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BY SAWTELL & JONES.
<Sl)c €utl)bert Appeal.
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erwise ordered.
Work and Think.
Hammer, tongs, and anville ringing,
Waking echoes all day long.
In adeep-toned voice are singing
Thrifty labor’s iron song.
From a thousand fly whee’s bounding,
From a thousand humming looms,
Night and day the notes are sounding
Through tbe misty fact’ry rooms.
Listen, wovkmon, to their playing—
There’s advice in every cliuk ;
Still they’re singing—still they’re saying
“ Whilst you labor learn to think.”
Think what power lies within yon,
For what triumphs ye are formed,
If in aid ot bone and sinew,
• emulation warmed.
I ' 'V'. ~
Mighty thoughts ye woo and cheerish,
What shall hold your spirits down ?
What sli:. 11 make your high hopes perish 1
Why shall ye mini Fortune's frown ?
Do you wish for profit, pleasure ?
Thirst at Learning’s fount to drink ?
Crave ye honor, fame or treasure?
Ye the germs have—work and think I
Think, but not alone of living.
Like the horse from day to day.;
Tniok! but not alone of giving
Health for pelt or soul for payl
Think ! Oh, be machines no longer—
Be with wisdom’s powers imbued ;
Think 1 ’twill make yon fresher, stronger ;
Link you to the great and good!
Thought exalts and lightens labor,
Thought forbids the soul to sink :
Sell-respect, and love for labor,
Mark the men who work, and think!
Think I—and let the thoughts new-nerve yon
Think of men who have gone before ;
Leaving lustrous names to serve you ;
Yours the path theyv’e plodded o’er!
Freedom fights and wins her charter
With the sword of thought—the pen !
Tyranny can find no quarter
In the ranks of thinking men.
Think ! for thought’s a wand of power—
Power to make oppression shrink,
Grasp ye then the precious dower :
Poise it! wield it! work and think.
Mold your heads toiling brothers!
’Mongst u-, be it ne’er forgot,
■Labor for o.ireelvcs and others '
Is for man a noble lot.
Nobler ’tis, and loftier, higher,
Than vain luxury can claim,
If but zeal and worth inspire,
And trno greatness be onr aim.
Power to compass this is given ;
Power that forms the strongest link
Twixt an upright man and heaven :
His noblest power—to work and think.
'God’s Omniscience. —God never for
gets anything. All his works from the
'creation of the world to the tinting of
a leaf, are finished perfectly. Did you
ever stand under a fuil-boughed heavy
foliage tree in summer time, and pluck
one of its myriad leaves and examine
Us delicate tracery, its coloring, the
very perfection of finishing beauty, and
then think of the countless number of
euch leaves, of the mighty forests .whose
luxuriant growth covers so much of the
world, and reflect that among them all
there is not a leaf unfinished, each per
ierct in ita form and color. And did
yon ever pick a flower, either from cul
tured garden or wayside walk, enjoy its
odor and bless its beauty, and stop to
think how all the world blossom* with
such fragrant beauty, and no flower of'
them all forgotten —the same careful
hand filling each glowing heart with
perfume and coloring each leaf with
care. When we think of this omnis.
cienee of this never failing care, we feel
something of the attributes of that
power—unseen, yet ever present; un
touched, yet ever felt—who gives to the
violet its color, to the tiniest leaf, and
yet whose band controls the plarteta in
tbeir courses, whose fiat rules the count
loss worlds.
»*» —y
frggf Rheticus, in commenting on the
present stylo of female coffinre, says .
*it tnuat be a very poor soil that requires
BO m uc'h togaiaigsing ■ 1 ‘
CUTHBERT APPEAL.
Florence’s Love
BY H. H. BOON*
The day was*damp and chilly. The
foliage of the trees huug limp and mo
tionless in the air; or, now and then,
shivered aod rustled while the cold
breeze ran through it. The bleakness
outside caused me to shrink closely
within my comfortable room, while'
Florence touched the coids of the piano,
in the parlor below, with such pathos as
to make me weep, though I scarcely
know why ! Scarcely know why ? Ah,
me ! I think so; and yet why did a pic
ture float before my mind, a photograph
of the incidents and actors of other days,
when I beard those same pathetic tones
drifting through my conciousness, like
fragments of heavenly dreams ?
Tears are unbecoming—sd the world
says ; and the world is a tnost reliable
oracle ; therefore, i repressed them with
a determined will, and turned them back
upon the brain ! But still Florence
played. I wondered if she too, was
weeping? Where were her thoughts?
Full well I knew. They were going
forth, like mourning virgins, to the bu
rial of a life-joy—a joy which died and
left her utterly desolate, and widowed
her soul. I frequently wonder why
some hearts are peculiatly tried in the
alembic of suffering and temptation,
while others go through life without an
experience which stirs them from tbe
regular monotony ofm-dinary existence.
Certain people alternate between joy
and soirow, from year to year, until
they are but shadows of their former
selves ; others live along-upon tbe same
plane, from day to day, without any
event to clearly mark a single hour. I
say that I wonder at these things—and
the more so, while 1 listen to the music
which Florence was playing forth upon
the air, and which I kutw was a re-
quiem.
Shall I give a retrospect, and thus ex
plain my meaning ?
One summer, when the heated term
came on, my ward, Florence, fatigued
with the studies of her graduation year,
besought me to give her a glimpse of
country hcene. I was at once disposed
to yield to the request of tbe child, as I
hud been accustomed to calling her;
but a desire to tease her, and thus make
her doubly charming by the native way
in which she would importune me to
grant the favor, caused me to give an
evasive answer.
