Cuthbert weekly appeal. (Cuthbert, Ga.) 18??-????, September 13, 1872, Image 1

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

    VOL. VI.
THE APPEAL.
PUBLISHED EVERT FRIDAY,
By J. P> SAWTELL.
Terms of Subscription:
Oxk Year.. ..s3 00 | Six Months.. ..s2 00
invariably in advance.
No attention paid to orders for the pa
pier un'ess accompanied by the Cash.
Rates of Advertising.
■w - " 3 I ft
S I E g. | §
f f ¥ ?I s
1.... $ 3.00 *" 6.00 $ 9.00 $ 12.00
2 5.00 12.00 16.00 20.00
.3 7.00 15.00 22.00 27.50
4 8.00 17.00 25.00 33.00
\ c 9.00 22 00 30.00 45.00
4 c 17.00 35.00 50.00 75.00
1 c 30.00 50.00 75.00 125.00
2 c 50.00 75.00
One square, (ten lines or less,) $1 00 for the
first and 75 cents for each subsequent inser
tion. A liberal deduction made to parties
who advertise by the year- _
Persons sending advertisements should maTk
the number of times they desire them inser
ted, or they wilUbe continued until forbid and
"harmed accordingly.
Transient advertisements must be paid for
at the time of insertion. If not paid for before
the expiration of the time advertised, 25 per
eent. additional will be charged.
Announcing names of candidates for office,
$5.00. Cash, in all cases
Obituary notices over live lines, charged at
regular advertising rates.
All communications intended 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 he execu
ted in good style and at reasonable rates.
All letters addressed to the Proprietor wil'
lit promptly attended to.
Bea Woman.
Oft I’ve heard a gentle mother,
As the twilight hours began,
Pleading with a son on duty,
Urging him to be a man.
But unto her blue-eyed daughter.
Though with love's words quite as taiady,
Points she out the other duty—
Strive, my dear, to be a lady.”
What’s a lady ? Is it something
Made of hoops, and silks, and airs-,
Used to decorate the parlor.
Like the fancy rings and chairs?
Is it one that wastes on novels
Every feeling that is human ?
If ’tis this to be a lady,
’Tis not this to be a woman.
Mother, then, unto your daughter
Speak of something higher fur
Than to be mere fashion's lady—
“ Woman” is the brightest star.
If you, in your strong affections,
Urge your son to be a true man,
Urge your daughter no lees strongly
To arise and be a woman.
Yes, a woman ! brightest model
Os that high and perfect beauty.
Where the mind, and soul, and body
•, Blend to work out life's great duty.
Bea woman ! naught is higher
On the glided crest of fame;
On the catalogue of virtue
There’s no brighter, holier name.
Bea woman I On to duty !
liaise the world from all that’s low,
Plncc high in the social heaven
Virtue’s fair and radiant bow.
Lend thy influence to each effort
That shall raise our nattire human;
fee not fashion’s giddy lady—
fee a brave, whole-souled, true woman.
Kissing in a Tunnel. —Gentle
deader, did you ever—l desire not
to be personal —but did you ever
kiss a girl in a railroad tunnel ? I
never did ; but if the truth must be
told, I’ve wanted to, awful bad.
Not that I have any idea that
gobbling a chaste salute within the
dark and narrow confines of a tun
nel renders a kiss more delicious
than if stolen or taken with full
permission anywhere; it is the nov
city of the thing.
It is tho darkness, the rank bur
glary, the calculation as to time,
the sudden assault, the desperate
defeuse, the acute agony of the
skirmish line of liair pics, the car
rying of the outer work, the fierce
struggle at the scarf, the glorious
sweetness of the surrender, and the
condemnable meanness afterward
of the victory. The hurried re
pairs, and the impossible attempt
to appear placid and all serene be
fore the other passengers. I tell
you there’s a short life-time passed
iu the kissing of a girl in a tunnel.
