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BY SAWTELL & JONES. <Sl)c €utl)bert Appeal. —... Terms of Subscription: Osk Year. ;v. . |3 00 | Six Months $2 00 INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. Rates of Advertising j One square, (ten lines or less,) $1 00 for tbe first and 75 c-nts for each subsequent insertion. ■ll advertising as follows : jvj:i Months 6 Months 12 Months 00 sTtToo $751)0 ■P*. 40 00 75 00 100 00 ran’.’. I 50 00 90 Ou 150 00 P pgr Obituaries, $1 00 per square. LEGAL ADVERTISING. Ordinaries.- Citations for letters of ad ministration, guardianship, &c, $4 00 Application for letters of dismission Irom administration 6 00 Application tor letters of dismission from guardianship'. ...... 4 00 Application for leave to sell Land, 4 00 Notice to Debtors and Creditors, 4 00 Administrator’s Sales, 4 00 BueßiFf’s Each levy, 4 00 “ Mortgage fl fa sales 6 00 Sales of Land by Administrators, Executors, or Guatdiaris, are required by law to be held on the first Tuesday in the month, between the hours often in the forenoon, and three in the after noon, at the Court House in the county in which the properly is situated. Terms of sale must be stated. Notice of these sales must be given in a public gazette 40 days previous to the day of sale. Notice for the sale of personal property must be given in like manner, 10 days previous to sale day. Notice to debtors and creditors of an estate must be published 40 days. Notice that application will be made to tbe Court of Ordinary for leave to sell land, must be published for one month. Citations for letters of Administration, Guard ianship, &c., must be published SO days—for dis mission from Administration, three months ; for dismission from Guardianship, 40 days. Rules for foreclosure of Mortgages must be published monthly tor four months—for estab lishing lost papers, for the full space ot three months—for compelling titles from Executors or Administrators, where bond bus been given by the deceased, the full space of three mouths. Publications will always be continued accord ing to these, the legal requirements, unless oth 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