‘O, but you must consent! Haven’t
I been studious during the past year?
Haven’t I practiced my music, toiled
over my Butler, fretted over my Latin,
and cried over my mathematics, until
my mind seemed to have no room for
anything hut study ? Os course I have.
There, now, you will let me go; that’s
a dear good man ! Don’t knit your
brows, and look so solemn ; for you will
only have the trouble ot unknitting
them ; and that will not be convenient,
perhaps. Now 1 have it all arranged,
Kate PaVson and i talued it ofiei', the
night before we graduated. She is go
gng to the sea shore ; and I—l—am to
accompany her—that is, if you will con
sent ! And I know you will, won’t you ?
Please pay yes ?’
The beautiful girl stood looking into
my face, the embodiment of beauty. —
Her eyes, which at ordinary times were
blue as the skies of summer, weie al
most black with anirautiou and expec
tancy. Her cheeks were slightly flush
ed, aud her lips parted by the sweet,
nees of smiles. For the first time I re
alized that the child Florence had de
veloped into a beautiful maiden. Her
voice aud figure cairie#my mind back
to the times when the mother, my cous
in, played with Me on the lawn at Wil
low brook. Those were royal years for
us both 1 One day however, she stood
under the branches of the old apple
tree, and blushingly told me of her love
for one to whom she was about to con
fide her future. My heart gave a sud
den leap, and then was atill as death 1
My cousin, in her own embarrassment,
did not notice my agitation. Ever af
terwards, I carried a deep love in my
heart of which nobody knew, except
myself. And this is the reason why I
remain a bachelor. Afterwards a
strange destiny juiced Florence, tbe
child of my cousin, in my care and that
of my widowed sister, who presided
over my household. Her father and
mother had been the victims to a fatal
epidemic, and their dying request was
that I should be the guardian of their
child. How little they understood the
sad pleasure with which I consented to
grant their wishes ?
I need Dot give the details of the
years of anxiety and joy which came to
me, after little Floreuee became an in
mate of my houst*. I leave such mat
ters to the comprehension of those who
have human idols which they worship.
Florence stood before me, as I have
before remarked, developed into a beau
tiful maiden. What could 1 do but
consent to her carrying out the plans,
which she and Kate Payson had ar*
ranged ? I had a morbid foreboding of
evil which would come to her, if I yiel
ded ; yet I thought that it arise from a
possibility that I had outgrown the
tastes and desires of youth ; and so, when
Florence stood on tip-toe, putting her
white arms around my neck, and kissing
my bearded face, I was compelled to
surrender and say, ‘Yes r ’ to her.
A few days subsequently, her trunks
wero packed and she joined her friend
Kate, with whom she proceeded to the
sea-coast. I remained in town but a
short time longer, and then left for the
interior of the country, where most of
my time was spent in fishing and hunt
ing I was too remote from the bor
ders of active civilization to receive eith
er letters or newspapers by post; but I
had instructed my clerk to forward by
a special messenger any communication
which was of sufficient importance to
demand my immediate presence.
One afternoon, when the air was ex
hilarating and most delightful, when the
sunlight sifted itself through the leaves
of the grand old trees around me, and
the injects droned their long unceasing
notes, I threw myself prostrate ou the
ground, in a shady spot, whefe I could
watch the fish in the deep clear px>l be
low me. Some weeks bad elapsed since
I had left the haunts of civilization, aud
for some reason, a longing came over
trie to return to business again J This
feeling came upon me suddenly and in
explicably; the atmosphere so balmly
and delightful, seemed to become op
pressive. I looked toward the western
sky to see if a storm was approaching,
but I eould discern notbiug but silvery
clouds which could harbor in Abeir
bosom a single trace of a storm. A
power very mysterious was urging me
homeward. I stood erect, and stirred
myself most vigorously; aod my singu
lar sensations remained unchanged.—-
When I returned to our tent, I found a
| stranger there with tbe guide. He ad
vaneed toward me and said : ‘ls this
Mr. JeDnison ?’
~ I replied that such was my name.
‘Then I briog dispatches to you,’ was
his response, at the same time placing a
letter fn my hand.
Lookout Beach, Sept. 3,18 —
Mr. Jennison—Dear Sir: I regret to
say that Florence is alarmingly ill. If
you will hasten here immediately, you
will confer a favor on her and me. In
haste. Kate Payson.
As fast as possible, I made my way
to the nearest railroad depot, and then
was rapidly whirled over the interven
ing distance between there aod Look
out Beach. At stood by the bed
side of" Florence. She "was sleeping
when I entered the room. Ah, how she
had changed since 1 had last seen her!
Her cheeks were as white as tbe pil
lows on which she rested. Her long
h'air dishevelled, lay upon her bosom
and around her shoulders, and her lips
were thin and bloodless.
‘Poor child !’ was my first suppressed
ejaculation.
Just then she opened her eyes, and,
looking up at me, said, ‘They buried
him in tbe sea 1 I saw tjpem lower his
body into the deep waters, while the
moonbeans were shining on his face P
No word, no look of recognition,
‘What does this mean ?’ was my inquiry
of Miss Payson.
‘I will tell you in a moment,’ she an
swered, sobbing out almost every word.
‘Oh, Bir, it is fearful! 1 have not the
strength to speak to you at length !’
