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About Cuthbert weekly appeal. (Cuthbert, Ga.) 18??-???? | View Entire Issue (Oct. 11, 1872)
VOL. VI. THE APPEAL. T~ »J~ j t ' •- T svsrv fridax, jty J. P. SAWTEIX. Terms of Subscription.: One Ykar. ~+ s 2 00 | Six Months—sl 25 INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. f3f* No attention paid to orders for the pa un'ess accompanied by the Cash. Rates of Advertising. S E I Ilf ;• r ? rI | C.;. STOO* 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 fc 9.00 22.00 30.00 45.00 l 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 Oae square, (ten lines or less.) $1 00 for the and 75 cents for each subsequent inser 4l*n. 1 A liberal deduction made to parties ■who advertise by the year. Personasendiiißadvertißementsshould mark the number of times thev desire them inser ted, »f they will,be continued until forbitfaod Hurled accordingly. Transient advertisements must be paid for At the time of insertion. If not paid tor i eforv the expiration of the time advertised, 25 per >«Mt. additional will be charged. Announcing names of candidates for office, 1)5.00. Cash, .in all cases Obituary notices over five lines, charged at regular advertising rates. All communications intended to promote the private ends or interests of Corporations, 8o ; Pieties, or individuals, will be charged as ad vertisements; Jon Work, such as Pamphlets, Circulars, 'Cards, Blanks, Handbills, etc., wili be execu ted in good style and at reasonable rates. All letters addressed to the Proprietor wil' be promptly attended to. - Country Children. Little, fresh violets, * Born in the wild wood, Sweetly illustrating innocent childhood, Shy as the antelope- - Brown us a berfy— Free us the mountain air, Ilompiug and merry. . Blue eyes and hazel eyes Peep from the hedges, Shaded by snn bonnets, Frayed at the edges', Up in the apple trees, Heedless of danger, Marinood in embryo Stares at the stronger. Out in the'billy patch, Socking life berries— Under the offchard trees, Feasting dii cherries. Trampling the blossoftis Down ’rtiong the grasses, /No voice tx» liihder them, Dear lads and lassies. No grim propriety— No interdiction : Free ns the bit-dings From city restriction! Coining the purest blood; Strengthening each muscle, Donning healths armor Gainst life’s coming bustlt. Dear little innocents ! Born in the wild wood ; Oil, that all little ones Ilad such a childhood ! God’s blue spread over them, God’s garden beneath’them ; No sweeter heritage Could we bequeath them ! Mortgage Law.— See. Ist, Be it enacted, etc., that from and after the passage of this act, no person after having executed a mortgage deed to personal property, shall be permitted to sell or otherwise dis pose of the same, with intent to de fraud the mortgagee, unless the consent of the mortgagee be liist obtained, before the payment of the indebtedness for which the mort gage deed was executed to Secure. Sec. 2nd, Be it further enacted, etc., that if any person shall violate th% provisions of the first section of this act, and loss thereby is sus tained by the holder of the mort gage, shall be deemed and held guil ty of a misdemeanor, and upon eonvictiou thereof, shall be punisha ble by a fine in double the sum or -debt for which said mortgage was given to secure, aud upon failure to pay said fine immediately, the person so convicted, shall be im prisoned in the Common jail for a period not less than six months nor more than twelve. . The Administration, fully real izing the fact that its fortunes are waning, has set in operation a nbw sforce by which it is expected that all the strong minded women— ; those that are willing to wear pan taloons aud ride man fashion—will immediately go to work making speeches for Grant. Highly impor tant circulars are being sent out from Washington, matfked confiden tial, and addressed to female stump speechifyers, who are called upon to form clubs arrd work for the election of Grant. There are the best reasons in the world why a certain class of women should favor a continuation of Rad ical rule. —An Illinois love letter closed pathetically as follws: “My best loved one, I chewed the postage stamp on your last letter all to thunder, because I knew you licked on it.” A tedium of waiting for the min ister at a recent funeral was in a measure relieved by a practical in dividual, who canvassed the rela tives and friends of the deceased with the following gratifying re sult: ' Greeley, 18 ; Grant, li ; un decided, 8. CUTHBERT |§§f APPEAL. Timm’s Strategy. A California Story. Mapes was chivalrous by nature; he believed in “ seeking the bub ble reputation even in the cannon’s raoutb, ” His enthusiasm was aroused by the recital of stories of