Cuthbert weekly appeal. (Cuthbert, Ga.) 18??-????, February 03, 1871, Image 1

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I rt J. P. SAWTELL. £. H. PURDY, Manufacturer of Sailes, Harness ani Ms, And Wholesale and Retail Dealer in All kinds of Sadlery Ware, Corner of Whitaker and Bryan St 6., q SAVANNAH, GA. , fjgT Orders for Robber Belting, Hose and also, Stretched Leather Belting, filled promptly. sepl7-€m t, e. Gim.MA.BTIN. JOHN FI.ANNKKY. i. J. GUILMARTIN & CO., Cotton Factors, AND general Commission Merchants, Bay fit., Sarannahy 6a. • Agent* for Bradley's Super Phos phots of Lime, PowelVs Mills ,<T'' "' Yarns and Domestics, etc. r i ißagging, Rope aO'd Iron Ties, al nri - ways on hand. pr Urual Facilities Extended to Customers. »epl7-fim A. J, MILLER & CO., -Tor*! FURNITURE DEALERS, 150 Broughton Street, iSAVAMAH, GEORGIA. WE HAVE ON HAND, and are con ! tinoally receiving, every variety of Parlor and Bedroom Sets, ißnveans, Washstands, Bedsteads, Chairs, Rockers, Wardrobes Meat Safes, Cradles, Looking Glasses, Feathers, Featherbeds, Pil lows, etc. , , Hair, Moss, Shuck and Excelcior Matrasses •on hand, and made to order. Jobbing and Repairing neatly done, and with despatch. We are fully prepared to fill orders. Country orders promptly attended to. All letters'6f inqtrify answered promptly. sepl7-6m. MARIETTA MARBLE YARD. J AM PREPAEED'TO FURNISH Marble, Monuments, 'Tombs, Head and Foot Stones, Vaces, Urns, Vaults, etc,, At very reasonable terms, made of Italian, American and Georgia MARBLE. > IRON RAILING Put Up to Order. For information or designs ncMvess me at. 'this place, or DU. T. 8. POWELL, Agent. Cuthbert, Ga Address, J. A. BISATVER, •epl7 6m Marietta, Ga. GEORGE S. HART & CO., Commission merchants, And Whtdesale Dealers in line B«tlsr,t!heese,Lard, etc., •99 Pearl and 28 Bridge Sts.. N. Y . W Butter and Lard, of all grades, pnt up in every variety of puckage, for Shipment to W arm Climates. Bepl7-<>ai*' | REED & CLARKE, No. 22, Old Slip, New York, DEALERS IN PROVISIONS, Onions, Potatoes, Butter, etc. •< pt!7 <irn CLY, OBERHOLSTER & C 0.,! Importers and Jobbers in Dry Goods, •Nos. 329 & 331 Broadway, Corner of Worth Street. %ej»ls-6m New York. Mill Gearing,Shafftinl&Pullfeys fora cißCuram^ GEORGE PAGE & CO. No. 5 AT. Schroedefr St*, Baltimore. MaAafkctiri'efrs Os PORTABLE AN*t> STATIONARY Steam Engines Und Boiler* . PATENTIMPROVED,PORTABLE Circular Saw mill Gang, Mulay and Sash Saw Milk, Grist Mills, Timber Wheels, SMngle Ma chines, dt.c. Dealers in Circnlar Saws, Belt - ingand Mill supplies generally, a*d#,au'nfac tnrer’s Brents for Leffel’s Celeb rPted Turbina Water Wheel and evCry dCscripAiofi of Wood Working Machinery. AgrfCffftufral Engines a Specialty. Ko“Bead fer descripti v“JCa ! taf6gtieß & Price List. Sepl7-Ly. CUTHBERT |Kf§ APPEAL. ®jjt €ut|krt 'Terms of Su'bs'crijjti'oii: On* Ykab. ...13 00 | Six Months. ... $2 00 invakia'bl.V an a^Vance. jgy No attention pah! to others for the pa per un'ess aCctrmpaalV* by the Cash. Rated •oi’ Ativertiaittg : One square,-(ten lines or less.) $1 00 for the first and 7% 'cenffc for each subsequent, inser tion. A liheraj deduction made to parties who adVertise the year. Persons sending advertisements should mark the number of times they desire them inser ted, or they will be continued until lorbidand charged accordingly. Transient advertisements must be paid for at the time of insertion. Announcing names of candidates for office, $5.00. Cash, in all cases. Obituary notices over five Hues, charged at regular advertising ra'es. All communications promote the private ends or interests of Corporations, So cieties, or individuals, Will l>e charged as ad vertisements. Jote Wonk, s%ch as Pamphlets, ’Circulars, Cards, Blanks, Handbills, etc., will lie execu ted in good style and at reasonable rates. All letters addressed to the Proprietor will be promptly attended to. My Factory, I live iu Good-Wili Kingdom, And for twenty yefcrs Or more I have owned this model factory— Just yo* step inside the door. There are many unseen weavers Busily at work within ; There are many wheels a-goiug, But you hear no whir or dim. See the Heart-wheel in the centre, Large and strong, add never still, With magueiid pdwer moving All the other wheels at will. Love, the fairest of my weavers, Turns this mighty wheal, my frit-fed, Weaving countless threads ot beadty That no human strength cauvetfd. Round this wheel, revolvingSkiftty, Watch the wheels of l-Tope aud Joy. And the triple wheels of Duty Busy in *ny life’s employ. How the 'heavers cheer each other, And bow quickly aud mow well They dfcey Love’s gentle orders, It Would take me long to tell. In this high and spacious chamber, With its windows paned with blue, See