- A young lady suggestively re
marks : “If it was not good for
Adam to live single when there
wasn’t a woman on earth, what
shall be said of old bachelors with
the world full of pretty girls ?”
“I want to know,” said a cred
itor fiercely, “when you are going
to pay me what you owe me.”—
•“When I’m going to pay you?
Why, you’re a pretty fellow. Do
you take me for a prophet ?”
A Missourian who stole a kiss
from a pretty girl, was fined by a
magistrate, horse whipped by her
brother, and hurried into a brain
fever by his wife. The clergyman
also alluded to the affair in a ser
mou, the local editor took sides
with the clergyman and reviewed
the case in print, and the potato
bug ate up every blade of the male
factor’s wheat crop.
CUTHBERT 111 APPEAL.
A Sickening Story.
The telegraph has previously no
ticed the case of a man who was
detected near Maryville, Mo., driv
ing an emigrant wagon containing
the decaying bodies of five murder
ed persons. His second confession,
extorted from him at the end of a
rope, we copy as follows, from cor
respondence of the St. Louis Repub
lican :
He gave bis name as Tanzey, and
said it was not Osburn as stated in
bis first confession. That bis home
was at Mount Ayr, lowa, where he
had a wife and one child. The par
ties he had murdered were five in
number. A man with his wife and
two children and another man who
was unmarried. He said they were
traveling in a lumber wagon, and
that they were returning from Kan
sas to their home in Minnesota.
He met them first last Thuisday,
the 15th. Having no money and
traveling in the same direction, they
kindly asked him to join them,
which he did. The wagon being,
large, they all, six in number, slept
in it. The married man, his wife
and two children slept on a platform
raised on the front of the wagon,
while the remaining two slept in
the bottom of the bed below.
Last Sunday night they camped
within half a mile of a house near
Burr Oak Grove. At this place the
wretch conceived the plan of mur
dering them and making way with
their horses and wagon, their cat
tle (three or four in number,) and
whatever money they might have
in their possession. After having
murdered them, be intended to se
cret them in tho brush on Clear
creek near by.
That Sunday night, little dream
ing of tho black-hearted wretch they
had taken under their shelter, and
the awful fate that awaited them,
they lay down in the wagon, and
all save the murderer were sound
asleep.
Satisfying himself that all were
sleeping, he took a loaded pistol
which lay in the wagon, and
placed it at the head of the man
who was sleeping by his side, fired.
He instantly killed him.
The married man being aroused
by the report of the pistolj rose up,
and thinking Tanzey had fired at a
strange dog which had been annoy
ing them during the night by bark
ing said. “Good 1 Good!” The
assassin immediately turned and
shot him, and then jumped from the
wagon to the ground. The woun
ded man attempted to follow him,
when Tanzey seized an axe and dis
patched him at once. Theagonized
wife of the murdered man was now
running around the wagon, uttering
fearful cries, and fearing that she
would alarm the people at the farm
house near by, he also killed her
with an axe or club,just which he
does not remember.
The two infant babes, aged three
and fifteen months, now alone remain
ed living, and it seems that he did
not dispose of them until some time
after the rest had been killed.
When asked how he could have the
heart to kill the two helpless chil
dren, he replied that he did so with
reluctance, but that when be had
murdered their mother they annoy
ed him with their piteous cries, and
being alarm#! lest the noise should
lead to his detection, he cut their
throat’s from ear to ear, and -thus
completed his work of destruc
tion.
After the confession had been
made, two hundred determined men
collected at the place where the
prisoner was confined, and it was
plain that they intended to take the
law in their own hands, and mete
out to this inhuman wretch the
speedy justice he so richly deserved.
The prisoner having finished his
confession was bound hand and foot
and taken to a black walnut tree,
the place selected for his execution.
