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BYyBAWTELL & JONES. €utl)bcvt Appeal. Terms of Sub^pription: '0»« Ybab $2 O'* | *ix Months $1 25 INVARIABLY IN ADVANCK. Rates of Advertising s One squai't, (ten lines or les«,) ffl O 0 for the •first sn.l 75 c“iit< fo-eaeh suHsequentinsertion Contrite'- *<lveriieinq as follows : Space. 3 Months 6 Month* li Months 1 Column .. .. $25 00 sls (hi sfo l)U £ Column 40 0 i 75 00 100 00 Oar Column... 50 o 0 90 Ou 150 00 Obituaries. $L 00 per square, !B"»!ggßggg!gg^HWß A Home Picture BY C. P. CBASCU. Draw around the fire, Wife and childicn tender, "Pile the hlaz.ng hickory higher— Take away the fender. : Ret the tihh‘. Jobs, 'Close the blinds and curtain ; A northeaster’s coming on. Os that i'tn very certain. Hark—the door bell rings! That is Uuol ; Draper ; Sunshine in his laitgli he brings, Ciketvi.se the evening paper. Jit the dining room Spoons and tea cups rutile; And between we hear the bum , Os John ’a and ifcijlget’a tattle. 'Rain is on the-roof, Winds are at the skylight. But we are snug and weatherproof •In our eos.y twilight. I’iano in our rooms— Books, all dullness scorning— fun, that routs the sulks and glooms— Sunshine night and morning. At our window hangs A yellow-winged canary, [That echoes laughter, songs,'hanthgues— A golden household luiry. •Vow he’s in_a drowse, Deaf to winds and weathers, •All our ta'king'cati’t amuse That ball of yellow feathers. AH come into 'tea'! fL-w the kettle hisses'! Smiles on every face i see— What a circle this is! Now TtViUiftie, I tlii iik. , Alice should go bed-ward, Yor I see. her eyelids wink Also my little Edward. •Good-night, pretty dears! You're the best sleepers : Visa all round, and may no lews Make sad your little peepers. Come—the piano now ! ißring yonr music, Annie, And play —no, not that polking row**- A piece from Puritani. Or, while bands are in, &ty, Memle'ssohn or Schubert, Torti, let’s have your violin, And try.yodr basso, lltilbcrt. •Or if you'd rather like 15mnethmg quaint and mellow, IPapa with his old flute will strike In like a lusty fellow. Yet,'don’t play too ranch, We old folks—don’t bore us, I should like a gloo—a touch •Os a routing chorus ; that will set Good old ‘times a-ringing, 'Heart ag!<JW and eyAlds -.wilt— That’s your fort of o’ singing 1 t&orl b‘ thanked for Home, And its thous nd blessings’; -For the daily joys that come, •Gheopeiiinit -lo'iims a guesainns. Qualities of Pump kins. At a recent discussion in the New York Farmers Club, the following came out relative to the virtues <of the, pu'tn'pVi n: I will give you * simple, jet very val uable cure for inflammatory rlieumu tisna. A woman’s arm was swelled to an enormous size, and painfully inti im «and. A poultice was made of stewed pumpkin, which was renewed etery fifteen minutes, and in a short time pm duced a perfect cure. The fever drawn out by the poultices made them -ex-; tremely offensive, us they were taken ot. 1 know a man cured of severe in flammation of the bowels by the same application. I think such subjects as this proper for discussion in a Farmer’s Club. Dr. Snodgrass—l have no doubt pumpkins make a good poultice.— Whatever holds water and warmth best is tbe most suitable. Dr. Smith—ln my travels in Syria I found pumpkin seeds almost universally eaten by the people on account of their •opposed medical qualities. Not be cause they are diuretic, but as an ants- 1 dote against animalculue which invest the bowels. Tliey are sold in the streets as apples and nuts are here. It is a medical fact that persons hiiVe been cared of tape worm by tho use of pump, kin seeds. The outer skin being re moved, the meats ate bruised in a mor tar into an oily, pasty mass. It is swal towed by the patient after fasting some hours, and it takes tho place of chyle in the stomach, and the tape worm lets go its hold on the membrane and becomes gorged with this substance, and in some measure probably torpid. Then a large dose of castor oil is administered, and tbe worms arc ejected belore they are able to renew their hold. MT A lawyer in a certain city in tbe state, not remarkable for his cleans cess of pel son, appeared at a party a twhile ago with a rose in his button-hole. «Where do you suppose it came from ?’ said he to a brother lawyer, who was admking it The latter looked up and down the entire length of the question er, aod with great deliberation respon ded, “Why, 1 suppose it grew there.” • _ ______ # i —.I. - ... - " CUTHBERT jfK APPEAL. Happy Disappointment* At I.YKA. ‘Go! leave the house, sir ! and never dare to darken the threshold of my door again 1 Bo .yon suppose that 1 would allow n»y daughter to marry one of uncertain parentage ? no, indeed 1 go, sir?’ ‘You will aft ‘leant allow me to bid Pauline farewell'?’ and a scornful smile curled the lip of the young man ‘No, sir. i command you to leave this place !’ and in a 'towering passion the Lord of Everly Castle threw open the door, and motioned his visitor to de part. Charles Belmont heard some half ut tered words, and then the neavy tfoor closed with a terrible slam, and W knew he had received the old man’s ctrvse. He took his way toward the garden, and the same scornful smile wreathed 'his Kps, when a young and beautiful girl sprung to m.-et him. — Dear readei;, it is •utterly useless for me to pry to describe a beautiful woman ; wti.-n I tel 1 you that Paulin * Everly was u blonde, with long, chesnut carls, dm k, expressive blue eyes, .you must let your imagination picture ■lie‘rest *V\ hat success, dear Charles V she ask« and. ‘Ah, I see in yonr eyes that our w< rsl fears are realized.’ Acs, de..rest Pauline, yonr father w ill u .it Iniuk of consenting to our union.; he has even forbidden my seeing you again, and so I must leave you.’ ‘O, Charles, do rail go; 1 i-hall die if you leave me !’ she cried, past-ii*m/tety; ] will go to him mysel , and beg of him in the dear name of my sainted mother, to listen to our request ’ ‘No, Putliine, it would do no good, whatever; and believe me dearest, lhough 4.