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VOL. V.
THE APPEAL.
I'UBLIBHKI> EVERY FRIDAY,
BY SAWTELL & CHRISTIAN.
Terms of Subscription:
Onk Year $3 00 | Six Months $2 00
IRVARJABLY Ilf ADVANCE.
figr No attention paid, to orders for the pa
per tm'ess accompanied by the Cash.
Hates of Advertising :
One aqnare, (ten lines or less.) SI 00 for the
first and 75 cents for each subsequent inser
tion. A liberal deduction made to parties
who advertise by llie year.
Persons sending ad vertisements should mark
the number of times they desire them inser
ted, or they will be continued nntil forbid and
■charged accordingly.
Transient advertisements must be paid for
at the time of insertion.
Announcing names of candidates for office,
.00. Cash, in all eases.
Obituary notices over five lines, charged at
regular advertising rides.
All communications inteuded to promote the
private ends or interests of Corporations, So
cieties, or individuals, will be charged as ad
vertisements.
Job Work, such as Pamphlets, Circulars,
Cards, Blanks, Handbills, etc., will be execu
ted in good style and at reasonable rates.
All letters addressed to the Proprietor wil>
be promptly attended to.
ANDREW
Female College,
CUTHBERT GA.
THE exercises of this institution will be
resumed on Wednesday, the 20th of Sep
tember next, and close on Thursday before the
last Sabbath In June.
The scholastic year will he divided into
Three Terms, beginning 20th September, Ist.
January aud lstoi April:
REGULAR COURSE:
rEH TERM. FP.U ANNUM.
Primary Department sl2 00 S3OOO
Preparatory “ 13 00 45 00
Collegiate “ 20 00 00,00
Diploma Fee, (paid ou
graduat'ng) SSOO
Incidentals 1 00
Hoard, Washing, Fuel
and Lights, 18 00
Regular tuition of daughters living by the
ministry—no charge
Each hoarding pupil should he inniishod
with a Bible, Trunk, one pair of sheets, one
pair of Pillow-cases, one pair Illankeis, four
Sand-Towels, over shoes aud umbrella.
EXTRA COURSE:
pen annum.
Oretk audFrwich, each $lO oo
Tuition in Music 00 OP
Use of Piano 8 00
Drawing and Pastel 30 00
Instrucilon in Oi' Painting, 4') 00
Calisthenics, conducted by a
lady 3 Oo
Singing in Classes No charge
Extra course pursued at the option ot Pa
rents hip! Guardians Payments must be made
in October, January and April.
Each pupil should he present a* the opening
of the School.
The undersigned having been elected Presi
dent of Andrew Finale College, an old and
popular Institution sends frhternal greetings
to the Colleges of tile South, makes his b>.w
to the public, and solicits sympathy ami a lib
eral share ot patronage.
Summoned to a high and holy work—that
of preparing the miiidsami hearts of ihe you g
for the business and pleasures, joys and sor
rows of life—he will call t<> Ilia assistance
the best educators of the countrv, mid address
himself to the task with all the zeal mid in
dustry that he cannot command. Blu>u’d lirne.
whose verdict we woo, demonstrate that he
cannot preside with dignity and success—
that he is incapable of imparling .nstrnetion—
that he is is not in the proper place—that A.
F. C. does not return a substantial equivalent,
to its patrons- the Pr, pideni will abandon
ihe enterprise and refund all damages reli
giously assessed.
Parentml guardians wishing to educate
girls should not forget our liealtlnul locality,
refined society, commodious ami w< II ventila
ted buildings,’ beautiful grounds, magnificent
grove, and reasonable rates.
JOHN 15 McGEHEE.
President. A F. C.
Cutbbert, Ga., Ang. 10th, 1871, ts
Ice Cream!
I’ WOULD respett fully inform my numer
ous friends and patrons that I have com
pleted and opened my
ICE CREAM SALOON,
And am prepated to servo them in the very
best of style, l have spared no pains or ex
peuse in fitting up my establishment, and c. n
i ruth'ally sayl have the
Finest Saloon in S. W. Georgia,
And am fully prepared to meet the wauts of
thu public. Jly
LADIES’ SALOOA,
Has been arranged aud furnished with a spe
eiul desire to please. Adjoining is the GEN
TLEMEN’S SALOON, which has been thor
ouglily re-furnished and titled up in the be.-t
of style. These saloons are so constructed as
to enable me to throw them both into one,
when occasions riquire it, and be enabled to
Beat from
73 to 100 Guests!
In the same room. lam also fully prepared
to furnish my customers with a superior aiti
cle of
SODA WATER!
I have also gone to considerable expense in
malting improvements in tbis department of
iny business, and am better prepared than
«ver before to meet the wants of the public.