Arrived at the fatal spot Tanzey
was cool and collected, perfectly
unmoved, proving himself to be a
man of iron nerve and one of the
most hardened villains the world
had ever kown. A rope was then
placed around his neck, one end
thrown over the limb of a tree,
when Tanzey was told his time had
come, and that ten minutes would
be given him to make any last re
quest. He replied that he would
like to live until he could see his
wifo, and when told that his request
could not be granted, he said he
had. no further remarks to make.
Many stalwart hands then took
hold of the rope, drawing him clear
fr om the ground, and just as dark
was coming on last Thursday eve
ning, the soul of Tanzey, the mur
derer, was launced into eternity,
ther e to appear before his God with
CUTHBERT, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 1872.
his hand yet red with the blood of
his five victims. He died almost
without a struggle, and was buried
beneath the very tree on which he
was hung.
Several of our leading physicians
had an interview with the deceased
before his execution, and all were of
the opinion that he was perfectly
sane, and all agreed that he was the
most thoroughly depraved speci
men of human nature they had ever
met.
Absent-Minded People are
Funny.— Sir Isaac Newton wanted
his servant to carry out a stove that
was getting too hot. A fellow stole
his dinner before his eyes, and he
afterwards thought he had eaten it
because he saw the dishes empty-
A Scotch professor walked into the
middle of a horse pond while pon
dering on Final Causes. Ben.
Franklin punched down the fire
with the finger of a young lady sit
ting at his side, and severely burned
the lily white poker. A gentleman
in Troy received a letter in the
dark, used the letter to light a lamp
and looked about for it to read.—
Pere Gratry, one day in Paris,
thinking he had left his watch at
home, took it out of liis pocket to
see if he had time to go back after
it. Neander, the church historian,
used to go to his lectures in his
night-cap and night-gown, and
sometimes walked in the gutter.—
But all those cases do not equal that
of the man who takes a paper a year
and always forgets to pay tor it.
Stokes Unhappy. —The murder,
er of Fisk has a comfortable apart
ment in prison. He is furnished
b" friends outside with the best of
hotel fare every day. lie sees his
friends often and hears from them
oftencr. lie has the daily papers,
is privileged to make choice be
tween the candidates for President,
drinks the best ot liquors, and
smokes fragrant Habanas. Still he
is not happy. He is troubled with
bronchitis. The prison is not a heal
thy institution. Its walls are too
thick ; they engender dampness.—
Therefore his friends ask that lie be
released or better cared for. The
confinement is not conducive to
health. We do not know' what will
be done about this matter. Avery
natural solicitude pervades the coun
try, and especially the miud of Mrs*
Mansfield. Avery strange commen
tary does New York justice occa
sionally furnish to the old fashioned
article that once bore that name.—
Poor Stokes ! “His suffering is in
tolerable.” They ought to build
better jails in New York for men
who are reduced to the necessity of
killing the fellows.
Characters. —We may judge a
man’s character by whatever he
loves —what pleases him. If a man
manifests delight in low, sordid ob
jects, the vulgar song and debasing
language, in the misfortunes of his
fellows or animals, we may at once
determine the complexion of his
character. On the contrary, if he
loves purity, modesty, truth—if vir
tuous pursuits engage his heart and
draw out his affections—we are sat
isfied he is an upright man. When
weseeayouhg maU fond of "fine
clothes and making a fop of himself,
it is a sure sign that he thinks the
world consists of outside show and
ostentation, and he is certain to
make an unstable man, without true
affection or friendship, fond of
change and excitement, and soon
wearying of those objects and pur
suits which, for a time, give him
pleasure.
The Sacredness of Marriage.—
For the man and woman who pure
ly and truly love each other, and
are guided by the law of justice,
marriage is not a state of bondage.
