barked at Gra esend and landed at Savannah ;
who stood under ‘‘The Four Pine Trees at, \am-
macravv,” and assemb e<! at the memorable “Treaty
at Coweta,” were allowed to breathe the air of
freedom. .
The same year in which George III. signed tae
chaifer grantingautlioiiiy to establish the colony
of Georgia, George V\ ashington was given to the
world With that great and good man the infant
settlement grew, and with his name was enrolled
upon the page of history; and there, witli an area
nearly as large as allot New England, and one fifth
larger than its mother eoun ry still occupies ila-
front rank in .the roll of states. ....
Now her hills and valleys smile with cultivated
fields or are dotted with thriving towns, bities
send tip their smoke and their busy hum, and
through, nit her wide extent is heard ttie rush of the
locomotive along her steel-net work of railway
while the clatter of her thousand workshops, and
ihe whirr of her mills blend with tlie sounds of the
church and the school bell. .
Georgia holds the front place in southern civili
zation and pi ogress. To the historian, the tourist,
the politician, the poet, Georgia is a locality of spe
cial interest’ But yet there are portions of t which
even now are little*known. Beyond the hills that
skirt their region of nigged mountain and fair val-
lev the traveler sometimes penetrates, but he finds
out little of the life dwelling there. And at the
time when the characters lived that figure in the
strange and romantic, yet mainly true story that
follows, there were sections of North Eastern Geor
gia almost as little known as the wilds of interior
Africa, save to the few who dwelt wirliin those
fastnesses that seemed to forbid intercourse with
the outer world.
But what a w ildly beautiful and romantic region
it is; with its splintered crags and precipices, its cat
aracts dashing white with foam from heighisgreat-
er'than Niagara’s, itscnstal streams, filled with
sporting fish, it* fertile valleys that might yield
harvests to feed millions or pasture thousands of
cattle, yet were scantily cultivated by the hunter-
farmers, whose scattered ‘patches’ were ‘scratched’
by a scooter-plow, while mines, rich to an unknown
degree were untouched, their valuable deposits left
toenrich a more enterprising generations. The im
mense fores! s, roamed by herds of deer by day, and
ten iflic with the howl of the hungry wolf by nigLt,
were now and then traversed by small bands of
roving Indians—remnants of those who had taken
their w-eary march to the far off West, and an oc
casional adventurer who wanting more “elbow-
room,” shouldered his trusty rifle, and betook him
self, and sometimes his family to these gloomy sol
itudes.
But if this region whose romantic beauty, sur
passes that of Switzerland, was so little known to
the outside world, life, as enacted there at th it time
w as muc h less known.
What author has ever dreamed that in this ob
scure region, s- crets and mysteries involving entire
nations, were securely- hidden—that plots and coun
ter-plots in which great men and stupendous meas
ures were deeply concerned, have been matured
there—that these in whose veins the blood of no
bles proudly ran, have sought and found refuge
within its mountain recesses, and that events sur
passing the wildest flights of fiction, have transpir
ed within its secluded borders. To open a volume
of this unwritten history is the object of the follow
ing pages.
CHAPTER II.
In the year 1344, on a bright stream whose wa
ters meander through one of these counties of
North-Eastern Georgia, there lived a small family
by the name of Latrain. The husband, Melville La-
train, was a poor aud obscure man, about forty-
five years of age, and though regarded as strictly
honest, he was extremely slothful and improvident.
He had evidently seen better days; but as he grew'
in years the love of strong drink grew with him,
and at this period of life we find him a confirmed
drunkard. The wife, Cornelia Latrain, though not
remarkable for intelligence or personal beauty', was
for her gentle and affectionate disposition, greatly
loved by'those who knew her; and being strictly
virtuous, her example had salutary influence on all
arout.d her, except, perhaps, her husband, whose
di-sipa*ed habits caused her to suffer much pain
and anxiety. Their only child, Julius Latrain, was
a fine looking boy' of seven summers, and so highly-
endowed, intellectually that knowledge seemed lo
come to him intuitively'. In consequence of his am
iable disposition, and obliging manners, he was a
general favorite, and never failed to meet with a
hearty welcome, not only from me n, we men, and
children, but the domestic an mals seemed to love
him. He seemed to be destitute of those childish
passions which so often give pain and sorrow to pa
rents, and end in disgust and aversion on the part
of friends and acquaintances. Disobedience seem
ed never to have entered his mind, and he had nev
er been known to utter a iah* hood, or speak a ; ro-
fane or dsn speedful word.
This may seem an overdrawn porlrait, but the
finishing touch has not yet been placed upi n is. Hi?
piety and lieruty, wire to ul human appear.1 c ,
alisolutelv w.thout blemish—soremaikable that no
attempt will here be made to portray them.