the Brain-wheel, of magio, Weaving threads ol every hue. Thought, the wisest of my weavers, At this wheel unwearied stands, Until Sleep, with weary fingers, ’Steals the distaff frefa her hands. God npreivred this noble structure ’Twjs a God-like gift and free— And fee put the weels in motion With this solemn charge to me : ’“See you keep thin building holy, Fair without and fair within ; Keep ibo wheels all bright and busy, And your work unstained by siu.” But sometimes old Care, on crutches, Hobbles in and clogs the wheels, Aud then Sloth, thecunny vagrant, Follows close behind hie heeds. With a loathtsome breath of canker, And his wallet full of dust, And with stealthy steps approaching, Specks each idle wheel with rust. And sometimes old Mother Gossip, Gadding where’er she doth chose, On her way from Tittle-tattle, Saunters in to tell the news ; And that giddy coquette, Pleasure, On her way to Folly-town. Stops to show her gaudy trinkets And The fashion of her gown. And sometimes poor scowling Envy Comes to tell me with a whine That my neighbor owns a factory Twice as large aud fine as mine. But -these visitors come seldom, And they do not tarry where They mast stand in mortal terror Ot my Watchmen, Faith and Prayer. So I live in peace ami quiet. And when anything goes wrong, Or the days seeur long and weary, Take niv harp and sing a song ■; For my weavers 'weave the taster, ■And (frhe tvkei'is tnt'n ewi ter round, When Itottch Viy harp ■with gladness And awake a cheerful sonwd. Pearl | divers. - ■ • No Homk.—There are thousands who know nothing of the blessed influences of comfortable homes, merely for the want of thrift, or from dissipated habits. Youth spent in frivolous amusements and demoralizing associations, leaving them at middle age, when the phy sical and intellectual man should be* in its greatest Vigor, enervated, and' without one laudable ambition.— Friends long since lost, confidence gone, and nothing to look to in old age but a mere toleration in the; community where they should be Ornaments. No home to fly to when wearied with the struggles in- ; cident to life; no wife to cheer them in therr despondency; no children to amuse them, and no vir tuous household to give Zest to the joys of life. All is blank, and theitf is no hope or succor except that which is given out by the hands of private or public charities. When the family of an industrious and sober citizen gather around the cheerful fire of a wintry day, the homeless man is seeking shelter in the cells of the station house, or begging for a night’s rest in the out building of ohe who started in life' at the same time* With no greater advantages; bat honesty and indus try built up that home, while dis sipation destroyed the others Anna Dickinson says she pro poses giving newspaper men, that talk about her, “tit for tat.” Sol Miller, a Kansas editor, replied to this by saying: “All right, Anna, we’ll trade; here’s your tat.” CUTHBERT, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 3, 1871. A Sale Investment. In the second year of the late civil war, I was married, and went to live with my husband in a small village on the Hudson, some fifty or sixty miles from New York.— The house we occupied was a large, rambling mansion, of considerable antiquity for this country, and stood a little apart from the rest of the village, surrounded by broad fields and •commanding a glorious view of the river aud the hills of the Highlands It had been built before the Revolution, by my.hus band’s great grandfather, aud, though destitute of many ‘‘modern improvements,” was still a comfort able and pleasant residence. My husband was a lawyer and a large real estate owner in the neigh borhood, aud, at the penod of which I write, was greatly per plexed, like many other persons iu the North, by the perilous state of the times, and especially about the safe investment of his funds, as the suspension of specie payments, she great rise in gold, and the military disasters in Virginia, made it al most impossible to tell where it would be safe to deposit or to use one’s money in any large amount. In the course of his transactions in real estate, it happened, one day* that he received what was for us then a large surn, about ten thous and dollar*, which he brought home and placed in my charge, tell ng me at the same time that he should have to fee absent during the even ings attending to some business on the other side of tUe river, and should not be at home till about midnight. “You can place the money in the safe, dear,” he said, as he gave it to me, “and to-morrow I will try and find some way to invest it securely.” So saying, he stepped into the buggy, which was standing at the door, aod and ove away, taking with him our hired man Silas, and leav ing me w th no one in the house but Dinah, an old colored woman, who fulfilled in our modest household the lonctious of coot and maid-of atl-woi k, as she had long done ia the family of my own parents, who, on my marriage, had yielded Iter to me as a valuable part of my dower. I)iuah was indeed a character.