‘have this day received your lather's malediction, not many days (mull elapse ere we, ua his children, shall receive his blessing. Now, dear one, farewell,’ and pressing one kiss upon her blow, he wasgoue; and Pau line sat down in the arbor to meditate upon the words of her lover. When Lord Evcrly’s passion had somewhat subsided. Ire rang the bell, and told the servant, who answered the summons, to tell Mi-s Pauline thrft lie wished toffee her in the library. Tremblingly the lovely girl entered her b.ther’s presence, and as he saw the look of despair which had settled -down over her young face, he almost repented ;»Ikj hasty words which he had spoken to her lover ; hut •it Wasnmly for an in. stunt; ‘he‘quickly 'banished all feelings of regret, amt i-aid scornfully ; ‘You probably know-of M-r. Belmont’* love lor yottrstdl ?’ ‘Yes, sir,* she refilled haughtily, 'he hits spoken to me on tit© "subject, and you liftve Tel used to make us happy, even curt-ed the only man I ever loved ’ Lord Everly s brow grew dark, and lie sal l, sternly:; ‘Pauline, yon are young, tfnd kn >w nothing of Mich mutters. Where would be yonr wealth, your-station ? I would certainly disown ydu if you married him.' . r ‘1 care nothing for wealth or station was the col-1 reply ; an I as for being disowned, if you refused ms a home, Chifrles would gladly provide me with one ’ ’However that may be, you shall nev' er see him again. 1 have just received a letter from the Ear! of—saying that he will he here in a few weeks to el aim yonr bund in nu-rriage, and I shall expect you to meet hirn a* your affianced husband; for r-nch he is.’ ‘Such he is not, and i ever will be,’ then throwing herself at his feet she Pegged him to recall his hasty words.— Almost scornfully he bade her rise and leave the room. One day about two months after the conversation above relaUd, Pauline was sitting on the “balcony, leaning against one of th® heavy p liars. Her eyes were closed, her th >ughts wore of her al>«Mit lover. Her reverie was broken oft by the sound of whw's, aid looking up hastily, she saw approach ng, an elegant carriage, drawn by spirited bluc'k ‘horses. Surmising that this must he the Earl, she hastily sought her own apartment, whore she resolved to lemain until forced to leave it. She heard her father in the hdl be> low wve'corne the Earl t<» Everly C:«*tle; and as she bad the full, rich ton sol •his vo’ce in leply, she thought how much it resembled that of Chailes. Her iath«r soon sent for her, button ti«ry to bar expect nioiis, he excused her. Tin-next ttv-miog, however, she was old ged to make her appearance.— Her father rose and gravely presented her to the Earl, the drew berncllf np haughtily, merely touching tils ex-tend ed hand with the tips of her fing-.rs. A heavy frown settled on her faiher’s brow, but she cared not for that ; she determined to make a poor impression on the Earl so that he would have no desire to ■continue the engagement, or prolong bis *tay. She saw but little of them during the day, her father being engageo in show ing the Earl over the house and grounds. The eaily part of the evening was spent in the di awing room where Pauline was obliged to listen to numberless lit tle nothings from the Earl, wh eh most women like, but which Pauline despised Disgusted at last, she rose, and ging to be excused left the apartment. 1 Gaining her own room she exclaimed : ‘I declare ! I had much rather take poison and end all my trials at once, than bo wedded to such a man.’ Bitting down by the open window, she gazed up into the clear blue sky’ where ‘the midnight stairs were burn’ ing brightly,’ and wondered if in all the many distant worlds, there could be found a creature an miserable as her. self, lu *n adjoining room lay the ele gant robe in which she was to be deck ed on the morrow, and an involuntary thought came to destroy it; but she nso utely put it away, saying, ‘if n iy father insists upon my marrying this tarl of > I will do it if it does cost me my happiness, yes, and my life too. The sun r >se bright and clear the next morning, but the peasant children had been busy long before gathering flowers, and strewd them in the path which the young bride would tread ; for ‘Miss Paulioe’ was a favorite with the poor us well as the rich. The sun ascended his throne, and all tbe bells of the chapel and camle were sending forth a joyous peal, when Pau line, followed by her maids and a fa vored few invited guests, proceeded to ward the chapel, tbe jewels of tbe cost- ly dresses sparkling in the light. The Earl was already there, and as Pauline passed down the broad aisle, and heard the joyful notes of the deep, rich tuned organ pealing forth the wedding march, she thought it all a fearful mockery, and a deathly pallor overspread her counte nance, us she took her place at the al tar. A few moments more, and Pauline had promised to love, honor and obey a man whom she thoroughly despised-. Mechanically she received the con gratulations of their friends, and was idling the chapel leaning upon her husband's arm, when he bent his head and tvlrispered something in her ear.— Quickly a bright fl ish overspread btff cheek and brow, a beautiful light shone in her eye, and, regardless of the lock ers on, she threw her arms about, his neck, exclaiming, ‘Charles, my 'hus band !’ Wh»*n Lord Everly knew that Charles Be.moot and the Earl of were one, he was actually shamed into apology Tor his past rudeness. The mystery was -soon explained. When Pauline and Charles were children, their father had made an engagement that when they (the children) should reach a suitable age, t hey should ba united in m»riiiige; but being aware of the dis gust to which a knowledge of such an agreement often gives rise in the minds' of the interested parties, they kept the matter a ’profound ’Secret. When Charles was yet a child bis father died, leaving him his title, and an immense fortune in the hand* of an es teemed f ietid. At the age of twenty one, Charles received iris fortune and became Ids own master. Becoming in some way possessed of the facts rela tive to his marriage, he determined to go to Lord Everly, and without making himself known, make an -engagement with him to become Miss Patiiiue’s in structor in painting for in this way he could form a more intimate acquaint* auce with his future wife, than if lie went in his own name. It is useless, dear reader, to say that his plan succeeded well, and I have on ly to add, that in a short time the roses returned to Pauline’s cheeks, the light to her eyes, and the elasticity to her steps ; for she was the happy wife of a •noblemaut. Spoiling Children* * Spoiling, in its earlier stages, is rath er pleasant. It consists in letting oue’s daling have its own preciour little way on all occasions, and the way is #uch a pretty, roguish, winsome way, nobody cam see any harm in it. Grown-up wil fulncss is quite a different thing from baby wilfulness. It gets teetii and claws so to speak, and isn't nice to contem plate. Spoiling uppers to mean a great many different things. One of its naiMi ’forms is total disregard for the feelings and convenience of others. If yftu meet a peculiarly upsetting woman on a journey or a iparty of .pleasure who « Ught to lie square when she is triungu •far when she is square, you may set it down that she was a spoifed child. There ur« parents who would stint their allowance of tire or food in order to indulge their children’s whims. The idea of parental sacrifice b'-comes mor bid, especially 'if the child happens to be admired and praised. There are moth ers who pi ch their own wardrobes to bedeck their little girls in expensive ginnm-nts, fostemig a TaVte fir extrava g -nt dress which they caunot honestly indu'ge. Although people in the lower ranks or the middle class do contrive, ocea sionally, to spoil their children by indyl geuce, the business is not carried on wholesale as it is among the rich. Ne cessity is a severe and yet a kind step dame. Her motto is service, and ser vice is the salt of life. In a large fam ily, not very well to do, life older chil drert educates the younger ones. They fuel almost as responsible as the parents, luid parents exert more influence in their own little way. Such a child-life seems bald and grey compared with the fairy fCiikb thuuigh which richer children d.mce and sing; bui it in reality keeps young tastes fresh mJ pore, and whets the appetite, n-tead ol iloying it wth ei j y i ent. This is only a part of ihe benefit derive I from childhood taxed with some responsibility, and judicious ly denied as well as indulged. Sell control is the one thing spoiled children never learn. Their desires are always rampant. We see the teat urea of the boy who- kicked his nurse and browbeat his mother n some passionate, diss.pated, it regular young man, and we shake 'our hefnjs aMd say, "We knew how he would turn out.” The spoiled girl devt-lopes into an exacting, unscru pulous woman. Life must centre round tier, not because she has ever done any thing, but merely because she was a spoiled child. Her husband is a martyr. I have generally noticed that such girls marry meek little men, who seem to consider it their principal business in life to cany ali-out a load of shawls and attend to the poodle. Stage Tortures, — A curious contro, versy is waging in the London Times, between one who signs herseif “A bal let Girl,' and Mr. E T. Smith, the manager of Astley’s Theatre. The for mer complains that the ballet girls are compelled, in “grand transformation scenes, ’’ to be strapped to iron bars and raised to various heights from the stage, sometimes as high as fifteen feet, to their grent terror, that they are forced to smile at the time, and that the average wages for such exposure of their liv. 8 is ordy eighteen shillings a week. Mr. Smith replies that every possible precau tion is taken against accident; that so far from the position being a disagreea ble one, the ballet girls are e iger to 1 e selected to undergo the “skewering” process; and that no one is ever sent up on the iron bar against her inclina tion. 'ihe ballet girl, in her n j under begs leave to doubt Mr. Smith's state’ ment that the girls like to be hoisted in the air, and criticises other parts of his reply. Bhe advances in advance the question why girls choose ballet dancing fora profession, by saying that they do not choose it, but are brought up to it and can find nothing else to do. A Fourth of July orator spoke of the United B«ates.as bounded on the east by tbe rising sun, on the north by the aurora borealis, on the south by the procession of the exquiuoxes, unci o.i the west by the day of judgment. CUTHBERT, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, MARCH 10, 1870. Tile Executioner of Paris— Remarkable Character. It seems that the famous Samsons, , who have been from father to son foT many generations the executioners in the Department of the Seine, including Paris have died out, and that a German, or a man of German origin, by the name of Heidenreioh, now occupies the posi tion, which is regarded by all Europe ans in general the most horrible busi ness in the world. The recollection ot the butcheries which, in the name of the law, or what during the revolution was caiied the law, were performed by the executioner, surrounded the name of the executioner of Paris with a pecu liar horror. He was regarded as the man of blood by pre'erence. The pre sent executioner of Paris, Heidenreioh, is very often interviewed by the jour> nalists of the French capital. They -describe him, uniformly, as a vnry well informed man, whose utterances inspire much sympathy. A short time ago four or live French journalists called on Heidetrr»rch, who lives in the vidinity of Enghffiu, about four English miles from the centre of the city They were received with great cordiality. They took ctifibe