He was wholly unlike his father or mother.nnd this
total want of resemblance frequently caused some
of the good old dames to openly declare that Julius
was a being of another world, and unfit to come in
contact with the rude storms of life. They also
pniphesie I that he would die in early life, arguing
that one so universally' beloved would not be al
lowed to assume the responsibilities of manhood,
that a rose, however pure an. i beautiful, could not
survive the chilling winds of w inter.
But living in a clime where the pure skies reached
down to kiss the mountains aropnd him, and the
flow-ers of spring sent forth a smile of welcome to
the coming summer, lime only planted more roses
in his che.-ks ami imparted strength and elasticity
to his limbs. Naturally inclined to improve Ins
mind and cultivate his heart, neither the ridicule of
the rude, nor the negligence of his friends, ever
caused him to idle away his time or engage in any
thing calculated to lead him into error. If nothing
greater was found to engage his attention, an old,
half-worn barlow-knife was, during his leisure
hours, constantly called into service. Wiih only
this, miniature piow'-stocks, wagons, threshing ma
chines, saw mills, weaver’s looms, and all kinds i f
household furniture that he Lad ever seen, were
constructed with a surprising degree of accuracy
and beauty.
In those days schools were few, and but poorly
conducted. Their history' would fill a curious vol
ume, and cause the present generation to read with
doubt and astonishment. Still, they weie some
thing her ter than none ; but Melville Latrain bad
neither the means nor the inclination to send Julius
to school. His mother could notread, and his father
would not if he could ; consequently, in order to
gratify' an ardent desire to learn how to spell, the
poor boy r was forced tosiepend updh his own exer
tions. These, when properly directed, have seldom
failed to accomplish- great and good results. Be
ginning here, our hero-boy entered the struggle
with the ten first leaves of the old “American tSpel-
lirg-Bo' k”—his entme libra y.
Thus at the tender age of seve 1 yeari, we fi id
Julius Latrain adrift upon the sea of life without
chart or c unpass ; and, except when allowed to re
main in the house, always alone ! He had neither
brother nor sister to join him in play, and there
was not another In tie boy in all the neighborhood.
To drive away this loneliness, and to gratify a nat
ural pas-ion for the love of nature, lie, one Satur
day- afternoon in early spring, sallied forth to take
a strole through 1 he forest hard by- his father’s
house.
In those days such expeditions were looked upon
bv children of the mrai districts w ith the highest
degree of pleasure, axil a part of almost every- Sat
urday- was, by them, claimed as a time for general
holiday. In this respect, how-ever, Julius Latrain
was not so fortunate as many other boys, his father
allowing him this privilege only once in two weeks,
anil sometimes not so often. Though uncommonly-
strong and robust for his age, he was too young to
venture far from home ; but young as he was, he
seklom failed tor-ad something profitable and in
teresting in the great book of nature that was
spread out before him. He particularly delighted
to dwell upon tha-e pages where the sparkling wa
ters, the variegated flowers, anil the golden dust on
the butterfly’s wings had placed their lovely im
print.
And though this was not the first excursion of the
kind, ho ve itured farther from home than 011 any
former occasion, and to this circumstance may be
attributed one of the most important, as well as
pleasant, events of his Life.
\\ liil- sitting upon the fence that skirled the for
est, watchin ; a bat till f but erflies that fhtf: r d ff in
every direction upon iiis approach, he dbieovered a
boy. larger.than himself, coming down the lane to
wards him. Hav ng b“en in tlife company of stran
gers but little, Julius felt disconcerted at first; but,
upon his near approach, the pleasant bearingof the
stranger banished all restraint, and they met on
terms of mutual familiarity-.
“Good morning, my litiJe friend,” said the stran
ger, stepping to tne fence and extending his hand
to JuLuJ.
There was something so charming in the manner
and .tone of the speaker, that Julius, without re
turning the salutation, rapturously exclaimed:
“Of J am so glad that you have come ! All
of tlie.se un-tty butterflies will soon be terribly scat-
{Atnji yy-■ 1 cuiiK't -e- hi w beautiful tfcev are 1
Look-it that big one with stripes upon his wmgs !
Is he not a pretty fellow {”
“Yes,” replied the young stranger, pleasantly,
“he is, indeed, very bi-autiful! Let us catch him
aud perhaps our next suit of new clothes will lie
striped in lb.; same pretty manner.”
“Sureenough; but,” continued the little Julius,
thoughtfully, “I once heard Joe Harper say- that
when I wish my clothes to be of the same color as
the butterfly, I must bite off its head. But that is
cruel and filthy too. This is contrary to what my
mother has often told me and I must obey her, you’
know. ”
“Ihat is well said, my- little friend; but let me
inform y-ou that Joe Harper is mistaken about bit
ing off the butterfly’s head, for that has nothing to
do w-itli (lie color of our clothes. I only- mentioned
it in jest. We will catch one, however, to examine
its beautiful color and then let i' go again.”
“Please not; we might hurt the little innocent
creature! When I caught one the other day, it
was so tender that all the pretty- paint on its wings
stuck to my fingers and 1 was compelled to leave it
almost dead.”
