The Southern sun. (Bainbridge, Ga.) 1869-1872, May 04, 1872, Image 1

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L,abridge H?eefelg s«n. PUBLISHED L e rY SATURDAY r, ~,HNSTI)N' A CO. : : Paopi ifiToss. [ «- rr iii* «t Subscriptioih 1 ,„v, ()«*-’ t*r ' f, ',' cj* Months | I (jopv. Three Months Is VARIABLY is AdvaScb. F , From TinJeyV MagazißC”) | M BESSIE’S MISTAKE. mT vounc nieces ana I—sitting dose- W ' bis white German Stove ; for the B''‘ marked forty degreea of frost, and a m* >om u for coldness a thing to remem- U) tike of in the days to come. It I l '" 1 .„ in the evening, and the three girls. ■ f whom w»8 nearing sixteen, had just °t th t inv weil-lovcd brother John— WjZyluw *«P mother, who loved gaiety I. ■■ M (»ir matures ftf J*ff-«ge are *P» to ■T;,*r departure in the freeing January h had already, since the frost set in, nip- H", life out of two coachmen on their boxes j ■ three sentries at their posts—in search of such B .. t „ w. found at the ponderous entertain- E up regardless of expense by the mer- Btj.flnofi of the Free Town. »„,!■ 5 i,,.j r ,] L -ar mother s death -a sad event ■ Mlt had happened six years before, time ■ r.tirifully softened to us all—l, being an tttd Bj ~., | more than willing to make myself gen s', iwfu!. had taken up my abode with John, Br. lav,.red, to tne best of my ability, to sup- B jjace of her whom they had lost. They B ' i <■!:il*lien, affectionate and compliant. — that which was said of me might be true, |V , ili.it I over-indulged them as little ones, 8.»...1 lack of judgment as they grew older ; ■ iiguincnt from results, no great harm was j.ilui was satisfied, and both before and 8,.* ml marriage everything went on Btb.) in his household ; a state of things which Blr and ar felld*, being of an indolent turn of B was ipiite capable of appreciating at its ■ n . xs , (!l for our being at Hamburg during the B ,viMt.T of 186 — were partly business ones. B« V ife had been half a Dane ; and some B'viw.c living at Affona being desirous of ■ , with their deceased kins- B • ciiiluivn. it was decided (seeing that a B. v.,- ,!,?•>• old bachelor uncle was failing fast) E. u.m- do mid be lost in complying with hi 3 ■ Mav''—we all called th) young step- B, i ; i u -r t’hrisiiau naasi*, for she was young i..cure,l -made no obj jetions; had she B "•' hu v.have yielded at once. So we Kg '■■■:■ party—via Hull, for our home was K ~,( Jf i;:.g!:uul—to the cold but hospita- B\,,r!i V: city. H v y.-ars bvfcfe. when the girls were j Hk ; hi.i.vd 1 .V. tie, the youngest, had not | ,B.t> ii.ee on life's stage—l hadac- j iuv brother ami his family on a three Hlk'visit to ill) place in which we had now, B, ;mrl:nc:its on the Jungfernstieg. in \. . \ s for the winter. Twelve years ■ ; u .i ,;i..- r d away since 1. a comparetivc .; •, then, passe 1 a gay Hamburg win- HtinV..v acquaintances, and cementing B :-.-v with one whom I then thought a f. i.non*st the rich inhabitants of the B < ' It wa3concerning this last men- B . ;.,»Y ;, 4 to whose character and merits I ■ h. covered that 1 had made a very Hi.; meu'.n'. i’lat I was about —after scSme H v tr ur. the irirls. to *tbdrn 1 had once prom- B ry" api\)’.v)S of Hamburg society—as | Ho.r s:u r-Mi't i the well heated stove, to open j B . 1,, tof ray memory. Perhaps I was wrong B.uv»,i» doing so. They were so young, it, H.oviil tL.;t die knowledge which is required j voreen v-i.-e should come by degrees, and by the" precept upon precept ” which Bhdpu> neutralize its ill effects; andso.be- Biy n this possibility, I b«gan my tale as fol- Ha prwtu-r or a iticr* warning Croat urt tllaii ] Bmlo Ruckmann it woiild have been hard— | ■if year* &go. mind, darlings—to find. You H] r «i»ab\y Soon be able to judge for yourselves she has kept the promise of her youth ; Bwur father heard yesterday that the Ruck- Br* who hare been spending some time in rt. intend shortly to return here for the of the winter. Togo hack, however, st. ry. Gertrude s mUtlifcr was atl English au.l about two months before our depart-, H*. '.a inu her acquaintance at home, and 1 1 »c ha I Kr.inie what girls edll friends—! B 1 ■ dot fora aid to meeting her again in her • av. »Vt Tp< rerv gay, fond of admiro >l!y. in her way. clever ; and as she ■ • s. ; i up p v mutual consent the intimacy' • !v;a ! _,un at home, it followed that : - v ' ‘O' or.aiidv felt no shyness in talking B tTV a, ''i Iter admirers, intrusted me with a B ” u: yet the small secrets of her heart. — I B vr but this is forestalling, was her ■ u,vi >. .: li-.ting tor a young officer in the Han > : • t.v. vfit'se name was Compton, and B ctaialy handsome, as well as agreeable. I 50 justify her penchant.” r ;• •' •" tinmy n irative I was momentarily ‘ : v ;t:: excited little spring from her place B" 7 me of Minna, my second niece, j B--* a nmianti*' little puss, who took pre : in a love story. The approaching; of the hero on the scene had been too , ‘ '' T her equanimity, and hence the eager! V vd by an exclamation of delight, which I tfss fx. '.table sisters was summarily and i HB 4 . V V' u » down. I AKT ertipton.'' T continued, “made his fiM ** * aj! us as a single man—” B .