— She was tall and very T stout, weigh ing, she would never tell how much* wore than two hundred pounds.— She was very bLack, and as lazy as she was black. Ido not think any one could move more deliberately tbau Dmah did, that is, to move at all. And, by a wonder,ul dispen sation, she seemed to feel that whatever her other faults might be she was strong on the point of lo comotion. For, when she had been moving with a ponderous slowness, almost maddening to a persou of or dinary quickness, ewe of her favor ite expressions was, “Well, Miss Lillie, what shall I fly onto next?” How she accomplished all she did. the brownies only know. We used sometimes almost tremble when there was any special hurry about our domestic arrangements, aud yet Dinah always managed to bring af fairs to a comsummation just when a minute more would have ruined everything, and, with undisturbed front, would slowly enunciate, ‘‘Well, miss, what shall I fly onto next ?” It was nearly dark when my hus band departed, and, after giving my orders to Dinah, or rather my sug gestions, I left her, aud made the tour of the house, to see that all was safe and properly locked up.— This duty attended to, I went to my bedroom, intending to pass the time in reading until my husband should return. It was a large room on the ground floor, with two French wiudows opening on a broad veranda. The windows were draped with long yel low silk curtains, between which the moonlight faintly entered, dim*: med by the shadow «t the roof of the piaaea, aad partly intercepted' by the fringe of the woodbine which hung from it. My bed stood with its foot towards the windows, and with its head about half a yard from the wall. It was an old-fash ioned structure, hung with yellow silk like the windows, but I slept with the hangings drawn back aud fastened to tue head-board. The bed was so large that no one ever thought of moving it, except in those seasons of household panic called house-cleanings, when the combined strength of three or four men was called into requisition to draw it into the middle of the room. So elaborately carved was it that it. went by the same of Westminster Abbey in the family. At one end of the room, at no great distance from the bed, was a large safe, built into the huge chimney of the man sion, with a door high enough for a person to enter standing upright. Here I was accustomed to place, every evening, our silver plate on shelves which extended around the sides, on which also were placed boxes containing papers and other Valuables. Opposite the foot of the bedstead, between the windows, was a mirror, running from the floor al most in the ceiling. Like all the other furniture ie the room, it was old And handsome. How many happy scenes it had reflected in the hundred years it had stood there. The night was exceedingly hot, and I therefore left the windows open, though I drew the curtains before I seated myself at the table in the centre of the room, lighted the candles, and began to read, in order to pass the heavy time before the return of my husband. After awhile, I heard the clock strike nine, at which hour Dinah al ways went to bed. Her chamber was in the attic, the third story of the houtfe. Remembering some: household matter about which I wished to speak to her, I Started hurriedly up, and went into the en try to intercept her before she got up stairs. I had to wait about a minute before she came, and our colloquy continued three or four minutes more. When I returned to my bedroom, feeling somewhat tired, I resolved to go to bed, as, at that late hour in the country, it was quit* certain that no visitors would call, and my husband could let himself in with; the latch*key, which he always car ried. I thought, however, I would try to keep awake by reading, and according placed a light stand and the candles at the head of my bed. I then closed and fastened the win dows, undressed, and got into bed. The key of the safe I placed as usu al, under my pillow. After reading perhaps lalf an hour, I grew weary of the book, and, quietly laying it down, remain ed some minutes meditating with my eyes fixed on the mirror oppo site Hie foot Os the bed, in which 1 coutd see myself reflected, together with the yellow silk curtaius behind my head. I was thinking, not un natural, how preuy I looked, and ho* happy I was with such a loving lmsbaod and such