“Again well done, my- noble fellow,” exclaimed
the agreeable young stranger. “I see your heart
is in the right place. Though inexperienced my
self, I am persuaded that the boy who, through
principle, refuses to harm an insect, will not be
likely to hai many-other creature. So we will let
the butterflies go for the pre>ent and you can tell
me your name, for I shall he proud to place it on
the list of my friends.”,
“Julius Latrain.”
“Julius Latrain 1” repeated the stranger. “That
is a very pretty name and I have heard of it l>e-
fore. Are y-ou the little boy who gave Joe Harper
a little squ riel for some writing paper and a few
leaves of an old spelling book 1”
“The same; but I have no teacher and make a
poor out at spelling and w riting. By asking first
one and then another to show- me, I have managed
to learn all my letters and can form some of them
with a fire coal. Of the ten leaves I had at first,
only seven remain. Do not blame me. How much
I wish I had a new book aud some one to teach
me!’’
“I have two spelling books, but one of them is
thumbed and d ig eared, 1 think, however it is en
tire. The other is a new one which 1 wish to keep
1 ecause my- teacher gave it to me. What will you
give me for the old one ?”
“I have no money- to give for it.”
“Has your father any f”
“I suppose not,” replied Julius, sorrowfully.
“1 presume he would buy it for you if he had
the money- ?”
“I think that doubtful. He is—but I cannot
speak ill of my father.”
“That is still anolher proof of your noble nature.
Do not look so sad, for I will cheerfully give you
the book. I was only seeking to test you farther,
and the more I learn the more I admire. Your
heart is turned to the same strain of music that is
written on your face.”
“Thank you, sir, very much. I should prefer,
however, to give you something in return. Fray,
what shall it be s”
“Then say- the same y-ou gave Joe Harper.”
“O yes! Will you take a little squirrel for the
book; that is ? Excuse me, I have forgotten what
you said about, it.”
“I said that it is thumbed and dog-eared, but all
the leaves are in it.”
“I am sure that I do not know what that means.”
“I mean that my thumb has soiled seme of the
pages anil that the leaves are turned down at the
cormrs.”
“O yes, I understand you now ! If I can catch a
little squirrel, I will gladly give it for the book
any- w ay; but now I think, there is no one to teach
me.”
“Have you a brother who can read ?”
“I have neither brother nor sister.”
“Perhaps your parents will instruct you.”
“lam sorry-to say that my- motlier cannot spell
herself and my father—pardon me for saying ttiat
when I ask him to instruct me, he orders me away.
Still, I have some hope—enough to back me in get
ting the book. ”
“On what do your hopes depend ?”
“As 1 " ill soon be old enough to learn and am m
a fair way to get a new book, aunt Penny will
some! imes help me.”
“Who is aunt Penny V
“That Is all I know of her name, “■he ms been
coming to our house two ortliri 1 th 1 ■ ry- week
ever since 1 can ri mi tuber. I - t v \ yy much
because she has alw ays been so kin> i
‘ Is she really a relative of yours f”
“I think not. I call her aunt because she is so
1 good to me and mother.”
1 “She is good to your father, I supp'se.”
i “I do 110c know about that exactly-. Some how
I they seem to he afraid of each other. When father
: punishes me, he does not allow me to tell her of it,
| and I have often noticed that she prefers to come
to our house when he is absent.”
“Then she evidently intends her visits for’you
! and your mother only. Under tl*e circumstances,
I I wonder w hy she has not, before now, taught you
how- to spell f”
“Sliganil father both say that I ain too young to
learn, but she told me the other day that 1 he time
would soon come for me to begin my studies.”
“Odear, they are mistaken, and since no one!
else will assist you, I will sometimes teach y-on my-
seif. I have become so much interested in your I
welfare, that I will make you a present of the spel- |
ling book and give y-ou a reader for the squirrel. I
will bring the books with me when I return to
school next week.”
“1 thank you heartily, but now I think, catching
little squirrels is rather an uncertain business—so
y-ou had better keep the books until I get the pay-.”
“No; I will risk the chances. Tuough y-ou never
pay me, you shall have the books.”
“Then I shad be so happy. I had not dreamed of
having both a speller and reader for a long time to
come. I can never thank yon Enough for your
kindness, but I promise to do the best I can.”
“You doubtless will. It is. now growing late,
and I must hasten home. Wo gcxkibye, Julius.”
“Please stay- a moment longer,” said Julius, be
seechingly. ‘I must tell my mother anil aunt Penny*
of this pleasant meeting and I am sure that they,
as well as myself, would be glad to know your
n ire.”