Just then Florence sat upright in bed
and exclaimed, ‘Yes, it is fearful 1 They
have buried him out of my sight forev
er ! And they will never, never bring
him back to me!’
The, poor westk child then sank back
ward, and was soon in a gentle slumber.
As soon as Kate could calm her own
agitation, I gathered the following facts
from her :
During one of Florence’s visits to Miss
Payson, she had become acquainted with
a young gentlemau by the name ot Carl
Hoffman, a native of GeriffUmy, but long
a resident of this cotfntry. His fortune
being considerable, enabled him to live
a life of leisure; his education being ex*
cellent and his tastes refined, he devo
ted himself to those accomplishments
which are attractive and elegant. Most
of his time was spent at the studies of
artists or at musical conservatories ; and
he himself was no indifferent artist, and
was a fine musician. He was a hand
some man—so Miss Payson said; and
it was not surprising that Florence was
attracted towards him. Sometimes he
sat at the piano and improvised the
most wonderful musical fancies, which
kold his listeners speH bomr#. < At other
moments he discoursed upon the arts
with such poetic fervor as to delight the
dullest mind. But I will Dot dwell up*
on this point. Sufficient is it for me to
say, that the drama which had begun
in Miss Paysou’s drawin t room, was re
sumed at Lookout Bi-ach ; and at last
Carl and Florence stood side by side aB
avowed lovers, only awaiting my sanc
tion wheu the season was over.
One evening Carl sat at the piano iu
one of the saloons of tbe hotel, playing
‘La Reve,’ that piece which is filled with
all the pathos of the sad heart. Now
and then the promenaders paused before
the instrument, or on tbe vertgidah out
side, listening for a moment, and then
going away with sober faces. Florence
trembled with an fear. Sud
denly Carl suggested ansail upon the
ocean ; and, ten minutes later they were
dashing over the white waves. But the
boat never came back ; for by the caie
lessness of the pilot of another boat, a
collisiou occurred, and the bark went
down. In the confusion which followed
Carl having been injured, was drowned;
but his affianced was saved by the men
who survived. They bore her lifeless
body to the hotel, where her friends
took charge of her. For a long time it
seemed impossible to restore her to con
sciousness; and when at last her eyes
opened, they gave only a vacant stare,
wbi e she chanted the wailing melody
of‘La Reve.’
Sadly I listened to the opinion of the
physician that my ward would probably
forever be a harmless maniac. Weeks
subsequently we b re her home, where
we hoped that familiar scenes would res.
toie her reason • but month after month
she restlessly wandered from room to
room, murmuring, Carl! Carl! Come
back to me Carl P
The holiest mission I now have is to
watch over this unfortunate girl. Slow
ly the days drag by her. Rapidly she
is fading. In a very little time she will
be at rest, and the white chaplet of
death will be upon her bosom.
Till then dear Florence, my home is
yours; and when you have been placed
away in the sepulchre, the memory of
your sad face, and your wild beseech
ing words, will linger with me to the
end.
A Hero of Eleven Divorces. —On
the 11th of April, 1866, Samuel Leslie
was married at Wooster to a youDg
lady twenty four years of age, Samuel
having reached the mature age of fifty
seven. He had possessed ten wives be
fore this, each of whom had obtained
divorces from him. Sho had known
him but from the Bth of March to the
1 1th of April, but be had money ; and
she laid all the blame upon his former
wives and gave him her young and
virgin heart. She lived with him but a
short time when she discovered that he
was a common drunkard, and he com
menced to display his affection for her
by hitting her over the head with a
shovel, throwing boiling water at her,
driving her out of doois at the dead of
night, and other such pet acts as were
not very pleasant, to say the least. She
applied for a divorce, but he pleaded so
warmly and made her so many promis
es that she withdrew her application,
but he soon renewed bis former course
and she again made her application.—
This time the suit was prosecuted, and
on Saturday Judge Boynton gave her
the divorce and $1,200 alimony.. This
was the eleventh divoree suit that has
been brought against him. —Ariaron
(Ohio) Ttmes.
Josh Billings says : “If a mail hain’t
got a vVell balanced head, 1 like tew see
him part hie hair in the middle.”
CUTHBERT, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, JULY 16, 1870.
[Communicated to the Rome Courier.
Columbus, LaGrange & Home
Railroad.
#
Eos. Courier —The above named
road will, as projected, be of vast im
portance; much greater than thought
by many, and of a general characted of
utility, rater than a purely local one.—
It will fill an important link in the fu
ture great channel of transportation be
tween the Appalacbee Bay and the
Northern Lakes of Michigan and Hu.-,
ron, and, by its situation midway be
tween the ocean and the Mississippi
river, by its course nearly due North
and South, and by the variety of cli
mates at its termiDi, and productions
raised alongside, is destined to be, when
constructed, one of the most important
and best paying thoroughfares in the
United States. '
Starting at its Southern end, from St.
Marks, on the Appalachee Bay, and
passing by Tallahassee and Quincy, in
the State of Florida', thence by Bain
bridge, Cuthbert, Columbus, LaGrange,
Carolton, Rome and Dalton, in Georgia;
thence by way of Cleveland, Loudon,
and the proposed Cincinnati Southern
Railroad, via Clinton and Jacksboro,
in the State of Tennessee; Williams
burg, Londou, Paris and Covington, in
Kentucky, to Cincinnati, Chip; the
whole line forms a main Jrunk road thus
far.