JOE ! ICE!!
I will keep Ice on li nd for sale in quanti
les to suit the public.
Give me a call.
A. W. GILLESPIE.
£3*“ A full assortment, of Confi ctioneries
wavs on hand. aug4-ct
The City Bar
AND
Billiard Saloon
IS now supplied with a Large aud Choice
Stock of
Wines, Liquors and Segars,
Both Foreign and Domestic, which can not
be surpassed by any Bar in the State.
All the delicaeies’of the seasou, iu the way
of Fancy Drinks, fixed in style.
LAGER BEEII only Five Cents per glass.
a fi:n t e
Assortment of Slates,
For Bale by T. S. FOWELL, Trustee,
CUTHBERT jjfi APPEAL.
Still Life.
No murmur from the outward world
Disturbs the slumbrous summer air ;
Soothed with sweet visions of delight,
She sits, she dreams, my lady, there.
So soft her breathing and so low,
Life scarcely seems her pulse to thrill ;
Ail mute and motionless : ’tis life,
Yet life how still!
Her sauces form to shadow forth,
Her girlish scheme of art to trace,
The pencil scarcely bad essayed
When sleep came down upon her face,
Isy thought's own sweetness overpowered,
She glided into pleasant dreams,
Joyous and bright, as yonder tun
Through casement gleams.
Fair dreamer, in that vision world
In which your spirit now is free,
What glad ideal meets you there ?
Or deign you bend to such as me!
Or draw your inspiration forth,
As soon your tablet there shall show,
From visions which the wak.ng eye
Lacks power to know ?
Ah well! as sunlight on the sea.
Or respite from consuming strife,
Are moments, maiden, snatched, like these,
From out the hurricane of life.
Still life it is : whateVryour dreams,
Wbate'er the thoughts your fancy fill
Enough of joy 'tis thus to live
Tlie life that's still.
Correspondence of the World.
Flying Trapeze In the Air.
Reading, Berks County, Pa.,
September 7.—One of the most ex
traordinary and almost incredible
exhibitions of human intrepidity
and daring was l:ist Monday, the
4th inst., witnessed by the citizens
of this place. It seemed to me to
equal if not surpass in thrilling and
painful interest anything ever at
tempted by Sam Patch or Blondin
in their wildest efforts. An indi
vidual named Donaldson—a tight
rope walker and “ magician,” as he
styles himself—who had ou the pre
vious Wednesday made a balloon
ascension iu the ordinary way (the
first balloon ascent of any kind he
had ever made in his life), repeated
his performance on Mondav last,
but this t ime with no basket attach
ed to his balloon—nothing whatev
er, iu fact, but a common trapeze.
Upon this he seated himself witli
the greatest coolness and compos
ure, and went floating away into
space, to the astonishment of the
large crowd which had gathered to
see him, but few cheers greeting
him, as the spectators seemed spell
bound with fear and apprehension.
After ascending a considerable dis
tance be commenced throwing out
a number of circulars which he at
tached to a little hoop below the
balloon, and which, in the clear at
mostphere, appeared like twinkling
stars surrounding the balloon, pro
ducing a most novel and pleasing
effect! But tbis was nothing to
what followed.
At the height of some threo hun
dred feet lie commenced balancing
himself on his back on the bar of the
trapeze, and going through other
fearful evolutions. lie then deliber
ately slid from the bar, head down
ward, and catching himself by the
feet, remained suspended for sever
al seconds in that awful position !
The appalling sight was one never
to be forgotten by those who w it
nessed it. A thrill and a low mur
inur of horror passed through the
immense multitude, who were look
ing on with intensesl interest, and
many hurried away from the sight
giddy and faint. The daring aero
naut, however, went through his ev
olutions successfully, and regaining
his seat, went soaring rapidly and
steadily upward. When at the
height of three quarters of a mile
he had the astounding nerve to re
peat his performance, which, at so
great a distance, could only be
clearly visible by the aid of glasses.
What made this ascent all the more
hazardous is that the balloon is a
very small one, carrying but little
ballast, and with nothing but a
light anchor attached to the hoop.
I am glad to say that the reronaut
completed his voyage safely, al
though once or twice he seemed to
be in considerable danger. The
trapeze struck the roof of Henry
Connard’s residence, on Fifth street,
when Mr. Doualdson made a skillful
leap from the trapeze and prevent
ed a collision. The balloon then
ascended and came down again on
the other side of the road in a field,
and was about striking the top of a
tree, when Mr. Donaldson turned a
somersault on the trapeze rope and
prevented the bar from catching iu
the tree. There is some talk of our
having a repetition of this painful
exhibition during our fair next
week, if the authorities do not in
terfere to prevent it. It really
seems to me that the}* should, and
that it is also the duty of the lead
ing press of the country to denounce
such reckless and unnecessary risk
of human life for the mere gratifi
cation of morbid excitement.
