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YOL. V.
THE APPEAL.
PUBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY,
BY SAWTELL & CHRISTIAN.
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A Fact
It was on an English summer day,
Some six or seven years ago,
That a pointsman before his cabin paced,
With a listless step, and slow,
lie lit his pipe there was plenty of time—
In his work was nothing new :
Oust to watch the signals and shift the points
When the next train came in view.
He leant ’gainst Ids cabin, and smoked away,
He was used to lounge and wait;
Twolve hours at a stretch he must mind those
points, ..
And down-trains were mostly late!
A rumble—n roar—“ She Is coming now—
She’s truer to time to-day ! ” N
He turns—and not far off, between the
rails,
Bee’s his youngest boy at play !
Not far, but too far. The train is at band,
And the child is crawling there,
’ And pattiug the ground with crows of do
light—
And not a moment to spare!
Ills face wasdead white, but bis purpose firm,
As straight to bis post he trod,
And shifted the points and saved the down
train,
And trusted bis child to God.
•
There’s a rush in his ears though the train
lias passed ;
lie gropes for he cannot see,
To the place where the laughing baby crawl
ed ;
Where the mangled limbs must be.
But he hears a cry that is only of tear—
His joy seems too great to bear,
For bis duty done. God saw to his son
The train had not touched a hair 1
Good Words.
Dat is Goot.
Asa gentleman from New York
was taking a glass of wine atthe
St. Louis, coiner of Freeman and
Hopkins street, Cincinnati, about
three weeks ago, he observed at an
other table seated with several oth
ers a German, who seemed uneasy
and anxious, as if there might have
been aFraneo-Prussian disagreement
between bis beer and himself. Pres
ently in ran a little girl, her face ra
diant with smiles, exclaiming :
“ Oh, father, we have got a little
poy at home ! ”
“ Dat is goot,” said the Dutch
man as the anxiety disappeared
from his countenance, “ fill up der
glasses.”
Not many minutes elapsed before
in rushed the little girl again with
the announcement:
“ Oh, father, we have two little
poys at home ! ”
The Dutchman looked a good
deal astonished, and not at all grati
fied at this little family redundan
cy, but rising at length to the mag
nitude of the occasion, he said :
“ Yell, den, dat is alscf goot. Fill
Up der glasses.”
In a few minutes again appeared
the radiant messenger with the as
tounding proclamation:
■“ Oh, father, we have got three
little poys at home ! ”
This was too much even for Teu
tonic impassability. There was no
further call for glasses.
“Veil, den,” says he, “I goes
up dere, aud I stopt der whole tain
pisiness.’’
Billina’s Advice to Joe.--By
Hwl means, Joe, get married, if you
pet a fair show. Dont stand shiver
ing on the bank, but piteh in and
stick your head under and the shiv-
Wis over. There aiu’t enney more
trick in getting married after your’e
ready than there is in eating peanuts.
JVJenny a man has stood shivering on
the shore till the river all run out.
Don’t expect to marry an angel, them
bgv all been picked up long ago. De
member, Joe, you ain’t a saint your
self. Do not marry for buty exelu :
sively; buty is like iee, awful slip
«rty, and thaws dreadful
Don’t marry for luv neither; hiv is
like a cooking stove, good for noth
ing when the fuel gives out'. And
let the mixture be some buty be
comingly dressed, with about $250
in her pocket, a good speller, handy
and neat in the house, plenty of
good sense, a tuff constitution and
by laws, small feet, a light stepper,
.add to this sound teeth anti a warm
heart. This mixture will keep in
enny climate and not evaporate. If
the cork happens to be left off two
or three minutes the strength ain’t
all gone, Joe. For heaven’s sake
don’t marry for pedigree. Thar
ain’t much in pedigree unless it is
backed by bankstoeks. A'family
with nothing but pedigree genet ally
lack- senoe.
CUTHBERT Ijp APPEAL.
ROBBING THE BANK. *
A few weeks ago, while staying
at Atlantic-City, I met at my hotel
a fine gray-haired old gentleman,
whose conversation greatly inter
ested me. He had evidently seen
a great deal of the world, and was
especially conversant with every
thing connected with the banking
business.
In a few days we became quite
companions, and.Mr. James Archer
(for such was the name of my new
friend) informed me that he had
been engaged in the banking busi
ness all his life, having at various
limes filled the different offices of
cashier, teller and president.
“I should suppose,” I observed,
“that the banking business offers
fewer dramatic episodes than any
other profession.”