* 1! - "vs married I" in a voice of utter dis- r.ui Minna, whilst even grave Laura ejaett- V ajllt how very flat 1” | U " ‘ Jr a n '*°ment, feeling sorry in my ‘ -he poor children s disappointment, and I BU 80 ''Singly : ■ J wait a little, and listen patiently. IN Smfltai &ul VOL- VI. my dears, you will perceive fthat the individual in my story in whom I expect you will take the most interest is not the handsome major who for a short while turned all our heads, more especially that_of Gertrude Ruckmann. When this girl, whom I was enough to call, for a short time, my dear est friend, was first introduced to Burford Comp ton —he had Irish blood in his veins, which mjy partly account for the peculiarities of his conduct ! —she hail not been many days in Hamburg. Her 1 youth S»td girlhood had been passed in England, and the German relatives with whom she had come to spend the winter mohths being quiet un worldly people, there is little chattte oi.their young guest becoming early initiated into tne gossip and on dits of Hamburg soejety. I “ The ball at which Gertrude Ruckmann made her debut was as brilliant an affair as money and liberality combined could make it. The festive entertainment was given by the gay young mer cautile bachelors of the'city, foreign as well as German, and the cost of it was said to be prodig ious. By some it was estimated at 100,000 marks, but that roust, I think, have been an exaggeration, I shall never totally forget our first dibner at a table d’ liote, for that dinner was at the Hotel Pe tersborough, where a number of young men, who were seated opposite to our party, gave free veiit to their high animal spirits, whilst they discussed, now in English and now in German, the arrange ments for the. already famous fete, which was in a few more days to ‘ come off.’ Amongst those who were most remarkable for their reckless talk and extravagant propositions stood first and fore most a young officer—for such he, even to our un ' initiated minds, appeared to be—whom we were j destined to know later as Major Burford Comp j ton. I can see him now in his fair Saxon beauty —blue-eyed, brown haired, tawny-bearded! That handsome beard of his was, I ri collect, a subject for good-humored chaffing amongst his friends; for, as it would appear, foreign officers are obliged to be closely- shaven, and Compton, who had been six months on leave in England, could hard y ven i ture to report himself at headquarters with that j decidedly ornamental appendage to his face. Ihe ! dinner, as is always the case in Germany, was a I very long anali 1 ; and as it progressed our neighbors grew more sue! more uproarous, sending the cham pagne corks right up, when the startling -pop’ came, to the vaulted skylight above our heads; and at last-, when the numerous courses had been discussed, and only the dessert remained upon the table, coolly taking up their cigars, preparatory to then and there enjoying the ‘smoke in which their souls delighted. Y ou may suppose that, after such a demonstration on their parts, our stay amongst those noisy, light hearted, and, I fear a little-excited young men was but short. \oui dear father was evidently a trifle put out ; for. as : he said, ho was an old-fashioned person, and could ! not bring himself to approve of tobacco smoke be iug r uffed from strange men's lips into the faces • of hU womankind. | And what a conceited looking fellow the fair : good looking one is!' said your poor dear mother when we began to talk them over. “In this opinion I was inclined to agree; but yoUf father, although strongly objecting to any thing approaching to puppyism, differed a little to mv surprise—from us both. “‘ I don t know when I have ever seen so pleas ant a face,’ was his remark, as he warmed his hands over the big white earthenware stove that stood in the