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ROBERT S. HOWARD, (
Editor and Publisher. \
VOLUME I.
Professional 1 & ioiisiuess (fanls.
TOII.N J. STKICI4I,A>I>,
ATTOR X E Y-A T-L AW ,
Daniels ville, Ga.,
'V ill promptly attend to all business entrusted to
him. dec 17, ’SO.
Das. N. IS. CASH,
NICHOLSON, GA.,
'Fenders his professional services to the surround
ing country. Rheumatism, Neuralgia and the dis
eases of women a specialty.
Feb. 13th, 18S0. ly
nou akh rnoni'soY
ATTORNEY-AT-LAW,
Gainesville, Ga.
Prompt and faithful attention given to a’l busi
ness placed in bis hands.
Wl/JfFE <L\
Attornc ami CoHiiselftr at Ijjiw,
JEFFERSON, GA.
Will attend faithfully to all business entrusted
to his care. mch4,
QHdIA.\ A THOMPNOA,
O ATTORNEYS-A T-LAW,
Jefferson, G a,
A\ ill practice in Jackson and adjoining counties.
£egflf JMoetfaements.
.3 aeli.son Ceunly.
Whereas, the road commissioners appointed for
the purpose of running and reporting upon the
public utility of discontinuing the public road in
said county leading from the Federal road near
Green Wood’s residence, thence by the residences
of E. A. Veal and Coopers to the Hall county
line, near said Cooper, having filed their report
that said public road is of no public utility, an
order will be granted finally discontinuing said
road on Friday, the 22d day of April next, if no
good cause to the contrary is shown on or by
that day. Given under my official signature.
March 23d, 1881. fl. W. BELL, Ord’y
Jackson Postponed Sheriff's
Sale.
WILL be sold before the Court House door in
Jefferson, Jackson county, Ga., within the
legal hours of sale, to the highest and best bidder
at public out-cry, on the Ist Tuesday in May,
1881, the following property, to-wit: * One tract
of land, lying in said county, and in Clarkesboro’
District, on the waters of Red Stone creek, ad
joining lands of Mrs. Martin, E. P. Clayton and
others, and further described as the place where
on John J. Flournoy resided at the time of his
death, containing two hundred and sixty-five
acres, more or less. Said land moderately well
improved. Said tract of land levied on as the
property of John J. Flournoy, to satisfy a li. fa.
issued from the Superior Court of said county in
favor of Charles Witt against said John J. Flour
noy, which said fi. fa. is now controlled by L. C.
Matthews. Property pointed out by plaintiff's
attorney. Legal notice of levy given tenant in
possession. S. E. BAILEY,
Deputy Sheriff .Jackson Count}'.
Jachson Sheriff’s Sale.
WILL be sold, before the Court House door in
Jefferson. Jackson count}’, Ga., within the
legal hours of sale, on the first Tuesday in May,
1881, to the highest and best bidder, the following
property, to-wit : A tract of land, situated in
said county, on the waters of the South Oconee
river, adjoining lands of Lanier, Duke, Webb and
others, and known as a part of the Washington
Lay place, containing eighty-four acres, more or
less. On said place there is a good log dwelling
house, out-houses, &c. A bout thirty-five or forty
acres in cultivation, balance in old field pines and
forest timber. Levied on as the property of M.
N. and M. J. Duke, to satisfy a ii. fa. issued from
the County Court of Jackson county in favor of
Upshaw A: Gritteth vs. M. N. and M. J. Duke.
Fi. fa. now controlled by T. R. Holder. Written
notice served upon Thomas Bennett, tenant in
possession, as the law directs.
T. A. McELIIANNON,
Sheriff J. C., Ga.
EOBGIA. Jackson County.
Whereas, Jas. L. Williamson applies to me for
Letters of Administration on the estate of Mica
gall Williamson, dec’d, late of said count}’ —
This is to cite all concerned, kindred and credi
tors, to show cause, if any exist, at the regular
term of the Court of Ordinary of said county, on
the first Monday in May, 1881, why said letters
should not be granted the applicant.