desperate daring; while he had nothing bnt contempt for even suc cess won by crooked or indirect means. Timms, on the contrary, believed there was policy in war, and that the end justified the means, particularly if the end was attained. Companions from infancy, their lives had been spent in competi tion for scholastic and such other honors as the locality afforded, without even a momentary break in the friendship. But now, in ear ly manhood, they struggle for a prize of incalculable value, with an ardor that threatened a complete rupture of friendly relations. The heart and hand of Eliza Peed, the neighboring belle, were to be won; and to these none others might aspire, in the face of such formidable competition as that of Mapes and Timms. They alone— eaph by virtue of his own personali ties and position—had a right to lay siege to the heart of that varia hie, irritable, imperious beauty, and for months the 6trife had gone on between them. Each one had call ed in play all his personal and so cial resources, for the local society had taken such an interest that it was divided into two 'factions, known as the Mapesites and Timm sites. And yet Miss Eliza could not be brought to express a prefer erenee. If she rode with one to~ day, she was careful to walk abroad with the rival to-morrow. Coquetry is delicious to a woman, and Eliza would not have been feminine had she been in haste to make an election. Nevertheless, she did not intend to miss her op portunity. She knew that war could not always last, and feared that when one of the aspirants for her favor withdrew from the con test the love of the other, wanting the stimulus of competition, would grow cold; hence she had made up her mind that upon the first fa vorable opportunity she would sig nify to Mapes that his suit, so often pressed, was at last accepted. The opportunity, it seemed, was not to be long wanting, for invitations were, given out for an , apple bee in the neighborhood, and Eliza found means to convey and intimation to Mapes that she expected to meet him there, and counted on his es cort home at the conclusion of the frolic. The appointed evening looked for with such nervous anticipation by Mapes came at last. i!e telt that it was the most important of his life, and arrayed himself as on ly a rustic dandy can. His way lay across a meadow through which ran—or rather loitered—a deep, narrow stream, spanned by a single log. It was so dark when he reach ed this primitive bridge that he was compelled to feel his tvay.slow ly across. . As lie progressed it be gan to swing lightly—something very unusual—until he reached the centre, when, to his utter confusion it gave way and he was launched into the water, lie scrambled out, then suddenly the night became lu minous with that lurid light to which people refer when they say, in speaking of some profane wretch, “He swore until all was blue.”— Whatever illuminating qualities this lurid light possessed, it had no drying ones, and Mapes was forced to bid adieu for the night to all hopes of plighting his troth to the loved Eliza. In the rural districts down east in early time the good people had such habits of iudustry and rigid economy that they seldom gave or attended parties, unless such as were cloaked under the names ol raisings, quiltings, hustings or ap ple-bees ; thus the apple-bee, fraught with momentous consequences to Mapes and Timms, was but a social party in disguise—a few apples be ing cored, quartered, paired and strung in the evening for appear ance’s sake. As usual, Eliza Reid was belle of the occasion. Good looks, entire self-possession, and a keen satirical wit, always assured her that posi tion, and this night she shone with unusual brilliancy,- until, as the hours wore away, and Mapes came not, sha began to lose herself in pondering why, and she at length asked Timms: - “ Is your friend Mapes ailing ? ” “ I guess not,” replied Timms;- " saw him to day. He wasn’t complaining. ” “He denies himself much pleas ure,” said Eliza, “ in not coming here to-night, for this is the place where we always have a good time. Aunt Judah knows how to give an apple-bee.” “ You let Mapes alone,” answered Timms; “he knows what he is about.” “ What do you mean ? ” asked Eliza. “ Oh, I, mean,” replied Timms, “thatMapes is the prince of good lellows, and gets invitations where the rest of us don’t. ” “Where is Mapes to-night?” asked Eliza, now fully aroused. “I don’t know for sure,” an swered Timms. “He told me to day there were special reasons for his coming here, but that he had an invitation to the rich and aristocrat ic Squire Iluntoon’s, who is celebra ting his daughter’s birthday, and that he didn’t know which way he would go,” and Timms turned away to the next