with him, and smoked his cigars. He made them acquainted with his son— a lad of fourteen years— who, as he said, had not the least idea of the terrible functions of his fttther. He showed them the ate, which hs keeps in a special wardrobe, and they clo*e their account with remark ‘‘they left Heidenreioh with sentiments of the highest respect.” Heidenreioh is a man of forty years of age-, tall, well built, and of a very determined ch&rac seter. At certain intervals a messen ger brings to his house a small bag of yellow leatlrtr. Ho gives his receipt, and at once prepares the axe for anew execution, by grinding the edge as sharp as a razor. It weighs about eight pounds, and is of triangular stupe. He leaves hrs hour* in company with two assistants, and superintends during the next night the erection of the scaf fold t»n the Place de la Paquette. Be fore daylight he ascends the scaffold,' fastens the axe to the block with his own hands, tries whether it moves easi ly through the pulleys, leaves the terri ble instrument fn charge of one of his assistants, and proceeds to the prison. The director of the prison conducts him in person to the cell of the culprit.— Heidenreioh asks the name who is des ignated, and when he ascertains that he is in the presence of his victim he lays his haund upon his shoulder and says ; “Thou belongest to me.” The execu tioner then gives a receipt to the direc tor of the pi 'son, and from this moment the cniprit is called the patient, w!.om nobody is permitted to touch except the excutioner. He ties the hands of the patient behind his back, puts a short chain on his feet, which permits the cul prit to make very short steps, and con nects the chain to the hands by a rope ot the exact length required. We pass the rest—it has been so often described. After the execution is accompl*hed our Puri.-ian intei v.ew< rs say that Heiden reich returns home with iiis h»-arl l»ro ken and all the symptoms of dispair on his countenance. He cleans the axe as soon as tie can-, hides it in his wardrobe,, and then attempts to find comfort in sweet talk with his boy, who tries also to dispel the gloomy thoughts of his fa. ther, of the origin of which the poor child is supposed to be iguoradt. A Tempkrav* e Story. —The bystand ers in the vicinity of a well known drink ing su oon a few days ago, noticed a man considerably intoxicated, who was accompanied by a handsome English coach dog. The man pursued his dq vions oontse, closely followed by his four footed companion, until at length he approached the door of the saloon referred to, and was about to enter, when, to the surprise of all who wit nessed the aff-iir, the dog jumped up and catching the skirts of the man’s coat, sought to prevent him from going in. The inebriated biped spoke in angry tones to the beus% but without avail, until at length a m >r« than ordinarily severe command induced him to relin quish his hold, and the man hastened inside, followed by his faithful comoan ion and would be protect r. Actuated simply by cu.iosity, we, in company wi h several -others, went in, and as \Ve gained a position near the bar, we saw in close proximity therto the beast and his master, the latter stri ving t-» reach the bar, and the former standing on his hind ’legs, with his fore paws placed against the man’s breast, Vainly endeavoring, even at the dev enth hour, to prevent him from indul ging in the intoxicating cnp. To the credit of the bar-tender be it stated, that he refused to furnish the man with any more liquor, and tears were drawn from ey-es that had long been unut-ed to the melting mood, as at each refusal the undoubtedly heirt sttickeu canine would bestow a look of intense gratitude up m the dispenser of cocktail-, slings’ and ‘tods ’ and then turning, would, with a most imploring look," mutely beseech his liqnoHoving master to abstain from ‘press ng his pep perment.’ At this juncture we left the scene, and while quiet y wending our way of ficewards, could not help refl-cting what a powerful argument in favor of prohibition could be drawn from the above incident.— Boston limes. Curious stories are told of the simple and austere life ied by many of the prelates o! the Council at Rome, who disdain to indulge themselves with any luxuries to which they are not ac customed at home. “A day spent in visiting them makes us acquainted with many a dark and steep staircase, many a mean and narrow chamber. Some who have a palace at home are here lodged in the cell of some monk, and bound to observe the hours of the mo nastery. It is cold, arid all have not tire; it rains, and ail have not a car riage. One is no doubt edified, but sometimes one is also pained aud dis tressed to see aged bishops making their way to the Vatican chair in a di lapidated carriage, which hardly shel ters them, or too often on foot under a shower of rain.’ B@U A shoddy young lady su piisod her mother on returning from a dam e, by saying iba she enjoyed the “hugging, set to music, most btillyly.’* She had I reference to waltzing. Catching a 'Wild Horse. Not long since a most excitiDg chase happened near the military camp on Big Ponoagie river, after a wTld horse. « had oftpn heard the story of the wild hoise ot Wind River Valley, but never expected to see that famous animal alive, much less lay my hands upon him. His story runs thus : Some time ago the Cheyenne Indians stole a noted horse in Kansas and sold "him to tlie "Sioux, who in turn sold him to the Utcs, from whom he was bought or stolen by the Snakes. He became so vicious that the Snakes sold him to a white man, a Mr. Gallagher. While he was being taken to tire settlement, be got away and took to the mountains. All effect to recapture him was in vain ; he outran the swiftest Indian horses, and remained at large for several months. At last he was surprised by a body of warriors, surrounded and las soed before he could break through them. Securely tied with ropes, he Waff brought into the Indian