Given under my official signature, this March
2Sth, 1 SSI. 11. W. BELL, Ordinary.
Administrator s Sale.
A GREEABLE to an order from the court of Or
-t\. dinary of Jackson county, will be sold, before
the Court House door in Jefferson, on the first
Tuesday in May next, within the legal hours of
sale, the following property, to-wit : A tract of
land situated in said county, on the waters of
Beech Creek, containing five acres, more or less,
adjoining lands of Harper Arnold and Jas. Mc-
Daniel. About one and a half acres bottom land
and the balance old field. Being a part of the
Bailey Chandler estate, and sold for distribution.
Terms cash. J. W. 11. HAMILTON,
T. K. SMITH,
Admr’s of Bailey Chandler, dcc’d.
Notice to Tax-Payers!
I will be at the following named places and
dates, for the purpose of receiving your Tax
Returns for the year 1881 :
Randolph's, April 4th, May 2d and 17th.
House’s, April sth, May 4th and 18th.
Chandler’s, April Oth, Ma\* dth and 10th.
Banter Fe, April 7th, May Gth and 20th.
Clarkesborough, April Bth and 18th, May Otli.
Human's Store, April lltli and 29th, May 23d.
°4th ' am r^e^’s > April 12th and 27th/ May
Maysville, April 13th and 26th, May 25th.
liarmony drove, April 14th and 22d, May 12th.
Nicholson. April 15th and 20th, May 11th.
Center, April loth.
White’s Mill, April 21st
Nunn’s Store, AprilVnh.
Benjamin Atkins', April *2Sth.
Jasper N. Thompson’s, May 3d.
Williamson's Mill, May loth.
Apple Valley, May 13th.
Maddox's Mill, May lGtli.
James M. Stockton’s May 20th, (forenoon).
DeLapcrriere’s Store, May 27th.
1 will be at Jefferson every Saturday till first
of June, at which time my books will be closed
J. W. N. LANIER, ‘
Tax Receiver Jackson County.
Watches, Clocks,
JEWELRY, &c., left in Jefferson with F. L.
Pendergrass, F. M. Bailey, or J. C. White
head, will be sent out to me, repaired and return
ed promptly. Charges moderate.
April I—3m E. M. THOMPSON.
SUBSCRIBE IF OUt
“ THE JACKSON HEHALH.”
SWLY.C'V WVSCWLIAvWY.
A SUMMER'S PASTIME.
Such a liny, pearl-tinted glove it was, fit
ting faultlessly the white dimpled hand, and
reaching far up, with its innumerable little
white buttons on the round, fair arm, that it
was small wonder, spite of its almost infin
tesimal size that it filled the scope of John
Raleigh’s vision, as he somewhat awkwardly
entered the plain parlor, where the
owner of both hand and glove awaited him.
“Won’t you help me ?” she said, in a very
helpless way, and held out to him the little
fingers as she spoke.
lie saw, then, that the task of buttoning
was still incomplete. A dark red flush
mounted to his face as he undertook the duty
atfV-gfied him. lie could not sec the little
mocking smile about the beautiful month, as
it puckered itself into a tiny mone at his un
couth efforts, or the laughing malice in the
hazel eyes. lie only felt beneath his touch
the cool, firm flesh of the exquisite arm, and
thought with a sort of unconscious reason
ing, how great a pity it was to hide away any
part of it, even beneath a thing so dainty as
the pearl tinted glove.
"Thanks,” she said, carelessly, when he
had finished Ids task. “Are the horses
ready ?”
“Yes,” lie answered, and, handing her into
the light wagon as though she were a queen,
ho sprang in beside her, and, drawing up the
reins, soon went speeding down the country
lane.