prettiest girl in the room. Petted young women are seldom logical or patient. When the party broke up Eliza accepted Timms es cort to her home, and before they arrived there she had consented to become Mrs. Timms. The next morning the engagement was an nounced, and preparations for the wedding was comiiimiced. Timms was exultant—happy Timms. Fora few days Timms was not seen much in public—perhaps for want of courage to wear his blush ing honors openly—perhaps for want of courage to meet other con tingencies—who knows? But a man cannot make arrangements for his wedding from a fixed standpoint, and he was compelled to venture out. In a quiet and secluded by way he met Mapes. The meeting to him was a surprise; he smiled feebly and extended his hand. But Mapes, intent on business, strode quickly up to Timms and planted a vigorous blow on one of his eyes, which caused him to measure his length in the dust. Timms sprang to his feet, and showed fight; but another blow on his eye again sent him to grass, where he continued to lie. “ Get up,” said Mapes. “ You’ll knock me down again,” said Timms. “ Yes-,” returned Mapes, “ I will.” “ Then I won’t get up,” said Timms. “ You are an infernal scoundrel,” said Mapes. “ I can’t help your saying so,” said Timms. “You sawed the log?” said Mapes. “ What log ?” said Timms. “ You sawed the log ?” repeated Mapes, advancing a step. • “ Yes—stop,” said Timms, “ I sawed the lotr.” “ Well, you needn’t think,” said Mapes, “ that after your marriage you’re going to tell that story, and make me a laughing-stock.” “ I’ll never speak of it,” whined Timms. “ Perhaps you won’t,” said Mapes, “ but I’m going to swear you before I get through. There is another thing, you won the wo man by your and and trickery, and I know it is in you to abuse her, so I’m going to swear you to treat her kindly.” “I’ll swear,” said Timms. “ Hold up your liana,” said Mapes. Timms held up his hand. “ Now repeat after me: I, Silas Timms, solemnly swear that I will not bring to the Knowledge of any human being that I sawed the log whereby Daniel Mapes fell into the creek and lost a wife; and further, that I will, she consenting, marry Eliza Reed, and always treatJier kindly ; so help me God.” Timms repeated the oath verba tim. “ Now, get up and go home,” said Mapes, “ I don’t think you’ll bo married till your eyes get out of mourning, and by that time I’ll be far enough away. But don’t think I’ll lose sight of you, and if you don’t keep your oath you’ll see me.” Timms arose from the ground, shook off the dust and walked away, but when he had secured a safe distance he shouted back ex ultingly: “ Mapes, she’s an angel.” In twenty years Dauiel Mapes had. learned many things, among them this : Life is very much as we make it. In other words, the world is like a mirror, and looks at us with the face we present. It re turns scowl for scowl, and smile for smile. It echoes our sobs and our laughter. To the cold it is as icy as the Northern seas, to the lov ing it is as balmy as the isles of the tropics. Ho had learned a still CTJTHBERT, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, OCTOBER 11, 1872. harder lesson, which was to forget the griefs, the sorrows, the wrongs, and the hates of the past. The ef fects of this lesson w T as to make it apparent that the lines, to him, had fallen in pleasant places. His ro tund form and firm muscles be spoke a good digestion, while a cheerful countenance told of mental peace. A fair woman named him husband, and children called him father. A pleasant hoftie in the Santa Clara valley was theirs ; be sides which Mapes had many broad acres of lands as well as many head of stock running nearly wild in the counties of Monterey and San Lou is Obisbo. * Once in each year the cattle that graze on California’s thousand hills are gathered in brads at conven ient places, td be claimed and brand ed by their owners, such assem blages being called, rodeos. Mapes had been down across the Salinas Plains, in attendance upon a rodeos; and being on bis Jjeturn, 'jobbing along on his mustang, he saw, far in the distance, but nearing 'him, an equally’ lone traveller. Slowly the distance between them decreased, and as they approached, Mapes, with California prudence, slipped his revolver on l;he belt which sup ported it, from his back rojxnd to his left side, bringing the hilt un der the shadow of his bridle arm, and within easy- reach of his right hand. A near look showed him that he had no occasion for weap ons ; the comin.g man was of mid dle age, but his look was worn, weary, dejected and hopeless—in local phrase, his manner was that of one who had “ lost his grip and those who have met that terri ble misfortune are never highway robbers, “grip” being