Indeed, it is only when they become,
by this outward acknowledgment,
publicly avowed lovers, that free
dom is realized by them in its full
significance. Thereafter they can
be openly devoted to each other’s
interests, and avowedly chosen and
intimate friends. Together they
can plan life’s battles, and enter
upon the path of progress- that ends
not with life’s eventide. Together
they can seek the charmed avenues
of culture, and strengthened by
each other, can brave the world’s
frown in the rugged but heaven-lit
path of reform. Home, with all
that is dearest in the sacred name,
is their peaceful and cherished re
treat, within whose sanctuary
bloom the virtues that make it a
temple of beneficence.
Josh Billings says: “Don’t
work before breakfast. -If it is nec
essary to toil before breakfast, eat
your breakfast first.”
Ten Years Ago.
BY DEAN ARCHER.
These are three little words of no
importance within themselves, yet
they hold in their grasp the reality
of a great mahy memories, which
are of great importance, and linger
in the mind as the links that unite
them with the past. Some of the
memories are pleasant and joyous,
while others are sad and mournful,
but none the less sacred and cher
ished.
Ten years ago a bride stood at
the altar, radiant in her happiness,
but, alas! how soon she was at
tired in garments white as her bri
dal dress, and now lies beneath a
drooping willow, which for three
springs and three autumns, has
budded and blossomed, and then
carpeted her grave with its autumn
leaves. While the shrubs and
flowers, which yearly bloom and
then die on her grave, form a fit
emblem of the end of all human
happiness, such as hers was.
Ten years ago, some of us were
treading the pleasant paths of inno
cent childhood, with hearts that
were purer, and hands that were
more ready to do kind deeds for the
benefit of others than they now are.
Ten years ago We cherished hopes
which now are blasted and wither
ed forming a cruel example, and
warning, of the folly of placing our
hopes upon the things of this world.
Ten years ago many of us were
members of a happy family group
whose circle had never been bro
ken by the angel of death, who
now, alas! cannot look around
them and say “they are all, all
here.” In some families the gen
tle voice and guiding hand of the
mother is gone —in others, the pro
viding arm of the father, or com
panionship of a brother or sister;
yet each vacant place causes a dull
hard ache in many a heart, which
sacredly treasures up the memory
of ten years ago.
Ten years ago we spent many
happy hours with loving friends
who have left us to follow different
paths, leaving to as only the memo
ry of happy hours past and gone,
and the sad, sad ache of separation
and broken love links.
Ten years ago a group of school
girls, having graduated in the Sem
inary which they had been attend
ing, separated with warm adieuz
and high hopes to go to their indi
vidual homes. In the dawn of ear
ly womanhood, bearing upon their
brows the laurels of scholarly hon
or, they go forth to meet—when
again? Hid that lovely group ever
meet again under the same circum
stances ? Ah ! no; ten years ago
have wrought changes for them as
well as others. A few have gone
forth to discharge the duties in
curred by the holy bonds of matri
mony. The tender feet of another
have touched the waters of the
dark and turbid stream in the
shadowy valley of death.
With a smile, the loveliest one of
the group passed over the raging
w r aters, and received her crown.—
One has robed herself in bridal gar
ments of widowhood.
Another with a crushed spirit,
and bleeding heart, has seen the
sod heaped Cver the remains of her
“ first born.” With agony un
speakable, she watched the fading
of its bright young life, only to
find how dark, how cold the world
was, when it was with her no long
er to cheer her idle hours with its
innocent prattle. Another went
forth with intellect and ambition
stamped upon her noble brow, and
soars with a smile of triumph
among the leading literary stars of
the day.
No cloud has risen upon the hori
zon of a few, but the next ten years
may bring a sad second for them.
How little is known about what
the next ten years will briDg forth.
Many, now in the pride of youth,
wealth and enjoyment, will have to
drink the bitter waters of trouble,
or walk through the dark shadows
of death. Yet such is life. Time
rolls around, bringing both sad and
joyful changes, filling our grave
yards and leaving the impress of
its fingers upon our faces.
Few people know, and thou,
sands do not know, that by setting
a glass fruit jar on a folded towel,
thoroughly soaked in cold water,
the fruit can be poured in boiling
hot, with no more danger of break
ing than with a tin can.