Two short weeks before, Adelaide Armon
had come down from the gay city to the quiet
farmhouse, to regain, if might be, some of her
faded roses. Later in the summer, she was
to undergo the usual watering place ordeal;
but, as a little respite between the now and
then, she had chosen to spend the month of
June buried among its fragrance. Of course
she should be unutterably bored, she prophe
sied with mute resignation, and, equally of
course, there would be no necessity for more
than one “Saratoga” ol frightful dimensions ;
therefore it was with mingled pleasure and
disdain that, on the first evening of her arri
val, she was formally presented to John Ral
eigh, and, looking anxiously up into his six
feet of stature, decided that, after all, even
in this rural spot, a few toilets might he ne
cessary, and the hours would not prove so
heavy as she had feared.
Mr. Raleigh was a farmer himself, of good
family, she learned, but one who scorned not
to till his own soil, and who had evidently
tilled it to somepurpose. Ho had a college
education, too, but had, singularly enough,
supposed the years he had spent in acquiring
an education were years to be devoted to
that purpose, therefore he returned home al
most as ignorant of the social world as be
fore going into it. All women he venerated.
To hear a man speak lightly of a woman al
ways brought a flush to his cheek. To him
womanhood and motherhood were inalienably
and sacredly intermingled. INliss Armon
was to him a revelation. He had known her
for two weeks; she had accomplished her
purpose—he was desperately in love with her.
That she might not love him in return was.
an easy matter for his mind, in its humility
to grasp ; that she should try to win his love
for pastime and conquest—that she should
inflict upon him, with deliberate intent, a
wound whose scar might never heal—would
have been by him received as gross calumny.
In his eyes, she was a pure, innocent, beau
tiful child. All through their drive the touch
of her arm still thrilled him, until, when they
had returned and he lifted her down gently
to the ground, an irresistible impulse caused
him to whisper:
“I am coming over this evening. I want
to speak with you.”
“ Foolish boy !” she said to herself, as she
drew off the dainty gloves within her room.
“My visit is but half done, and already lie
wants to bring matters to a climax. It must
not be. I need him yet a little longer.”
Therefore, when, true to his promise, he
turned and begged her to go out with him for
a little walk in the moonlight, she refused*
and petulantly shook her head. She was
tired, she said, but rattled on gayiv on every
theme, until lie could not speak the words he
had meant to utter. That night he went
away with a strange, new pain in his heart,
yet loving her more madly than ever.
She had gone out for a stroll the next
morning, when she suddenly encountered
him. lie had scarcely slept since lie had
left her the night previous. She read his
purpose in his cj'cs, and strove to divert it.
As well attempt to stem Niagara.
“ Miss Armon,” he began, “I love you!
1 should not have the courage, perhaps, to
tell you, but that I have dared hope my love
might not be unwelcome to you. I know how
bright and beautiful you are, and how I lack
in all that you possess. But, oh, my darling
—my darling! what 1 have not the courage
for is to live out my life without you. Will
you share it, Adelaide, and mold it as you
will ?”
The words were out now. She might no
longer hope to avert them. It remained for
her but to punish his presumption.
“Sir,” she said, “you forget yourself, and
presume greatly upon m3* having been thrown
upon your society !”-
The man's face paled with a sudden pallor.
A hauteur and a dignity equal to her own
robbed him of the humility a moment before
apparent.
“ Did I understand yon to use the word
presume, -Jiss Armon ?” he questioned.
“ May I ask you in what la} - presumption ?”
Silently he awaited her reply. It was her
turn to be embarrassed and ill at ease. She
had meant to play with a harmless too).
Already she discovered her mistake.
“The difference in our stations —” she be
gan, hesitatingly.
lie stopped her halting sentence with up
lifted hand.
“ I understand,” he interrupted, a sort of
white, repressed wrath shining in his eyes.
“ Because I am not one of fashsion’s fops you
gauged the gulf between us. At least, Miss
Armon, I offered you an honest man's honest
love. It was yours to reject or accept —there
was no need to insult it.”
And turning on his heel, lie left her.
JEFFERSON. JACKSON COUNTY, GA., FRIDAY, APRIL 15, ISSI.