"m.v name is Willie Montgomery. My- father
lives ten miles south of this and as there is no
school in our immediate neighborhood, I am now a
student in Mr. Willard’s school, which ns you i>er-
haps know, is in this vicinity. I heal'd at Mr. Wil
lard's house and expect to remain there through
the comiig summer. ’ I generi)?y go home once in
two weeks, but owing to bad weather I did not go
last Saturday. Three weeks seem very- long to be
away; but fai her always sends a servant to meet
me and as I have a good horse to ride, I will soon
be in my dear mother’s arms. I enjoy a gallop
over the hills like a hunter in all his glory ”
“I suppose such a life very delightful ; and
though I never expect to enjoy it my-self. there is
some consolation in knowing that others do.”
“I see. my little friend, that y-our mind is older and
larger than your body. Your young heart reaches
out for the happiness of others, anil will, in return,
come back laden with smiles for ijs own happiness.
If you, who are younger tfesa/myself, and with
limited opportunities, can indulge ill such senti
ments, what should be expected of one. who, like
myself, has been brought up in the lap of wealth,
and been guarded and protected by-a taiher and
mother, whose virtues are as neariy-perfect as earth
will allow them to lie. I fear t‘n>t I have fallen
short of the high position they have so faithfully-
labored to procure for me !’ But at all events,
Willie Montgomery w 11 be glad’to always share in
the love and frien l'sk ;• of Julius Latrain.”
“Willie Montgomery .1 Willie Montgomery-!” re-
p-ateil Julius, musingly. “I ha'I almost forgotten
your naoie. I like the way it sounds, and can now
easily remenib ;r it. How old are y-oq, Willie <”
“Four een, last month. I am a native of tfce State
of New York ; but when I was five y-ears old my
father moved to the place where he now lives. He
has, however, recently purchased a plantation in
tins vicinity, and will, perhaps, sometime move to
it. Then we w-ill be near neighbors, and I will
have a good opportunity to assist* you in your
studies. In the meantime, I hope we will see each
otner frequently. Good-bye.”
The li:ti * butterfly-watcher eagerly grasped Ihe
extended hand of his friend, w!u>, seeing that his
love was returned, chased a tejr from his eye, and
then walked slowly- away. Al. 11 thus, upon their
first meeting, these two am'aJfiboys separated.
When Julius arrived at hooKhe told his another
of all that had occurred berw^pn hi nisei t aui Wil
li?, and bounded away towards his father, ex
claiming : *
“O, father, I have just seen %e of llie best boys
•p.eli ihe world ! Jle he would give
me a spelling-book, ami tLuvffw- a Vi’rc *e squirc> nbe
would give me a nice reader a.Vo. Then say, father,
may I have a little time next Sunday- morning to
hunt, the squirrel ? Just think tow- well the one I
caught for Joe Harper paid me for my- trouble.
ase, sir. let me go f
“Pshaw ! What do you wdfot with such books
Yi u have no time to throw an ay upon such fool
ishness,” replied the hard-hearted man.
“But I will hoe corn and puli up grass in the j
garden every night until I make up all lost time.”
“1 have already-tolil you that you could have a
part of every other Saturday io carry on your
idleness, and now here y-ou are asking for a part of
Monday. If you keep op you will want a jiart of
every day—perhaps all-’’
“But, father, I want the books so much, and ”
“Hush your gab, then ! T lit rememher, if y-ou
idle away any time on Monday, you may expect a
whipping the*firs' time I catch you idle w.thout my
permission Take your choice.”
“1 w-ill take part of Monday morning, father, and
thank you for it. Willie will return to school on
that day, and perhaps I will have the squirrel
ready for him. When I get the books I think I can
work better and faster than I ever did in all my
life.”
“We shall see how that works ; but do not make
a fool of yourself,” said the father, turning care
lessly- away-.
(to be continued.)
—1 ^ 1 • -»—
The Sharpest Siren of the Day.—A New
York Correspondent says that gossip just now is
full tongucii concerning tJje adventures of Mrs.
Peek, one of the most remarkable female sharpers
ever known. She lived in seeming respectability
and elegance in Brooklyn, and wasa lovely creature,
whose winning waysehpated Old Time entirely out
of liis register—that marked her age at thirty-five.
Her house. No W7 Putnam avenue, is handsome and
aristocratic without, and within is 1 rnamented
with rich furniture and pictures, bric-a-brac and
works of art. Ellen, for that is her name, is alto
gether charming, with a slender peri oa of willowy
form, delicate features, deep, soft blue eyes, rose
complexion and full lips Her hand is small, and
traced with blue veins, which are visible through
the delicate skin. She was horn in Vermont, and
reared amid the common sense surroundings of
many thousand other lankee girls. In Brooklyn
she was a c insistent and respected church woman,
and reared a family of refined and bright young
girls. Where she got her training for her recent cx-
pio'ts no one knows It must have been genius, for
she could fool a preacher, a diamond peddler ora
si n'le millionui.-e. She beat Babbitt, the great soap
factor, out of $8H),0U0, and victimized Grady, the
si a-pest Jew peddler in America, out of as much
more in diamonds. One night last year a drunken
man, in evening dress, burst out of Ellen’s house at
midnight, vociferating “Police,” and the next
morning swore that lie had been robbed by the
in autiful lady who had been entertaining Him; but.