“I don’t agree with you there,”
returned Mr. Archer. “Judging
from my own experience, I should
say that there are but few profes
sions which offer more dramatic
scenes.”
“You have been an actor in some
scenes of this character ?” I asked.
“I have indeed. Let us sit down
here on the porch, and I will tell
you what happened to \ne once out
West.”
So saying, we fixed ourselves
comfortably, and Mr. Archer related
to me the following exciting episode
of his life.
* * * * * * *
Some twenty years ago I was
cashier in a bank situated in the
city of Milwaukee, in the State of
Wisconsin. Although a large place
now, Milwaukee atthe time I refer
to was a long, straggling town,
with a very rpugh class of inhabi
tants.
Like all places on the extreme
verge of civilization, the law was
almost a dead letter. Horse thieves,
robbers and murderers were there
in such numbers that they struck
terror in law abiding citizens, and
no jury could be found to convict
the most heinous offender. If it
chanced to leak out that any of the
twelve jurors were in favor of bring
ing iu a verdict of guilty, his or
their lives were sure to pay the for
ieit of their sensq of justice.
Asa natural consequence of liv
ingin such a state of society, every
man walked abroad with his life in
bis band, and without a single ex
ception every one went armed to
the teeth. I have known men to be
shutdown like dogs for a word, or
even a look.
There were hundreds of men who
made it their especial business to
try to pick up quarrels with the
better class, that they mighthavean
opportunity of killing and robbing
them.
You will readily understand that
carrying on a bank under these cir
cumstances was a most arduous
task. Every one of the employees
was heavily armed, and the vaults
built for the specie and valuables of
the bank were of : the most massive
character. In fact, so much was
this the case, that they became a
kind of show place for strangers;
and every one who happened to be
detained in the city was sure to vis
it the vault of the Citizen’s Bank.
Our president was a strong, pow
erful, energetic man, who had more
Ilian once proved his courage in a
melee ; .consequently the ruffians of
the place keep him at a distance,
and for two years after the bank
was started no one offered to mo
lest us. We had received orders
from him to shoot down the first
man who showed the slightest dis
position to be aggressive.
Mr. Braintree, for such was our
president’s name, was accustomed
to mingle a great deal with the
rougher portion of the community,
thinking by this means he might
learn if there was any scheme on
foot to attack the bauk. Os course
these inquiries were always made
in disguise, and indeed, Mr. Brain
tree possessed the art of altering
his features that he could deceive
even his owq> family and particular
friends when assisted by a change
of dress.
He had carried out his plan for
about two years without anying oc
curring to prove its necessity or use
fulness, when one hot July T morning
he entered the bank about an hour
earlier than was usual with him.
“Good morning, Mr. Archer,”
said he to me, as he took off his fine
black coat, and put on* an easy fit
ting blouse.
“Good morning, Mr. Braintree.
You are early this morning.”
“Yes—l have something particu
lar to -tell you, and I thougbt it bet
ter to lose no time". You must
know, in the first place, that I vis
ited the ‘Three Swans’ last night.”
The “Three Swans” was one of
the lowest taverns in the place, and
the rendezvous for all the desperate
characters in the town and neighbor
hood, There was scarcely a night
passed that someone was not killed
there
“You visited in disguise, I sup
pose ?” I remarked.
“Certainly. I was disguised as a
drover, and had the extreme pleas
ure of being taken for a horse thief
by all the scoundrels present.”
“That is at least a eompliment-to
your success in disguising your
self,” I returned.
“Yes —that’s true. I learned some
thing at the ‘Three Swans’ last
night, Mr. Archer, which nearly
concerns us.”
“Indeed*” I returned, pricking
up my- ears. *
“You have heard of ‘White Hair
ed Bobby?” said Mr. Braintree.
‘Bo you mean the great bank
CUTHBERT, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, JULY 21, 1871.
robber ?” I asked.
“Yes, he himself/ He has rob
bed more banks than any ten men
in the United States together. He
has never failed in one instance.— ;
His success in breaking into safes
and vaults has something marvelous
in it. He works generally in com
pany with a friend of his who goes
by the nom de guerre of ‘Slippery
Jim. ? ”
“I have heard of that rescal,
too,” I returned.
“Well, now for my information.
I learned last night that White Hair
ed Bobby and Slippery Jim are
about to visit Milwaukee for the ex
press purpose of depnying the Cit
izens’ Bank of its specie and valu
ables.”
“The deuce they do !” was all I
could say.