a large sum of mouey secure in our safe, when sud deoly I saw iu the mirror a sight that made my heart stand still. A head appeared her.ween the curtains, drawing them slowly apart, and ? rasping cautiously the head board. t was a man’s baud, large and coarse and dark, as if belonging to a mulatto, or to one greatly tanned by exposure to the weather. My first impulse was to start from the bed, aod scream for he[p. I repressed it by a strong effort of will, and lay perfectly motionless, except that I partially closed my eyes, keeping them only sufficiently open to watch the mirror. As quick as lightning my mind took in the situation In the few minutes oi my absence from the room, while talking to Dinah iu the entry, a thief, a robber, a possible murderer, had stolen in oy the piazza windows, and had hidden himself either un der the bed or behind its draped head. He was doubtless armed; and, if I cried out, and attempted to escape from the room, be could easily reach the door before I could, aud for his own security would probably put me to death. Dinah was too distauc, aud too feeble and clumsy to afford me any assistance, aud besides was by this time fast asleep in the third story. The man doubtless knew that my husband had that day received a large sum of money, and had gone off across the river, leaving me alone, or neat ly alone, in the house. He had en tered, caring only for the money, and anxious, above all things, to es cape undetected aud unrecognized. If I let him know that I was aware of his presence, I should expose my self to murder, aod perhaps to out rage worse than murder. My ob vious policy was, to keep quiet and to feign sleep. I thought also of the money, and was not altogether willing to resign that without an effort to save it, aud to have at least some clew to the identity of the thief. I confess, however, that this last consideration was not a very strong one, and am afraid that, if I could have seen my way clear to au escape from the room aud the house, I should have fled inconti nently, without stopping to see more than that terrible hand. A moment which seemed an hour passed while these thoughts rushed through my mind. I lay perfectly still, with my half closed eyes watching the mirror. Slowly aud noiselessly the frightful hand pulled up Us owner* until I could see the head aud face reflected in the glass, and glaring at me with fierce yet wary eyes. The man was a mulatto, very dark, with evil passions writ ten in every lineament. I could scarcely refrain from shuddering at the sight of his hateful visage, and speedily closed my eyes to shut it out. I was not yet quite ready for the ordeal through which I knew I 1 mus; soon pass. I wanted to move my light stand a little out of the way, and to so arrange the bed clothes that I could spring from the bed without impediment. I Lhertfore gave a little sigh, and movtd, as if about to awake, slight ly ofening my eyes at the same time. The head and hand instantly disappeared. I then composedly made the desired changes in the po-. sitioc of the arrangement of the clothes, put my watch with the key of the safe under my pillow—so near the edge that they could easi ly be taken out, as I knew they would be—extinguished one of my ' candles, said my prayers, and closed my eyes* resigned myself to my fate, with no very sauguiue or definite hope of extrication from my peri lous position. I made tty breathing regular* and: a little louder than when I was awake, and lay with my cheek on my land* counterfeiting sleep. At last the stillness became more ter rible than even my first agony of fear- Several times I fancied that I heard a soft step approach from the place of concealment. Ab of ten l was deceived. Then again that dreadful stillness, in which I counted the ticking of the watch through the pillow. It was a posi tive relief when he came out from behind the curtain, stopped at the table, and stood looking at me, as I was well aware, though my eyes were closed. I forced myself to breathe regularly and aubidly. He came closer; he bent over me. He passed the lighted candle slowly before my face two or three times. I felt the heat, and saw the light through my closed lids, which must have quivered, though he did not seem to observe their motion. — Heaven gave me strength not to move or cry out. Satisfied, appa rently, he put back the candlestick on the stand, and his band crept sol'lly and slowly under the pillow, and one by one, he removed my watch and the key of the safe. He stood so long looking at me that 1 felt impelled to open m-y eyes sud denly apon him. As he walked softly toward the safe, I did partly open them, aud cautiously watched him through my eyelashes. I heard him fumb ling with the lock* kira he looked over toward the bed. My eyes were wide opeu, but I closed them in time uot to be detected.