the very quality needed in that hazardous pursuit. The travellers met with a long, enquiring gaze, when from their lips siniultaneod.sl.y bust the words “ Mapes 1”—“ Timms !” After a moment of mute surprise, Mapes* spurring his mustang, drew nearer Timms. “ So, wo meet at last. I have been wanting to see you this many a year.” The movement seemed ominous to Trams, and he cried out: “Don’t —don’t.sh-oot! ■ I have no weapons. Besides, I have kept my oath—at least; as well as I could. I never told the reason why you didn’t at tend the apple-bee, nor even breath ed a syllable about the sawed log, upon my oath.” “ I wasn’t thinking of the duck ing” said Mapes. “Don’t dome any nearer,” re turned Tmxms. I have always tried to use the women well; but she wouldn’t be used well. I have done my best to treat her kindly.” “It’s no use to go over the ground to me, Timms.” “But,” replied Timms, “you have no idea what that woman is. Y'ou wouldn’t blame me, it you on ly knew. She’s browbeat me till I ain’t half a man. ” “ So I see,” said Mapes. “ No you don’t see,” said Timms. “ You doi l’t see half. Look at this sear”—ta king off his hat and show ing a long seam on his scalp.— “ That was done with the skillet.” “ Y r ouhave suffered,” said Mapes. “ Suffered !” said Timms. “Yod, ought to have sworn her, too. If you only knew’how I have thought of.you, and of my oath to you, and how I have borne blows and beoia quiet—how I have beer, called a brute and a fool and kept silent—how I have endured taunts and sneers; hunger and discom fort, w iqhout a word of reproach— you would forgive me; you wouldn’t harbdr thoughts of revenge!” an swered Mapes. “ Let us dismount, for I see my chance has come at last.” “ Mapes, would you take the life of an u narmed man ?” “ Tii nms, you’re crazy. Let me explain, I have no wrongs to avenge. It isn’t for vengenance that I have waited to see you. I heard about you often —know all your life and experiences; and I only want to see you, to offer you a home and friendship, employment and oppor tunities for prosperity, here in Cal ifornia. I owe you a debt, but one of gratitude for the inestimable ser vice you did me by that little job of carpenter work; and that I mean to pay. Come with me.” He took Timms’ horse by the bridle, turned him about without remostrance, and they travelled on in silence. After a while, Timms raised his eye timidly from the ground, and said : n Mapes she’s the devil!”- — Overland Monthly. A Small Lesson. We arc not sure that we shall “’scape whipping” for publishing the following little village romance, with a moral: There was once upon a time—as old wives to say—a husband and wife, who had brought up three ■daughters respectively named Ka ren, Marcn, and Metty. They might certainly have been reckoned very pretty’, had people not known*them to be all ‘three quite as stubborn and contradicto ry’', and desirous of having the last word. .Mtatty was far the most dis agreeable. By dint of time, there came tw'o wooers for the two eld est daughters, who finished by marry ing! But it was years before anybody ventured to make up to Metty. At last, . however, even she had a sweetheart. It is true that he came from a long distance. The bannasi were to be published three limes,! and on the third day after such' publication, which had been fixed at an out-of-the-way’ hour by the bridegroom, he and Metty r met in the church, in order to be married. When these particulars were settled the man, who was an odd fellow, at once took his departure. On the wedding day, the old pa rents had made their appearance at church with their daughter. But they had a long time to wait for the bridegroom; At last he. appeared mounted on an old gray horse, with a musket slung across his breast, a pair of worsted-gloves on his hands and a large doge at his heels. No sooner was the marriage cpve mony over, than he said to his bride, “Jump on to that horse, and place yourself before me, that we mayre turn home.” She did as she was bid, although her father raised a number of ob jectiohs. lie could have wished that the newly made pair had en tered his house, first of all, to eat something. But the new husband would not hear of any such thing and they went their way. When they had gone tolerably far the husband lot fall one of his gloves. “Pick it up,” said-ho to the ddg*; but the animal let it lie, for Any thing he cared. “Pick it up, instantly !” repeat ed lie ; but again the dog did not Stir. After having commanded him a third time to do what he had bid him but with no better s.ucfcess, and without tho dog’s seeming to care a farthing for his commands, the man took up his gun and shot him dead on tho spot. They-then .went their way and reached a wood, whore