When a woman begins to
drink her tear without sugar —that’s
a symptom.
When a woman begins to find
fault with her looking-glass, and
say it doesn’t show her features
right—that’s a symptom.
Hope.
The gray eastern sky heralded
the coming day, and still the lamp
burned dimly in the sick man’s
chamber; still the watcher was un
wearied. Anxiety, deep and most
intense, was depicted on that pale,
lovely face, and yet hope was not
banished from her brow; for ever
and anon did the calm eye of him
she idolized, rest with holy pure af
fection on the form of his loved
wife, as in days gone by, and then
she felt she could not give him up.
She yet hoped the “cup might pass.’’
But ere another dawn the purified
spirit of all her earthly hopes had
flown to its eternal rest, and left the
young wife and her child desolate.
’Twas then despair, deep and dark,
did bow her to the earth, and grief
such as the widowed heart alone
feels, was hers.
But blessed be God, there- is a
voice that whispereth unto the
mourner’s heart, “thou mayat still
hope”—hope for resignation to the
will of him whodrieth the mourner’s
tears; who doeth all things well;
hope, that however dark and drea
ry this world may oft seem unto
thee, there may be a bright, holy
light, to guide thee and to cheer
thee; hope that the sainted spirit of
him or her that has gone before
thee may still hover around thee
and be a guardian aligel unto thee.
Hope that “as thy day is, so shall
thy strength be,” and that thou
even may’st find consolation in this
life, in performing as best thou
canst thy duties here; hope that
when thy duties here are ended,
when thy journey here is over, thou
wilt again meet those thou hast lov
ed on earth, in a home of eternal
day, where the tears of separation
will be no more known, “where the
wicked cease from troubling and
the weary aro at rest.” There is a
deep spring of joy in hope to the
human breasts, whoso waters while
life remains, never cease to flow.—
It is this that renders existence tol
erable, and even precious to the be
reaved and desolate wayfarer, as he
treads his downward path to the
grave.
When all around is dark, and
want and -wretchedness stare us in
tho face, when in the past all is bar
ren, and in the future there is no
way to light the wanderer iu his
pilgrimage, there is still a spirit of
hope within him teaching him to
gather the few flowers that yet re
main within his reach, though they
be of fading beauty and dying fra
grance. The faint glimmerings of
the pale-faced moon on the troubled
billows of the ocean, are not so
fleeting and inconstant as the fortune
and condition of human life. We
one day bask in the sunshine of
prosperity, and the next too often
roll in anguish on the thorny bed
of adversity and affliction. How
many are doomed to roam in the
wide world alone, unpitied and un
known ! What can cheer the mind,
raise the drooping soul, calm the
agitated bosom, and throw a cheer
ing light on the furure ? It is Hope
sweet Hope ! thou ministering spir
it of Heaven ! who visitest the
abodes of misery ; wipest the tear
from sorrows eye ; chasest away the
anguish of despair: sweeteneth the
cup of affliction with thine all-sooth
ing and siren voice. And when
the solenm hour of death should
come, and the lamp of light but
faintly glimmers in the leeble frame
Hope shall bid us look to a better
and brighter world than this, to live
and reign with the Blessed Redeem
er in never ending joys, such as
“ear never heard nor eye hath seen
nor has it ever entered into the hu
man mind to conceive” that never
ending bliss which Is prepared for
those who live and serve God.
Number Os Shingles in a Roof.
—J. D. Tate gives to the New
York Farmers Club a rule for esti
mating the number of shingles re
quii cd for a roof of any size; one
which he thinks every mechanic and
farmer should remember. First
find the number of square inches in
one side of the roof; cut off the
right hand or unit figure, and the
result will be the number of shin
gles required to cover both sides of
the roof, laying five inches to the
weather. The ridge board pro
vies for the double course at the
bottom. Illustration : Length of
100 feet; one side, 30 feet—looX
30X144—432,000. Cutting off the
right hand figure we have 43, 200
as the number of shingles requir
ed.