“Mr. Archer, I do not intend
that this worthy pair shall accom
plish their purpose, so I want you
to keep an extra lookout. I shall
visit the Three Swans nightly for
some weeks, to find out, if possible,
the moment they arrive.”
Six weeks passed away and we
beard no more of “White Haired
Bobby” or “Slippery Jim.” Mr.
Braintree continued to vist the
“Three Swans” nightly, but heard
nothing further. We came to the
conclusion that the two famous bank
robbers had changed their minds
and had gone to exercise-their en
terprising profession in a different
field.
We had forgotten all about the
matter, when one Saturday, in the
middle of the month of September,
while we were buisily engaged in
our various duties, a clerical indi
vidual entered and asked to see the
president. The request was ad
dressed to me, and I had an excel
lent opportunity for observing his
external appearance.
He appeared to be about forty
five years of age, of commanding
presence. His face was fresh, fair,
and exceedingly healthy looking.—
His hands were very white, and he
wore a fine diamond ring on the
little finger of the right hand. . 116
was dressed in a suit of black, which
fitted him perfectly, and must have
been made by a first class tailor.—
It was this black suit together with
the whitest and stifTest of cravats,
and a short-sighted eye glass which
dangled from his neck, and which
he every now and then raised to his
eyes, that gave him the intense cler
ical appearance to which I have re
ferred above.
“Do you wish to see Mr. Brain
tree on business •?” I asked
“ Not exactly bn business,”, re
turned the stranger, “but if he is
disengaged, I should like to speak
to him.”
“Here is Mr. Braintree now,” I
replied, as the president stepped
out of his private room into the
bank.
“Mr. Braintree,” said the stranger,
courteously removing his hat and
speaking in the -most polite tone,
“allow me to introduce myself. My
name is Elliot, the Reverend Rob
ert-Elliot. I am an Episcopal cler
gyman, lately appointed pastor to a
church in St. Paul’s. lam now on
my way there, but cannot leave un
til Monday. At my hotel to day I
heard the landlord speak of" the ex
traordinary safety vault yon have
attached to this bank. As I have
a penchant for seeing such struc
tures, 1 have thought perhaps you
would allow me to see. yours, of
which I have heard so much.”
“Certainly, sir, with pleasure,”
Mr. Braintree, who by the way was
particularly partial to clergymen,
doubtless because they T formed such
a striking contrast to the inhabi
tants of frontier cities. “Mr. Arch
er,” added iny chief, “will you be
good enough to light the dark lan
. tern and accompany us ?”
It wanted about twenty minutes
to our usual hour of closing the
bank, and I had- just fiuished my
work. Had such not been the case,
1 should in all propability have sent
one of the clerks in my place.
There was .nothing, however, to
prevent me from doing as the pres
ident requested ; I therefore light
ed a dark lantern, and we all three
descended the steps leading to the
vault.
The specie and valuables of the
hank were kept in an immense iron
safe which was placed in a stone
chamber. The walls of thisjehamber
were of extraordinary thickness
and the entrance to it was through
a massive iron door, Which was se
cured by a thick bar of iron fasten
ed by an immense padlock.
By this means the specie of the
bank was doubly protected, for even
supposing that a robber should suc
ceed in obtaining an entrance into
the stone vault, he would still have
to force the immense safe, a matter
of impossibility, unless he happen
ed to possess the secret, which was
turning the handle around exactly
seven times. Onoe more or less
would be of no avail.
I unlocked the padlock, leaving
the key in the lock, and we all en
tered the stone vault. The Dev. Mr.
Elliot appeared to be strangely in
terested in the place, He gazed
around him in seeming wonder; he
measured the thickness. of the
walls, and the lengh and bredtli of
the stone room.
“Very secure! very secure, in
deed!” he murmured. “You can
set bank robbers at defiance with a
room like this, Mr. Braintree.”
“Yes, sir ; I believe we can. For
even if any one should succeed in
getting into the stone vault, they
would have still the safe to force.”
“True, very true,” responded the
reverend gentleman, “but I notice
one particularity about your safe,”
he added, glancing toward it as he
spoke, “you have no lock on it.”
“It is not necessary,” retured Mr.
Braintree, “for unless a person hap
pened to konw the secret of open
ing the door, I would defy him to
open it. You see,” added the pres
ident, suiting the action to the word,
“in order to-effect an entrance, it is
necessary to turn the handle around
exactly seven times.” .
After the seventh time, Mr.
Braintree gave a strong pull and
the heavy door slowly turned on its
hinges. The reverend gentleman
glanced inside with excusable curi
osity.