corner of our sitting room. 4 So thor oughly English! A countenance which makes one feel it would be so impossible to mistrust the man I J must inquire who he is—no common character, I'll be bound;’ “ It was thus that my brother spoke of the hand some soldier, who, little more than a week later, I watched evidently making himself so agreeable to Gertrude Ruckman on the night of the famous bachelor ball. She had danced with him twice, and I was admiring—l hope without a shade of envy— the beautiful color which exercise and pleasaut excitement had called to her cheek, when your dear mother, who had been for some time in close converse with a Hamburg lady who was con nected with her by marriage, approaching the place where I was standing, and said in tt low voice: “ ‘ I have been hearing the strangest story about Majof Compton. He seems to be very unfortu nately situated. He is a married man which I for one never should have guessed —but his wife and he—owing, as most people say, to her bid conduct—live apart. She Is in England at pres ent, and I shdiild think it would be just as well to give Gertrude Ruckmann a hint of her existence. Only look how she is going on with him!’ “ Poor girl! she was indeed, as your dear moth er in her impressive way described it, going on— j whispering, flirting, receiving his attentions with I such sweet smiles of encouragement! It was in , truth time to open her mind to the melancholy fact, that she Gertrude Ruckmann. could not, in the normal order of things, hope to be Major Compton s wife. «* My deafest Gertv.’ I whispered to her, the moment I found my friend alone (I hated the task ] before me, and being young and fooiish, my heart was beating fast,) ‘ have you heard about Major ; Compton ?’ “ She answered me with provoking composure : | “ • What about him ? Is anything the matter ? j lie was here talking to me three minutes ago. and’ ! —with a coquettish smile— ‘ will probably three minutes hence be here again.’ “ • O. don't talk so !’ I said excitedly ; * but you won t when you know all.’ *• * Know what ? My dear Bessie, what a fuss you are in!’ “ * And so trill you be.’ I exclaimed, a little pet . tishly I fear, for her way of taking the matter pro voked me, • when you hear that Major Compton is a married man.’ ‘“Greatly to my surprise and dismay, Gerty at this announcement laughed contemptuously. ' ‘“So people sav,’ she rejoined carelessly ; 4 but, my poor Bessie, you will learn in time that you cannot always judge correctly from appearances.— But here he is,’ she whispered ; 4 not a word more ' I will tell >ou everything to-morrow.’ “ This she did, and the ‘ everything ’ amounted to this, namely, that Burford ComptonTjhad. by his own account, providentially discovered that an informality in his marriage with one who—ac cording to his'version of the case —was simply "de testable. empowered him at .any Slcwnent to free bimselffroin his kated bon<N *»?ite himself, should he so choose/Ttcfa tewe c'Jft^HlafparFnerT' “ * I never heard of a more odious woman ?’ said Gertrude, on whom the details of the miseries by which the handsome Major's conjugal life was em bittered had evidently made a deep impression.— 4 She is a foreigner, and |has not, he ;says, a single nice English habit. And then she is so iil-tem pered, and so dreadfully unfeeling. The poor lit tle boy was lost,—is supposed to have falleii into the Alster—just the very day before the great frost set in. Major Compton says that he was in des pair, but that she took it so coolly ! Even when she w r as told that it might be weeks, or even months, before the poor child's body could—thanks to a thaw—be sought for, and possibly recovered, she seems to have shown no signs of emotion.’ 44 4 And where is Mrs. Compton now ?’ I asked, feeling, I must own (so apt are we to be run away with by strongly urged testimony, especially when that testimony eomes from the lips of one who has a right to be well informed on the matter.) a con siderable leaning in the way of sympathy toward this ill-mated Englishman. 44 1 don’t know—traveling somewhere, I believe. Major Compton is quite sure she is running him into debt; but he shrinks, poor man, so’ sensitive- I ly from taking the necessary steps to restrain her. ! It reai'y seems a sad case. And he has such a kind heart; and actually cannot live, he says, with out sympathy and affection.’ “After this, Major Compton—of whose married life, by the way, very little was kiiowD in Ham burg—became a frequent visitor, both at our house and the one where Gertrude Euckmanu temporar ily resided. We all liked him ; indeed he was uni versally popular, and society was apparently Unan imous in the opinion that the lady .who had been so little known in the city—indeed she had only “esided therein for one short fortnight, the fort night preceding the loss of her little boy—was the one r>f the two who was solely and cntiudy in fault. 't he excellence, the perfection of his temper, and the kindness of Burford Compton's heart, spoke in a manner not to be mistaken in every feature of his handsome sane. There covld be no mistake about it, les absents out toujours tort; and Mrs. Compton—or Countess Fenigstein, a® her husband said she insisted, notwithstanding his great objec tion to her doing so on being called—was repro bated and abused accordingly. Well, to cut a long s'ory short, Gertrude im pressed with the belief that the major was in real- j icy a single man, grew as attached to him as her! nature was capable of being. That she would one j day — when the truth concerning his marriage with j his supposed wife should be made apparent —be , led to the altar by her fascinating admirer, the ; infatuated girl firmly believed ; ahd it was when j this blissful dream was at its height that the frost j broke up, the passage of the Elbe became open sos j steamers, and the hour of our departure drew nigh. But before we took our leave of the pleasant sun ny Jungfef&steig. we were made cognizant of the fact that the search in the now unfrozen watets df the Alster. for the bodies df those MdibSe remains had beefl for months locked up therein, was taking place. Many w-ere taken out, but amongst them, much to the surprise of Hamburg society, was hot the little six-years old corpse of Major Compton's son. He, during that trying season of suspense, remained in his own apartments; but it leaked out that bis state of excitement was most interest ing, and public sympathy with his sufferings was proportionately great. It had hardly begun to subside when our party—something to my regret, sos we left many kind friends behind us—found ourselves steaming rapidly away in the John Bull to London. 444 And flow, my dears,” I continued, “ comes the pith and marrow of a story which you have, I fear, found lacking in interest, but which I have under taken to tell in order that you may see the advan tage of looking before you leap, or, in other words, of not being carried away by your impulses. “ I had not been more than a week in London before I received a letter, in an unknown but for eign hand, signed Marie Compton, nee Fenigstein, requeuing me in meek yet urgent terms to meet her. at any hour w*>ich it pleased me to appoint, in Kensington gardens. You may imagine my sur prise. For a short time I hesitated as to whether or not I should accede to this strange request, but j curiosity got the better of every other feeling, and . I jvent.” 44 And what was she like f O, Aunt. Bessie, how oddly yah mast have felt!” « Oddly, indeed, and a good deal ashamed of my self, too. wh°n I looked at the sweet gentle face, and heard the plaintive uncomplaining words of the woman who had come to meet me. ‘“You will forgive me, wont you? You IcOk kind, and you will tell me how I can make my English husband love me ? « ,'his was the burden of her piteous soDg. She ! had heard that he had been much with os and with Mademoiselle Ruckmann. and she hoped to learn ! from me how, with all Her love for him, she had failed to win his tenderness. There was no ieal -1 ousv. no word of complaint of him , only a break ing heart clinging to a last and well nigh desperate hope! What could I say to her ? How preach 1 to that gentle creature on the text of her great FOR THE RIGHT—JUSTICE TO ALL. BAIXBKinOB BA., MAY 4th J 872; folly She had given up all for love, and what was left to:her in exchange ? Simply nothing! *• W e talked together long, and she seemed to take such comfort from my {sympathy, that we parted like friends of years.^Afterward I learned that heV appearance,_her„ words and? manner, had not belied her character. time I speak of j,Was staying with his people, who fully recognized her sweet and I am doubtful whether she was not in fault there, doing eYll that good might dome—had never been lost at aJL, but was taken away by his anxious motbjr, flsir hiHi the'effectsol evil ex ■ ample ; the example of a parent who, whilst caring nothing for the boy, amused himself by teaching the little fellow to drink, and use bad words. Ah, hers was a hard life, fpoor.sdui, and certainly she acted for the best.” 44 did it end ?”