strange to say, the next morning swore that be had
le?n lying, and that Ellen, was a perfect lady. One
of her achievements was to investigate the interior
of a bank from a distant window with a powerful
opera-glass. This was her part of the work, and the
regular cracksmen did the other part with such suc
cess as to pan out about S10;),000; which is the exp'a-
II at ion, say the police, of the Manhattan Savings
Bank robbery. When arrest'd, Mrs. Peck was as
cool and calm as possible, and began to flirt with
tlie iawyers and then with the turnkeys of Hay-
rnond street jail. Klie has managed to hide her
fortune where not even her husband can find it. So
there is little chance of recovery for her victims.
Professor George Jackson, a white but thick-
skinned teacher in the Gaines High School of
Cincinnati, was married on Thursday to Miss
Virginia Gordon, colored. The bride, who is
young, is the daughter of a colored man worth
SDOOOO. Jackson is thirty years old and not
blind as to eyesight.
North Adams. Mass., has an elipement. Mrs.
Lizzie Hayden, a young woman of twentyseven
years, and the hitherto respooted wife of James
Hayden, ran away with John C. Bailey, a man
of family, a few days ago. There is no particu
lar romance about the thing, the cruelty of
Bailey in leaving his family without support
taking that element out altogether. North Ad
ams would do well to catch and tar and leather
or hang him.
Washington has a sensation in the breaking
iff of an engagement between Miss E lie S an-
tou, a dangbti r of the lute E 1 win 11. Man tor,
and Rustem Eff ndi. Secretary of the 1 uri isli
legation. This diflicnlty was caused by the
lady‘s guardians retusing to give the bridegroom
unconditional c.mtrol ol her propeity.
Courting a Farmer’s Daughter.
OR;
A Horn Too Much.
By H. G.
William Barlow fell in love with a farmer's ilaugh-
ter, soon after his appearance among us; but sup
pose lie did? Don’t young men often fall in love
with farmers’daughters?—and mire than that.d n't
young men often marry them? Mr. William Bar-
low was a man “iree born and of mature age, " and
therefore it is to lie presumed to fall in love with, or
even marry a lariner’s daughter extended as tar as
any other person; that is, provided she loved him
well enough, and he loved her well enough; and
provided iheold gentleman, whom s!iecalledj"dad ’
was willing; and lastly, provid'd her “maim” did
not feel disposed to kick up a muss about it- Bu
perhaps I am branching out a litt e too far. We
have it that Mr. William Barlow fell in love with a
farmer’s daughter; now. the question isiliil he mar
ry her? or rather, as we would say “out West,” dill
Mr. William Barlow and tlie farmer’s daughter get
married? No, they did not. Why? Did he not en
tertain for her sutiie e t tenderness to warrant him
in making her his wife? He did. Then, as a novelist
would say, did she not indicate to him that hi* love
was returned? She did. Was her dad so cruel-
hearted as to refuse liis sanction to their union?
Nothing of the kind. Did her inarm manage to put
a check to tlie progress of affairs? By no means,
—on the other hand, she would not have had them
stop for a smart chunk of a fortune. Then why did
they not many? Ah, there’s tlie question. But I
will let him tell his own story:
“Soon arter I hau'ed up out here in Illinois—not
exactly here, but in another part of tlie State, I got
acquainted with Captain Smith's darter Sally: and
I must say sne was the handsomest girl I ever met
with I’ll swow, site was a rsiie peeler—bright.black
eyes; pretty little tr.ouih, alius curled with a smile;
soft brown hair all twisted in with poses from her
own little flower-garden, and such like. You could
not guess how soon I took a shine arter her; and the
best of] he joke was, she git in the same tix arter
mejjest about as soon.”
“Well , Sally and me, we talked tlie matter over
and the first thing we knowed, we’d concluded to
get hitched in the same harness, so we could [rull
together as longas we lived. 1 recollect jest liow I
brought it up. Sally and me, we were a selling on
the back porch, and I was breaking up a corn stalk
anil flipping Ihe pieces at her, and she was sending
smiles at me, that made me feel like I was dangling
at the lower end of a rainbow up to my chin in ro
ses- At last 1 could stand it no longer, andsez, I:
“Sally, I’ll swow to gracious, you're the prettiest
critter ! ever sot eyes on.”
“Shaw, I know better" sez she, all in a twitter.
“ ’Pon my word yon are,” sez I, “and you needn’t
go and try to deny it.”
“Yes I will,” sez she.
“1 didn't seem to notice that, but sez I,‘If I could
only be with you alters, a looking in those lovely
eyes ofyourn,and a drinking in them sweetsrniles,
(you see, I read that in a book,) I'd never want to
find a better world than this Say. Sally, bow'd
you like to hiteli traces with me and let folks call
you Mrs. Barlow?”