‘ Very curious ! very curious in
deed,” he murmured. “How won
derful is the ingenuity of, man !”
At that moment Mr. Braintree
called the clergyman to see some
thing else in the stone vault and
they both moved away to the ex
treme end of the apartment.
On glancing into the safe I no
ticed that two ledgers were out of
their places. I entered the safe to
place them in their respective cases,
when either the clergyman or Mr.
Braintree brushed past the safe,
unconsciously knocked against the
door, as he did so, which gave it an
impetus that it closed on me, the
bolts shot noiselessly into their sock
ets, and I was a prisoner.
There was an acoustic phenome
non connected with this safe which
I never heard explained, and that
was, any one shut inside it. could
hear every, word that was uttered
in the vault, while no noise that he
might make could reach those out
side. I was aware of this peculiar
itv and knew that it was utterly
useless for me to call out.
The only hope I had was, that
when Mr. Braintree missed me be
would surmise where’l was. But
in a few moments this illusion dis
pelled.
“Why, where can Mr. Archer
be ?” I heard Mr. Braintree ob
serve. “Oil! I remember now, he
had an engagement after banking
hours, and I suppose he has gone to
keep it, but I think lie might have
left the lantern with me. But we
cau find our way out easy enough.”
I heard them leave-the vault, the
iron bar put in its place, and the
key turned in the padlock.
I realized the fact that there was
no hope for me. I w T as a prisoner,
and there I had to remain until
Monday morning.
It was no pleasant thing to con
template remaing shut up there for
forty-two Hours without food or wa
ter; but there was no help for it,
for I knew that all the screaming in
the world would only be so much
breath wasted ; I therefore deter
mined to take matters as philosoph
ically as I could, and not indulge in
useless ropinings'.
Fortunately I had in my pocket
a volume of Shakespearo, and the
dark lantern was also in my posses
sion. I made a seat for myself of
some ledgers and turning down the
lamp to a point at which I could
read conveniently,‘l began to enjoy
myself as the circumstances of the
case would permit.
I read for five .or six hours, aud
I can safely affirm that I never en
joyed Shakespeare as well before.
The absolute quiet prevailing, and
the faci of being shut off from all
exterior influences seemed to make
me appreciate the hidden beauties
of the great poet much more clear
ly than I ever did in my life.
I read till I grew sleepy. I then
made a bed for myself of the ac
count books, turned the lantern
dorvn to the faintest glimmer, for
the sake of saving oil, and closing
my eyes, I was soon fast asleep.
When I awoke and looked at roy
watch I found it was ten o’clock on
Sunday morning. I had therefore
slept about twelve hours.
I felt very hungry, but I knew
that I had twenty-four hours more
to pass there before I could get any
thing to eat, so I determined to
try and sleep as much of my time
a s possible, . remembering the
French proverb, “ qui dort dine.' 1 ’
I read a great deal of Shakspeare,
during the. day, and about eight
o’clock in .the evening I again com
posed myself to sleep.
I was suddenly awakened by the
sound of voices in the stone vault,
and naturally supposing that it was
ten o’clock on Monday morning,
and that some of the clerks were
coming to open the safe, I glanced
at my watch and found to my ex
treme surprise that it was exactly
twelve o’clock at night.
By some intuition the truth
struck me in a moment. It was
someone come to rob the bank and
the reverend visitor of the day be
fore was a spy.
The first words I heard confirmed
the truth of this conclusion, for I
heard the Rev. Mr. Elliot’s voice ex
claim to his confederate :
“ Well, here we are in this fa
mous stone vault—do you know
Jim, we got in much easier than I
expected ?”
“ Thanks to your visit on Satur
day afternoon, Bobby, as one of the
black coated gentry.”
The robbers then were the famous
“ White Haired Bobby ” and “Slip
pery Jim.”
“ Yes,’’ returned Bobby, “ I
think I gammoned the two buffers
pretty well. You see, Jini, what it
is to be a man of education. I
should just like to see you in the
part of the Rev. Mr. Elliot, and see
what a figure you’d cut in it.”
“ That ain’t iu my line, no how—
bnt I tell you what, Bobby, you
can’t beat me at picking a lock.”
f “ You are pretty good at that,
and no mistake. But come, let us
get at the swag.”
“ You are sure you haven’t for
gotten how to open the safe, Bob
by ?”
“ No, indee’d ; the fool told me it
was by turning the handle round
seven times. Os all the bussed
bab’es I ever saw, I never saw any
to come up to this man, Braintree.”