.~ 44 Did she go back to him?” 44 And are they happy were the questions with which, in their haste to hear the sequel, I was simultaneously assailed by my young auditors. 44 Yes,”. I "answered dreamily, for my tiifughts were with the pastthe poor thing reamed to her loving mate, for her sense of duty was strong. Happily, however, for her—although whether she ever realized that trutfi—Major Compton was killed *sooned after in a duel, £nd she, I child, which is the. source of all jier piness.” f 44 How sad !’’ murmured Minnie; 44 1 was so in hopes that she and her husband would have been happyYogethfer in the end.” 44 It may be,” I said, 4 ‘ that?;to the last poor Mrs. Compton shared that hope; b**' -ear children, remember this that in marrying a thoroughly sel fish man who has no principle to guide him straight, a woman’s chances against shipwreck of her happiness are simply nil. And now, for the fire is burning low, suppose we take ourselves to b6d. It is ten cblock, and we must not forget our beauty sleep.” Half an hour afterward the girls were in the land of dreams, whilst I, as middle aged folks will lay long awake, thinking of the days gone by, and the youth which had fled away forever. {low to Live Ijoiigr* Thcv*live longest, ‘‘as a class, who lead calm and even lives, mentally and physic ally ;who are most exempt from the turmoil" and shocks and strains which are incident to human existance, and who are assured of to-morrow’s bread'. There is no one thing aside from the blessedness of an implicit reliance on the providence of God, which has such a direct influence in promoting longevity as an insurance, felt to be Well grounded, of a comfortable provision for life, for ali the ordinary wants of oitr Station. Kot long ago a man died in a poor house in England, where he had been taken care of for ninety years ;he had no anxieties for to-morrow’s bread, he had no quarter’s day to provide against in default of which wife and children would be turned into the street from the doors of the elegant brown stone mansion. He had no notes to meet in the bank, which if not paid by a day and an hour would involve protest and financial ruin. Ah this load of debt, how it grinds one’s manhood to powder ; how it agonizes the sensative heart ; how it shames a mans honor *; how it has driven to desperation, to drunkeness, to suicide, to murder! How the anguish of it takes energy and health out of a man, and makes him pine and languish for weary days and weeks onbedß of thorns, which pierce through the body into the soul! So, one good way to avoid sickness and premature death is to avoid debt as you would the devil. A Hint to SancttHil fcdtirigers. 'The following little bit of advice, which we find in the Summit Times, will suit sev eral other localities. Don’t take a seat at ye itemizer’s table and read all‘his papers while he is busy. If you w-ant a certain paper, ask for it, and take it off a little to one side for perusal. Don’t sit right in front of him, or close by Lis side, so that you can note every movement of his pencil, and hear the sizzling of a brimestone, idea which accidentally strikes him under such circumstances. Don’t elevate your feet upon his desk. Don't con sider it your duty to call every time the mail is brought in, to take all the freshness out of the newspapers by a first perusal. I Don’t take things so confounded easy in ■ the workingmans sanctum. You may dis turb him. You are in imminent danger of laboring him. You run the risk of scatter- I in? his thoughts to the four winds, and thus robbing the world of many brilliant scintil lations.’ He may think “damn it” when he ' ought to be praying; You are the prolific cause of many short cummings, and are re sponsible for a considerable amount of pro fanity. Kightly considered, an editors sanctum is the most unsuitable place in the world for spending “idle hours,” and should never be resorted to until all other imagin able schemes and appliances have been fairly tried. The Story of a Born Thief* The New York Tribune, of Tuesday, tells i the story of one of ike most Remarkable swindlers all things considered, of whom we hare ever heard.