• ■ «
Live Stock Advertising.—A
corresponeut of the New York
Times, writing from Georgia, says:
“It is astonishing how Northern
and Western stock raisers stand in
their own light by not advertising
their stock. More is known to-day
of the price of cattle in England
than in our own country. The pam
phlet and hand-bill mode of adver
tisement does not reach one in ten
thousand of its population. The
newspaper is the only efficient
method.”
It is somewhat strange that a
man who can neither read nor write
is one who is bound to make his
mark.
CUTHBERT, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, OCTOBER 6, 1871.
An Unweleome Visitor.
The burglars had been very ac
tive and bold in their operations in
onr city, but as the thermometer
had marked above the nineties for
several days, and I had little of val
ue in my room, I prefered to risk
that little and leave my window
open, although of easy access, rath
er than undergo partial suffocation.
If an uninvited guest made his ap
pearance, and I did not awake, he
would not disturb me; if I did
awake, I could feign sleep and let
him take whatever he might find.
“This class of visitors,” I reason
ed with myself, “do not generally
commit personal violence, if they
can accomplish theft and make good
their escape without it ”
These were my reflections every
night as I undressed and threw
myself on my bed, leaving my cas
tle opon to the enemy. I had been
asleep one night about an hour,
when I was awakened by the fall
ing of a small china ornament. Start
ing slightly and opening my ejes, I
saw the gas burning, and a tall,
broad shouldered man with his
back turned toward me, his face
looking over his shoulder to see
whether the noise had awakened
me. Our eyes met, so that my
plan to feign sleep would have been
useless. My self-possession did not,
however, forsake me. What fol
lowed however illustrates the value
of presence of mind.
Opposite the side of my bed, and
about eight feet from it, was the
door of my room, two or three
feet from which were the stairs
leading to the lower hall. The bur
glar must have used a ladder in as
cending the roof, from which he
entered tho window. It was some
thirty feet from the ground, and
isolated. My plan was, not only to
escape harm myself, but to effect
his capture. I knew the police
man’s beat and he would pass in a
short time.
Sitting bolt upright, then, as I
opened my eyes aud saw the bur-,
glar lookiug very unpleasantly at
me, I said, rubbing my eyes drow
sily—although, to tell the truth, I
never was more wide awake in my
life: “Hello, John, what arc you
looking for? Can’t you come in my
room without making such a Con
founded noise ?”
The fellow, taken somewhat aback
at being aduressed in tiiis way,
said, in a low but menacing voice,
and pointing a revolver at me :
“Shut up ! what do you take me
for ?”
“I took you for John !” I replied,
with a well assumed nonchalance.
“But I didn’t suppose he was af
ter anything valuable in my room,
except one thing, and—by the way,
if you are not the unluckicst fellow
in the world.”
“How’s that?” growled my visi
tor.
“Well, I have a very good watch :
but if you want to get it, you mint
pay a visit to the watchmaker’s
after you leave here, for I had
what I considered the bad, but
what now seems the good fortune,
to break tho spring yesterday, and
left it for repairs.”
“You’re a precious cool one !” he
said, evidently astonished at my in
difference.
“What’s the use of my getting
excited or attempting to resist yon?
You are armed, and you see I am
not. And if you had no weapon,
your fighting weight must be at
least thirteen stone, while mine is not
more than nine ami a half. I have
no idea of interfering with you.—
If the room were tilled with dia
monds, I would not lift my finger
to save them. Take all you can
find ; I am going to sleep—so don’t
make any more noise.”
“Hold on!” said the fellow;
“where’s your keys?”
“I suppose yon want to make as
much of a haul as you can,” I said;
“so look in my pants hanging over
the bedpost there, and you’ll find
my pocket-book, with a few stamps
in it.”
It was nearly time for the police
man to pass, and I paused to listen.
I must, in a few moments, put my
plan into execution.
A glance quick as lightning show
ed me that the key of the door was
on the outside.
My listening expression did not
escape the sharp and practiced eye
of my grim visitor. It was a cu
rious scene, no doubt. I sitting in
my bed, in my night-clothes, un
armed, and this stalwart ruffian,
pistol in hand, glaring half suspi
ciously, half ferociously at me, and
almost in the crouching attitude of
a tiger about to spring upon his
prey. But there I sat, coolly con
versing with him, the necessity of
the moment keeping my wits too
wide awake to allow my fears to
get the upper hand for an instant.