Was it only the humiliation she had meant
to inflict, but which had reacted upon herself,
which caused the hot blood to dye her face,
and the smarting tears to rush to'hcr eyes ?
She watched him out of sight, holding him
self proudly erect, and the sunlight, falling
fu I on his fair hair (closely cropped) as lie
held his straw hat in his hand, to let the
summer breeze play about his bare temples.
Could it be that something was going out of
her life she would fain have kept there ? Once
she started forward, his name upon her lips,
but siie did not utter it. The man was mad.
What destiny did he offer her ? Only a farm
er's wife. Then she sobbed, but checked it,
wondering why she wept. In a week’s time
she had gone back to her home and the oil
gay life awaiting her. She had not recovered
her roses, lay friends said. She thought W
amuse them by relating her rustic flirtation,
but somehow they never heard the story. Iler
lips were dumb.
She had gone back to her old life. and. of
course, the old amusement of playing with
hearts, but it had lost its zest. Of ail the
men who had flocked about her standard
(and as she was rich and young and beautiful,
there were many), there was not one, held up
in silent and acknowleged comparison with
that other, but failed in the test. llow
grandly he had rebuked her —how scathing
had been his scorn ! Was it for this he lived |
so constantly in her thought that neither by
night nor day could she drive him out?
Pshaw! she hated herself for her pitiful
weakness.
When October came she determined she
should go abroad, but, one morning, when
September had not half sped, sitting alone in
Her luxurious room, a letter was brought to
her. It was from John Raleigh’s mother, ami
it told her that her son was dying. The
letter ran :
lie had a sunstroke last week, and has been
delirious ever since. The doctors say it was
but the climax to intense nervous strain, other
wise it would not have proved fatal. llis
delirium has revealed all to me, and I write
that you should know that my boy might live
if life were sweet to him; but when con
sciousness comes, it will only be the old
trouble, and he will sink under it. He was
my all, and you will have killed him, for your
summer pastime.
They were cruel words, and the girl sat
reading and re reading them with widely
staring eyes, which seemed to pray for blind
ness, that she might not shut them out. At
last she arose, and mechanically prepared for
a journey, as though carrying out the studied
intention of months rather than the half
formed impulse of a moment. She was as
yet scarce conscious of her purpose, when,
at nightfall, she stood a suppliant for ad
mittance at John Raleigh’s door. A sad,
weary faced woman opened it, and stood as
though mutely asking her errand.
“ John ?”
This was all the white lips could utter.
“ He is sinking fast,” answered the mother.
“ You knew my boy ?”
For as yet she had not divined the truth.
The woman her son loved was cold, and cruel,
and heartless. Not even the knowledge that
he was dying would bring her here. So she
had reasoned, when, with a low, choking sob,
the girl before her fell on her knees, with
outstretched, imploring hands.
“ You said,” she wailed, “that he would
not live, because life was no longer sweet to
him—let me tell him how dearly I love him,
and how cruelly I have suffered! Let me
ask him to live for me!”
Then two gcnlle hands lifted her face, a kiss
fell on her brow, a voice murmured : “ Oh,
my child, give him back to me !” and then
she found herself within the sick room, and
alone with that still, quiet form lying upon
the bed. llow white and wan he looked.
“ John,” she moaned—“ John !”
lie opened his eyes and saw her.
“ You have come 1” he whispered. “ This
is kind. It will be for a little while only. I
can no longer presume upon it.”
“IIusli!” she commanded. “O, do not
make my task harder ! Yon will forgive mo,
dear, I know. Only grow strong and well
again for me !”
“ No,” he said, faintly. “ I am content
now to die. You have wiped out the harsh
ness of your words—”
But she interrupted him with a kiss.
“ You asked me once to be your wife,” she
said. “ I did not know my heart then ; but
now—oh, John, live for me, or take me with
you, for I have learned that I can not live
without you !”
Two hours later, with her hand clasped in
Lis, John Raleigh fell into a quiet sleep—a
sleep which lasted through long hours, while
still she sat motionless, fearing to stir; but
when the dawn broke she knew that with it
had vanished the dark night of their unhappi
ness in the dawn of an all possible future.
Too Poor to Take a Paper.
Moore, of the Rural New Yorker, was sit
ting in his office one afternoon some 3'ears,
ago when a farmer friend came in and said :
‘•Mr. Moore, I like your paper, but times
are so hard I cannot pay for it.”
“Is that so, friend Jones ? I am very sorry
to hear that you are so poor ; if you are so
hard run I will give you my paper.”
“Oh, no, I can't take it as a gift.”
“Well, then, let's see how we can fix it.
You raise chickens, I believe.”
“Yes, a few, but they don’t bring anything
hardly.”
“Don't they ? Neither does m3* paper cost
hardly anything. Now, I have a proposition
to make you, I will continue your paper, and
when you go home you can select one chick
en from your lot and call her mine. Take
good care of her. and bring me the proceeds,
whether in eggs or chickens, and call it
square.”
“All right, brother Moore,” and the fellow
chuckled at what he though? a capital bar
gain. lie kept the contract strictly, and at
the end of the year found that he had paid
about four prices for his paper. He often
tells the joke himself, and lie never had the
face to say r lie was too poor to take a paper
since that day.
FOR THE PEOPLE.
Hoses.
To raise roses in perfection, it is need
j fnl to feed them well and place them in the
i full sunlight, and not where they will be shad
ed by trees or shrubs. After they have
bloomed prune them closely, and also when
they commence to leaf in the early spring.
The beds in which they are planted must be
j made very rich with well-decomposed compost,
j dug to the depth of at least two feet. In
making a rose bed, it is a good plan to take
(off the soil for two or three feet in depth and
fill the cavity with good ordure well rotted.
I hen add six inches or a foot of very rich
soil with a mixture of sand. After the plants
.'fro set, mulch them with long litter from the
stable. This will keep the roots moist and
cool during the heated terra, and make a
healthy growth of branches and flowers.
After the June flowering has passed, all
monthly roses should be severely pruned and
the new growth cut back two or more inches ;
also the old branches should be cut away.
Ihe handsomest flowers always spring from
fresh growth from the roots; and to make
these start vigorously the knife must be freely
used. For a few weeks, your pets may seem
shorn of their glory, but soon they will renew
their beauty and give you plenty of flowers ;
while, if you permit the seed-buds to form, it
will stop the blossoming in a great degree.
I herefore, as each rose fades, cut it off, or,
better yet, cut it while in its bloom.
From the branches which are pruned new
Phints can be raised. Asa rule, all cuttings
should be taken off just below a bud or joint;
and they should be selected from young
growth rather than from the old where the
bark has become hardened. Try to snap the
branch. If it bends without breaking it is
too old to grow easily ; but if it snaps off at
once it is in the right condition to strike root
quickly. Leave one or two buds above the
bottom one, and trim off two or more of the
lower leaves, as they will wilt easily and thus
injure the cutting.
Clear sand kept very moist is the best soil
in which to strike cuttings, and they can be
placed in a pot only an inch apart, and put
up in the shade for a few days. Warmth, an
even temperature, and moisture, arc essential
for root-growth. It will take from three to
four weeks to develop the roots, and then the
juiar.ts can be -placed in rich soil with a little
sand to lighten it, and soon they will be good,
stocky plants. —Floral Cabinet.
A Diver For The Dead.
AN OLD MAN WHOSE LIVING IS MADE IN TIIE
BOTTOMS OF TIIE lIIVEIiS ABOUND NEW
YOltK.
At No. 36 Cranberry street, New York, in
a small, old-fashioned cottage painted white,
with green shutters and a small portico in
front with green painted lattice work, over
which an ivy trails its irregular course, lives
John 11. Brower, who has been engaged in a
curious business for almost a lifetime. A
Tribune reporter found the old man in the
small courtyard adjoining his bumble home.