I saw' that it was now time for
me to act. Fortunately I had my
pistol with me. I drew it from my
pocket, cocked it and turned up the
lantern to its full, I waited for the
door of the safe to be opened, real
izing fully that my only* chance of
Overpowering the ruffians, was to
take them by surprise. For if I al
lowed them to recover themselves
from the sudden effect of my T ap
pearance, they* being two to oue,
would soon overpower me.
I had not long to wait. I heard
the handle turn seven successive
times, and then Bobby g:tv.e a
strong pull at the heavy dpor of the
safe.
It yielded, but in a moment I
stepped out witli the lantern turned
full on the robbers and with my arm
stretched out holding the cocked
pistol in my hand.
The effect of my appearance on-
Bobby and Jim, was absolutely tei*
rifle. They must have thought
me a ghost, for they both turned
perfectly* lividwith fear.
Before they had time to recover
themselves, I knocked Jim sense
less to the floor with the butt end
of my pistol ; and springing on the
other, T grasped him by the throat
and bore him to the ground.
Fortune favored ure in another
respect, for I saw hanging out of
the pocket of the ruffian I had un
der me, a long piece of strong cord.
He struggled violently, but I was
the stronger man of the two, and
succeeded in binding him fast with
out much trouble.
When I had White Haired Bobby
secured I turned my attention to
his companion, w*ho, fortunately for
me, remained in a condition of in
sensibility.
In five minutes I had them both
so securely bound that they‘could
not move hand or foot. I left them
while I went to arouse the house.
I proceeded first to Mr. Baintree’s
room. He slept over, the bank. I
knocked loudly at his door.
“Who’s there? What is' it?”
he exclaimed.
“ Get up, Mr. Braintree,” I cried
out, “Wffite Haired Bobby and
Slippery Jim have made an attempt
to rob the bank. They’re both.now
lying in the vault securely bound.”
“ You are jesting, Archer,” said
Braintree, jumping out of the bed
and Opening the door.
“It is the positive truth. The
Dev. Mr. Elliot, to whom you so
obligingly showed the vault on Sat
urday 'afternoon, and explained to
him how to open the safe, was none
other than White Hairedßoby him
self.”
It was a minute or two before Mr.
Braintree could realize the news I
brought him. At last the truth be
gan to dawn on his mind.
“ l r ou say the villains are securely
bouud on the floor of the vault? ”
“ Yes.”
“ But who bound them ? ” he ask
ed, more and more puzzled.
“ I did.” *
“ Who helped you ? ”
“No one.”
But how the deuce comes it that
you were on the spot ? ”
I then told him how* I had been
fastened in the safe, and he* began
to see-through the fog.
While this conversation had been
progressing, Mr. Braintree had been
dressing himself. We went down
together, summoned the officers of
the law, and all proceeded to the
vault.
We found our prisoners just
wdiere I had left-them, and in a
quarter of an hour they w*ere safely
lodged in jail.
it was the last exploit of White
Haired Bobby and Slippery Jim,
for they were tried and public opin
ion having been at last aroused at
their terrible contempt of laws, hu
man and divine, they were sent enced
to the penitentiary for life.
Mr. Braintree and the directors of
the bank amply compensated me for
my incarceration, declaring that it
was the most “fortunate imprison
ment ”• that had ever occurred.
A French paper publishes a
startling report that although the
Mdiit Cenis tunnel has been pierced,
and although locomotives have pass
ed through it, there is still some
doubt as to its being opened to trav
el so: .sonic time to come. The
trouble is in the ventilation of the
tunnel. The smoke evolved from
the locomotives is not driven out
Out of the three engine drivers who
were employed on the trial trip
through the tunnel, two died of suf
focation and the third was restored
to life w r ith great difficulty. The
temperature of the interior is also
very high ; the eftorts to improve
the ventilation of the tunnel are
continuing, and smoke consuming
engines have been ordered from
England to remove" the difficulty
arising from that cause;
lnformation has been received
that the Marquis of borne and the
Pi’incess Louise will visit this coun
try some time in the fall, and after
visiting the principal cities of the
Union will come to VYashington—
arriving here about the time of the
visit of the Russian Prince, Alexis.
A lady advertises in the Lon
don Times for “an accomplished
poodle n arse. W:iges,£ 1 per week.”
Here and There in Advertising.
A BTORY WITH A MORAI,.
After years of incessant labor, a
merchant of New York, who shall
here be nameless, found himself just
where he began twenty years ago,
without a dollar he did not owe.