“What are you listening to ?”
asked the burglar.
“I thought I heard a cry of fire.”
“I, in that instant and in tho
dead stillness of the night, I heard
the tramp of the policeman. It
was some distance off.
“You will find,” 1 said, “some
clothes of mine in the press ; they
will, however, be too small for you.
Good night; the keys are in the
middle drawer.”
He turned to tho drawer indica
ted, and, as he did so, with one
tremendous bound I cleared the
space behind my bed and the door,
slammed the door and locked it up
on him. Oblivions of my dishabille
I sprang to the steps. I had two
flights to descend and the door to
open before I could reach the yard,
but it was hardly possible for him
to decend the ladder more quickly.
Bounding rather than running down
the stairs, I flung back the boh; and
dashed into the yard. He was half
w-ay down the ladder. Shouting
“Police !” lustily, I seized the ladder
at the bottom, aud, using all my
power, brought it and the burglar
to the ground with a crash. The
pistol he held in his hand fell from
his grasp. I made a dash for it,
and he, springing to his feet like a
cat, rushed at me, and, as I stoop
ed, seized me by the nape of the
neck. I turned the pistol upward
and pulled the trigger. It merely
snapped—there were no more char
ges in it. With a terrible oath,
the baffled villain wrenched the
weapon from my grasp and raised
it aloft to deal me what might have
proved a fatal blow, when there
was a rush behind him and he was
felled to the ground. The police"-
man had heard my shout, and was
just in time to rescue me.
The burglar was soon secured,
and in my excitement I was about
to relate the story I have here told,
when the policeman with a smile,
suggested that I might “ketch cold
in them clothes.”
I then remembered, for the first
time since I had sprung from bed,
that I was shoeless and stockicg
less, and had nothing on but my
night shirt, and I beat a hasty re
treat. With a long-drawn breath,
I took my fine gold repeater, which
had had such a narrow escape, and
was not at the watchmaker’s after
all, from under my pillow, looked
at the hour, turned in, and after a
little while fell asleep.
It is almost needless to add that
the above story, narrated afterwards
to a jury, when I was in a‘better
trim for story.telling than I was
when the policeman interrupted me,
had the effect of giving the visitor
lodgings in a public institution, and
secured me against a icpetition of
his call for at least ten years.
Another Girl Full of Needles.
Last Sunday evening a young
girl, who lives on tho Raleigh road,
complained of a violent pain iu the
head and right cheek. At first the
mother of the girl thought that
nothing serious would result, and
that a visit of a doctor was not nec
essary. About 2 o’clock the same
night the pain in the head and
cheek began to cease. The child’s
eyes closed and her pains were for
gotten in sleep. The mother, who
watched incessantly at her daugh
ter’s bed side, thought that before
morning all would be well; but
this was not the case. The sick
girl awoke before five o’clock the
next morning and began to cry in
a most lamentable manner. Her
mother inquired for the cause of
this. The daughter replied that
she had a terrible pain in her right
arm ; she felt as though something
was sticking her there. From the
way she suffered, it was at last con
cluded to send for a doctor. The
physician came about 6 o’clock,
and ordered some liniment to be
rubbed on the painful arm.
The next morning the doctor
came again, asking Mary, for this
was the child’s name, to show her
arm. He perceived right below
the shoulder three very small spots,
shiniug as steel would. Touching
them, he found that they were very
hard. The girl’s mother then re
marked that these dots looked like
the heads of needles. Tho doctor
could not believe that there was
such a thing in Mary’s arm; how
ever, to please the mother, he ap
plied a small pair of pincers to one
of the spots. Now, imagiue the
surprise of those present when he
pulled out of the flesh three need
les, which formed the three spots
upon the arm. But this is not the
end. The physician continued his
visits three more mornings, extract
ing each morning two more needles.
After this Mary’s pains passed away,
and now she is as well as any of us.
Can some scientific brain explain
how needles found their way into
the arras of this little girl, who en
dured so much suffering. If a
crank were attached to such a girl,
wouldn’t she make a capital sewing
machine?
An Old Man’s Opinion. —An
old man, who heard one of those
foolish remarks that are so often
made by the unthinking, and those
who are ignorant of nature’s laws,
“ I drink to make me work,” re
plied, “ That’s true, drink, and it
will make you work! I was once a
prosperous farmer. I had a loving
wife and two fine lads as ever the
sun shone on. We had a comforta
ble home, and lived happily togeth
er. But we used to drink to make
us work. These two lads I have
now laid in a drunkard’s grave, my
wife died broken-hearted, and now
lies beside her two sons. lam sev
enty years of age. Had it not been
for drink, I might have been an in
dependent gentleman ; but I used
to drink to make me work, and,
mark it, it makes me work now.—
At seventy years of age I am
obliged to work for my daily bread.