From Cincinnati this trunk diverges
into two main branches ; one in a North
western direction to Chicago and Lake
Michigan, via, Cambridge, Anderson,
Logan’s Port, and Valpariso; and the
other to Port Huron on the Lake of
that name via Toledo and Detroit.
In comparing distances, we find that from St.
Marks to Columbus, a railroad line could be
made in about 170 miles
From Columbus to Rome (he
bee line is 128 miles,
And touches LaGrange,Frank
lin and Carroltqn, added to
it 10 per cent for neces
sary deviations to avoid nat
ural difficulties, and heavy
expenditure, we find 141 “
From Rome to Dalton, by Rail •
road finished, 38 “
From Dalton to Loudon, E. T.
& Ga. R. R , 82 “
From London to Paris (projec
ted Cincinnati S. R R. to be
built. ISO “
From Paris to Covington and
Cincinnati, 80 “
Total distance from Columbus
to Cincinnati, 521 miles
Distance by the existing routes :
Columbus to Macon. 100 miles; Macon to At
lanta, 103. 203 miles
Atlanta to Chatta
nooga, 138 “~
Chattanooga to Nash
ville, 451 “
Nashville to Louis
ville, 185 “
Louieville to Coving
ton and Cincinnati, 107 “ —784 miles
Difference in length saved, miles, 263
Distance from Columbus to Dalton, via Rome.
179 miles
Distance frem Columbus, via Ma
con and Atlanta, , 308 “
Distance saved, * 124 **
■'ll* the first instance the saving of 25Hj(
miles iD distance, divided by 15— the av
erage speed, will effect a saving of be
tween 17 and 18 hours, and iu money
of 3,4, or 5 cents per mile, respectively,
$7 89; $lO 51, and sl3 15, for each
trip.
In the second case, the saving of 124
miles between Columbus and Dalton,
represents 8 hou sand twenty minutes,
and in money, at 3, or 4, 5 cents per
mile, respectively, $3 72; $4 96, and
$6 20 cents for each trip, and we must
not overlook the saving on the trans
portation of goods
Tbe distance reduced from Columbus to
Chicago is 817 miles
Tbe longdistance, 1080 “
The distance, reduced, from Columbus
to Pori and Lake Huron, 850 “
The long distance, 1113 “
By adding 170 to the above distances,
we find the short distance between
Bt. Marks and Cincinnati, 691 “
The long distance now run, 1238 “
The short distance between Chicago
and St. Marks. 987 “
Tbe long distance now run, # 1534 “
The short distance between Lake Hu
ron and St. Marks, 1020 “
The long distance now run, 1567 “
The present route to St. Marks is
via Macon & Brunswick railroad, At
lantic & Gulf railroad, aod Florida rail
road, 388 miles from Macon,
If we now consider a road from Co
lumbus, Ga., to St. Louts, Mo., we find:
Columbus to Rome about 141 miles
Rome by the projected road to Decatur 125 “
Decatur to Corinth, 95 “
Corinth to Columbus, Ky., 143 “
Steamboat to Cairo.
Cairo to Odin, 121 “
Odeu to St. Louis, 64 “
Total from Columbus to St. Louis 689 miles.
By the present routes :
Columbus to Chattanooga, 341 miles
Chattanooga to Corinth, 216 “
Corinth to St. Louis, 328 “
Total, 885 “
Differeude saved id the two projected
roads, of 196 miles, from Columbus to
Rome, and from Rome to Decatur, 13
hours in time, and at 3, 4 or 5 cents jb
mile, respectively, $5 88; $7 84, and
$9 80 for each trip.
If a railroad was built direct from
Rome to Stevenson, Tennessee, the bee
lino being 60 miles plus 25 miles for
Railroad, 75 miles
From Stevenson to Nashville, 113 “
From Nashville to Vincennes, 229 “
Total t 417 miles.
From Vincennes to St. Louis, 148 “
From Coiambus, Ga., to Rome, 141 “
Total distance via Nashville, 706
By the-routes now in use :
From Columbus to Chattanooga, 341 m
Chattanooga to Stevenson, 38 u
Stevenson to St. Louis via Nash
ville, 490 “ 869 m
Difference saved* by these two new roads, 163
miles.
Nearly 11 hours, or at 3, 4 or 5 cents
a mile, it would be, respectively, $4 80;
$6 52, or $8 15 for each trip.
Comparing the distances from Colum
bus to Louisville, we find via
Dalton, Loudon. Paris and Lexington, 553 miles
Atlanta, ChaHanflSga and Nashville, 676 “
Difference saved, 124 miles.
Or 8 hours and 20 minutes,
money ijt*.<9, 4 and 5 cents a mile, fes
pectively, $3 $4 96, and $6 20 for
each trip. And via
Rome, Stevenson and Nashville, 614 miles
Against, by the present routes, 677 “
Making a saving in miles-* 163
Or nearly 11 hours, and m money
$4 89: $6 52, and $8 15 for each trip.
Alike results want no comments. —
Railroad lines producing differences as
above staffed, possess, a character of
general Utility, rather than local* These
tSat?—we might say these four—pro
jected lines, from Columbus to Rome ;
tOjgJ Condon to Paris; from Rome to
Decatur, and frotn Rome to Stevenson,
wodkl, if constructed, benefit the farmer
as the merchant, the manufac-
the laborer of the North and
Northwest, as well as the planter or
merchant of the South—both sections
aft interested in the shortening of dis
tandsw. Let Northern and Southern
capital help to build these important
links-
Mftr Eugene L* Hardy,
Ch’s. Eg’r. S. R. & D. R. R.