camp, and beat* qA aud starved into semi-obedience, bnt atrr.mbitibus Indian attempted one day to ride him, whom he thew, and suc ceeded in getting into the hills. He now had a large rope around his neck, the end of which dragged the ground, and a bridle and Indian saddle was on him. He was o»ten seen, but defied all' efforts to recapture him. One day an Indian, who was out fishing, saw him grazing under a bluff, and getting a la riat, crawled to the edge of the bluff and with unerring precision thew The' noose over his head. Once more the noble brute found himself a captive, and this time he was securely tied to a tree with a log chain; but one of the links was broken, and the chain parting, he made for the bills and was not seen again. A few days ago, just after breakfast, a sentinel of the cuinp on Ponoagie re ported a horse on the bluffs overlooking the camp, and a closer inspection show ed the animal to be the veritable wild horse. He seemed greatly excited, and kept galloping op and down the bluffs, with head aud tail erect. The com manding officer ordered that no one should pursue him as long as he kept running and was in sight the camp. The brave horse presently deioended from the bluffs, and ran across the val ley with the speed of the wind to where a company 7 of cavalry horses were gra zing, but becoming alarmed, he wheeled near them and made into the hills. As il charmed, he soon returned, and tak-' ing a wide cicuit, passed around the camps,' and horses several times. The rapidity and length of time which he rad was incredib e. We could.see the long chain thradi ng about his fore legs, apparently urging min to greateh exer* tions. At lust he stopped near the herd, seemingly exhausted The commanding officer had the best cavahy horses sad dled up. ordered them «nr, and the troops galloped swiftly to their positions in different points of the valley. The horses, as had been expected, when ipur s-tsed, ran nearly in a circle, and as fast as one trooper came near another he reined up and a fresh horse and rider took up he chase. At first 11re wild horse easily ditt meed his pursuers, and it was with gnat diffiouliy he could be kept out of the hills, but the chain thra-hing abo it his eg impended his progress and gave him great pain In hulif an In ur the combined strength of the cavalry horses began to tell, and several troops got near enough to throw their lariats, but not being skilled, miss ed their mark. Ihe circle begau to grow smaller, and the wild horse show, ed -evident "Signs of distress, but the cav alry horses were also giving out, and the chase was doubtful. At this jane tore a number of infantry soldiers and teamsters, mounted on mules, came to t; e assistance of t-he cavalry. The mules ran well, and their power of en durance was remarkable. At times the wild horse would strikes trot, as fast as any of his pursuers could run; but an attempt to head him of! would break him up into a gallop. He shook off the cavalry, tmt tne mules kept up with him, and at last a rope was got oVer his head by a teamster, and a cavalry in n coming up at the same moment seized the ciiaiu. Goth moll hung o-j well, but the cavalryman was dragged from the saddle aud lost his bold. The teifinster still tilting to the rope, and as tire horse was heading for the camp ur ged his mule to his utm >st to keep up with him. As the prospect for Capture became certain, the excitement in the fort was intense. The pursuers and pursued had now worked up quite close to the breastworks, and tbe men of Cap tain • bister’s company, Seventh Uni ted States infantry, hurried oVer the works and surrounded tiie doomed horse on all sides. He made a noble strug gle for his liberty, but ropes held by many bands were quickly passed over nis luck, Around Ins body and legs and ia a few moments he l'oui and himself on Ins back and heels m the air. The chain was coveted with blood, and the skin, had literally been thrashed from tha poor brute’s legs. On the top of his neck the weight of the chain had -caused it to cut into the flesh a depth of nearly two inches, and ail ugly fes tering woun l was formed. The hor-*e was of a dark brovn color, medium size, broad chested, and large nostrils. His eye was bright and pierc ing, and he had thj strongest limbs I ever saw The muscles were gathered in large knots, and the veins on his neck and body stood out like whip cords. Afo-r he was securely hopp'ed we look oft the chain and rope about his neck, and led him into tbe fort. His wounds began to he..l nicely, and he would sutler his keeper to mount his back, bu would snort, bi e and kick it a stranger came about. Tiie poor biute would put down his head to have his sore neck washed wiiii hot wat-r and soap, ami held perfectly still, though the pain must have been severe. Bo well did lie behave that he woe let out with a lariat rope and hopples on to graze. As Captain Plasters men had really captured lnm, the horse was turned over by order of the Commanding officer of the camp to the company, aud the men by common consent gave him to their Captain. The other day it was determined to remove the house <d" F<>rt Bridger, and he was secniely tied behind a govern ment wagon ; but the soldiers only suc ceeded in getting him twelve mi!o> wien tie broke 1 i- rope and escaped in ti ihe bills. So ends the story of the Wild Horse of Wind Hi yen He is once more at large, and no effort will be made t > re capture him, for it is the opinion of all, that if it had flrft been for the chain they never could have taken him, and now that he is freed of that incumbrance hip capture is deemed impossible.