—He is represented as of a family ‘pre-eminent since colonial times, for alert intellect, scholarly culture, nervous honorable sensibilities and lack of finnancial ability—a race of cavaliers but this man was fettrn an incurable thief, who began to steal when he began to walk though surrounded by the purest home and Christian inflcnfes which could be brought to bear upon him. He stole lead, iron, his sisters’ jewelry—fevery thing in short, he could lay his hands upon, and without the slightest regard to whether it could or could not have any value for him. When he was eighteen years old, his thefts reached the dignity of grand larceny, and for one crime of this sort he was arrested and thrown into prison. He suffered from epilepsy and confinement brought on a fever, and finally he was pardoned on condition of close con finement in his father’s house for a term Bf years. These years proved of intense physical pain, and during the time part of his limbs decayed and fell off in consequence of the fever. While confined in this manner in a close chamber in a country village, he devot ed himself to hard study, and a serious of frauds hardly matched in the calender of crime for subtlety and audacity combined. Lying on his back, says the Tribune, “he carried on correspondence with bankers, poets, and scientific men here and in Europe. He personated a dozen different characters; drew a large income by means of forgeries; supplied himself secretly with the opium on which he lived; established a credible position in literature; edited and introduc ed the works of'a noted English author to the American public and swindled not only an English poet, but one of the shrewdest of Boston publishers. So genuine was the strength displayed in these letters, and so delicate were the sensibilities, that many of the friends who know him only by letters, believe in him still.—For the last fifteen years his course has run alternately through insane and inebriate asylums, the highest religious and social circles of the South and West, and jails and penitentiaries. He has played the role, successfully, of soldier, preacher and tbacher, only to prove hiinself a thief in all, when he knew to thieve was immediate and sure destruction.” TVhat Washington knew about farming was worth knowing. In 1?87 he had five hundred and eighty acres in grass ; sowed six hundred bushels in oats, seven hundred acres of wheat, and as much more in com, barley, potatoes, beans, peas, &c., and one hundred and fifty with turnips. His stock consisted of one hundred and forty horses, one hundred and twelve cows, two hundred and thirty-six: working oxen, heifers and steers, and five huiidred SHfeep. He con stant ly employed two hundred and fifty, hands, and kept twenty-foiir ploughs going during the whole year, when the earth and the state of the weather would permit. In In 1790 he slaughtered one hundred and fifty bogs for the use of his own family and provisions for his own negroes. The Texas papers say that the rains which iatSty visited that State came too late to save many thousand head of stock from starvation. Last summer was hot and dry, and cold, and as a consequence, when Win ter set in the te was neither hay, grass nor water for the immerlsh herds. More snow fell than is usually seen, adding still another trouble; and Texas papers report that any number of cattle literally starved to death. In Victoria, Dewitt and Gonzales counties the loss is estimated at forty thousand head, and other counties are greater lossers. A Hint to Grumblers. — ■* What a noisy world this is!” croaked an old frog, as he squatted on the margin of the pooL “Do you hear those geese, how they scream and hiss ?” “ What do they ild it for?” “ Oh, just to amuse themselves,” answer ed a little field mouse. “ Presently we shall have the owls hoot ing. What is that for ? “It’s the music they like the best,” said the mouse. “ And those grasshoppers—they can’t go home without grinding and chirping. Why do they do that ?” “ Oh, they’re so happy, they can’t help it,” said the mouse. “ You’ll find excuses for all : I believe you don’t understand music, so you like the hideous noises.” “ Weil, friend, to be honest With you,” said the mouse, “ I don’t greatly admire any of them ; but they are all sweet in my ; ears compared with the constant croaking of a frog.” gaiukridnj Advertisements t)n the most Reasonable Terms. All advertfc xnents are due after the first insertion, »»yf when tot specified as to the number of times to be inserted, will be pub lished until ordered out, sad be charged according]^. JOB WORK Os every description neat ly and promptly executed, W« guariatec entire satisfaction in this line of our business. Patronage