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VOL. VI.
THE APPEAL.
T~ »J~ j t ' •- T
svsrv fridax,
jty J. P. SAWTEIX.
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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: