Georgia Historic Newspapers

    VOL. V.
THE APPEAL.
PUBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY,
BY SAWTELL & CHRISTIAN.
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ted in good style and at reasonable rates.
All letters addressed to the Proprietor will
be promptly attended to.
ANDREW
Female College,
ji CUTHBERT GA„
THE exercises of thin institution will be
resumed on Wednesday, the 20th of Sep
tember next, and close on Thursday before the
Isnt Sabbath iu June.
The scholastic year will be divided into
Three Terms, beginning 2dik September, Ist.
January and lstol April:
REGULAR COURSE:
I’F.RTNUM. rail ANNUM.
Primary Department sl2 00 S3O 00
Preparatory “ 15 00 45 00
Collegiate “ 20 00 00,00
Diploma Fee, (paid on
graduating) s.">(.'o
Incidentals 100
Hoard, Washing, Fuel
aud Lights, 18 00
Regular tuition of daughters livii g by the
ministry—no charge.
Each hoarding pupil should he turnished
with a Bible, Trunk, one pair of sheets, one
pair of Pillow-cases, one pair Blankets, four
Laud-Towels, over-shoes aud umbrella.
EXTRA COURSE :
mil ANNUM,
Greek ondFrench, each S4O 1)0
Tuition in Music CO 00
Use of Piano 8 00
Drawing and Psstel 30 00
Instruction in Oi' Painting, 4') 00
Calisthenics, conducted by a
lady SCo
Singing in Classes No charge.
Extra course pursued at, the option ol Pa
rents and Guardians. Payments uiuetbe 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 Female Colloge, an old and
popular Institution, suuijs fraternal erectings
to the Colleges of the South, makes his,bow
to the public, and solicits sympathy aud a lib
eral share of patronage.
Summoned to a high and holy work—that
of preparing the mittdsand hearts of the you g
for the business and pleasures, joys and sor
rows of life—he will call to lus assistance
the beet educators of the country, aud address
himself to the task with all the zeal and in
dustry that he cannot command. Should time,
whose verdict we woo, demonstrate that he
cannot preside with dignity and success—
that he is incap ibie of imparting instruction —
that he ifc is not in the proper place—that A.
V- C. does not return a substantial equivalent,
to its patrons—the President will abandon
the enterprise and refund all damages reli
giously assessed.
Parents and guardiaus wishing to educate
girls should not forget our healthtul locality,
reiiued society, commodious utid well ventila
ted buildings, beautiful grounds, magnificent
grove, aud reasonable tales.
JOHN B McGEIIEE,
President A F. C.
Cutlihert, Ga., Aug. 16th, 1871, ts
Ice Cream!
I WOULD respect Trtlly inform my numer
ous friends that I have coni
pleted and opendtTmy
ICE CREAM SALOON,
And am prepaid! to serve them in the very
best of style. I have spared no pains or t-x
pease tn tittinpr np my establishment, and c .11
truthfully 6ay I have the
Finest Saloon in S. W. Georgia,
And am fully prepared to meet the wants of
the public. Aly
LADIES’ SALOON,
JTns been banned and furnished wiihaspc
cial desire to please. Adjoining is the GEN
TLEMEN’S SALOON, which Inis been tlior
’'jaughly arid tilled up in the best
of style. These .-Hioousafe so constructed as
to enable me to throw them both into one,
when oeeasioiiß riquiro it, and he enabled to
seat from • • i ■
75 to 100 Guests!
In tjie same room. lam also fully prepared
to furnish my customers Willi a superior arti
cle of
SODA WATER!
I haye also gone to considerable expense in
making improvements in this department of
tny business, and am better prepared than
ever before to meet the wants of the public.
XOE3 2 IOE!!
T. will keep Ice on h nd for sale in qnanli
ies to suit the public.
Give me a cull.
A. W. GILLESPIE.
A full assortment of Confictioueries
ways on hand. aug4-ct
The City Bar
AND
X3illiard Saloon
IS now supplied with a Large and Choice
Stock of
Wines, Liquors and Segars,
Both Foreign and Domestic, which can not
be surpasses by any liar in the State.
All thedelicacies of the season, in the Way
of Fancy Drinks, fixed in style.
LAGER BEEU only Five Cents per glass.
A FIKE
Assortment of Slates,
Fur sale by T. S. POWELL, TiusWij,
CUTHBERT ifl§f APPEAL.
My Baby.
I sit down at ray window
Aud gaze, with tearful eye,
At the groups of happy children
Tnat pass my window by.
The blue eyed little babies,
The bright-eyed little girls,
With sweet and sunny faces,
With soft and silken curls.