—“Pa, are you still growing ?”
“No, Frank. What makes you
think so ?”—“Because the top of
your head is coming through your
air.”
The Old Fashioned moth
ers*
Thank God, some of tis have an
old-fashioned mother. Not a w r o
man of the period enameled and
painted, with her great chfgnon, her
curls and bustle, whoso white jewel
ed hands have never felt the clasp
of baby fingers ; but a dear, old fash
ioned, sweet-voied mother, with
eyes in whose clear depts the love
light shone, and brown hair, thread,
ed with silver, lying smooth upon
her faded cbeeK. Those dear hands
worn with toil, genily guided our
tottering steps in childhood, and
smoothed our pillow in sickness,
even reaching out to us in yearning
tenderness when her sweet spirit
was baptised in the pearly spirit
of the river.
Blessed is the memory of an old
fashioned mother. It floats to us
now like the. beautiful perfume of
some woodland blossoms. The
music of our voices may be lost, but
entrancing memory of her tones
will echo in our souls forever. Oth
er faces will fade away and be for
gotten, but hers will shine on until
the light from heaven’s portals shall
glorify our own. When in the fit
ful pause of busy life our feet zan
der back to the oid homestead, and
crossing the well-worn threshold,
stand once more in the low, quaint
room, so hallowed by her presence,
lioav the feeling of childish innocence
and dependence comes over us, and
we kneel down in the molten sun
shine, streaming through the wes*
tern window—just where long years
ago we knelt by our mother’s knee
lisping “Our Father.”
Hoav many times when the temp
ter lured us od the memory of those
sacred hours, that mother’s words,
her faith and prayers, saved us from
plunging into the deep abyss of sin!
Years have filled great drifts be
tween her and us, but they have
not hidden from oui sight the glory
of her pure, unselfish love.
A Fool For Luck.
John, the fool of the N. Y. Sun
was made rich in spirt of himself at
Long Branch, and this was the way
it was done.
“Just as I was the hungrest ,Long.
fellow and Harry Bassett were
brought out and they went the cor
ner like two Colt's revolvers. All
the nice young men around me stood
up and bowed and scraped and held
up one finger as if they were stopp
ing an omnibus. They all yelled i “A
hundred to eighty on Harry Bassett.
They all appeared to bo so very po
lite, that I held up my finger too,
and I nodded and bowed back to
all of them. I never saw such po
lite young men before. You would
have thought I was the Grand Duke
Alexis. I kept up the bowing just
as long as' they did, and pretty
soon the race was over, and I con
fess I was agreeably surprised to
see about four hundred young men
file up and each chuck a §IOO bill
into my lap. Then I thought that
lot of young men j ust about the
nicest lot of young men I ever met.
There I sat with $4,000 in my lap,
and, much to my astonishment, I
found out that all the time I was
pointing my finger and bowing back
to ’em, darned if I wasn’t taking
every darned bet that was made,
and darned if I knew it. I only bad
eight dollars in my pocket, and if I
had lost, I’d slept in an oyster
bed that night sure.”
Boyhood’s Need. —Of all earthly
undertakings, none pays better than
the brooding over an ungainly boy.
What shall be done with him?
as none but a mother can love. His
destiny is in your hands. Bear
with him. Take an interest in his
affairs j win and respect his confi
dence. Go to his bedside at night
with a kiss and a blessing, and
whispered prayer. He may pre
tend slumber, but he will tell his
wife of it with tears in his eyes,
years after you have gone to your
reward.