the husband had a mind to take some rest. Our travelers accordingly got off their horse, and put the briddle on his neck. When the man thought they were sufficiently rested, he called his horse three times; but the horse took no notice of Ids master’s voice and went on grazing. On seeing this, the husband took up his gun obce more and killed the disobedi ent horse. On witnessing this sight the wife felt strangely uneasy ; and while continuing her road, deter mined, come what might,' never to contradict her husband. Shortly after, he .took up a green twig, and folded it so that the. two ends would meet, and presented it to his wife,' bidding her to keep it till he asked to have it back. The newly married pSfir then followed their road on foot-; and arrived with 'out further accident at their farm house. Here they lived very happily, for Metty had not forgotten the resolution she had taken in the woods— never to contradict her husband. She always appeared so gentle and docile, that nobody could have suspected that she was the un tractable Metty. Now this is what her husband said to her one day: “Should we not go and see your father, Metty, to ascertain how he and your good old mother are by this time?” The wife declared that nothing could please her better ; accordingly the husband ordered the horses to be harnessed, and off they went. Toward evening they had overtaken a flock of storks, all journeying to gether. “What a quantity of crows!’’ said the man. “They are not crows, but storks,” said the woman. “Turn the chaise round, and take us back home,” was the order the husband gave his servent. They accordingly returned from whence they came. ' Some time after, the husband v * . again asked his wife if she did not long to see her aged parents. Os course Metty wisiiied it hearti ly. On the road they*, met a flock of sheep. .“What a large flock of wolves!” cried the lmsband. “They arc not wolves,” observed .the wife, “but sheep.” “Turn round the cart, and take us homo,” ordered the husband of the servant. And this was according ly done. A third time the farmer asked his wife if they’ ought not to pay a visit to her old parents, and as She acquiesced eagerly, the horses were once more harnessed. They had gone over a deal of ground, when they met a flock of liens. “What a quantity of crows!” said the husband “Quite true,” said tlio wife. This time they did not turn back and when they reached the dwelling of the old folks, there were great rejoiciugs. Karen and Marcn like wise <yuno with their husbands. The mother took her three daught ers into the room, for she was Very curious to question Metty as to her mode of living, and to know whether she was satisfied with her husband. Daring this interval, the father kept filling a large jar full of silver coins, which he placed- on the table before his sons-in-law, say ing it would belong with its con tents to the woman who was most obedient. On hearing this, the eldest began to cry out, “Karen, my beloved, come hither for a moment—-come my dearest Karen.” But all bis ap peals were lost upon Karen. Even when ho went into iheif * bedroom, and began to urge her, with a kind of gentle violence, lie could not make her stir. The second husband fared no bet ter with his Marcn. It was now the third husband’s turn. He merely went to tho door knocked, and said. “Come here, Metty.” Out she came in a moment, and enquired whether he wanted -any thing. , He answered, ‘‘Merely the sprig I gavb into your keeping when we were in the wood on our wedding day!” She it him at once, as she always carried it in her pocket. Then the husband showed.it to the others, saying, “Behold! I bent this branch while it was yet green you ought to have done the same!” Home Headings. —One of the most pleasant and noblest duties of the head of the family is to furnish its members with good reading.— In the times vvhicli are passed it was considered enough to' clothe and feed and shelter a family.. This was the sum of parental duty; but lately it lias been found out that wives and children have minds, and so it becomes a necessity to edu-. cate the children and furnish read ing for the whole household ; it has been found out that the mind wants food as well as the body, and that it wants to be sheltered from the pitiless storms of error and vice by the guarding and friendly roof of intelligence and virtue. An ignorant family in our day. is an antiquated institution,’ It smells of the musty past; it is a dark spot which the light o*f the modern sun of intelligence has not yet reach ed. Let good reading go into a home, and the very atmosphere of that home gradually changes. It be comes clearer, more cheerful, health ful and happy. The boys' begin to grow ambitious ; to talk about mem, places, principles, books, the past and the future; the girls begin to feel’a new life opening to them in knowledge, duty, and pleasure; and so the family changes, and out from its number will go intelligent men and women to. fill honorable places and be useful members of the Community. Let the torch of intelligence be lit in every house hold ; let the old and young vie with each other in introducing new and useful topics of investigation, aud in cherishing a love of read ing, study and improvement. —Devotion to public opinion was envinced by a lady aged eighty year?, who recently married a man of a correspondingly appropriate age, because, she said, “he comes about my house so much, il I don’t marry him people will talk.” —An old lady gave this as her idea of great men ; “One who is keerful of his clothes,- don’t drink sperets, ken read the Bible without spelling the words, and eat a cold dinner without grumbling.” A Tale ol‘L©ve, One quiet day in leafy Jtine, when bees and birds were all in tune, two loveis walked beneath the moon.— The night was fair, so was the maid ; they walked and talked be neath the shade, with none to harm or make afraid. Her name was Sal and his was Jim, and he was fat and she was slim ; he took to her and she took to him. Says Jim to Sal: ‘By all the snakes that squirm among the brush and brakes, I love you bet ter’n buckwheat cakes.’ Says she to Jim, 'since you’ve be begun it, and been and gone and done it, I love you next to anew bonnet.’ Says Jim to Sal, ‘My heart you’ve busted, but I have al ways gals mistrusted.’ Says Sal to Jim, ‘I will be true; if you love me as I love youj no knife can cut our love in two.’ Says Jim to Sal, ‘ Through thick and thin, for your true lover count me in, I’ll court no other gal agin.’ Jim leaned to Sal, Sal leaned to Jim, his nose just touched above her chin, four lips met—went— ahem !—ahem ! And then—and then —and then—and then. . Oh, gals beware of men in June, anijlnn-' derneath the siivery moon vi’hen frogs and Junebugs are in tune, 1 lest you get your name in the papers soon. Tiie Bright Side. —Look on the bright side. It is the right side.— The times may be hard, but it will make it no easier to wear a gloomy and sad countenance. It is the sunshine and not the cloud, that makes a flower. There is always that before or around us which should cheer and fill the heart with warmth. The sky is blue ten limes vhere it' is black one. You have troubles, it may be. So have oth ers. None are free from them.— Perhaps it is as well -that none should be free from them. They give sinew and tone to life—forti tude and courage to man. That would be a dull sea, and* the sailor would never get skill, where there was nothing to disturb the surface of the ocean. It is the duty of ev ery one to extract all the happiness and enjoyment he can, without and within him; and, above all, he should,look on, the bright side of things. What though things do look a little dark ? the lane will turn, and the night will end in broad day. In the long run, the great balance rights itself. What is ill becomes well—what is wrong, right. Men'are not made to hang down either heads or lips; and those who do, only show that they are departing from the paths of true common sense and right.— There is more virtue in one sun beam than a whole hemisphere of clouds and glooms. Therefore, we repeat, look on the bright side of things. Cultivate what is warm and genial, not the cold and repul sive, the dark and' morose. Scofield’s Rolling Mill.—A reeftnt visit to Scofield’s Roll ing Mill* on the Western and At lantic Railroad, gave us much satis faction, as it was a striking illus tration ot what energy can do, and of the practical benefits of manufac turing. The Rolling Mill is about 12 miles from the Passenger Depot. The lot contains forty acres, all un • der a good fence. The Rolling Mill building is 350 feet long by 180 feet wide, and 52 feet high.-y The Foundry and Nail Faetory is 100 feet long by 50 feet wide. The company has ll furnaces in operation, 6 heating and 5 publing. The motive power is supplied by 11 boilers and 8 engines -with 650 horse power. There are two squeezers—the Crocodile and anew one, the Coffee Mill, weighing ten tons. Besides this there are nut cotters, bolt cutters, stralgntening machines and punching machines. Anew puncher cuts four holes at the same time in the bolts for the Fish-bar rail. Upon an average, five car loads of coal are used dai ly. The mill turns out fifty tons of finished, rails, five tons of mei chant iron, twenty tons of puddled iron and five tons of spikes per day, or 14,000 tons of rails 1,560 tons of merchant iron, 6,240 tons puddled iron, and 1,560 tons of spikes per annum.