And I think I see among them
One very dear to me,
Who tilled my heart with happiness,
My home with merry glee.
I think I see her playing.
In her little cloak of blue ;
Now picking up round pebbles,
Now stringing up her shoe.
I hear her shout of gladness,
When she catches sight o( me—
As she rolls her little wagon,
Behind the old oak tree.
I feel her little soft hands,
Clasped tightly within mine—
The little fingers, clinging,
Like the tendrils of a vine.
I feel her little red lips,
Pressed warmly on my own ;
And then the te .rs fall faster,
For I know 1 am alone.
Then I rouse me from my sorrow,
And I strive to lock above,
To the pure aud heavenly regions,
Where soars my little dove.
And 1 think that she is smiling,
On the gentle Shepherd’s breast ;
Where grief can never touch her,
Nor sin nor care molest.
’Tis thus I see the darling,
Who once to me was given—
A little lamb in Christ’s own fold—
My baby is in Ilcaven.
So I dry my heavy eyelids,
And still my throbbing heart,
For I know I’ll meet my baby
Where we never more shall part.
The Fallen Youth.
I went, a few days ago, into a jail
to see a young man who was ojico a
Sabbath School scholar.
The keeper took a large bunch of
keys, and led us through the long,
gloomy halls where sat the young
than we had come to see. The
walls of the room were of course
stone, the floor of thick plaak, aud
before the windows were 6trong
iron bars.
Without, all was beautiful; the
green fields, the sweet flowers and
the singing birds were as lovely as
ever, but this young man could en
joy none of these—no, never again
could ho go out, for ho was con
demned to death. Yes, he had
killed a man, and now ho himself
must die. Think of it; only twen
ty years old—and a murderer.
I sat down beside him, and talk
ed with him. “Oh,” said lie, as the
tears, rolled down his eheeks, “I
did not mean to do it, but I was
drunk ; then I got angry, and be
fore I knew what I was about, I
killed him. Ob if I had minded my
mother, I should never have come
to this—l should never have been
here.”
It would have made your heart
ache, as it did mine, to see and talk
with him. Once he was a happy,
playful child like you, now he is a
poor condemned, wicked young
man. lie did not mind his mother,
did not govern his own temper, and
as he grew older lie Went with bad
boys who taught hixn bad habits;
and he became worse and worse,
until, as lie said, when drunk, in a
moment of passion, he killed a man,
and notv, after a few weeks, he
must suffer, the dreadful penally.—
As I left him, he said, “Will you
pray for me?” and he added, “Oh
tell the boys everywhere to mind
their mothers and keep away from
bad company. —American Messen
ger.
To a Young Lady.
You think you love the man who
is coming this Sunday night to vis
it you. And he acts as if he loves„
yon ! suppose he “ declares him
self,” and asks you to become his
wife. Are you prepared to say to
him, “I love you and will
trust you through life with my hap
piness, and the lives and weal of
our children ?”
lie is jolly, gay and handsome,
and all the darts of Cupid Are
twinkling and sparkling in his
ejes ;and will those eyes always find
expression from the love of a true
soul ?
To-riight he says many pleasant
things, and draws many pretty pic
tures for the future.
Does he go to-morrow to work
which gives promise of the fulfill
ment of your desires in life ?
Does his ambitions and achieve
ments satisfy you?
Does his every day life shine with
the noble endeavors of a trustworthy
man ?
If you think and desire a compan
ion in your thinking—one who can
unlock the deepest depths of your
mind, to what strata of humanity
does he belong in the scale of ex
cellence and morality ? Is he doing
all he can to build up future useful
ness and happiness in which you can
share and feel blessed ? These are
questions which the experience of
after years makes women weep in
the bitterness of soul that they were
not thought of before they answer
ed “ Yes.”
A Ilartfordcr advised a slender
friend to chalk his head and go to
a masquerade as a billiard cue.
CUTHBERT, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, OCTOBER 13, 1871.
The Grandfather’s Will.
“Little Blossom, you make it so
hard for me to say good-by to you.”
“When ?”
The innocent, surprised, inquir
ing face—renunciation was, indeed,
difficult for John Burrows. He
touched a dimple in her cheek, and
then a curl of her hair, as he might
have touched flowers on a grave,
perhaps
She shook back the silky ripples
impatiently.
“When, John ?”
He looked at her for a moment
without a smile, pretty as she was.
“Nelly, isit down here a moment.”
They sat down on the pretty
crimson couch before the fire.—
Seeing trouble in his face, she put
her hand in his, and he smoothed
out the little rose-leaf member up
on his broad palm, more than ever
confident, as he looked at it, that
he was right.