Drink ! drink ! and it will make
you work.”
A man, stopping his paper, wrote
to the editor: “I think folks ottent
to spend there munny for paypur,
mi dadda diddent and everybody
sed he was the intelligentes man in
the country and had the smartest
family of boiz that ever dugged ta
lers.”
Parents keep your word sacred
to your children ; they will notice
a broken promise sooner than any
one else, and its effect will be as
’ lasting as life-
The Complexion—How the Ladies
Manage it
In a late number of a London pe
riodical entitled Land and Water,
there was an article of considerable
interest to those who value what is
called “a good complexion.” The
writer condemns the employment
of cosmetics, and asserts that the
uso of animal grease stops up the
pores of the skin, and will, in time,
produce blotches. He also says
that the constant application of
cold cream to the face is injurious,
and lays the foundation of skin dis
eases which anything can afterward
eradicate. Sloeping with slices of
uncooked bacon on the cheeks,
which seems to be practiced by
some persons, is also unwholesome.
The best substance to soften the
skin, and at the same time preserve
it, is, according to authority, fresh
olive oil. If this be rubbed on the
face gently every night, the skin
will soon become impervious to the
action of the weather. The ancient
Greeks knew the value of vegetable
oil to the skin, and they used it
freely, both to preserve beauty and
to render the muscles pliable. But
there are some persons who have
naturally oily skins, and they shoul .1
avoid ointment of all descriptions.
It is said that the use of cosmet
ics was introduced by the English,
iu the fifteenth century. Iu that of
the succeeding century tho women
of French were reckoned the most
beautiful in the world. The names
of Agnes Sorel, Diana of Poitiers,
Louise of Savoy, Anne of Brittany,
Margaret of Navarre, Mary of Bur
gundy, the Duchess of Etampcs,
Madame de Chateaubriand, Mary
of Lorraine, Gabriclle d’Estrees
(commonly called “La Belle Gabri
ellc”) and Ilenriettc d’Entragues,
are familiar to all readers of histo
ry as those reputed to be tlie most
brilliant and beautiful women of
their times. They never used cos
metics of animal grease, though
they made beauty their study—a
rather idle study, it is true, yet
still they pursued it successfully.
They employed various oils and es
sences composed entirely of vege
table ingredients. Henry 111. of
France is said to have expressed
his detestation of English cosmet
ics, and to have declared that if
“cold cream” should find its way
into his kingdom he would preach
a crusade against it. The celebra
ted Diana of Poictiers, whose pow
ers of fascination seem to have
been as marvelous as those of Cle
optra, or Mary, Queen of Scots,
preserved her beauty until she was
seventy-two. She captivated the
hearts of two monarchs, and had
complete power over them. The
second of them, Henry 11, fell in
love with her when she was twenty
nine, she being then the widow of
Count de Breze, and forty-eight
years old, and nineteen years his
senior. She had been previously
admired by his father, Francis 1,
and was equally admired by his
son, Henry ill, who, however, was
a mere youth and of feeble under
standing while she was an old wo
man. Strange to say, no historian
has given the details of those won
derful charms which so captivated
Francis and Henry. It is only re
corded of her “that she was the
loveliest woman at a court full of
lovely women, and that, too, at an
age when most women have found
their beauty faded. It was said
that slie possessed a secret for pre
serving her good looks from the
ravages of time; some, indeed,
hinted that she had bought it from
the Evil One ! There was, however,
one person who was her confidant
—her perfumer, Oudard. lie left
on record the means which the peer
less beauty used to preserve her
complexion, iu these words: “I,
Oudard, apothecary surgeon and
perfumer, do here declare on my
faith and honor that the only secret
possessed by Madame Dian, of Po
icticrs, Duchess of Valentinois,
with which to be and remain in per
fect health, youth and beauty to
the age of seventy-two was rain
waier! and, in truth, I assert that
there is nothing in the world like
the same rain water, a constant use
of which is imperative to render
the skin soft and downy, or to
freshen the color, or cleause the
pores of the skin, or to make beau
ty last as long as life.” It was the
business of Maitre Oudard to col
lect rain water for his illustrious
patroness, and to bottle and seal it
up to be in readiness for use in case
of failure to rain. And it was the
constant sending of these mysteri
ous bottles which occasioned so
much talk. But it should be added
that the beautiful Diana always
took an hour’s exercise in the air
before the morning dew had left
the ground, aud, perhaps this hab
it, like other exercises in the open
air, had quits as much to do with
the preservation of her complexion
as the rain water had. Early hours,
temperate habits, and close atten
tion to cleanliness are among the
best cosmetics after all.