— Watching him stealthily, I saw him opeu the door of the safe, which he entered without drawing the key from the lock. Here was the opportunity for which I had waited and watched.— I sprang lightly from the bed, with one bound reached the safe, dashed the door to, turned the key, and with one long loud shriek fell pros trate and senseless on the floor of the dark room. How long I lay upon the floor, I do not know—probably for a few minutes only—but, as I was un conscious, it seamed, when I came to myself, as if the interval had been a long one. I was aroused by his blows upon the iro i door, and found myself weak after the loDg nervous tension, but still calm. I remember the satisfaction -with which I thought, while I lay there before rising, that he could not es cape, mingled with a vagttc and foolish dread that he might in his rage burn the valuable contents of the safe. He pounded desperately on the door, and swore fearfully at finding himself entrapped. But, as I took no notice of his outcries, he soon grew quiet. Presently I rose, and, lighting a candle, dressed mysrlf with all sible haste and with tremblin g fin gers, turning often to look at the safe, from under the closed door of which I more than half expected to see blood trickling—why, I cannot: tell, except that my mind was full of images of boner. I was soon in readiness. I had no means of ascer taining the time, as he had my watch in his pocket, and there was no clock in the room. Taking the candle, I hastened to arouse Dinah, who, as I shook her, slowly opened her eyes, and with scarcely any more than her usual slowness pro nounced her formula? “Well, Miss Lillie, what shall i —Lord a J massy! what’s do matter wid de chile? You ain’t seen a ghost have you, honey ?" “No, Dinah ; but I’ve seen some thing worse than ghost. I’ve caught a robber, aud he’s in the safe. What time is it ?” and, look ing at the clock, that ticked slowly and deliberately—as how could Di nah’s clock help doing ? I saw to my great relief that it was nearly mid night. We had scarcely got down-stairs when I heard the sound of wheels; A moment more, and my husband \ was in my arms, listening with amazement to a rapid narrative of my singular adventure. I would not su2W him to open the safe un til Silas had summoned assistance from the neighboring houses. I feared that my desperate prisoner ; might still escape. When the safe was opened, there sat my burglar on the trunk, half stupefied for want; of air, a knife in one hand v the pack age of money in the other, and the burned out candle at his feet. He was recognized as an old offender, who had not been long out of State prison, to which, in due course of law, he was soon sent back for a term of years, which, I devoutly hope, may last as long as he lives ; for I confess I should not feel easy to hear that he was again at large. The look of rage fee gave me on: coming out of the safe will not soon he obliterated from my memory. My husband, I need hardly say, was greatly pleased with ray safe j investment, and complimented me i highly on the courage and coolness. which had doubtless saved my life as well as our money. The love and gride with which fee regarded me, and with which he Always, to this day, rehearses my exploit, were of themselvss a sufficient compensa tion for the horror and the agony of that long summer-night. When a rakish youth goes astray, friends gather to bring him back to the path of virtue. Gen tleness and kindness are lavished upon him to bring him back to in nocence and peace. No one would ever suspect that he had sinned;— Bfet when a poor Oonfiding girl is betrayed, she receives the brAnd of ’ society, and is henceforth driven ; from the ways of virtue. The be trayer is honored, respected and es teemed—there is no peace for her ; this side of the grave. Society has ; no helping loving liand for her, no ■ voice of forgiveness. These are earthly ntoralities unknown to Heaven. —lndependent, Jickson ville, 111. “What ails your eye, Joe?” “I told a man he lied.’* Herrors of Aneient Wars—The Siege of Jerusalem. The siege that seems to epitom ise all the horrors of such contests, forming, as it were, the last crown ing tragedy, was the siege of Jeru salem by Titus, A. D., ’7O. The city then contained, according to Tacitus, six hundred thousand in habitants. Josephus has well nar rated the sufferings of his country men, not merely from the Romans, but also from the savage factions of the two rival chief, Simon and John —the former of whom held the up per city, the latter the Temple.