“Nelly, you know I love you.”
“Yes,” with a blush, for he had
never said it before.
“And I am very sorry.”
“Why?” after a pause of bewil
derment.
“Because you are a delicate little
flower, needing care and nursing to
keep your bloom bright; and lam
going to a hard, rough life, among
privations, fever and malaria, which
will try even my powerful eonstitu
tion, and where yoji must not go.”
“You are going to the Far
West?”
“Yes. My mother must have a
home in her old age. She is strong
now, but time is telling on her.—
You know all that she has been to
me ?”
“Yes ; she has been a good moth
er. But you shall take me too,
John.”
She won her way into his arms
against his will.
“You will take, me too ?”
“No. Did I not tell you that
you made it so hard for me to say
good-bye to you.”
“John, what could I do without
you ?”
lie took the little, caressing hand
down from his face.
. “Don’t make me so weak, Nelly.
Do you think that it is nothing to
me to leave my little violet—the
only woman I ever loved—for a
hard, cold life, and unceasing toil?
I cannot marry lor ten years, Nelly.”
“And then I shall be thirty years
old.”
“Yes, married and with little
children ; seeing at least that your
old lover, John Burrows, wasyight.”
He rose to his feet.
“John!” in terror.
“Yes, lam going, Nelly. Little
one—you look so much a woman
now, with your steadfast eyes —
hear me; 1 did not foresee that
you would love me—that I should
love you.. You wore a little school
girl when 1 saved you from drown
ing last summer, and your satchel
of books floated away down the riv
er and was lost. I came here to
see Gregory, not yon. 1 could not
help loving you ; but did not think
until to-night that you cared so
much for me, Nelly. But, child,
you will surely forget me in time.”
“Never!”
lie went on : “Nelly, I shall hun
ger for you day and night, more and
more, as the time goes on, and I
get older, lonelier, more weary.—
But I shall never hope to see you
again. Now, give me your hand.”
She gave him both. He raised
them to his lips, but before she
could speak again, he was gone.
Shivering violently, she went to
the fi 'O, and stood there, trying to
warm herself. She understood it
all now—his strangely elaborate ar
rangements for a trip to New York,
lie had known that he was not
coming back when she had begged
him to bring her his photograph
from the great metropolis, but was
going on—on —into the dim dis
tance. That was why he had not
promised.
It was getting late —she was so
cold-she had better goto bed.—
She would not go into the parlor
to bid her father, and aunt Gregory,
good-night; so she crept silently
up to her own room. There the
very weight of grief upon her lull
ed Her to sleep.
But when she woke, her grief
sprang upon her like some hidden
monster who had lain in wait for
he all night. Her misery terrified
her. Why should she not die?
Why should she ever rise from that
bed ?.
But when they called her, she
sprang up hastily, dressed and went
down, and they were too busy talk
ing to notice that she did not know
what she was doing. But by-and
by, when her brother reached for
more coffee, and observed, “John
Burrows and his mother went to
New York iu the first train this
morning,” she tried to rise nncon
cernedly from the table, and fell in
a dead faint upon the carpet among
them.
When Nelly came to, she was
undressed and in bed, and Aunt
Mary was darnir g stockings at the
foot.
“Oh, let me get up, Aunt Mary ;
I don’t want to lie here.
“Now, Nelly, be reasonable. —
You’re ill!”
“Oh, Aunt Mary, I’m not.
“Nelly, if you will lie still to-day,
I’ll let you have that old box of cu
riosities in my room to look over.
Will you ?”
“I don’t know.”
Aunt Mary went for them. Nel
ly shut her eyes, and let the wave
in all its bittterness surge over her
once ; then Miss Golding came back,
bringing a box of old mahogany,
black and glossy with time.
“There!”—sitting it on the bed.
With a wintry little smile of
thanks, Nelly lifted the cover. The
old mahogany box contained strange
things. Pictures on wood and ivo
ry, illuminated manuscripts webs of
strange lace, antique ornaments, an
cient embroideries, great packages
of old letters, sealed flasks of unfa
miliar perfume, ancient brooches of
red gold, finger-rings of clumsily
set gems tied together with faded
ribbons, and knot of a hair fastened
with a gold heart, the silver hilt of
a sword, and, lastly, a tiny octagon
portrait of an old mau done in
chalks upon a kind of vellum, and
inclosed iu a frame of tarnished
brass.
“Who is this that is so ungly,
Aunt Mary ?”
“That, they say, is my great
great-grandfather, Nelly.”