A full-bearded young grandfather
recently had bis hirsute appendage
shaved off, showing a clean face for
the first time in a number of years.
At the dinner table his three-year
old grand-daughter noticed it,“gazed
long with wonderful eye,” and fi
nally ejaculated, “Grandfather,
whose head you got on ?”
The Park Place and Columbia
Hotels, at Saratoga, have been burn
ed. Loss $200,000.
Maine has got 300,000 tons oi
ice for which she cannot find a cus
tomer.
Circulation of the Blood.
It is known that our food nour
ishes us by being changed into
blood. A healthy man has in his
system about three gallons of blood.
This is all contained in the heart,
arteries, and veins, and their min
ute branches. So numerous are
these, so thickly set in our flesh,
that we cannot stick the point of
a fine needle thro* the skin without
piercing some of them.
In all these organs—the heart,
arteries and veins—the blood is con
stantly in motion. In the arteries
it flows from the heart; in veins to
the heart. And so rapid is this mo
tion that all the blood in the body
from the crown of tlie head, and
the tips of the fingers, and the ends
of the toes, passes to the heart,
and from the heart to the lungs,
and from the lungs to the heart
again, every five minutes.
This circulation is absolutely nec
essary to the support of life. In
its passage through the system, the
blood gives up its life-sustaining
power to the different organs, and
in retnrn, receives only waste mat
ter, with which it goes loaded to
the heart and lungs, where it ex
changes this for another portion of
life giving oxygen. Witn this, it
is again sent by the boating of the
heart, on its cheering mission to all
parts of the body.
When we place our finger upon
an artery, as at the wrist, or on the
side of the neck, under the ear, or
on the throbbing temples, we can
feel the flow of the blood, making
a pulse at every beat of the heart.
But in tho veins, as on the back of
the hand, the flow is constant, and,
on this account, imperceptible to
the touch.
If from any cause, as drowning,
or suffocation by gas, our lungs are
deprived of a supply of pure air,
the blood is not purified, does not
receive anew supply of oxygen,
and so goes into the circulation a
second time, incapable of sustain
ing life. Insensibility and death
are the sure results, unless, by arti
ficial means, pure air can be forced
into tlie lungs before life’s flicker
ing flame is quite extinguished.
Modes of Walking.
An ingenious cotemporary gives
the following summary of the dif
ferent modes adopted by those who
go to and fro on the earth :
Careless persons are forever
stumping their toes.
Fun loving persons have a kind
of jig movement.
Unstable persons walk fast or
slow by turns.
One idea persons arc always very
selfish ones, “ toe in.”
Cross persons are very apt to hit
their knees together.
Good natured persons generally
snap their fingers and thumbs every
few steps.
Modest persons generally step
swiftly for fear of being observed.
Calculating persons generally
walk with their hands in their pock
ets, and their heads slightly inclined.
Wide awake persons “ toe out,”
and have a long swing to their arms,
while their hands move about mis
cellaneously.
Lazy persons scrape losely with
their heels, are first on one side of
the walk and then on the other.
Very strong minded persons place
their toes directly in front of them,
and have a kind of stamp move
ment.
Timi.l persona often step off from
the side walk on meeting another,
and always go around a stone in
stead of stepping over it.
Observing persons move slowly ;
the hands mote alternately from
side to side, while they occasionally
stop and turn around.
Careless persons lift their feet
high, aud place them down slowly,
pick up some little obstruction and
place it quietly by the side of the
way.
Writing on Newspapers.— The
following is the act of Congress in
relation to writing upon newspa
pers or other periodicals sent by
mail, and may be of interest to
many who have fallen into the hab
it :
“If any person shall enclose or
conceal a letter, or other thing, or
any memorandum, in writing, in
a newspaper, pamphlet or magazine,
or make any writing thereon, which
he shall have delivered into any*
post-office, or to any person for that
purpose, in order that the same may
be sent by post free of letter post
age, he shall forfeit the sum of $5
for e/ery offence—and the letter,
newspaper, packages, menioran
dams, or other things, shall not be
delivered to the person to whom it
is directed, until the amount of sin
gle letter postage is paid for each
article of which the package is com
posed.” — United States Statutes ,
Section 316.
Home Manners. —Good man
ners are not learned from arbitrary
teaching so much as acquired from
habit. They grow upon us by use.
We must be courteous, agreeable,
civil, kind, gentlemanly and woman
ly at home* and then it will soon be
come a kind ot second nature to be
so everywhere. A course, rough
nature at home begets a habit of
roughness which we cannot lay off,
if we try when we go among stran
gers. The most agreeable people
we ever met in company are those
who are perfectly agreeable at home.