solicited from all quarters. Send us your; otdeis. KO 46. The Local Paper. Aii intelligent persons admit the impor tance of a good local paper. Such a. jour nal is worth fifty to a hundred 'dollars io every commercial man in tke town in which .it isbublished, cveu if he never puts tax ad* vertisoment in it. If lie is a judicious ad vertiser, it is worth still more, to him. It is the local paper that does more tfcUh afiy one interests in buildifig tip a town. If m good one, eveis Citizen is indebted to itt But this Ideal pdjver ifiUst U supported either at home dr from abroad by advertising pat ronage, The subscriptions are insignificant in the support of a paper, dTrtytcrmakeit* good advertising medium. If the local merchants do not support it| it must draw its support from abrdad. The more of its patronage it is forced to get abroad from enterprising advertisers, the more business is drawn from the communi ty in which it is published. The best thing therefore, a community can do is to sustain its local paper, ahd not forth it to seek Act* vertising patronage from foreign merchants Who seek trade at the expense of the local merchants. Merchants and business men ought to be sagacious enough to see these points, and act accordingly. Sustain the local paper liberally, but judiciously, and not force it to seek patronage from the more enterprising men abroad. The more foreign advertise ments appear in the local paper, the mbre trade of such towns will be attracted .to en terprising business houses abroad. Business men too often fail to see their own interests in their disposition to be 4f peny wise and it pound foolish.” Be Sensible. Do not be above your business He whd tnrns up his nose at his work quarrels with bread and butter. He is a poor smith whe is afraid of his own sparks : there is soma discomfort in all trades except chimney sweeping If sailors give up going to sea because of wet ;if bakers left off baking bread because it is liot work ; if plowmen would not plow because of cold ahd heat; if tailors would not make our clothes for fear of pricking their fingers, what a pass we would come to. Nonsense, my fino fellow, there’s no shame about an calling ; don’t be afraid of soiling your hands, there’s plenty of soap to be had. You must not be afraid df iirdrk if yoh ■wish health and wealth. You cannot get honey if you are frightened at bees, nor plant com if you are afraid of getting mud on yotir boots. When bars of iron melt under the south wind ; when you can dig the fields with toothpicks ; blow sbipfl along with fans j manure the crops with lavender water, and grow plum cakes in flower pots, there will be a fine time for dandies ; but until the millenium comes we shall all have a deal ta put up with. The Liberal Republican Party* The speeches of Senators Trumbull; Schurz and Grantz Brown have placed an impassible barrier between themselves and the administration or Grant party. They cannot go back and they must go forward. They are terribly in earnest, and they have buckled on their armor and entered thb list for the fi&lii Already tiieir adherents are numbered by hundreds of thousands id every section of tho country. The Cooper Institute meeting last week was a magnific ent success. It looks like sounding tnS death-knell oi centralization, corruptioii, military usurpation and political bstracismi The prospect is* briglit, Arid iKe political out look betokens an uprising of the people of the whole country who oppose centraliza tion and favor ah honest Administration of the Government, with a return to the ,prin ciples of the earlier and better days of the Republic. We of the South can only watch arid wait The ddetriries of Truriibhll, Schurz and Brown will be endorsed by the honest and intelligent Republican masses-m the Middle and Western Stated. With a respectable candidate on their Liberal[plat form, there is a strong probaility tliat the new movement will be successful m the Presidential election. We published yes terday £he substance of the df Sena tors Trumbull and Schurz. To-day we published the speech of Gov. Gratz Brown, delivered at Topeka, Kansas. We devote a great portion of onr space to these sp*» ches because we fed confident no more- ac ceptable matter could be presented to our readers. ■ Ma,” said a little boy, “has aunty goi bees iri her mouth ?” No, my dear ; why dd you ask?” “Cause Captain Jones caught hold of her, and said he was going to taka honey from her lips ; and she said, “well haste ”