Roaje, Ga., June 17th, 1870.
Magnificent Distances.
Astronomers estimate that some of
theTSpc distant stars, seen by Lord
Rosses telescope, give [o the earth the
rays light which left them 50,000
yearSCgo—having taken all that time,
F<dlN oui : earth, in one second, to
the rays emitted now
will not reach our solar systenj until an
other 50,000 years has passed away.—
Take our #arth for a central point, and
one of tliese distant stars being due
east and another due west, their dis-
each other would be double
this distance from the earth, or, 100,000
years woald be consumed in the passage
of rays of light from one to the other—
more time than is allotted to 3,000 gen
erations of the human race. If time so
occupied is inconceivably vast, how can
we form any conception of the distance ?
Multiply the 100,000 years, reduced to
secaimT, by 200,000, and you j|et the
distance, between two such stars, in
miler; but the number is absolutely over
whelming.
have only begun ta look a
coin>aratively small distance out, into
infinite space, or perhaps, to us, into the
iliimited creation. We may imagine a
line,,"'ach as far d.stant from its next as
the tVo we have above supposed, and
yet tie distance between the two last
extrejnv's would be too short for a meas
ure to rnsasure across the vast creation,
thougjh fxtended over new once in
each rniaute, for a million years
How vast—infinite—that Eternal Mind
whin’; filled these vast spaces with the
creations we are able to see and con
temGato, and whose presence intelli-
fills the entire bounds of in
finite spade! w hose knowledge and
power a>e not exhausted on the grand,
the s/iblime system of the universe, but
also iids of the microscopic insects in
all t/ie vast universe, without diverting
his Attention at any time from either the
grqltest or smallest object withiu the
of our conceptions.
How appropriate, to turn _ our eyes
f/om all this vastness, and look at oun
pelves, inhabitants of this little “dirty
dpeok, men call earth I” How diminu
sve the size of a man’s body compared
with these va*st distances ! How short
bis eariTfy duration, when measured by
and periods ta voided iu‘
•tlie creation of the universe! How
contracted the capacities of his mind,
compared with the all embracing intelli
gence of that powerful Mind who orig
inated, preserves and regulates the
boundless creation ! How proper to re
press the swellings of pride, to thus
discover our owd nothingess, and how
appropriate to humble ourselves before
that Being, who gave and preserves our
existence !
Dr. Franklin on Death. — We have
lost la most dear and valuable relation.
But it is the will of God and Nature
that these bodies be laid aside
„when the soul is to enter real life. This
is rather an embryo state, a preparation
for living. A man is not completely
born until he is dead. Why should we
grieve when anew child is born to the
immortals ? We are spirits ; that bodies
should be lent us while they can afford
us pleasure, assist us in acquiring
knowledge, or doing good to our fellow-
T;rea|ureß, is a kind and benevolent act
*?>£. (Sprits-Wh<-n they become imfit for
these purposes, and afford us pain in
stead of pleasure—instead of aid be
come an incumbrance, and answer none
t>f Dje, intentions for which they were
given—it is equally kind and benevolent
that a way is provided by which we
may get rid of them.
Death is that way. We ourselves, in
Ttoile cases, prudently choose a partial
death. A mangled, painful limb, which
cannot be restored, we willingly cut off.
lie who plucks out a tooth parts with
it freely, since pain goes with it; and
he who quits the whole body, parts at
once with all the pains and diseases it
was liable to or capable of making.
Our friend and we were invited abroad
on a party of pleasure which is to last
fcTrever. His chair was read}' first, and
he has gone before us; we could not
conveniently start together. Why
should you and I be grieved at this,
■iiuAfW'e are soon to follow, and know
W.lq&e to find him ?
A Beautiful Sentiment. —ln August
tin Daly’s great play “Under the Gas
light” Laura Courtland utters these
bountiful sentiments :
“Let the woman you look upon be
wise or vain, beautiful or homely, rioh
or poor, she has but one thing she can
give or reluse—her heart. Her beauty,
her wit, her accomplishments, she may
s*4l to you—but her love is the treasure
without money and without price. She
only asks in return that when you look
upon her, your eyes shall speak a mute
devotion ; that when you address her,
shall be gentle, loving and
kind. That you shall not despise her
because she cannot understand, all at
once, your vigorous thoughts and ambi
tious plans, for when misfortune and
evil have defeated your greatest purpo
ses—her love remains to console you.—
-You look upon the trees for strength
vand grandeur; do not despise the flow
ers because their fragrance is all they
have to give. Remember, love is all
tiiat a woman can give—but it is - the
only earthly thing which God permits
us to cany beyond the grave.”
A Waterbury “ infant ” named
Freddy, went to his mother one even
ing, and inquired, 4 Mother, what is a
gone sucker ?’ His mother said he
must not ask such questions but Fred
dy persisted, and was finally sent to bed
to say his prayers by himself, instead ot
on his mother’s lap, as usual. So Fred
dy prayed—* God b!es6 papa atfd mama
and baby, but as for me, I’se been a
bad boy, and Tgum I'm « gone sticker,"
Advice to Young Hen*
There is no harm in a certain mod
erate aud occasional amount of innocent
pleasure. But a young man who has
his own way to carve in life, can spare
neither tbe t ; me, the strength, nor the
expense of much social pleasure. In
the country, where the style of living is
simple, one can get all the gaiety he
needs without spending much money.—
We recommend to every young man
who is starting in life the most rigorous
economy iu expenses; in clothes food
and equipment. Young men usually
do not take their measure of economy
from what they actually endure, but
from what society around them is ac*
customed to demand.