“What is it painied on—this
queer stuff?”
“Well, it’s a kind of leather, I
believe. They used to write on in
very ancient times.”
“He’s uncommonly ugly, isn’t
he?” said Nelly, wearily.
As she spoke, the little case fell
apart in her hands. A yellow, fold
ed paper was revealed. She opened
it, and saw that it was written up
on.
“Why, bless my soul, what have
you there ?” exclaimed Miss Gold
ing, rising up in a strange alarm.
She snatched it from Nelly’s
hand.
“It can’t be the will !” she cried.
Nelly looked on in dumb surprise.
Aunt Mary read a few words, then
rushed away m wild agitation to
the library where her brother was
sitting. Nelly could hear them
talking, the two ; then her brother
came; then the old housekeeper
was called from the dining-room,
and so much confused conversation
she never heard before. By-and
by they all waited upon her in a
body.
“Nelly,” said her father, sitting
down on the foot of the bed, “You
are an heiress.”
“ This is Grandfather Golding’s
will,” exclaimed Aunt Mary, flour
ishing the bit of paper.
“ It seems that he was very ec
centric,” Gregory condescended to
explain. “He was very rich, and
had some hard sons, and some
grandsons who promised to be
harder, and he fell out with the
whole set, who were waiting fur
him to die. He declared that no
money of his should encourage the
young people’s excesses; a little
poverty would help the family, and
the fourth generation would appre
ciate his money, and probably make
good use of it. When he died, no
will could be found ; and though
there was a famous struggle for the
property, it went into the hands of
trustees through the oath of the
lawyer who had drawn up the will;
and there it has been descending
from one person to another, and ac
cumulating iu value, until you and
I, Nelly, are as rich as Croesus.”
“ How, Gregory ? ”
“xkin’t we the iourth generation ?
Father was an only child; we are his
only children ; all the back folks are
dead, and it slides down to us on
greased wires. Hurrah for Grand
father Golding ! ”
“ Is this true, father? ”
“ Yes, my dear. The property is
chiefly in Leeds, England. The
housekeeper who came over last
summer, you know, happens to
know about it. It’s in safe hands,
and our claim is indisputable.”
What did Nelly do? The little
goose! Instead of flying off’ in
thoughts of a carriage, and dresses
of cloth of gold, and a trip to Eu
rope, she buried her face in the pil
lows, and murmured under her
breath, “ Oh! John. Oh, dear,
dear John ! ”
And it was no castle in the air.
Three months proved that she was
the mistress of gold untold, almost.
And then a little note went to Kan
sas saying:
“ Dear John : I am waiting for
you with a fortuue. Will you come
for me now ? Nelly.”
And he came instantly; and
though some might have sneered at
his readiness, the heart of his little
wife was always at peace. She
knew that John Burrows loved her
truly. Grandfather Golding’s mon
ey built up a commodious Western
town —paved streets, raised rows of
shops, erected dwelling houses,
founded banks, libraries and church
es; and Nelly finally lived out West.
But she had opportunities of seeing
pioneer life; and she said, “John
was right; I should have died in a
year, had I lived here in poverty.”
One of the most interesting ques
tions now discussed by astronomers
is that which concerns the possibil
ity of the existence of a central sun.
The vast extent of the range of in
fluence exercised by the law of
gravitation has suggested the groat
probability that in the assemblage
of stars with which our system is
connected, there is a centre of grav
ity around which they revolve. As
in the solar system such a principle
is found to exist, the inquiry natu
rally propounds itself, why it should
not also exist over the broadest
limit of the universe, and w T hy, too,
there should not be some point or
centre around which every cluster
and nebula may revolve.
Georgia Factories. —Columbus
has $1,407,800 invested in manu
factures, and is the only city in the
United States where cotton blank
are made. Augusta has $225,250 ;
Atlanta 5i47,500; Macon $72,000.
A Good Story-
Some of the guests have a pri
vate little club-room of their own
at the best hotels here, which,
though not gorgeously fitted up,
nor much more convenient than
John Chamberlain’s cottage, is ex
ceedingly well patronized by some
of the jolly old magnates who make
this magnificent hotel their summer
rendezvous. This room lies right
off the hall, in the main corridor,
next to the grand staircase. Here
at almost any time you can find a
congenial party at draw poker or
whist, with as much money staked
as you may find frequently at “the
cottage.” Four of these solid old
dignitaries, however, who used to
pay, have eeased since a little inci
dent occurred which I now pro
pose to relate. I heard it legiti
mately. Mrs. Mackintosh—l will
call her Mackintosh for short,
though that is not her name—one of
the ladies who figure in the story,
thought it too good to keep, and
told her sister-in-law, Jonny Mack
intosh, who told her beau, and he
told me.