“ *IIush. vv iiliain!’ sez she, ‘or I will slap you, for I
know you ain’t in artiest,’
“ ’Pan my word, I be,’ sez I; and then I throws tlie
corn stalk away, and fetches a hitch up towards
her and puts my arm around her waist.
“Well, sirs, that did the business. She dropped
her pretty head on oiy shoulder, like she couldn't
help it, the big tears came into her eyes, and then
she said:
“ ‘if the old folks are willing, I am—you may ask
them.’
Mlit and jttumor.
Men who have made their mark—Those who can
not write.
Disgusted quest; “Waiter. I’m sure this napkin
lias been used before.” Waiter: “Be four sur' Sure
you’re only the third as has had it.”
“Just keeping it lighled for another boy ” is tlie
latest juvenile invention when a mother sudden I v
comes upon her little boy with a cigar in his
yioutii.
A daily paper of a recent date contains an adver
tisement, for a serving girl: “one who would not be
above placing herself on an equality with the rest
of the family.”
An old German song says the world is ’ikea
bottle of beer, with froth at the top, clear whole
some drink in the middle and hard work trouble
sorrow, and crime at the bottom.
“She never told tier love" that she had been eat
ing onions, hut tlieir chairs were found a good ways
apart tlie next morning.”
“Fellow-citizens,” said a
ing an audience - f colored
lina, “my skin is white, it
blacker than youas.”
carpet-bagger, address-
people in South Caro
ls true, but my soul is
A gentleman, after dinner at a restaurant, paid
liis bill and was about leaving, when the waiter
suggested that the amount did not include the at
tendant. “Ah!” said tlie man; “hut I didn't eat
tlie waiter.”
A lawyer and a minister were both indebted to
their landlady, and were too poor to pay. They de
termined upon the following plan for cancelling
the debts: the lawyer man Id tlie lady, and tlie
miuister per ormed the ceremony.
“My dear,” said a petulant husband, the o’lier
dav on finding a piece broken out of his saucer,
and another out of liis plate, “it seems to me that
everything belonging to you is broken.” ‘‘Well,
yes, my love,” responded the wife, ‘ even you seem
to he a little cracked.”
A green sportsman after a fruitless tramp, met a
boy with tears in his eyes, and said, “i say. young-
ster, is there anything to shoot around here?” 1 he
boy answered: ‘ Nothing just 'bout here, but there’s
the school-master Collier tide of tlie hill. I wish
you’d shoot him l”
Science says that it took millions of years to
evolve man irom an oyster; observation shows that
it takes less than a minute to transfer the oysler
into a man.
.An old bachelor explains the courageof theTurks
by saying that a man with more than one wife
ought to be willing to face deatli at any time.
A sclior'- n 8 er thus describes a money-lende
“He serves you in the present tense: he leads in
Ihe cohditional mood; keeps you in tlie subjective
and ruins you in tlie future!”
Various animals lend their mite to make up the
English language. For instance: Man-agement
dog-mat ism, cat-egory, cro-noiogy, pus-ilhinimous
duc-ttiity, rat itica-tion, anil so on.
In all guns of great calibre you find a great bore.
In a man of small calibre you find a great bore.
Conclusion.—A man of small calibre may easily
pass for a great guii.
A minister who had twice married the same
couple-a divorce ensuing between the two mar
riages— remarked that he didn't wish to add a re
pairing department to liis busine.-s.
“Good gracious, fellows; but that tuck me about
the short ribs. I'd never once thought about hav
ing to a k the old folks. But I had gone too fur to
back out, so Ijes let, on, as if it waru't no more'n
I was expecting and then I told her J would come
over and talk to them about it in a week or so.
“Agreeable to promise, I went over to Captain
Smith's; but I felt mortal streaked, for I knowed I
had a ticklish job before me. This thing of asking
a couple o’ old folks for tlieir girl, when you haven’t
much idee hut that tlieir feeling* are against you,
ain’t th“ thing it might be cracked up to be.
“ .Vhen I got to the Captains, it was evening. I
found Sally out by the gate milking the cows- I
stopped and g t to talking to her, anil then I pitch
ed a sly glance at tlie house, and saw the old man
and woman peeking through tlie window at me.
Geiioky! but that nu de me more streaked than
ever, for the thought struck me that Sally hail been
andgi etheai a hi- t about what I wa* goingio
say to them. I diil't let on, though, but kepttalk-
ing to the g>i., and at the same time they kept on
peekliio tin oiiuii :;-.i ' V. -‘4 . - l*r»-ty soon. S illy
began to milk a big brindle cow.and then she look
ed every w'lic'i a way to see that no one was in
hearing, and then she sez to me, sez she:
“William, ibis is my enw, and it will be our’n as
soon as we get married.’’