All the objects in the yard were strongly
suggestive of nautical pursuits. An old,
weather beaten, bur-oared yawl occupied the
greater part of the little inclosure, while one
corner was taken up by a couple of oars, an
other by a small, rusty anchor, some chains
and scraps. The only living occupant of the
yard at the tune ol the reporter’s visit
was a decrepit-looking, white-haired old man
engaged in tinkering at the old boat. lie
said he was John 11. Brower, the person the
reporter was in searclh-of.
“1 ve been in the business of grapplin’ and
divin’ for over fifty years, for I began when
I was about twenty, and I’m nigh onto sev
enty-four now. I was born and brought up
in this State, and so were 1113’' father and
grandfather before mo. I’m an American to
the backbone. I’ve done grapplin’ and
wreckin’ in the East and North rivers, in the
Long Island sound, at Sandy Ilook and Hell
Gate, and have always succeeded in makin’
a pretty good livin’ out of it, I can tell you.
I've raised thousands of tons o’ railroad iron,
anchors, big and little chains, cables, besides
canal boats, bodies and rings, watches, lock
ets and other jewelry. One of the best jobs
I've ever had was durin’ the war, when the
government was building an ironclad at the
navy yard. Eighty-Tour steel plates, each
fourteen feet long, four feet wide and three
feet thick, were lyin’ near the dock. The
weight was too much for the old pier and she
broke down, sendin’ the plates to the bottom
of the East river. They sent for me, and
asked roc to get the plates for ’em. I said I
would, but I wanted $lO for each plate I got
out. They were satisfied, and I went to
work. ‘Well, Brower,’ said the capt’in, ‘I
s’posc it’ll take you a couple o’ days to get
one o’ them plates up.’ ‘Days ?’ said I. ‘Just
you come back in an hour or an’ hour an’ a
half, an’ I’ll show you somethin'!’ He laughs
kinder, and walks oIF, thinkin’ I’m a blowiiT.
Y ell, I jest got m3' grapplin’ hooks ’round
them plates, and when the capt’in came back
I had three on the pier. I jest tell you he
opened his e3’cs.
“A canal boat full of coal lying in her dock
got a hole stove in her by a steamboat run
nln’ into her, and was sank. I got the job
of liftin’ her and getting out her cargo, if
possible. It was mighty hard work, but get
her up I did, and by bueketsful, every pound
of coal in her. I’ve done some treasure liftin’,
too. A Spanish brig dropped a cag of dollars
that she was takiu’ to .South America over
board in the harbor here, a good many years
ago. There was a very strong tide runnin’
at the time, and the divers that were sent
after the cag soon gave it up as a bad job.
Somebody told the Spanish capt’in about my
luck in find in’ tilings, and he sent for me.
lie offered me S2OO to get up that cag. I
went down, <md knowiiv the harbor so inti
mately, I soon found it. But here was a fix ;
the bottom of the cag had fallen out and the
dollars were strewed around it. Weli, I jest
went aboard ship again, got my scoop net
an’ went down again. Then I put the dollars
all back in the cag, fastened my scoop net
over it and had it drawed up. So I made rav
$200.’
‘Have you brought up many bodies of
drowned persons ?’
‘Well, I should just say I had ; over fifty,
I guess. A great many women, too. They
seem to be kind o’ fond o’ drownin’ them
selves. One o’ the queerest cases I can re
member was that of a watchman at a North
river dock, lie had gone at night to his dock,
and the next mornin’ his hat was found lyin’
in the dock, but be was gone. Well, thev
scraped the river for his body high and low
but couldn’t find him. They sent for me
when they was at their wit’s ends, and I went
to hunt him up. I was a good deal puzzled
at first that he shouldn’t be at the bottom of
the river, but at last I thought of lookin’ at
the piles. There sure enough I found him,
with arms and legs so tightly clasped around
the pile that 1 had a good deal of trouble in
gettin’ him off. He had evidently fallen in
the water and tried t<> skin up the pile, but
his strength gave out before he was half way
up and he was drowned. Another case, I
remember, was that of a son of a rich man
who was drowned while bathin’ off South
ferry. Well, the father tried everything to
get the body ; engaged clivers, had cannon
balls fired into the river, so that they would
stir up the bottom and the water’d force the
body up. But it was no use, the body couldn’t
be found. The divers gave it up, sayin’ it
had probably been swept out to sea by the
strong tide runnin’ at the time. At last they
sent for me, arid offered me a big reward to
find the boy. Now the secret of my success
in findin’ bodies was that I always found out
how the tide had stood when one had got
lost, and went down at the exact turn, groped
along the bottom, and always found it. I
done the same in this case, but the tide had
been so strong the day the boy was lost that
he had drifted a good ways along the bottom.