By far the greatest number of young
men have only their hands, their good
character, and their mother-wit for capi
tal. Success will require ingenuity,
industry, and rigorous economy. The
practice of these qualities for tenJ years
fought to put a sensible man on J good
foundatSou, on which he cam j&uild bd
enduring prosperity. But if a young
man must have three or four ‘outings’ a
year; if he must join various societies
which tax his slender resources severe
ly; if he mu6t be counted upon for par
ties, balls, suppers, or drinking bouts;
if he must pay for billiards and prime
cigars, he will find it uphill work to
save enough to make-his mid-life and
old age comfortable. Youth may be
the time for pleasure, but that is no rea
son why a man should squander the best
part of his life. Youth is good for
pleasure'; but is the very time too, for
learning, for work, or self-disciphue.—
And pleasure itself does not need to be
pecuniarily expensive. Do not* be
ashamed to economise, no matter what
the girls think, nor what the boys think.
Build yourself up in intelligence and
sound morals. Acquiring an honorable
competence, you will have a chance to
lend money to the fools that ridicule
your rigid economy and your scrupu
lous employment of them. t
Resolve that except the most imper
otive necessities required for health and
strength, you will not spend a penny,
either for charity or luxury, except out
of your income. Earn your money be
fore you spend it. The effect of this
will be to curb all expensive impulses,
and reduce your actions iu the spending
of money, to a conscientious rule. We
believe that sixteen men out of every
twenty that begin life poor remain so to
the end of life; but that every one of
these sixteeu earned enough, if it had
been saved, to have made him entirely
independent.
Foolish spending is the father of pov
erty. Do not be ashamed of hard
work. Work for the best salaries or
wages you can get, but work for half
price rather than be idle Be your own
master, and do not let society or sash
ion swallow up your individuality—hat,
coat, aDd bouts. Do not eat up and
wear out all that you earn. Compel
your selfish body to spare something
tor pruflbr savvd,' Bof
own appetite, but merciful to others’
necessities. Help others, and ask no
help for yourself. See that you are
proud. Let your pride be of the right
kind. Be too proud to be lazy; too
proud to give up without conquering
every difficulty; too proud to wear a
coat that you cannot afford to buy; too
proud to be in company that you can
got Keep up with in expenses; too
proud to lie, or steal, or cheat; too
proud to be stingy. —Rome Journal.
Self-reliance. —The first thing you
want to learn, to develop what force is
in you, Is self-reliance; that is, as re
gards your relation to man. If I were
going to give a formula for developing
the most forcible set of men, I would
say, turn them upon their own resour
ces, with moral and religious truths,
When they are boys, and teach them to
“depend on self and not on father.” If
a boy is thrown oh his own resources
at fifteen, with the world all before him
where to choose, and he fights the bat
tle of life single-handed up to manhood,
and don’t develop more thau an average
share of executive ability, then there is
do stuff in him worth talking about.—
*3e may learn to “plow, and sow, and
reap, and mow,” but this can only be
done with machines and hc.rses, and a
man wants to be better than either of
these. Wipe out of your vocabulary
every such word as fail, give up wish
es for improbable results, put your
hand to the plow, or whatever tool you
take to, and then drive on, and never
look back. Don’t even sight your per
son to see if it is straight; don’t be
consistent, but be simply true. If you
go out to “see a reed shaken by the
wind,” it is pretty likely you vyjll never
see anything of more consequence.
How the Heavens abe Shifting.—
“ Tho eternal and incorruptible heav
ens,” as they were termed by Aristotle,
are undergoing continued and marked
changes. The so-called fixecl stars, the
land marks of the universe, have their
own proper motions, not accounted for
by that of the solar system. Sirius—
as that wonderful aid to physical astron-,
omy, the spectroscope, reveals—is shoot
ing through space at the rate of one
thousand million miles a year. Many
stars, more distant still, may even ex
ceed this rate. Cooper’s recent cata
logue of stars shows that no fewer than
sever.ty-seven stars previously cata
logued are mißsing. This, no doubt,is
to be ascribed in part to the error of
former observations; but it is certain
that to some extent at leas#it is the re
sult of changes actually in progress in
the siderial system. Os temporary stars
about twenty have been observed, and
more than six times that number are
known to be variable. It appears quite
certain, also, that some of the nebulae
have undergone a change both of form
and brilliancy. When thq* celestial
lamps shall, by their own light, record
their history on the photographic page,
our knowledge of these mysterious lu
minaries, whose fires wax and wane, or
go out in mysterious darkness, will be
less involved in doubt.
A gentle Quaker had two horses,
a very good and a very poor one. —
When seen riding the latter it turned
out that his better half bad taken tbe
good one.
/-‘What!* said a sneering baohelor,
bow eomes it that you let your wife ride
tbe better horse V
The ohly reply wae, —
‘Friend, when thee be marrisd tbee‘ll
known’
The Walls of China-
All the cities of China are surroun
ded by high, strong walls, whose mas’
sive proportions a stranger has no idea
of until he sees them. The walls sur
rounding the city of Pekin are from
twenty-two to twenty-five miles in
length, aud on an average fifty feet high.