Seated at his desk one morning,
pouring over bills arid other unsatis
factory documents, he asked him
self for the hundreth time, how it
happened that his neighbors wero
flourishing, while he stagnated, aud
found it a hard matter to hold his
own.
He said to himself, “I work twice
as hard as they do; I am as honest
and prompt in all my dealings, and
still I do not make headw*ay.—
There’s my family growing up, aud
my eldest boy, now in the firm, and
he must have, w*hat I fear, unless
I make better sales this season,.l
shall find it very hard to give him,
a fair portion of the profits. What’s
to be clone ?
As he asked himself this question,
a respectable looking young man,
with a book under his arm, entered
his office, stood before him, and im
mediately addressed him with a po
lite “ good morning,” which saluta
tion the merchant as courteously
returned.
“ I liTlve called on a little matter
of business, sir.”
“ l’es, sir,” said the merchant,
pleasantly.
He hoped he was about to receive
an order for some of his goods.
“If you are advertising now I
shonld like to receive your order.”
The frown returned to the mer
chant’s face, and he turned from
his visitor with :
“ I am not advertising, sir, and
do not intend to.” •
“ You could not choose a better
medium than the firm I represent,
Sir.”
“ Times are bad, young man.”
“ The more reason that you
should endeavor to stimulate trade.”
“ I don’t believe in it, sir.”
“ That is strange.”
“ Never advertised iu my life.”
“ Stranger still,” thought the
young man, as lie quietly took his
leave.
As he passed the outer door he
said, half afoud c
“ You won’t last long, old gentle
man, if you don’t advertise.”
A gentleman with a care-worn
look on his face, who stood in the
doorway as he passed, happened to
overhear the remark. Walking in
to- the office, he asked :
“ Who was your visitor, father?”
“ One of those troublesome ad
vertising agents. All nonsense
throwing away one’s money in that
way. We’ve none to spare.”
“Any orders this morning ? ”
“ No,” said the old gentleman
.with a sigh, “ qnrl yet that last lot
of goods are splendid. I suppose
they’ll be on our hands next.”
Ti e son answered not a word, but
went to his desk aud examined his
private bank account.
Presently he said: “It isn’t much,
but I’ll do it; ” then taking up his
hat he left the office-
About a week afterwards the old
merchant sat as usual at his desk,
more than ev’er discouraged and
anxious.
“If I could only get rid of that
lot of goods,” he said to himself, “I
should be saved ; as it is, we are
ruined. I’ve written to all my cus
tomers, but they’re all supplied. I
ought to have realized fifteen thou
sand dollars, easily. It’s terrible,
terrible 1 ”
The office boy entered, just then,
with letters from the postoffice. He
opened them, one after another, and
groaned over their contents. There
was one more left. He opened it,
and read:
Gentlemen : Please send us sam
ple of your cloth. If approved, we
will take the lot at your figure.
Respectfully,
G.. O. A. Head & Cos.
Bless us,” said the old gentle
man, in surprise; “ I’ve never done
business with those people. But
they are good as gold. How did
they know I’d got the goods they
want? Well, thank Heaven, we
are saved from ruin.”
When his sou came in, he found
his respected progenitor trying a
pas seule.
“All right, ray son j we’re saved.
Here, read that letter. Hallo!
I’ve overlooked the postscript.—
What’s that ? “ We saw your ad
vertisement in the Daily Dabbler
Why, why—its a mistake,” and
his countenance fell.
“ It’s no mistake, father,” said
his son joyfully.
“ But I never advertised in my
. life.”
“ I did, though.’’
“ You! ”
“Yes, I sent three hundred dol
lars to Rowell & Cos., and here’s the
result. A pretty good investment,
eh? ” -
The samples were all right,the
goods sent and the money paid.
The junior member of that firm has
serious, thoughts of getting a
straight jacket for the old gentle
man, for he’s almost gone mad on
advertising; and lie possibly would
stop him, only — it pays.
A. Barnes.
Set aside a liberal percentage
for advertising. Keep yourself un
ceasingly before the public; and
matters not what business you are*
engaged in, for, if intelligently and
industriously pursued, a fortune will
be the result.”— Hunt's Merchants’’
Magazine .
John on the Rail.