When he sees that yon are less
offended with his boyish rudeness
and follies, than with the slightest
want of integrity, that you are
proud of him, content with him, he
will make the mother’s great heart
of love a resting place. Let the
spirit of adventure take him the
world over, he will never forget
whose idol and pride he was Ih those
days when he was “in every one’s
way, and of no use.” if the moth*
ers of our land must engage io poli
tics, fill the professions, ahd live in
public, God help the boys from nine
to sixteen ! They are friendless in
deed ! They have lost the only be
ing capable of steering their bark
safely through the quicksandr,
rocks and shoals that lie in the way
from boyhood up to a virtuous glo
rious manhood.— Advocate and
Guardiani
Horn Drunk.
A Good Temperance SeMOfl.
The New York Sun recounts the
following remarkable circumstance:
Among the names registered at
the Tombs the other night, was that
of a youth about fifteen years
of age, who had been arrested for
drunkenness. But he was not drunk
nor had he been drinking. lie was
moreover, in good, sound health,
but gave all the external indications
of being intoxicated when Sfrrested
by a police officer. Upon protest
ing to the keeper of the Tombs
that he was not intoxicated, it was
revealed that the unfortunate youth
had been born a natural drunkard,
or rather that he had always acted
like such a thing. He said that al
though in good health, had never
been able to walk withoutjstaggering.
His speech was not unlike that of
persons in a state of intoxication;
and when excited he would mutter
and reel. ’ The unfortunate youth
was detained until the next day, and
was not sent to the courts to be ga
zed at thro’judicial spectacles. A
subsequent investigation of the case
proved that the lad had been telling
the truth about himself, but his con
dition revealed a demonstration of
that natural law that the child is a
fair copy of his parents.
It appears that prior to marriage
the father had been a secret but
confirmed Inebriate, and when the
facts became known to the woman
thus suddenly and unexpectedly’,
she wept in the most teirible man
ner. Almost broken hearted, she
contemplated the misery in store for
her. Months passed away, when it
was discovered that the child at 3
months acted strangely, and at
the end of six months the unhappy
woman fully realized all her forebo
dings. The effect produced upon
the mother was not without its influ
ence iipoh the father, however.—
Realizing, in the midst of tears of
bitter anguish, the sin that had been
visited upon the child, the man re
formed. lie has now several bright
children, and most exemplary’ ones
too, they are. But the boy that
was brought into the Tombs was
not drunk, but has entailed upon
him a life of misery, as it was a
blasted destiny.
The Wife.
In comparison with tbe loss of a
wife all other bereavements are tri
fles. The wife ! she who fills so
large a space in the domestic heav
en, who is so busied, so unwearied—
bitter is the tear that falls on her
clay. You stand beside her grave
and think of the past; it seems an
amber colored pathway where the
sun shone upon flowers, or the stars
hung glittering overhead. Fain
would the soul linger there. No
thorns are remembered above that
sweet clay, save those your own
band may have unwillingly planted.
Her noble, tender heart lies opeh
to your inmost sight. You think
of her as all gentleness, all beauty
and purity. But she is dead ! The
dear head that so often laid upon
your bosom, now rests upon a pil
low of clay. The hands that minis
tered so untiringly are folded,
white and cold, beneath the gloomy
portals. Tbe heart whose every
beat measured an eternity of loreP
lies under your feet. And there is
no white arm over your shoulder
now ; no speaking face to look up
in the eye of love; no trembling
lips to murmur. “ Oh, it is so sad i”
There is so strange a hush in every
room ! No smile to greet you at
nightfall. And the clocks ticks and
Btrikes and ticks !—it Was sweet
music when she could hear it!
Now it seents to knell Only the
hours through Which you watched
the shadows of death gathering up
on her sweet face. But many a
tale it telleth of joys past, sorrows
shared, and beautiful words and
deeds. registered above; You feel
that the glare fcaniiot keep heh—
You know that she is in happier
world, but feel that she is often by
yo«r side, an angel present —
Cherish these emotions j they will
make you happier. Let her holy
presence be as a charm to keep you
from evil. In all neW and pleasant
connections, give her a place in
youi* heath Never forget what she
has been to you—that she has loved
you. Be tender to her memory.