It was Sunday or Monday, or it
may have been Tuesday night—l
cannot say for certain which—when
Mrs. Mack, at about one o’clock,
missed Mack fiom her side and cau
tiously descended to the dimly-light
ed clerk’s desk to know where he
could be. No one knew there, and
she proceeded through the corridor;
butjustasshe came opposite No.
—shall I say 22 ? —she heard Mack’s
voice inside:
“I go twenty better!”
Mrs. Mack’s heart stood still.—
She knew enough to understand
the meaning of those mystic words.
At first she was confused and knew
not what to do. Then indignation
seized hei, and she was about to
break down the door and collar
Mack, when she heard another voice,
that was also familiar, reply :
“Ah! twenty better? Well, I
see that and go ten more.”
The last familiar voice was Judge
—well, say Judge Slocum. Judge
Slocum was the husband of her
dearest and most intimate friend ;
aud, in the kindness of her heart,
being a woman, Mrs. Mack deter
mined to have Mrs. Slocum on the
spot to share her misery. Mrs. Slo
cum’s room was not far away, aud
there Mrs. Mack hied.
“My dear,” said she, “is Judge
Slocum in?” No. I am so glad of
it. I cannot sleep, and want you to
keep me company.
Now, it was near one o’clock,
and yet, strange to say, Mrs, Slo
cum was not asleep. She told Mrs.
Mack that she was sitting up for
the Judge, who was compelled to
consult with a New York counsellor
at the Continental that night. On
ly a woman could have carried this
diabolical plot to completion, and
Mrs. Mack was that woman.
“Well, dear, throw your cape
over you, and let’s go down in the
corridor. My husband is away to
night, and I feel feverish, and must
walk.”
So down they went into the cor
ridor, and Mrs. S'ocum’s ears were
astonished by hearing the Judge re
mark to some heathen Chinee oppo
site “I call you !”
“Why, that’s the Judge’s voice,”
said Mrs. Slocum; but before she
could act upon the new light let in
upon her, another voice—not Mack’s
this time, but Colonel, well, I’ll call
him Benson’s—another voice re
plied, “Three queens 1”
“D —n your queens ! My two
pair ain’t worth shucks !”
“Why, they are gambling!” said
Mrs. Slocum, in a stage whisper !
“My husband, too; and wasn’t
that Colen Benson’s voice.
Mrs Mack assented readily. It
was Colonel Benson’s voice.
“Then I’ll go call Mrs. Benson.
Women —wives, too —are not to be
treated this way any longer;” and,
before the ready Mrs. Mack could
prevent her, Mrs. Slocum was up
the stairs like a shot.
One of the gentlemanly clerks
saw this proceeding, and thought
it due to the religious peace and
harmony of the household to iter
fere. He came up to Mrs. Mack
and said . very affably : “Ain’t you
afraid you will, catch Gold, Mrs.
Mack ? You had better go to your
room.”
Mrs. Mack put ber foot down at
once. “Not till I see this out, Mr.
Clerk,’' said she, “and you’d better
not interfere.”
The clerk withdrew, fearing even
to simulate a warning cough.
Soon Mrs. Slocum came back
with Mrs. Benson, who was all in
a tremor.
“Why, what’s the matter, Mrs.
Mack ? Here comes Mrs. Slocum in
my room like a Lady Macbeth in
real life, and drags mq out without
a word of explanation and brings
me here!”
“Oh, wait!” said Mrs. Slocum,
“and you’ll ask no explanation.—*
These men ! these men !”
Just then anew voice inside said:
“Give me three cards.”
“Oh, heavens 1” said Mrs. Slo
cum, “that Dr. Thompson’s voice!
Are all the women’s husbands play
ing cards to-nigbt ?”
Just then Slocum’s basso profun
do smote the ears of the trio. “Two
cards,” said he.
Mrs. Benson, in her vexation
probably, at being untimely called
out of bed, said, with sweet woman
ly innocence, “Why, that’s your
husband !”
“Oh, yes!” said Mrs. Slocum.—
“Wait awhile, my dear, and see
who else’s husband you hear.”
Just then Benson’s voice put iq
an appearance:
“I bet ten.”