— Chicago Tribune. Earnum on Advertising “l thoroughly understood the art of advertising, not merely by means of printer’s ink, which I have always used freely and to which I confess myself 60 much indebted for my success, but by turning every possible circumstance to my account. It was my monomania to make the Maseum the towu wonder and town talk. I often seized upon an op portunity by instinct, even before I had a very definite conception as to how it shottld be used, and it seemed, some how, to mature itself and serve my pur pose. As an illustration, one morning, a stout, hearty-looking man came into my ticket office and begged some mon ey. I asked him why he did not work and earn his living ? He replied tost he could get nothing to do and that he would be glad of any job at a dollar a day. [ handed him a quarter of a dot-, lor, told him to go and get his breakfast and return, and I would employ him at light labor at a dollar and a half a day. When he returned, I gav* him five com* raon bricks. “Now” said I, “go and lay a brick on the sidewalk at the corner of Broadway and Ann Street; another close b.y the museum ; a thud diagonally across the way at the corner of Broadway and Vesey street, by the Aslor House; put down the fourth on the sidewalk in front of Bt. Paul’s Church opposite; then, with the fifth brick in hand, take up a rapid inarch from one point to the other, ex changing your brick at every point and say n--thing to any one. “What is the olyectof this ?'’ inquired the nae, . . “No matter,” I replied ; “all you need to know is that it biings you fifteen cents wages per hour. It is a bit of my fun, and to assist me properly you must *eem to be as deal as a post; wear a serious countenance; answer no ques tions; pay no attention to any one; but attend faithfully to the work and at the end of every hour by St.‘ PauTV -docs show this ticket at the Museum door; enter, walking solemnly through every hall in the building; pass out, aud re< suine your work.” With the remark that it was “all one to him, so long as he could earn his liv ing,” the man placed his biicks and be gan his round. Half an hour after wards, at least five hundred peop'e were watching his mysterious movements.-- He had assumed a military step and bearing, and looking as sober a* a ho made Uo response Whatever to the constant inquiries as to the object of his singular conduct. At the end of the first hour, the sidewalks in the vicinity were packed with people all anxious to solve the mystery. The man as direct ed then went into tho Museum, devot ing fifteen minutes to a solemn survey of the hulls, and afterwards returning, to his round. This was repeated every hour till sundown and whenever the man went into the museum a dozen or more persons would buy tickets and f'ol low him, hoping to gratify their curiosi ty in regard to tire purpo-e of his move ments. This Was confiimed for several days—the cuiious people who followed the ii an into the Mu-eum considerably more than paying his wages—till, final ly, the policeman, to whom 1 had im parted my object, ‘Complained that the obstruction of the cidewalk by crowds hud become so serious that I must call in my “brick man.” This trivial inci denteXcitOd considerable talk and amuse ment; it advertised nye : ; and it materi ally advanced my purp a>e of making a lively corner near the Museum.” A Mixed Case.— Not many weolt* Bince, the advent of a lady in this city in search of a truant husband was no ted, and the measures taken by the po lice to discover the runaways described It has come to an unexpected denoue ment. Yesterday iii-u ning one of < >'ur recorder’s courts was the scene of the explanat on. Two females had been arrested for fighting .and disturbing the peace, “What is your name ?” inquired the Recorder of one of them. “Mrs. H., sir.” “And what is yours?” ‘Mrs. H., sir.” Why you are of the same name, how is that ?” Doth of them immediate ly interposed an explanation. They were each the lawful wife of Mr. H Each alone, according to the account of the speaker, was entitled to 'wear it.— The R -corder scratched his head in per plexity. “What did you fight about? ” he at last inquired. “Mr, Hwas the re ply. “Where is he?” he demanded. ‘Here,* responded a sntall ferpieaking voice from the far corner of the room ” “Here your Honor!” aud a poor woe begone looking article made his appear ance, unable to support one wife instead of two. “Do you claim both of these women ns y.,ur wife ?” the rec >rder ask ed. “Well, ary one of ’em'll do!’ “Why do you have two wives ?” “Well you st-e when one gets «>bst operous I kin go to t’other, and she imivt generally pities me.” And Mr. 11, looked an il lied hit upon a most happy solution of the often vexed que tiou of domestic fe licity.— N, Y. Pimyune. No Danger from Giving too Muoh. — The comment of a colored preacher on the text, ‘lt is m >re blessed to give than to receive,’ is inimitable for its point as well as its rare beauty and elo qnence : ‘l’ve known many a church to die ’cause it didn't give enough ; but I never nowed a ChufCn to die ’cause it give too much. Dey don’t die dat way. Bredren, has any «*t you knowed a dm eh that died ’cause it give too much ? If you do, jest let me know, and I’ll make a pilgrimage to dat church, and I’ll climb by do solt light of de moon to its moss-covered roof, and I’ll stand dar and lilt my bands to heaven, and say, ‘Blessed are do dead that in de Lord.’ ’ “I CA\t Make Y«c Mifca.”—Such were the wolds that fell from the lips of a mother, after having made sever ! fruitless attempts to secure obedience from her little child. And yet that mother wonders what can lie tbe reason her ih i- will not mind. Does she not know that tho very utterance of .b so war* s, before her chilu, was a virtual sum inter of parental authority ? 