—The transmuting of base metal
into pure gold, and a woman chan
ging her sex to that of a man, and
marrying a woman, are the latest
sensations. We may be induced to
believe the first, but not the last
until we see the fruits of that*mar
riage. *.
NO 3?.
Hoxy to SEtEcf Flour. —Look at
the color; if it is white with a
slightly yellowish or straw-colore I
tint, buy itj if it is very white with
a bluish cast, or* with white specks
in it, refuse it. Examine its adhe
siveness ; wet and knead a little of
it between your fingers; if it works
soft and sticky, it is poor. Throw
a little lump of dry flout against a
dry, smooth, perpendicular surface ;
if it falls like powder, it is bad.
- Why is a muff like a fool ?
Because it holds a lady’s hand with
out squeezing it.
—ls girls always knew the pre
vious lives of the men they marry,
the list of old maids would incroase.
—An Evansville reporter Wears
sack-cloth because he wrote “ anoth*
er factory” and lived to sec in print
“ a mother factory.”
When a house burns down it
burns up; When y’ou drink a glass
ful, you drink it empty 5 and when
you take a cab, it takes you.
The man who asked his wife
why he was like a donkey has gone
out of the conundrum business,—
She said he was born so.
Children can do much toward
making their parents happy, or
they can send their gray hairs with
sorrow to the grave,
A husband can readily foot
the bills of a wife who is hot afraid
of being seen footing the stockings
of her husband,
A boy bawling in the street
was asked the" cause of llis trouble,
and replied, “ I want my’ mammy :
that’s what’s the matter. I told
the darned thing she’d lose me;”
—Mm
“ 1 believe in going to the boh
tom of things,” as the school mad
am said when she laid a refractory
pupil over her knee.
There are two tilings in the
world that are not safe to trifle
with—a woman's opinion, and the
business end of the wasp.
Look always at tho bright side
ot things, as the cheefiug and invig
orating sun does; and remember
that content is the mother of good
discretion.
--»■■
A little boy three years old,
gave a reason for his infant’s broth
er’s good behavior as follows;
“Baby ddesn’t cry tears because
he doesn’t dfibk water, and be can’t
cry milk ?”
A California man requested
his wife in a ball-room to hold tho
baby of another man’s wife while
he danced with the baby’s mother,
but she didn’t hold it. Some wives
are too disobedient to put up with.—
Lemons, sprinkled with loaf
silgar, completely allay feverish
thirst, and are, therefore, invalua
ble in a sick room. Invalids with
feverishness, can safely consume
two or three lemons a day.
Mamma to naughty boy: “You
should always behave the same,
whether you are in company or
not.” Naughty boy: “Well, ma,
why don’t ydu behave the saina as
you do to company, and press us to»
have another tart ?”
—An old lawyer says the threw
most troublesome clients we ever'
had Were a young woman who
wanted to be married, a married
woman who wanted a divorce, slid
an old maid who didn’t know what
she wanted.
Speak kindly in the morning,
it lightens the cares of the day, and
makes household and all other af
fairs move along more smoothly.—
Speak kindly at night, for it may
be that before the dawn some loved
one may finish his or her space of
life for this world, and it will ba
too late to ask forgiveness.
-—Delphi, out in Indiana, has the
following dog ordinance: “ Dog*
that are not collared and labeled,
no matter how reapeotably connect
ed, will have their narratives ampu
tated one inch south of their ears.’*
A lady declares that she ie
guilty of downright falsehood a
dozen times a day, by saying to
people whom she meets, “I am
glad to see you,” and she cannot
break herself of the habit of so say
ing.
A grocer being solicited to
contribute to the building of anew
church, promptly subscribed his
name to the paper in the following
eccentric manner John Jones
(the only place in town where you
can get 11 pounds good sugar sos
a dollar) 25 cents, ;