‘All 1” said Mrs. Slocum, “that’s
yourhusbaud.” Then Mackintosh’s
voice came again to the front, and
both Mrs. Benson* and Mrs. Slocum
turned to Mrs. Mackintosh and said,
with one voice. “And that’s your
husband !” Well, to make a long
story short, Mrs. Thompson was
brought down, and she, too, heard
the evidence of her senses against
the sins of her husband, and the
four indignant fernals held a calm
counsel of war in regard to their
proceedings. Mrs. Slocum wanted
to go right in and collar them all
on the spot, but, the rest was too
timid. Finally the exciting noises,
the jingling of glasses; the fumes
of segars and the cabalistic phrases
in the room increased to such an
extent that Mrs. Slocum could stand
it no longer. She determined to go
in alone, on condition that her al
lies should follow her after the
first desperate plunge was taken.—
This the female confederates sol
emnly agreed to do, and they join
ed hands in token of the compact.
Then Mrs. Slocum, curbing her
righteous indignation, knocked firm
ly at the door. Nobody in the
room seemed to care much for this
knocking, the noises and the cabal
istic sentences went on as before,
and Mrs. Slocum knocked again.—
Then for answer came a volley of
oaths that startled Mrs. Slocum
from her hold on the door knob,
and sent the throe allies two or
three yards back toward the reserve
line. Then the gallant Slocum,
with marvellous intrepidity, de
manded admission in the name of
woman’s outraged rights.
“ Open this door, Judge Slocum,
and let your wife in !” With that
she pressed firmly against the door,
determined to go in if the door was
opened.
A dead silence reigned for a sec
ond inside ; then there was a baso
profundo oath ; then there were two
or three coarse snickers ; the lights
were suddenly doused, tables were
upset, and all the humanity in the
room broke for the door. Mrs.
Slocum sunk, like a dying swimmer
in his agony, into the wrathful sea
of men’s apparel that surged be
youd her as the door was suddenly
opened and the three allies who
were going to back her so firmly
fled ingloriously up the broad stair
case to their couches, where they
were curled up in innocent sleep
when their husbands finally found
them. The scene that ensued I
cannot describe. Slocum and his
wife have gone, and all the men
are to be seen in knots laughing
among themselves. Let this inform
them tliat the women are having a
pretty good laugh too.
Candy-Eating.
“ Shall I.let my children cat can
dy ? ” is a question over which pa
rents are yet sometimes puzzled.
This is not surprising, for doctors
and doctors’ books differ upon the
question. Some teach that candy
is an evil to be avoided; others,
who like it themselves, say that
white candies at least are harmless,
and may be eaten at discretion.
Neither side is quite right. The
chief injury that candies do is that
of spoiling the appetite for other
food. When honestly made, color
ed candy is quite harmless in itself.
Thus the red candies are colored
with beet-juice. But it is safer on
the whole to stick to the white can
dies, which are made of starch and
sugar flavored. The love of sugar
is a natural and healthy appetite,
especially in children, who peed
more saccharine matter than grown
persons. Yet they should not be
allowed to eat sugar to the exclu
sion of heartier food. By devour
ing candy in large quantities be
tween mealif they spoil their appe
tite, and often injure their digestion.
This is the only serious objection to
candy eating. A good rule iu the
matter is to prevent the child from
eating candy so near to meal times
as to make him leave a full plate of
breakfast or dinner. But after a
meal he can eat as much as he
chooses without preoccupying his
appetite for the next. Good candy,
eaten at the right time, is an excel
lent food.— Hearth and Home.
An enormous woman, one Caroli
na Heenan, is now on exhibition in
London. Her age is said to be
twenty-two years, and weight 560
pounds. She measures seven feet
around the body, twenty-six inches
around the arm, and three feet six
inches across the shoulders. It is
added that, unlike most fat people,
this large lady is able to sustain
great physical exertion, is “hand
some and pleasing” and “highly in
telligent,” not in the least “drow
sy,” nor is her face “fat and greasy.”
As my wife at the window one
day stood watching a man with a
monkey, a cart came along with a
“ broth of a boy,” who was driving
a stout little donkey. To my wife
then I spoke, by way of a joke,
“there’s a relation of yours in that
carriage 1” To which she replied,
as the donkey she spied, “Ah, yes
—a relation by marriage ! ”
The chances of life are three
times greater in favor of those who
are temperate as against those who
indulge in Spirits; for, taking a
hundred thousand of each between
fifteen and seventy, thirty-two of
the latter will die to every ten of
the former. Os the same number,
cf each, seventeen thousand of the
intemperate will die before reach
ing fifty years of age, and only four
thousand of those who do not “ in
dulge.”
Death among Politicians.