1 hat e u!d in iy now go through life even m king himself v.le, and no mother’s au thority be exercised to restrain bim. Concerning False faatr. Poes any lady ever look at the Ar rangement of any other ladies’ hair ? Does aby lady ever look into a hair dresser’s shop ? If so, how does the hid eous chignon, in its present proportions, hold its ground ? If any woman’s head grew intc such monstrous shapes as may now be seen in all directions wherever women are congregated together, it would be a cause of mourning to her family, of consultation among eminent, surgeons, and she would probably spend the greater part of her time in judicious seclusion. Here shall be a woman with small, delicate features, a small head,* and of small statute. Instead of ma king the most of the natural beauties with which she is gifted, she frizzles,! and cuts, and gums her front hair into all sorts of uncouth forms, and sur mounts her back hair with an enor- mous ball of somebody else’a tresses ! The lady appears to have two heads, one (the artificial) considerably larger than the other. The hat has to be perched on tbe nose, and a most pre posterous result is presented. Howev er, there is one virtue about the chig non—it is honest. There’s no decep tion, gentlemen. Even if the ladies were desirous of trying to lead people to suppose that the porter’s knots on their heads are composed of their own hair, it would be useless. For the hairdressers, anxious to advertise their wares, have rendered that deception an impossibility. Their shops are full of Ohignolns. PiirtH chignons; frizzed chig- nons; chignons woven into a pattern similar to the large basket-work used chiefly for waste-paper baskets; chig nons with supplementary curls; chig nons with -straight, flimsy tresses pend ent from them ; chignons of every va riety, have long been familiar to the male observer. As we look into our lushionuhle hairdresser’s, more over, we become aware of long and thick •plaits of hair, of arrangements of curls and of similar devices, braids, and bands to a most astonishing exteut.— And these hirsute ‘deceptions are evi-! dently not intended solely for elderly ladies, as were the fronts (hideous de vices !) of the by-gone generation, but tat ladies of ull ages. It would seem as if a real female bead of hair were not to be found in these times. The ‘glory of a woman is in her hair’ we are t >!d ; but nothing is said about the glo ry being attainable by the use of some body else’s hair. Men have their faults, heaven knows, but in matters of this sort they show u Ktttle more sense than woimm. It is fashionable to wear a beard, and m >st men’s faces arc im proved by it; yet false beards, chin chignons so-lo speak, have not yet be come popular. We are afraid, howev. er, to cry out too loudly against the chignon. Female taste is a grewsoms thing to meddle with, and it is very pos sible that aMI Iden change might be made, and wo might find ladies with their hair, whether scanty or ♦tbundant, plartered tight down to their heads.— So it was with crinoline. In modera-: tioii and in its earlier days it was a graceful and convenient fashion. The convenient and graceful period very quickly vanished. The era of iron h‘iope, of horetshair substances many inches thick, of ennrmous size and ut ter iininanageablcness, set in The crinoline became an instrument of tor ture to wretched men; and must have been most inconvenient and uncomfort able to its wearers. When, at lust, the fashion changed, was the sensible pal-t of the dress retained, and the absurd re jected ? Not a bit of it. Horrible straight, •clinging Skirts, with long, trailing trains succeeded, and, on the whole, it may be said that the tyrattnv of fashion is worse than it was. —All the Year Round. The Boy to Succeed. A few years ago A large drug firm in New York advertised for a boy. Next day the stor® was thronged with i p di cants, among them a queer looking lit tie fellow, accrtlttpanied by a woman who nrOvred to bo his aunt, in lieu of faith less parents, by whom ho had been abandoned. Looking at this littie wail, the merchant in the st rfc promptly said : “Can’t take him ; pla es all full; be-ides he is too small ” “I know he is small, said the woman, “but he is willing and faithful.” There was a twinkle in the boy’s eyes that rhade the merchant think again. A partner in the firm vol unteered to remark that ho “did not see what they wanted if such a boy—be wasn’t bigggf than a pint of cider.”— But aft r consu t ti< h the boy *as set to work. A few days later a < all was made < n the boys in the store for mm one to stay all night The prompt res ponse of the little fellow contrasted Well with the reluctance of others. In the middle of the night the mer* chant looked in to see if all was right in the store, and presently discoveied his youthful protege busy scissorizing labels. “What are you doing?” said he, “I did not tell you to work nights.” “I know you did not tell me so, but I thought, I might as well be doing some tiling.” In the mornjng the cashier got orders to “double that boy’s wages, lot he is vttilliqg.” Only a few Weeks elasped before a show of wild beasts passed through the streets, and, very naturally, ail bands rushed to witness the spectacle. A thief saw his oppor tunity, and * ntered at the rear door to seize something, but tt a tW.nkl'ng found himself firmly ciutcluJd by the 0 - urinutive cleik aforesaid, and after a struggle, was captured. Not only was a robbery prevented, but valuable ar ticles taken from other stones were re covered. When asked by the merchant why he staid behind to Watch when otlo era quit their work, the reply was: “Yotl told me never to leave the store when others were absent, and I thought I’d stay." Orders were immediately given once more* ‘‘Double that boy’s wages; he is willing and faithful.” To* day that boy is getting a.salary of $2,- 500, and next January will become a member of tbe firm. Young men, imi tate bis example.— llall's Journal of Health. BSL. A clergyman was cnee endeav oring to get a subscription in aid of some char.table object out of a close fis ted parishioner, who attempted to ex cuse hiirtself on the ground that he al ready owed a great deal of money.