Home is the school for all the best
things, especially good manners.
t —:——~
Is it wrong to cheat a lawyer ?
Not at all; but it’s impossible.
Mr. Raymond in the Spirit.
Is He Editing a Daily Paper in
the Spirit Land t
The Boston Banner of Light
(Spiritualist) of a recent dato pub
lishes the following as coming from
the spirit of the late Henry j. Ray
mond of New York :
I am glad to find a free platform,
even if it is for post-mortetn souls,
where the negro and the Moslem
can come alike, where ignorance
and wisdom, where old age and
childhood can come. I liopo be
fore this century goes out all the
platforms in the land will be free,
not.only for the living but the dead.
The time is fast hastening when
they whom the living call dead will
be able to so clearly represent them
selves here to your physical senses
that death will be no longerdeath—
that they who are dead will be no
longer out of sight, for you can see
them and hear them, and you will
allow them then to stand upon your
platforms, and they will preach
God's Gospel to you.
I have been called at the roquest
of many of my friends in New
York, who desire to know if it is
indeed true that I am engaged in
running tho editorial department
of a “ daily ” in the spirit world.
They cannot realize it, they say.
Give us some evidence of it. Well,
what if I send a copy of one of the
dailies down to them, would they
undei stand it ? Would they real
ize it any better? Perhaps bo. I
am goiDg to try to do it. I see in
the minds ot your audience that
they wish to know if I am going to
send a tangible copy. Yes, if I
send any at all, for it would be use
less to do anything else. They want
to know if that article was from me
that appears in tho book entitled
“Strange Visitors?” Yes, every
word of it, and there’s more com
iug, but no more to-dav,
IlENity J. Raymond.
Josh Billings on Frae Love.
I beleavc in free fight, especially
among cats and dogs.
I beleavc in free ride—on a gate.
I belcave m freedom of every
slave on earth.
But free love is one ov them
kinds of freedmn that it don’t do to
limber with.
If this world war a garden of
Edin, and full of Adam and Eve,
az they was when they was fust
launched, then I kan imagine it
might do for some other Adam to
hold my Eve on his lap, and talk
about his affiniteeth and spiritual
essence, and play lamb.
In the daze, there want no htimiii
natur, it was all God’s natur.
Ilumin natur has been soaked s >
much sinse, it is tew weak to be
trusted in a lot wliar the seed is
poor, next tew a meddo, without
much fence between nor enny poke
on.
Free love wants more poke than
any other animal.
I do’t believe in a total depravity
—unless a man has a good chance.
Free lovo is a good deal like
drinking a 6 shilling gin for a bev
ridge. Bevridge is a Chinese word
and means cussidness.
Aul the free love i have witness
ed thus far, has existed between a
villainous lctchcr on one side, and
lunatic virtue on the other side, that
has been deodorized out of its truth
and had lost aul of its modesty and
shame, in hunting after a conaishun
war sin ceased to be a crime.
The fust free lover we have enny
account ov was the devil.
A Modern Job.— A certain good
natnred old Vermont farmer pre
served his constant good nature,
let what would turn up. One day
one of his men came in, bringiug
the news that one of his red oxen
was dead.
“Is he?” said the old man.
“Well, he was always a brecchy
cuss ! Take bis bide oft" and carry
it down to Fletcher’s ; it will fetch
the cash.”
An hour or so afterward the man
came back with the news that Line
back and bis mate were both dead.
“Are they?” said the old man.
“Well, I took them of B. to save
a bad debt that I never expected to
get. It is lucky that it ain’t the
brindles.”
After the lapse of another hour
the man came back again to tell
him that the nigh bridle was dead.
“Is he ?” said the old man.
“WeU, he was a very old ox.—
Take oil" his hide and take it down
to Fletcher’s; its worth cash, and
will bring more than any two of the
others.”
Hereupon his wife, who was a
very pious soul, reprimanded her
husband severely, and asked him
if ho was not aware that this loss
was a judgement from heaven upon
him for his wickedness.
“Is it?” said the old man.—
“Well, if they will take the judg
ment in cattle it is the easiest way
lean pay it.” — Kansas City Times.
Ii is well known that Miss Nils
son has endorsed several different
piano fortes, each being the best.—
Messrs. Dix A. Case, fish dealers,
Chicago, thought it a good dodge,
and so published the following “or
ihentic” lettor in their advertise
ment :
“Sirs Them codfish is clegint,
their flavor is high, sc is them Her
ron. 1 recommend them as I do
you to all luvirs of gud eatin. Re
spectfully, Christine Nilsson.”
A confidence operation—Eating
sausages and buying eggs.