The New York correspondent of
the Rochester Democrat, writes :
The recent death of Vallaudig
ham calls my attention to tho re
markable exception which it forms
to that of other departed political!
leaders. It is indeed worthy of no
tice that this class of men have lived
to an old age, or to its near ap
proach, and that they have seldom
been removed by violence. On this
account Mr. y allandighatn’s case
attracts particular notice. His
death and that of Peter Cagger are
among the rare instances of the
death of political leaders by acci
dent. The death of A. P. Upshur,
Secretary of the Navy, by the
bursting of the big gun aboard the
Princeton, in 1843, is the nearest
parallel; but he was not a political
leader. The revolutionary patriot
ot Massachusetts, who made Fanu
eil Hall ring with his eloquence,died
by a stroke of lightning. Lincoln
was slain by an assassin, and w'as
the only one of our Presidents who
died by violence. To these may
be added the inferior name of Ilis
cok, w hose fate w'hilo a member
of the Constitutional Convention is
fresh in the memory of ourreaders.
Webster, while in Albany in 1845,
was on the point of taking passage
on the steamer Swallow, which was
wrecked near Hudson, and had he
done so he might have been among
other victims.
Among the short lived politicians
the most distinguished was Hugh
S. Legare, the bright star of Ty
ler’s Cabinet, who died in Boston
in 1842. Ho was only forty-six,
and had served as United States At
torney for less than two years, but
had won eminence in that time
Os our statesmen, Clay reached the
age of seventy-five, Jackson seven
ty-eight, Calhoun sixty-eight, Web
ster seventy, John Quincy Adams
eighty-one, Buchanan seventy-eight,
Van Bnren eighty-one, Taylor six
ty-four, Cass eighty two. Marcy
was soventy-onc and Edward Ever
ett the same. Benton was seventy
six, and remarkably vigorous. Web
ster, Calhoun, Cass and Van Buren
were born in the same .year, 1782.
Going back to men of older date,
John Adams saw his ninety fist year,
Jefferson his eighty-third, both dy
ing on the Fourth of July, 1826.
Burr lived to eighty one, which was
a striking contrast with his ances
tors, for his father was forty two at
the time of life death, and his grand
father, Jonathan Ed wards, was on
ly fifty six. Monroe lived to seven
ty-three, John Jay to seventy-four,
Patrick Henry to sixty-three. We
thus learn that our politicians, not
withstanding their cares and vexa
tions, enjoy an existence much be
yond the average, and that'the ear
ly death of such men as Legare and
Henry J. Raymond formed the ex
ception.
Good Health as an Element of Suc
cess.
It is no exaggeration to say that
health is a large ingredient in what
the world calls talent. A man
without it may be a giant in intel
lect ; but his deeds will be the
deeds of a dwarf. On the contrary
let him have a quick circulation, 11
good digestion, tire bulk, thews,
and sinews of a man, and t.,e alacri
ty, the unthinking confidence in
spired by these, and though having
but a thimbletull of brains, he will
either blunder upon success or set
failure at defiance. It is true espe
cially in this country, thaf thonum
ber of contours in every community
—of men in whom heroic intellects
are allied with bodily constitutions
as tough as horses is small ; that in
general, a man has a reason to think
himself well off in the lottery of life
if he draws the prize of a healthy
stomach, without a mind, or a
prize of a fine intellect with a crazy
stomach.
But of the two, a weak mind in a
herculean frame is beter than a gi
ant mind in a crazy constiution. A
pound of energy with an ounce of
talent will achieve greater results
than a pound of talent With an
ounce of energy. The first requi
site to success in life is to be a good
animal. In any of the learned pro
sessions, a vigorous constitution is
equal to at least fifty per cent, more
brains. Wit, judgment, imagina
tion, eloquence, all the qualities of
the mind, attain thereby a force and
splendor to which they never could
attain without it. But intellect in
a weakly body, is “ like gold in a
swimmer’s pocket.’’ A mechanic
may have tools of the sharpest edge
and highest polish ; but what are
these without a vigorous arm and
band ? Os w hat use is it that your
iniud has become a vast granary of
knowdedge, if you have not the
strength to turn the key ?
The Baltimore Commercial
Convention. —At the closing ses
sion of the Commercial Convention
at Baltimore, yesterday, the reports
of several committees were made
and adopted.
A resolution recommending that
Congress pass an act granting uni
versal amnesty; also, the following:
Whereas, this Convention lias
adopted thq resolution asking the
General Government to refund tho
tax collected on cotton. Therefore,
Resoloed , That coal oil and iron,
and other commodities having paid
a similar tax, be included in the res
olution in favor of rofuuding the
tax ou cotton.
St. Louis was selected as the
place, and the third Monday of No
vember, 1872, as time, for holding
the next Convention — -Patriot.