I stepped up to her kinder familliar like, but not
being used to seeing men about, it put the fidgets in
her. and she’wo'uldu't stand still anymore for Sally
to finish milking.
Brindle; so. jade; stand still, you old huzzy!
So, now. so. lady! so o now I tell '-on; so-o-o-o,
there; hist upyerfooi; so-o-o-o!’ said she, but old
Brindle never paida“y attention to her. At last,
T com ludeil to take the contrary brute in hand my
self, not only to m-ike her stand, but to show the
old folks, who were still peeking out of the winder,
that I was not afraid t.o lay aud take hold of things.
So, without f other reflection. I grabbed old Britidle
by one ol h r horns, and away we went, ripitytipity
down tlie lane, I astickiug my heels in the ground,
and a pulling back, and old brindle a sticking her
toes into the ground and a run ing forwards, jest
the same-s if I hadn't been there. At last my holt
slipped, some way, and ilowin I came on my head,
ai d way win: o I Br mile shaking her noggin, as
if there wasa nest of hornets after her.
“i got up and shook myself, and the first tiling I
knew, I found that I had old Brindle’s horn si i 11 in
iny hand. This done the work. Sally bawled out
a crying and went to bemeaning me to all creation.
Then I looked up towards the house, and there i
saw her o.d dad coming down, apparently in a
great splutter.”
“ What then?” asked one of Mr. Barlow's listeners
after wail in ; a considerable time for a continuation
of the story.
“Why, I felt like I had taken a horn too much,”
replied lie, “so I jest threw it over into the meadow
and toddled; and I kept on a toddling tili I got so
far that 1 have not heard from any of them since.’’
The Two Kinds of Flirts.—Flirts are of two
kinds; tlie frivolous anil the ser.ous, the frothy and
the sentimental, those who are mere light come
dians throughout—and tlioi-e who have a touch of
tragedy, and w ho talk largely of the hollowness of
life, the affinity of souls, the sorrows of the heart;
the miseries found in loneliness, and their need of
a sympathetic nature to understand ttieir own.
The first are of course the least dangerous, if the
most contemptible: the last are the most wicked.
Two frothy flirts sailing round each otiier with
manifold dippings and salutes, like two yachts
which will neither race nor sail apart, make good
fun for the bystandeis who read the various signals
and understand tlie whole of the by-play. They
see that it means nothing when he sits out with her
for a whole evening under the pretence of a head
ache, and she refuses to dance with any one but
himself under the pretence of being tired. They
are only flirting, as they lounge t. gether on the
settee in ihe dimmest corner of that little off room,
a id he plays with her fan while she twists her
bracelets around her arms, or, if she is quite cool
auk knows her part to perfection, lets her hands lie
idle in hi r lap, while only her lips and eyes move.
Wanderers drift into the little sanc'uary unawares,
but are sure to drift out of it again. The densest
are made to feel that they are not wanted, and their
presence is an intrusion. Though the room is nom
inally free to all, these two have usurped the sole
possession; and if the dancing-room rings with in-
dtgnant remarks or jeering commentaries, tlie two
sitting therein care nothing, absorbed as they are
in the fascination of flirting—which is to serious
love making what harnessing butterflies to acorn
cups is to the capture of a siren, or the race wherein
failure is followed by deatli.
Or take the tragic flirt from the other side of the
house, that beautiful little woman with the big eyes
anil the melodious voice, who sings sad love songs
as if she felt them, and around whom melancholy
clings as a peaceful garment, how many men has
not she captured and drowned in the unfathomable
abyss of her vaniiy. She looks all sorrow, and her
life lias not a cloud; she seems all sentiment, and
no nether millstone is harder, more prosaic; she
gives you the impression of one seeking cons.la-
tion, and the merriest little grig who dances all
night in pink and rosebuds is not more light of
heart, more free from care. Klie is a sham all
throughout, and she attitudinizes—she does not
feel. But clever men believe in her and good ones
fall down and worship her. and she rides on the
crest of the wave in the world’s esteem; while her
sister, who disdains falsehood aud coquetry alike,
gets only scant admiration, and her heart, which
never deceived human being, is-disregarded as a
common kind of thing, worth little love aud less
endeavors.
So t*'ey go on, these butterflies on theoneliand,
and shining, lovely, insidious, but deadly stinging
creatures 011 tlie otiier. The woi id awards a larger
share of blame to tne open flirt, but humanity gets
its worst smarts from theconcealed.
Many women are loved without knowing it, and
mntij lliink they are loved w lien they are Lot; they
find out their mistake after marriage.
Widow Oliver ha'ina bom refused permission to
lectin eat 1 lie Academy of Music in Cumberland,
will make her next effort iu Baltimore.
A lady of fashionable distinction being a subject
of conversation in Robert Hall’s presence, someone
said, “is she not a great belle?” “J should think
so,” said Hall, “for she is noisy, empty and brazen.”