— Their followers tore each other to pieces up to the very moment that •the Itomans broke through the walls. The mode in which Titus conducted this memorable siege furnished a good example of the manner in which the Romans con ducted such operations. His le gionaries having established their camps on Scopas and the Mount of Oliydb* began to burn the suburbs of Jerusalem, cut down the trees, and raisO banks of earth and timber against the Walls. On these works were placed archers and hurlers of jaxelins, and before them the eata pults and balistas that threw darts and huge stones. The Jews replied from the en gines which they had taken from Roman detachments, but they used them awkwardly and ineffectually. They, however, were very daring in their sorties, endeavoring to burn the Roman military engines and the hurdles with which the Roman pio neers covered themselves when at work. The Romans also built tow ers fifty cubits high, plated with iron, iu which they placed archers and slings, to drive the Jews from the walls. At last, about the sis teenth day of the siege, the great est of the Roman battering-rams be gan to shake the outer wall* and the Jews yielded up the first line of de fense. Five days after, Titus broke through the Second wall, into a place fall of narrow streets crowd ed with brazier’s, clothiers’, and wool merchants’ shops; but the Jews rallying drove out the Ro mans who, uot having made the breach sufficiently large, were with difficulty rescued by their archers. Four days later* however, Titus re took the second wall, and then wait ed for famine to do its work within the city. The Jews began now to desert to the enemy in great num bers, and all these wretches the Ro mans tortured and crucified before th« walls (at one time five hundred a day)-, so that, as Josephus says* “ room was wauted for the crosses, and crosses wanting for the bod ies.” 'At this crisis of the siege the Jews, undermining one of the Ro man Towers, set it on fire, and did their best to destroy all the besieg ers’ wofkg. Titus now determined to slowly starve out his stubborn enemies, and began to build a wall round the whole city. This wall, with thirteen forts, the Roman sol diers completed in three days.— Famine, in the meantime, was rav aging the unhappy city. Whole families perished daily, and the streets were strewn with dead bod ies that no one cared to bury.— Thieves plundered the half-deserted homes, and murdered any who showed signs of resistance, or who still lingered in the last agonies 0 f starvation. The dead the Jews threw down from the walls into the valleys below. In the meantime, the Rornan soldiers, abundantly supplied with corn from Syria, mocked the starving men on the walls by showing them food. The palm-trees and olive-trees around Jerusalem had been all destroyed, but Titus, sending to the Jordan for timber, again raised banks around the castle of Antonia. Inside the city the seditions grew more vio lent, the partisans of John and Si •hon murderiag each otheF daily, and plundering the Temple of the sacred vessels A rumor spreading in the Roman camp that the Jewish deserters swallowed their money before they left Jerusalem, led to the murder in one night, Josephus says, of nearly two thousand of these unhappy crea tures. Again a part of the wall fell before the battering-rams, but only to discover to the Romans a fresh rampart built behind it. In one at tack a brave Syrian soldier of the cohorts, With eleven other men, suc ceeded in reaching the top of the wall, but they were there overpow- Cd by the Jews. A few days after, twfelVe Roman soldiers scrambled up by night through a breach in' the tower of Antonia, killed the guards, and, sounding trumpets, summoned the rest of the army to their aid. The tower once carried, the Romans tried to force their way into the Temple, and a hand to hand fight ensued, which termina ted in the Romans being driven back to the tower of Antonia. The Jews, now seeing the Temple in danger, and the assault recom mencing, set fire to the cloister that joined the Temple and the castle of Antonia, and prepared for a despe rate resistance in their last strong hold. In the conflagration many of the Romans Advancing too eager- j ly* perished. During all this fighting, the fam- t ine within the city grew worse and worse. Thu wretched people ate their shoes, belts* and even the leather thongs of their shields.