This wall is sixty feet thick at the bot
tom, and fifty-four at the top, and once
in a few yards there are immense but
tresses to give it still greater strength.
At every fifth buttress the wall for the
space of oue hundred and twenty six
feet in length, is two hundred and fifty*
six feet in thickness. Id several places
the foundation of the wall is of marble,
and when the ground is uneven, im
mense quantities of cement, as durable
nearly as grannie, and about ns bard,
have been used to level up the ground.
The maju body of this wall is made of
brides, each twenty inches l<>ag, ten
incoes wide, and five inches thick.—
These bricks are burned very hard, and
h*ve Precisely the appearance ol stone.
Qoltbe inside of as in nth
era in other cities, there are esplanades,
or stairway, with gates to them for
ascending them. And over all the
gateways there are immense towers, as
large as great churches, and much high
er, constructed of these great burnt
bricks. On the top of this immense
wall there is a railing both on the out
side and inside, coming up to a man’s
waist, which railing itself is a wall, thus
giving a sense of security to a person
walking on the top. The outside rail
ing is made into turrets, for the use of
cannon, in case of attack. The entire
top of the wall is covered with strong
burned brick, twenty inches square, re
sembling tbe flagging of our sidewalks
injarge cities, only, as I have said,
these walls are fifty-four feet wide.
There is no way of getting into the
city, only to go through this immense
wall. And wherever there is a gate for
the purpose of getting through, there is
another wall built inclosing a square
space, compelling all persons who go
into the city to go through two walls , by
passages at right angles to each other.
Tbe walls are so immensely thick, that
theße passages through them, arched
over with cut stone, remind one exactly
of our railroad tunnels in the United
States, At each cf these great arch
ways there is an enormous gate made
of strong timbers, everywhere as much
as ten inches thick, and covered on both
sides with plates of iron, like the sides
of our war ships. These gates are shut
early in the evening, generally before
sundown, and are not allowed to be
opened during tbe night for any pur
pose. They are fastened on the inside
by means of strong beams of timber.
Farmers Should Take Enough Sleep.
—Said one of the oldest aud most suc
cessful farmers in this State : “I do not
care to have my men get up before five
or half past five in the morning, and if
they go to bed early and can Bleep
sojA'idly, IhftwwiU (1) more work than if
gov up at four or half past four.” VVe
do not believe in the eight hour law, but
nevertheless are inclined to think that,
as a generel rule, we work too many
heurs on the farm, Tbe best man we
ever had to dig ditches seldom worked,
when digging by the rod more than
nine hours a day. And it is so in chop
ping wood by the cord; the men who
accomplish the most, work the fewest
hours. They bring all their brain and
muscle into execution, and make every
blow tell. A slow, plodding Dutchman
may turn a grindstone or a fanning mill
better than a Yankee; but this kind of
work is now done mostly by horse pow
er ; and the farmer needs above all else,
a clear head, with all his faculties of
mind and muscle light active aud under
control.
Much, of course, depends on tempera
ment, but, as a rule, men need sound
sle&fi and plenty of it. When a boy on
the farm, we were told that Napoieon
needed only four hours’ of sleep, and
the old nonsense of “five hours’ sleep
for a man, six for a woman, and seven
for a fool” was often quoted. But the
truth is that Napoleon was enabled
in a great measure to accomplish what
be did from the faculty of sleeping
soundly—of sleeping when he slept and
working when he worked. We have
sat in one of his favorite traveling earria
ges, and it was so arranged that he could
lie down at full length, and wheu dash
ing through the country as fast as eight
horses, frequently changed, could carry
him, be slept soundly, and when he ar
rived at his destination was as fresh as
if he had risen frotn a bed of down.—
Let farmers, and especially fanner’s
boys, have plenty to eat, nothing to
“drink,” aud all tile sleep they cau take.
How to Get Sleep.—How to get
sleep is to many persons a matter of
high importance. Nervous persons,
who are troubled with wakefulness and
excitability, usually have a strong tend
en6y of blood to the brain, with cold ex
tremities. The pressure of blood on
tbe brain keeps it in a stimulated or
wakeful state, and the pulsations in the
head are often painful. Let such rise
and chafe the body and extremities with
a crash towel, or rub smartly with thß
binds to promote circulation, and with
draw the excessive amount of blood
from tbe brain, aod they will fall asleep
in a few minutes. A cold bath, or a
sponge bath, and rubbing, or a good
ruD, or a rapid walk in the open air, or
going up and down stairs a few times,
just before retiring, will aid in equaliz
ing circulation and promotion to sleep.
These rules are simple, and c-asVof ap
plication, in castle or cabin, ana may
minister to the comfort of thousands who
would freely expend money for an ano
dyne to promote “Nature’s sweet res
torer, balmy sleep.”
Beauty of Purity, — Goethe was in
company with a mother and daughter,
when the latter being reproved for some
thing, blushed and burst into tears. He
said to the mother : “How beautiful
your reproach has made your daughter ?
The crimson hue and those silvery tears
become her much better than any orna
ment of gold or pearls; these may be
hung on the neck of any woman j these
are never-seen unconnected with mortal
purity. A full blown flower, sprinkled
with purest due, is not so beautiful as
this child, blushing beneath her parent’s
displeasure, and shedding tear of sor.
row for her fault. A blush is a sign
which nature hangs out to sbdfr wbdrb
chastity and honor dwelt.”