A Bohemian of most feckless type
sends his experience in Rochester
to a New l’ork city paper:
I did not find the luxuriant cuss
who stole my watch on the Bleeck
er street cars in Syracuse, and hear
ing that an.awful mean looking fel
low had been seen in Rochester, I
went there. The watch was one of
Juggernaut’s make, and I wanted
it. Ou the way to the depot in Sy
racuse a real nice little lap-dog
j umped over a fence and sprang at
me. He weighed more than $lO
worth of coal at June prices, aud as
I gazed down his mouth I thought
of Jonah. He remarked to me,
“ Bow, wow, wow,” and I said to
him, in a pacifying way, “ Nice
/Teaser, pretty little Teaser,” but a
lady shouted, “Rover, Rover here,
Dover,” and he left me. Then she
quietly informed me that I needn’t
be frightened ; the dog bad had his
dinner, and wasn’t hungry,
I got into the cars and took a seat
in juxtaposition to a female. That
female’s face was a perfect insurance
company for her—it insured her
against ever getting married to any
thing but a blind man. Her mouth
like a crack in a dried lemon, and
there was no more expression in her
face than there is in a spinal col
umn of a cup of cold custard. She
appeared as if she had been through
one famine and had got about two
thirds through another. She was
old enough to be great-grand-mo
ther to Mary that had the little
lamb. She Was chewing prize pop
corn., and carried in her hand a yel
low rose, while a band-box and a
cotton umbrella nestled sweetly by
her side, I eouldnt guess whether
she' was on a mission of charity or
going West to start a saw mill. I
was full of curiosity to hear her
speak, so I said to her :
“ The exigencies of the times re
quire great circumspection iu a per
son who is traveling.”
Says she, “What?”
Says I, “ The orb of day shines
resplendent in the blue vault above.”
She hitched around uneasy like
then she raised her umbrella and
said, “ I don’t want none of your
sass—git* out.” And I got out.
Then I took a seat alongside of a
male fellow, who looked like the
ghost of Hamlet lengthened out. —
He was a stately cuss, and ho wa3
reading.
Said I, “ Mister, did you ever see
a camel leopard ?” 1 said camel
leopard because it is a pious animal
and it never eats any grass without
getting down on its knees. He said
he hadn’t seen a camel leopard.—
Then said I, “Do you chew ?”
He said, “ No, sir.”
Tnen I Said, “How sweet is na
ture 1”
He took this for a conundrum,
and said “he didn’t know.” Then
he said he was deeply interested in
the history of a great man. “ Alas!”
he exclaimed, “ we have but few.”
I told him I knew one—“ the man
that made my cooking stove was a
grate man.”
Then he asked me “ would I
read ?”
jSays I, “ What you got ?”
He replied, “ Watt’s Hymns,
Reveries by Moonlight, and llow to
Spend the Sabbath.”
I said, “ None of them for Han
nah,” but if he had got an una
bridged dictionary of New York I
would take a little read.
Then he said, “ Young man, look
at these gray hairs ?”
I told him I saw them, and when
a man got to be as old as lie was he
ought to dye. Said I, “ You needn’t
think those hairs are any sign of
wisdom; it’s only a sign that your
system lacks Iron and I advised
him to go home and swallow a crow
bar.
He too"k this for irony, and what
little entente cordiale there was be
tween us was spilled. It turned
out that he was chaplain to a base
ball club.
When we got to Rochester I call
ed for a bowl of bean soup. It
ought to be called lean soup. I send
you the receipe for making it: —
“ Take a lot of water, wash it well,
and boil it until it is brown on both
sides; then Very carefully pour one
bean into it and let it simmer. If
it won’t simmer, pour in water un
til it does simmer. When the bean
begins to get restless, sweeten it
with salt, then put it up in air-tight
cans, hitch each can to a brick, and
chuck them overboard, and the soup
is done.”
Genesee Falls are at Rochester.—
Sam Patch made his last jump
there. His jump down was a sue
cess, but his up was a failure, be
cause he never riz. I bet a fellow
that I could tell to a quart how
much water fell over the falls in a
year. lie bet, and I said two pints
to a quart. I won the bet. They
settle ccffee with codfish skins, but
they settled Rochester with men
and women. The only original set
tler who is living died a few* years
ago. Rochester is celebrated for
its fine turnouts. I saw a very fine
turnout to-day; a wagon upset and
spilled a lot of women. Next Sun
day will be very generally observod
here as the Sabbath. It is not kept
wholy. Remember me to the pieoe
makers. No cards.
Wealth op New York. — The
official statement of the assessed
valuation of city property for 1871
shows a net increase of real and
personal property over that of 1870
of SSB 729,2.49.
There were manufactured in
the United States last year over
half a million sewing machines.