— Friends fought for foot, and robbers broke into every house where it was known that corn was hidden. Josephus even mentions a well known ease of a woman of Wealth from beyond Jordan who ate her own child. The walls of the tem ple were so massive as to resist the battering-rams for six days, so Ti tus gave orders to burn down the gates. At last, after a desperate resietanoe, the Jews were driven into the inner court and the temple was Bet on fire and destroyed, ini spite of all the efforts of Titus to save it. When the Jews first saw the flames spring up, Josephus says, 1 they raised a great shout of despair, and sixteen thousand of the defeu-: ders perished in the fire. The Ro mans, in the fury of the assault, burnt down the treasury chambers, filled with gold and other riches,, and all the cloisters, into which j multitudes of Jews had fled, ex pecting something miraculous, as their false prophet had predicted.— Titus now attacked the upper city, and raised banks against it, at which about forty thousand of the inhabi tants deserted to the Roman camp, i The final resistance was very fee ble, for the Jews were now utterly disheartened. The Romans, once masters of the walls, spread like a deluge over the city, slew all the Jews they mot in the narrow lanes, and set fire to the houses. In many of these these found entire families dead of hunger, and these places, in their horror, the soldiers left un plundered. The Romans* weary- at last of slaying, Titus gave orders that tio -Jew, unless found with arms in his band, Should be killed’. But some soldiers went on butchering the old aud infirnL, and driving the youths and women iOEd the court of the temple. The niales under seventeen were sent to the Egyptian mines j several thousands Were giv en to provincial amphitheatres to fight with the gladiators and wild beasts ; but before ail could be sent away, eleven thousand of them per, ished from famine. Altogether, in this cruel siege, there perished elev en hundred thousand Jews. This enormous multitude is accounted for by the fact, that when Titus sat down before Jerusalem, thecity was full of people from all parts of Ju dea, come up to celebrate the Feast of Unleavened Bread. —All the Year Hound. Russia covets, Turkey fears', Austria ponders, Italia cheers. Belgium—Holland, Wait in dread; Denmark’s pah ted, Spain is dead. France lies bleeding, Prussia soars *, Britannia shuts her eyes And—snores!! Advice to the Girls. Do not estimate the Worth of a young man hy his ability to talk soft nonsense, nor by the length of his moustache. Do not imagine tfeat an extra rib bon tied about the neck, can reme dy the defect of a soiled collar, or an untidy dress. If your hands are browned by la bor, do not envy the lilly fingers of Miss Fuss-aud Feathers, whose mo ther drudges in the kitchen, while the daughter Lounges in the parlor. If your dress is inconveniently long, and a gentleman steps upon it-, don’t be angry, but meekly ask his. pardon, as you ought. Always cherish a partiality for smell of dish water—it is more con ducive to health and far less expen sive than “ Bouquet of Eden.” If a dandy, cigalr between his fin gers, asks you if smoking is offen sive to you, tell him emphatically, “ yes.” The habit should be, even though the odor may not. Do not pronounce squash pie “ splendid !” nor a pug-nosed poo dle “ sweet I” nor a dish of boiled cabbage “superb.” Do not judge of the intelligence of a female acquaintance by the number of yards of trimming on her dress. Do not waste your tears on the imaginary sufferings es Alonzo and Melissa, nor the trials of the dime novel heroines Seek rather to al leviate the woes of the suffering ones on earth. , Learn the use of darning cotton,: as well as of zephyr worsted and the tatting shuttle. Moos Fallacy. — l have seen several articles in your paper in re gard to cutting timber by “ moon signs.” More than forty years ago I cut for a number of years, at dif ferent times in the year, cOnsidera ble second growth beech for plane stocks, which I think is the very worst wood known to preserve sound, or keep from getting “ dozy” as we used to call it. Alter trying many moony experiments, summer : and winter* I came to this conclu sion, that the true secret was to cut the timber when there was the least possible amount of sap in the body of the tree—say the coldest weather in winter, or the warmest in summer —June or February, when the sap is in the tops or in the roots of the tree. Every tree I cut after the sap began to start in the spring was sure to “ doze ” un til Junes, when I found it safe to cut again-. ’Qdrt*eepondenoe ‘in the Sci entific A.vkericatv. An acre contains 4,840 squarie yards. A squre mil© contains 640 acres. A mite is 5,280 feet Or 1,- 760 yards. A league is three miles, A fathom is six feet. A hand, horse measure, is four inches. A palm is three inches. A pace is three feet. VOL. V-NOi 6 —lt was a wise negro who, in speaking of the happiness of mar ried people, said, “Dat ar ’pends al together on how dey ’joy deyeelves.” —lt must be consoling for sick soldiers on low difet in the