NO. 41
My Mother.
All! years have loitered by, mother,
A weary, weary while.
Since last I saw thy gentle face,
With its sweet patient smile ;
Since last I felt thy fingers light
I’nss fondly through my hair,
As at thy knee 1 knelt at night
To say iny childish prayer.
Into the world I've gone, mother.
The old home left bebind--
New ties of friendship and of love
About iny heart have twined :
Yet in it* holiest recess,
All dry and joy lew still,
There liven one well of tendernesa
No earthly love can fill-
Tiiv self-forgetful cam, mother;
Thy counsel, ever near ;
Thy sympathy with every joy,
Thy grief for every tear ;
Thy loving glance thy tender tone,
Thy warm kiss on my brow—
Gone from my life, forever gone !
1 know their value now.
Sut Lovengood at a Candy Pulling.
I had a heap of trouble last
Christmas, and I'll tell you how it
happened.
Dekin Jones gave a candy-pullin’
and I got a stool, as they say in
Nortli Carolina, and over I goes.
Sister Poll and I went together,
and when we got to Jones’ the
house was chuck full. Dog ray
cats es thare was room to turn
round.
There was Suze Ilarkin—she’s as
big as a skinned horse—and six
other Harkins and Simmonses, and
Peddigrews, and the schoolmaster
and his gal, beside the old Dekin
and the Dekiness, and enough little
dekiness to set up half a dozen
young folks in family bizness.
Well, bimeby the pot began to
bile, and the fun begun. We all
got our plates ready, and put flour
on our hands to keep the candy
from stikin’, and then we pitched
into pullin’.
Wasn’t it fun? I never saw such
laffin’ and cut tin’ up in all my born
daze.
I made a candy bird for Em Sim
mons, Her and me expect to trot
in double harness some of thesa
daze. She made a candy goose for
me.
Then W 0 got to throwin’ candy
balls into one another’s hair, and a
muffin’ from one side of the house
to tulher, and out into the kitchen,
till everything upon the place was
gummed ever with pandy.
I got a pine bench, and Em Sim
mons sot close to me.
Siize Hark in—confound her pic
ture! throw’d a candy ball stock in
to one of my ize.
i made a bulge to run after her,
and heard something rip.
My stars alive! Wasn’t I pick
led ? I looked around, and thar was
the gable end of my bran new
britches a stickin to the pine bench.
I backed up agin the wall sort
crawfish-like and grinned.
“Sut,” said sister Poll, “what s
the matter?”
“Shut up!” sezl.
“Sut,” says Em, “come away
from that wall; you’ll get all over
grease.”
“Let her grease 1” sez 1, and sot
down on a washboard that was ly
ing across a tub, feelin’ worse than
an old maid at a weddin*.
Party soon I felt something hurt’
and purty soon it hurt agin.
Ice—whis—l jumped ten feet hi,
kicked over the tub, out flew old
Jones’ dhristmas turkes, and you
ought to seen me git.
1 cut for tall timber now, jumped
staked and rider fences, and mash
ed brush like a runway hcrikan till
I got home, and went to bed and
staid there two daze.
Es old Jones’ barn bums down
next winter, and I’m arrested for
it, and es anybody peers as a wit
ness agin me, I’ll bust his dogoue’d
hed ! Them’s my sentimeuts !
FiPruEN Gbkat Mistakes.—lt
is a great mistake to set up our own
standard of the right and wrong
and judge people accordingly. It
is a great mistake to measure the
enjoyment of others by our own ; to
expect uniformity of opinion in this
world; to look for judgment and
experience in youth; to endeavor
to mould all dispositions alike; not
to yield in immaterial trifles; to
look for perfection in our own ac
tions ; to worry ourselves and oth
ers with what cannot be remedied ;
not to alleviate all that needs allevi
ation, as far as lies in our power;
not to make allowances for the in
firmities of others; to consider eve
rything impossible whieh we cannot
perform ; to believe only what our
finite minds can grasp ; to expect to
be able to understand everything.
The greatest of all mistakes is to
live only for time, when any mo
incnt may launch us into eternity.
An old lady, writing to her son
out West, tells him to beware of
bilious saloons and bowel alleys.
Marriage—An altar on which a
man lays his pocket-book and a wo
man her love letters.
Why is a clergyman like a loco
motive ? Because you are to look
out for him when the bell rings.
Amy Richardson, of lowa, weighs
352 pounds. This is the latest case
of big-Amy.
“ Why am intoxication like a
wash bowl ? ” asked Sambo. “Case
it am de-basin.”
“A prudent man,” says a witty
Frenchman, “is like a pin ; his head
prevents him from going too far.”