A witty French lady, who was an “adopted”
member of a famous military corps, when a cigar
was lighted in her presence with the remark. -I
suppose they smoke in your regiment?” said, “Yes
but not in my company.”
A gentleman wrote a letter for his black servant
who was unable to read or write himself. Having
finished the letter, the gentleman asked: “Is tliaT.
all, Tom?" “Yes,” said Tom, “only just say, ‘Please
excuse tAtil spellin’ an’ writiu’.’ ”
The Kuinbow—oil, now I hate to hear those
sorry poetasters sing
Of tlie wedding link that binds the golden sun
beams to tlie showers!
ias ever fancied it tlie skippin°--
ng,
ofthe landscape’s balmy basket
lowers?
Or which of them has viewed it as a swing on yon
der plane,
Just inverted hy some frolicsome celestials in
tlieir mirth.
With a swoop tha’ had upset the blessed an°-el of
the rain, °
Till Ins stock of liquid jewelry came tumbling to
the earth?
Or thought it hose or symphon from the water-
tanks on high,
Leading down the shining firmament to many a
thirsty place!
Or the clothes-line upon which the dripping c’ouds
are bung to dry.
Or the bell-rope piilled by Nature when she wants
to wasii her face ?
Oh, how I hate to hear those sorry poetasters sin"
Of the green and gold and purp*le of the archway
of the showers ! J
Which of them has ever fancied it the beamy arm
of spring,
Bent in love to fill the landscape’s balmy basket
full of flowers?
Which of tt,
Of'
tilled
1 of them l
«|O f 8 Pri
Some months ago an Oregon man named his girl-
baby after Queen Victoria, and wrote to the Queen
to that effect- Not hearing from her Majesty he
changed tlie child’s name to Hannah. ’
A Miss Tanner, who recently married a widower
named Hyde, with eleven children, says she has
given up tanning and is now dressing Hydes.
In the city of Halifax there dwelta lawyer craflv
subtle and cute as a fox. An Indian of the Miami
tribe, named Simon, owed him some monev The
poor red mail brought tlie money to his creditor
anil waited, expecting the lawyer to write a receipt’
“What are you waiting for?’’ said the lawyer.
“Receipt.” si.id tlie Innian.
“A receipt,’ said the lawyer, “what do you know
about a receipt? Can you understand the nature
ol a receipt? Tell me tlie use of one, and I will give
it to you.”
The Indian looked at him a moment and then
said:
“ Spose maybe die; me go to hebeu; me find gate
locked; me see tlie ’postle Peter; he say -Simon
what do you want?’ ‘Me w - * *- • — *
‘you pay Mr- J- dat money?’
to hunt all ober h to find
He got tlie receipt.
“Will you love me thus forever?”
And she looked into his eyes
Witli a glance that seemed a token
Of the fervor of her sighs.
“I wudu't guaranty it,”
With a smile, responded Pat,
“For I’m hardly av the notion
Thai I’ll last as long as that I”
Blessed is the man wholoveth his wife’s relations;
and not only blessed, but also scarce.
The girl who “hates oysters” at ho oe, is always
at a church festival, with her boss appetite in read
iness, and an earnest desire to tackle anything for
Ihe good of the cause aud the young man who parts
his hair in tlie middle.
mn, 10 get in/ He say.
What me do? me hab
you.”
It is funny, but a soft-palmed woman can pass a
hot pie-plate to her neighbor at the table, with a
smile as sweet as distilled honey, while a man, as
horny as a crocodile’s back, will drop it to the
floor and howl around like a Sioux Indian at a
scalp dance.
If a small boy slides down a flight of stairs on his
head, a little piece of candy will generally cure
him; but just let liis mother waft her old slipper
across the base of his trousers for the space of a
second, aud there is not enough balm iu Gilead to
soothe the agitation.
“Aren’t you rather too old to ride for half price?”
said a ticket clerk to tlie elder of two boys. “Well,”
remarked tlie youth, “I am under fourteen, aud this
boy with me is under six. That don’t make twenty,
and you will take two boys under ten for half each ”
And he took them.
“Ani Moses was an austere man,” read tlie min
ister from the Bible. ‘Dar now, you dun hear dal
Sam? De Scriptures say Moses was an oysternum 1
aud you dun flung at me dat seliin’ oysters wasn”*
a ’spectable busiuess. If it is good euough fo
Moses, it’s ’spectable euough for me.”
We don’t object to young people extracting all
tlie pleasure possible as they journey through life
But youug men with six dollar salaries can’t he ex
pected to attend more than three dances a week
a* d have much money left to put in the eo liiribii
tion box Sunday morning.
A Frenchman has found that sawdust dried and
sifted clear of the larger pai tides is a better article
than hair to use 111 mortar for tlie purpose ol kei p-
ing it lrom peeling oil. it may do for mortar but
sawdust will never take the place of hair in butter
lor the purpose of making it go a great way.