NO. 42
A Man Lost.
_ A short time a man was
picked up in the streets of an ob
scure . Texan village, in a dying
condition. He was clad in a suit
of ragged homespun, and was palo
and emaciated to the very last de
gree. Several kindly disposed per
sons took charge of him and cared
for him until ho died. The poor
vagrant had no money, and a pack
age of faded letters in his pocket
afforded the only means of identi
fying him.
Fifteen years ago this man was
one of the most elegant and accom
plished gentlemen in the country,
lie bad all the advantages of wealth,
education, and social position. It
was at tltis time- that we first met
him. He had just returned from
tin extended European tour and his
stories of travel and descriptions of
the famous men and placos of the
Uld W orhl possessed for us ail the
fascination of the Arabian Nights,
Our brilliant young friend immedi
ately became a lion in society. He
settled in a neighboring State and
commenced the practice of law.—•
Few r men ever started out in life
under brighter auspices, and in a
very short time the young advocate
was universally spoken of as ono
of the “coming men” of the future.
As an orator he had few superiors,
and we have often heard old men
compare him to Sargent S. Pren
tiss. lie w r as a strikingly hand
some man, and his commading ap,
pearancej combined with that inde
scribable something,which, for want
of a better name, we call personal
magnetism, made him exceedingly
popular w’itli all classes of people.
Time passed on, and our friend
married. Everybody predicted for
the young couple a life of unalloy
ed happiness. But iu a few short
months the young wife’s dream of
wedded bliss was rudely dispelled.
For the first time she made the dis
covery that her husband was a
drunkard !
It was hard to realize tho fact,
but it was only too true. The wife
did all in her power to make,home
happy, but without success.' Her»
gay and brilliant husband preferred
the wine cup to the domestic heirth,
and spent most of his time in rev
eling with his boon
The neglected and almost heart bro
ken wife at last yielded to the so
licitations of Iter family, and a sep
aration was the rosult. The unfor
tunate lawyer abandoned his profes
sion, sold his property and W’ent to
the far West. The remaider of the
story is soon told A few years of
dissipation worked their usual re
sults, and after a bijief career of ex
citement and adventure the poor
wanderer .staggered into a little vil
lage on the Texan froticr and laid
himsoll down to die. • :i «rT
And this w r as tho end of one of
the most brilliant men in the South!
It is not a solitary instance. Simi
lar ones occur every day. But it
is useless to moralize. The story
carries its lesson with it, of
course, it will not be heeded. Had
this wretched man avoided tho
wine cup, he would doubtless bo
living to-dav, in the full enjoyment
of health, fortune, position, and do
mes: ic happiness. He couldhave
made his mark at the bar and In
the councils of the nation, but ho
cbo.se another pathway in life, audit
led him die very gates of perdi
tion. We can only Record “another
man Lost !”— JVetr Era.
A Chapter on Batter.
“ Why is it my son, that when
you drop your bread and butter it
is always on the butler side?”
“ Don’t know. It hadn’t otter,
had it? The strongest side ought
to be up, and this is the strongest
butter 1 have ever seen.”
“ Hush—its some of your aunt’s
churning,”
“Did she churn it, the great lazy
thing?”
“ What, your aunt ?”
“ No, this here butter. To make
the poor old woman churn it when
its strong enough to churn itself.”
“ Hush, Zep, I’ve eat a great deal
worse in the most aristocratic
houses.”
“ Well, poo<j»le of rank ought to
eat it.” « q/
« Why?”
“ Cause it’s rank butter.”
“ You varmint, yOu ! what makes
you talk so smart ?”
“ ’Cause the butter has taken tbo
skin off niy tongue.”
“ Zep, don’t lie ! I can’t throw
away the butter.”
“ I’ll tell you what I would do
with it; keep it to draw blisters.—
You ought to see the flies keel over
as soon as they touch it.”— lndex.
“In Tennessee a hotel proprietor
is called ha-sh-ruill boss.”
It required 10,565,000 yards of
twine to tie up tho letters from Lou
don Post Oflice to this country last
year.
A love letter, picked upin Spring
field, Illinois, had the following par
agraph : “My best loved one, I
chawed the postage stamp on your
last letter all to thunder, because I
knew you licked it on.”
In responso to an inquiry of a
scientific publication : Whence come
fleas? a Western journal says it
does not care a nickel, but would
like to know where in the thunder
they go to when you go for them.
An Ohio young man had a girl
whom he was courting arrested for
biting his lips. The fool! Wo
would be chawded into hash before
having a girl arrested for that.