military hospitals during the War to sing: ‘‘When this gruel fraif is over wo shall meat again.” —“Mary,” said an old lady, “it is-a very solemn thing to get mar ried.” “I know it, mother,” re plied Mary, “Rut it is a solemner thiiig not to ” To Cure dyspepsia—Close alt the outer doGrs of a four-story house, open the inner doors, and then take a long switch And chase A cat up ana down stairA till she Sweats. A couryman in a Detroit fac tory bet the engineer a dollar that he could seise the fly-wheel aod hold it. He seized it, and was picked up on a pile Os brick on the onUide of the building. A lazy bay niakei? a liriy man* just as a crooked sapling makes A crooked tree. Those who make our great and useful men were trained in their boyhood to be industrious. —As the vapor taken from thO oeban returns to it Again in rivers, So slaoder and acts of selfishness will cornfe back iu overwhelming floods. A little girl At Ohio, about; three years Old, after being correc ted the Other day for something she had done, said: *‘Ma, I wish Whipping cost something.” “Why ?” replied the mother. “Because,” said little ji'ert* “yoO never give me anything tha* costs something.” —A clergyman was once endeay oriog to get a subscription in aid of some charitable institution out of a closefisted parish-oner, who attempt ted to eicfisO hfatself on the ground that he already Ovyed a great deal of money. “But,” said the minis ter, you owe Bod a larger debt than yon dO Any one else.” “ That’s so, pArsOn ; but then he ain’t push ing me, like the balance of my cred itors.” —A sharp roan stopped at a Bos ton hotel and got supper and lodg ing, agreeing to kill all the rats on the premises to pay for his enter tainment). Ip the nlorning the landlord ariced hint to go ift and kill the rats, when the guest asked for am Ar, after obtaining which he Said: “ Fetch on your rats, Mr. Landlord.” He hadn’t agreed to catch the rats, don’t you see ? Can’t get much ahead of these Bosting chaps. Grief and business havoeddOUk been more thoroughly iPixhd than in the following obituary advertise ment. The residence of the de tilnct we omit-, and the liable we have changed, therefore it will nOt worrit his friends: “Othneil Sit greaves-, we are sorry to stait-, has deceased. He departed this last Mundy. He went 4th without any struggle, and sich is life, lie kept a nice store, which his wife now waits on. His virchews wos nd merous, and his wife inherits them. We are happy to stait that he nev er cheeted, speshnlly in the wate of makeral, wich wos olways nice ahd smelt sweat, and his surviving wife is the same way. We niver new him to put sand in his sugar, though he had a big sand-bar In front of his house; hor Water his lickers* tho the Ohio river runs past his door. Piece tu his remains. HP leves I wife, 0 children, 1 kow, 4 hoses, a growner’s and other quad- Fodpedfe to mourn his loss. But iii the laugwidge of the poit, his loss is tbare etumal gane.” The Lies Struggle. —The world knows no victory to be compared with victory over our own passions. The struggle of life is between the flesh and the Spirit, and one or the other finally gains the ascendancy; Every day, and every hour of the Ohristfan’s life, is this contest go ing on, and sad it is to think how often it is that Victory is declared in favof of this earth, with its sin ful passions. The Apostle Paul* after having labored long and earn estly in his Lord’s service—after having done more for the spread of the troth than all the other Apos tles, still felt that he was a Ini man being l , and liable at any time* through the wefikrttess of the flesh* to lose all. “I keep under my body,” says he, “and bring it into subjection, lest, after I have preached the Gospel unto others, I; myself; Should be a castaway.” If this watchfulness was needed on the part of this aged and long-tried ser vant of God, what care and dili genbfe ought we t» exercise, lest we should lose all in an unguarded hour? Qur path\Vay through life is thickly set with snares for our feet. The seductions of passion, the allure ments, of vifce, things to arouse our anger and Stir Up our heart’s feel ill ;-s* await us at every turn of life’s devious ways* and blessed indeed is that man, Or that woman, that meet* them all without harm. TfHItK.—Do yottr own thinking. YeS, that is the idea. Think for yourself. It is well to listen to the expressed thoughts Os others, and it is an agreeable pastime to give expression to your thoughts. But ■token alone Weigh what you have heard and traverse what you have said. It is tool l for you to do this* tor it will assist ih curing you of false notions* and ot eradicating un profitable and vicious ideas, and in time make you better men and wo men’.