— Constitution. —Agar said, “Give me neith6r poverty nor riches,” and this . will ever be the prayer of the wise. Our incomes should be like our shoes: if too sm all, they will gall and pinch us, but it too large, they will cause us to stumble and to trip. But wealth, after ali, is a relative thing, since he that has little and wants less, is richer than he that has much but wants more. True con tentment depends not upon what we have; a tub was large enough for Diogenes, but a world was too lit tle for Alexander, NO 41. A Sons; lor Everybody. The Central City Times has ad “occasional poet” who, some times,- gets off a good thing. The follow ing is his latest, which contains a moral worthy thfe consideration of overy business man : Tbore is a man in our town, Who doesn’t advertise; Good customers go past his door. The cheery cash likewise, And when he posts his books at night, He’s the saddest man in town, And ever and anon he moans, “The place is going down If all the men were like this man, We'd feel no great surprise, If all this town’s inhabitants Were shoveled to the skies. For towns must' grow and trade increase,' By nerve and enterprise; And they who’d live must have the pluck To risk and advertise. A Defense of Pretty Wo men. After all, is the world so very absurd in its love for pretty women? Is woman so very ridiculous in her chase after beauty ? A pretty wo man is doing a woman’s work id the world, but not making speeches/ nor making puddings, but making life sunnier and more beautiful alto gether. Man has forsworn the pursuit of beauty altogether. Does he seek it for himself, he is guessed to bo frivolous, ho is guessed to b© poetic, there are whispers that his morals are no better than they should be. In society resolute to’ be urgly there is no post for an Adonis but that of a model or gurd smn. But woman does for mankind what man has ceased! to do. Her aim from chilhood is to be beauti ful. Even as a school girl she notes' the progress of her charms, the deepning color of her hair, the grow ing symmetry of hot* arm, the ripen ing contour‘of her eheek. We watch 1 with silent interest, the mysterious reveries of the maiden; she is dream ing of a coming beauty, and panting for the glories of eighteen. Insen sibly, she becomes an artist, her room is a studio, her glass an acad emy. The joy of her toilet is the joy of over his canvas, of Michml Angelo over his marble.' She is creating beauty in the silence and the loneliness of her beatfty in her chamber; she grows like any art-creation, the result of patience, of hope, of a thousand delicate touchings and retouchings. ~Wd man is never perfect; never com plete. A restless night undoes the beauty of the day; sunshine blurs . the evanescent coloring of her cheek; frots nip the tender outlines of her face into sudden harshness. Care plows its lines across her bro'w ;• motherhood destroys the clastic lightness of her form, the bloom of her cheek, the quick flash of her eyes fade and vanish as th'e years go by. - But woman is still true to her ideal. She won’t kuow when she is beat en, and she manages to steal fresh' victories even in her defeat. She invents new conceptions of woman ly-grace ; she realizes at forty, and fronts us with the beauty of womau hood; she makes a last stand at sixty, with beauty of age, she fall# like Caesar wrapping her m©ntl© round her—“hurried in Woolon'! ’twould- a saint provoke !” Death listens pitifully to the longing 6f a life-time, and the wrinkled race smiles with something of the pet tiness of eighteen— Front the Satur day Itevieio. . —“I want to know,’’saida creditor fiercely, “when: you are going to' pay me what you owe me?” "Whdtf I’m going to pay ? Why, youYe it pretty fellow 1 Do you take id©’ for a prophet. n A poor but pious youtog man apologized the other evening while' making a call for the modiness of his boots, saying he had dot taken' a carriage, but “walked up with commendable economy.” He was grieved when the lovely bfeing whom he adores inquired why he din’t “ask Mr. Economy in/’ About two years ago a Nor wich town, Conn 1 ., gentleman re-’ ceived a mortal inshit from a neigh bor who lives a quarter of a mile or more frofn him. After two years’med itation.he has now purchased'a pea cock and a jackass and anchored them in a field adjoining his neigh bors back yard. The Geneva Conference has con cluded its labors, and - the award of 815,500,000 made in favor of the United - States has bteen duly signed by the Arbitrators. Sir Alexander Coekburn, the British' Arbitrator, dissented from' the opin ion of the other members. The London newspapers appear to ac quiesce in the decision of the tribu-' nal and express satisfaction thatthO question is finally settled:
