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ttttttttttttttttt 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. The Greatest Blessing. A simpley pure, harmless remedy, that c ires ever3 T time, and prevents disease l>3’ keeping the blood pure, stomach regular, kidneys and liver active, is the greatest blessing ever conferred upon man. Hop Bitters is that remedy, and its pro prietors are being blessed by thousands who have been saved and cured by it. Will y u u try it!"— Eagle. V TERMS, $1.50 PER ANNUM.- / SI.OO for Six Months. 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.