— “But,” said the minister, “you owe God a larger debt tbau you do any one else ’ l “That is so, parson ; blit then he ain’t pushing me, like tbe balance of my credi tors.” YOL. IV - NO. 17. Cirious Mode of Catching Fish. Ovctaken by night, when traveling through the Sura mountains in France, many years ago, we stopped for supper and a night’s lodging at a -small wayside inn, of rather dilapidated appeararice, under some apprehension as to how we should fare there; but the cordial greet ing of the landlord, whose fat, rubicund face, and moist, twinkling blue eye, gave promise of good entertainment*, and soon dispelled our fears. One of his first -questions was whetner we liked trout tor supper, fresh from the brook. Os course we did ; but to our aston ishment—it nnw being pitch dark wo learned that the fish had yet to be caught. Being an ardent angleT, and •curhiHs to team how the thing was to be done, upon his ivitation tve accompa nied him to the scene of action, a braw ling mountain brook within a few yatds of his door. Before starting, he took from a closet, where it bad been stowed away, an ordinary glass globo lantern, with two long tin tubes fixed to it oil • i.her side, through whijh the flarne was supplied with air Lighting it, ho then took from his pocket a common priming-knife, with a hawk’s bill, called a ‘serpe;’ he was now prepared for the fray. A walk of two or three minutes brought ns to the side of a deep, dark pool, which, with the glare of the lamp dancing over it like a ‘vvill-o’ the-wisp,’ i looked like the bottomless pit. With the queerlooking lantern in his left hand, and the right armed with th* foimidable knife, the landlord seated himself on a flat projecting rock, whence the descent was seen to the bottom of the pod. Ho then slowly thrust the still burning lamp into the deep water, I where it looked like a great glowing kohinoor Holding it thus for about a mi note, he raised it evenly and slowly to thesnrfao©, and around it, to our de-- light and astonishment, were fifteen of twenty fish of different sizes, pressing their noses against the glass,as if eager to get at the light. Then, selecting the best fish, our host adroitly tapped four of them oh the head with the bill of his knife. They turned on their sides dead, without a flutter. Thus, in less timo than it takes to Write the account, ho h«s four prime half pound trout, which, with the addition of an omelette au lard. such a* the French only can make, a mound of perfumed, golden mountain butter, and a bottle of Baune, covered with the dust of a quarter century, w© had a.supper worthy to record in Bril lot-SaVarin’s imim rul Physiology da Gout, This pleasant little adventure at tho waysid.; inn was recalled to our memory by a statement in our Exchanges. It seems that a light is quite as attractive to the fish of the great deep as to their oouwns of the mountain brock. Tho professional fishermen on the coasts ot Fiance, having recently discovered this fact, are now making draughts of fish a traded to their nets by powerful sub merged light.— Turf, Field and Farm. A Pleasant Item for Lovers of OuaMpaign. —An American traveler iu the streets of Paris Bceing the word, “Wine baths given heYe,” exclaimed : “Well, these French aie a luxurious people.” Then, with true Yankee cu riosity, and the feeling that he could af ford whatever any one else did, walked in and demanded a “win© bath.” Feeling wonderfully refreshed after it, and having to pap but five francs, ha asked in some astonishment how a win© bath could fro aff-rded bo cheaply. His s ible attendant, who had been a slave m Virginia, and enjoyed a sly bit of hu mor replied : “Oh* «i we just pass it along in« to anudder room, wbei© we gib baths at four f aucs.” “Then you throw it away I suppose.” “No, massa, den we send it lower down, and-charge three francs a bath. Dari's p'enty who ain’t so be.ry particu lar, who will bathe in It after this at two francs ah< ad. Den, massa, w e let the common people bab it at a franco a pi ce ’ *i hen, of course, you throw it away,’ 11 exclaimed the trav. ler, who thougbi'thia was going eVen beyond Yankee profit. “No, indeed, massa,” was the indig nant re; 1/, acCompained by a piofound bow ; —“no, indeed, massa, we are not so ’starvagant os dat comes to; we bot tles it Up den and send it to ’Merica for Champaigne.’ A celebrated divine, who wag remarkable, in the first period of bis ministry, for a boi.-tirous mode of preaching, suddenly changed bis whole manner in the pulpit, and adopted a mild and dispas.-ionatc mode of delivery. One of his brethren, observing it, in quired of him what had induced him to make the change. He answered, “When 1 was yottng, I thought it was the thunder that killed the people, but when I grew wiser, I discovered that it was the lightn'ng; so 1 determined in future lo thunder less aud lighten more.” I©- Aunt Judy, a pious old colored woman, is said to have expressed herself as (i.Hoftg With reference to the vocifer ous habits of certain persons “at camp meeting.’’ “’Taint de rale grace, honey; taint de shure glory. You hollers too loud. When you gits de Dove in yonr heart, and de Lamb on your bosom, you’ll feel as if you was in dat stable at Beth’lem, and de blessed Virgin had lent you de sleeping baby to hold.” MV* A poor fellow having with diffi culty procured an audience of the late Duke of Newcastle, told his Grace he only came to solicit him for something toward his support, and as they were ot the same family, both being descended from Adam, he hoped he should not be refused. “Surely not,” said the Duke ; “surely not. Here is a penny tor you ; and if all tiie rest of your relations will give you as much, you’ll be a richer man thaD I am.” E3T A bluff old farmer says : “If a man professes to serve the Lord, I like to see him do it when he measures onions as well na when he hollers glory halleluyar.’’ This remark will apply td more transactions than measnriug on ions. Early Vegetables! —The Gainesville (Fla.) Independent of the 26th ultirnd says : “The truck gardeners In onr com munity (there are very few this season) will in a tew days Commence the ship ment of the early varieties of vegetables to the Northern mat keUi”