NO. 30
What Women Eat
It is a popular belief that women
eat nothing. It is of course conced
ed that they sustain .life by the
consumption of some article of nour
ishment ; but eating, in the whole
acceptance of the Word is supposed
to be foreign to female nature. The
fallacy is founded and sustained by
women themselves, who during the
affected period of their live£,- culti
vate small appetites as being of
semi-angelic construction. When
this pernicious nonsenseis conscien
tiously carried out, the results upon
the would-be Angels are squalor, red
noses, certain loss of vigor, general
limpidnqss, and some other conse
quences. But, as a rule, the small
est appetites at the fashionable ta
bles are exhibited by those shrewd
girls whose natural and healthy
wants have been thoroughly ap
peased by secret stuffing. we
refer our readers to the historical
poem concerning Violantc in the
pautry, gnawing of a mutton bone,
reminding them how she gnawed it*
how she clawed it, when she found
herself alone!
All this is a direct deceit howev
er, practiced upon unsophisticated
old bachelors, who, when they have
made the dainty creatures theirs,
find out by their butcher’s book an
ocular proof what sturdy trencher
women they have married. Watch
a healthy girl at supper, during the
intervals of dancing, she consumes
by installments four times as much
as her partner, and seems, and is,
none the worse tor it. Our experi
ence tells us that women eat in pro
portion to their weight, as much as
men, and are no more fairies in this
respect than iu the matter of
weight.— Appleton? $ Journal.
Interesting Dialogue.— “ Pa,
what is a Radical ? ”
Answer—“ A Radical is a rapa
cious animal of the genus homo; a
native of the New England States*
but occasionally to be found in the
’Middle and Western States ; a Sa
tanic spawn of Puritan parentage ;
conceived iu sin, born in iniquity,
nurscM at the breast of jealousy
and self esteem, rocked in the cradle
of prejudice and intolerance,educa
ted in the school of low cunning
and foul play, and lives by public
and private plunder.”
“ Now, my son, since I have de
fined Radical, let me hear you parse
it.”
Answer—A Radical is a compound
institutional noun; black in person,
declining in number, African' gen
der, and desperate case; governed
by negro according to the Puritan
rule—one ignoramus governs an
other.”
“That will do, my son, catch
your pony and take % ride.”
Sizes of Nails. —ThefoHowing ta
ble will show any one at a glance the
length of the various sizes and the
number of nails in a pound. They
are rated from “3 penny” up to
“ 20-penny.” The first column
the number, the second length in
inches, and the third the- number
per pound, that is :
3- 1 inch . 557 nails per lb
4- 1} inches 353 nails per lb
5- If inches 232 nails per lb
G-penny 2 inches 167 nails per lb
7- 21 inches 147 nails per lb
8- 2} inches 101 nails per lb
10-penny 2 J inches 68 nails per lb
12-penny 2 inches 54 nails per lb
20-penny 3£ inches 34 nails per lb
Spikes 4 inches 16 nails per lb
Spikes 4} inches 12 nails per lb
Spikes 5 inches 10 nails per lb
Spikes 6 inches 7 nails per lb
Spikes 7 inches 5 nails per lb
From this table an estimate of
quantity and suitable sizes for any
job’of work can be made.—Massa
chusetts Plorcghman.
Paper is now used for the lin
ing of ice-coolers.
Gillott, the petl-man, began
life as a scissors grinder.
Beet-root brandy is attracting
attention in England.
—An enterprising daily paper
in Florida pays $1.25 a month for
its telegrams.
A postmaster by the iutrae of
Goodale, when he is in a hurry,
signs himself XX.
lowa stands at the foot of the
list of whisky manufacturing States,
having but one distillery*
“ Equality,” says a French
writer, “ means a desire to be equal
to your superiors, and superior to
your equals.”
Oue California grape grower
lias a vineyard valued hat $250,000.
It yields annually from $30,000 to
8-35,000 worth of grapes.
An Omaha paper advisos the
people “ not to make such a fuss
about the shooting of one constable,
as there are over forty candidates
for the position.”
A lady in St. Mark’s Place ad*
vertises for the return of a large
Maltese cat, called Bessie. It is to
be feared she will have to assuage
her grief with a sausage.
—“After I began to advertise my
Ironware freely, business increased
with amazing rapidity. For ten
years past I have spent £30,000
yearly, to keep my superior wares
before the public. Ilad/I been tim
id in advertising, I should never
have possessed my fortune of
000.” — McLeod Delton, Dirming
hani.
The newspapers made Fisk.’*
—James Fisk , Jr.