At last I found him. But how ? I tell you
it was awful. Wedged under an anchor chain,
and half eaten up by fishes, I found the lad.
I had to go up three times before I got him
by pieces. It was a terrible job. Yes, I’ve
made a great deal of money by findiu’ bodies
there was a reward on.”
A Truthful Man.
A flat-footed, old fashioned Western mcr
chat, hailing from a country store in Mich
igan, was buying stock in New York, and
the firm took advantage of the occasion to
make inquiries concerning some of their
customers around him. When they asked
about Smith, of Cashville, he replied :
“ Smith ! Yes, he’s in trade yet, but lie’s
just married a second wife, and she’s going
through his wealth like saltpeter. He’ll fail
in less’n six months.”
‘‘ llow about Jones, of your town ?”
“Jones! Wall, Jones is pegging along
after the old style, and he’s bought him a
bicycle, and everybody saj-s he'll go to the
wall in a year.”
“ And Brown & Son—are they all right ?”
“Brown & Son? Wall, lhe3' may keep
along till spring, but I doubt it. Old Brown
has got so nigh-sighted that he can’t tell a
sheep pelt from a coon skin, and the L'o3' is
dead struck on a willow woman who never
wears anything less than $G stockings.”
“ But Davis is doing a good trade, isn’t
he ?”
, “Davis! Wall, pooty fair, but lie won’t
last. He rented the upper part of his store
to a Chicago milliner, and she broke up two
families and caned a preacher. Everybody
blames Davis, and his sales last week only
footed up a pound of saleratns and a wash
board.”
“ Well, you are the onty customer out there,
and, of course, you are all right.”
“Mel Wall, I’m all right just now, but
things may* change. My wife belongs to
three literal societies and is the big toad at
church festivals, while I’ve bought a 2:40
trotter and learned to play old sledge. You
needn’t be surprised any to hoar that I’ve
been busted from garret to cellar ; so clean
than creditors can’t fiud enough dry goofs
to wipe a baby’s nose on.”— Ex.
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Profanity.
Someone has said that of all the vices to
which man is addicted, profanity is the most
gratuitous. The most abandoned do not dare
to defend it. It has not the color of a pre
text in any kind of compensation. The thief
has his stolen goods to reward him for his
crime. The Sabbath breaker who shoots his
wild turkey on Sunday, has it for his dinner
on Monday. The pugilist has the gratifica
tion to know that lie has given a blackened
eye to his antagonist. lie has at least left
his mark. The defrauder can exult in his
ill-gotten gains. Even the drunkard can
delude himself for the moment with his fan
cied riches and stalwart arm, and can pur
chase the privilege of sleeping with swine.