Bggu Love in the Indian language is
'‘ScbimlendamowUcbewagin.”
VOL. IV—NO. 35.
Intentions are the Irnds front
which actions blossom. t
<«• __
The answer to the question,
‘Wbat is a house without a baby ?’ is,
‘Well comparatively quiet.’
A little girl of eight or ten sum*
mers being asked what dust was, re
plied, ‘that it was mud and the juice
squeezed out.’
a®- Suppose a feller what has noth
in’, marries a gal what las nothin’, is
her things his’n, or his’n her’n, or is
bis’n aud hern’n hia’n ?
C3TA lady correspondent of a
country paper says, What a pity w 6
can’t travel like men do, with a b<* of
paper collars anand
2Aacunscript beiug told that ft *
was sweet to die fuf his country, ex
cused himself ground that be
never did like sweet things.
a young speculator, having
married a very homely girl, the possess
or of a large fortune, declared that it
wasn’t the face of his wife that attract
ed him so much as th z figure.
B&“ A speaker in exhorting a miscek
laneous audience recently urged each
aud all to come up to the work and “be
a man.” Os course the ladies couldn’t
quite see it.
B®"* When an ill natured man was try
ing to quarrel with a peaceable maii,
the latter said, —‘I never had a.fuss with
but one man; he was buried- at four
o’clock; it is now half past three.’
A little girl who was watching
the balloon ascension at Lewiston,
Me., suddenly exclaimed, —“Mamm3, I
shouldn’t think God would like to have
that man come up to heaven alive!”
I®* Mrs Harris says it is not as
much trouble for a “nuss” to take care
of sick people as some folks imagine.—
The most of ’em don't want anything,
she says, and if they do, they don’t get
it.
B®, A Boston gontleman who could
not waltz offered a young lady one hun
dred dollars if she would let him hug
her as much as the young man did Who
just waltzed with her.
Not long ago a captain of vol
unteers was publicly presented with A
handsome sword. He began bis reply
thus: “Lftdies and gentlemen, this sword
is the proudest day of my existence.
Said Kate to her new husband}
‘=(ohn, what rock does true love split
upon ?’ Quoth John, and grinned front
ear to ear, ‘The rock of yonder cradle
dear.’
When our clocks are a little fast,
we always set them right at once. Peo*
pie ought to do as much for their fast
isors avd ,tbey generally
let them run,
*♦».
135 ‘Well, Bridget, if I etfgage you;
I shall want you to stay at home when
ever I shall go out.’ ‘Well, m'ara, I
have no objections,’ said Bridget, ‘pro
vidin’ you do the same when I wish td
go out.’
The minister took for his text;
—‘The flesh, the world and the devil;'
and informed his astonished audience
that he should dwell brietiy in the flesh;
pass rapidly over the world, and hasted
as fast as he could to the devil.’
1©- ‘Who’s that gentleman, rtiy Httlfi
man V was asked of an urchin. ‘That
one with the spike tailed coat ?’ ‘Yes,’
was the response. ‘Why, he’s a brevdi
uncle of mine.’ ‘How’s that ?’ was ask
ed. “’Cause he’s engaged to my Aunt
Mary!’
An old criminal was once asked
what was the first step that led to ruin,
when he answered, “The first step! was
cheating a printer out of two years sub;
scription to his paper. When I done
that the devil got such a grip on me
that I could never shake him off.”
An old Baptist minister eri;
forced the necessity of difference of
opinion by this argument: “Now if ev
ery body had been of my opinion, they
would all have wanted rqy old woman.’’
One of the deacons who sat just be
hind him responded : “Yes, and if every
body was of my opinion, nobody would
have her.”
B®* “Jonathan, where were you go»
ing yesterday when I saw you going to
the mill “Why, I was going to the
mill, to b„e eure.” “Well, I wish I'd
seen you, I’d got you to carry a griq£
for me.”. # Why, you did see me, didn't
you “Yes, but not until you got
clean orit»of sight.”
tfg* “Barber,” said a farmer to hist
tonsor, “now corn’s cheap, you ought to
shave for half price.” “Can’t, Mr.
Jones,” said the man of razors; “I real
ly ought to charge more f for whed
corn’s down farmers make such long
faces, I have twice the grpuud to got
over.”
“Why,” said a country clergy
man to one of his flock,“do you sleep id
your pew when I am in. tbe pulpit;
while you are all attentiefti to every
stranger whom I invite to preach for
me ?” “Because, sir, when you predeb
I am sure all is right; biit I can dot
trust a stranger without keepHlg *
good look out.”
B®* The following is a young minis
ter’s idea of the expansive nature of
the human mind: “Yes, my dear
friends, the mind of man is so expad ;
sive that it can soar from . to Star:
add frorh sachelite to sachelite, and
from seraphene to seraphene, and froni
cberrybeam to cherrybeam, and from
thence to thfe ceritrc of the domfci of
heaven.”
Very exchange gives the
following recipe for making an utter fail
ure of life : “Young man, it is' tef
be nobody. Go to the salobii to spetia
your leisure time. You deed Hot drink
much now, just a little. In the meantime
play checkers, doriiiubes; or something
else. If you read, let it be the “JimJ
novels,” of the day; then go on keeping!
your stomach, full; and head empty, and!
in a few years you will be flobddy, un«
less you should turn out to be a drunk-*
ard oh a professional gambler, either ofl
which is worse than to be nobody