But the profane swearer indulges his beset
ting vice without motive or reward. He not
only violates all the instincts of his reason,
judgment and conscience—he not only in
fracts a direct command of Almighty God,
“Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord
thy God in vain”—but he does it without
reaping the slightest compensation, fancied
or real. He gets nothing in return, save only
the miserable gratification of insulting God
to his face, and shocking the moral sensibili
ties of his fellow-men. A worthy member of
a Baptist church, now an honored deacon,
said to us some some years ago, that in early
life he acquired the vulgar habit, but that
years before lie made any pretentions to pie
ty, he turned with honest indignation on him
self, and from very shame resolved to quit it,
and carried out his resolution. Common de
cency, it would seem, to say nothing of the
fear of God, would be enough to induce any
man of common refinement and self-respect
not to form a habit so debasing, so vulgar,
so revolting to all the higher instincts of our
nature. Affirmations which arc interlarded
with blasphemy, may’ well bo received with
abatement, since a man who will insult his
Maker will most likely deceive his fellow
man. A Christian parent once observed,
that his moral sensibilities were never so
much shocked as when he overheard his son
who had just grown up to manhood utter a
blasphemous oath. Fortunately, however,
lie never heard it repeated thereafter. lie
had reason to know that his boy permanently
reformed.
But did we say the profane swearer re
ceives no reward ? Alas! alas, he will ere
long get his wages, for it is written, “He will
not hold him guiticss that taketh his name
in vain.” So direct and causeless a violation ,
of one of the most solemn enactments of
God’s law, will provoke a recoil which will ,
visit upon the soul in eternity a penalty all
the more intolerable because of all sins it is
the most inexcusable. Young man, stain not
your soul with so gross a habit, and if you
ever indulge it, pause and think what place
in all the vernacular of even civilized society
can the the oaths of the blasphemer fill with
out polluting ! What position in society can
be safely and honorably assigned him !—ln
dex.
Security of the Harem.
In the harem, a Turk is free from all in-,
terruptions, because no servant will venture
to call him on the request of a visitor, how
ever importunate. During the late war with
Russia, the observance of this rule lo9t to
Turkey' a battle, an army, and perhaps a
province. In January, 1878, the Russian
armies were swarming along the northern
slopes of the Balkan Mountains. Theso
mountains formed the last defensive line of
Turkey. The line was, however, so long, that
if the Russians broke through it at any point**
they could place the whole Turkish array in
danger of destruction. The Russians did
break the line of the Balkans, at Shipka Pass,
and cut the Turkish army in two. Suleiman
Pasha, the Turkish general in command of
the left wing, heard rumors of the battle, and
telegraphed to the commander-in chief, who
was also Minister of War, at Constantinople,
asking if the rumor was true, and, if so, what
lie should do. Suleiman Pasha knew very
well that the only safety for his troops lay in
rapid retreat at Adrianople. If he could have
begun to move within an hour, possibly he
might have escaped. But no answer came
to his telegram. All night he waited, and at
noon the next day he took the responsibility
of ordering the retreat. But he met the Rus
sians upon the road, and was routed, and
driven into Macedonia, losing a large part of
his army and all of his artillery'. This disas
ter left the Turks no chance. Adrianople
was abandoned, and in one month the Rus
sians were in possession of the fortifications
of Constantinople, and dictated a peace with
their camps in full view of the royal mosques.
Afterward, the inevitable court-martial was
called to fix the responsibility for the catas
trophe. It then appeared that the Minister
of War was in his harem when Suleiman
Pasha’s telegram arrived, and his servants
refused to disturb him. lie only heard of
the message at noon the next day, and by
that time the Cossacks had cut the telegraph
wires. The ancient usage which permits a
man to shut himself up in his harem was re
spected by the court. The Minister of War
was not blamed, but his subordinate, the
luckless Suleiman, was condemned to exile
for having lost his army.— H. 0. Dwight, in
Harper's Magazine for March.
A Truthful Definition.
“What is a cold ?” asks Chambers' Journ
al. Well, sir, supposing you begin by sneez
ing so hard you nearly' break your neck and
bite your tongue terribly. Then your nose
gets stuffed up and you need about fourteen
handkerchiefs a day and the end of your nose
gets more tender than a boil. And your eyes
ache and are watery and you begin to codgh
so the folks across the way can’t sleep, and
you feel lame all over, as though you had
been under a fire engine, and you’re ugly and
kick the dog and chase the cat with a boot
jack, tell 3'our wife she can’t cook and make
the household a gehenna for ten days. Then
you’ve got a cold.
NUMBER 8.