Newspaper Page Text
BY W.H. JEFFERS3Y & CO.
VOLUME 3.
THE PLANTERS’ WEEKLY
PUBLISHED AT
ttreen9shor n>\ 6a.
W. M. JEFFERSON, >
ROMN W. STEVENS. > Proprietors.
FRED. C. FULLER. )
TERMS—TWO DOLLARS A TEAR;
OR ONE DILLAR AND FIFTY
CENTS IN ADVANCE.
‘tt itcs of Ailvertising.
\Jrtiaemenw inserted at the rate of one
Jo!i*r par square of ten lines or ‘ess, for first
ani fifty cents for each subsequent insertion,
T iose not marked vritli the number of inser
tions nll ba published until forbid and charg
•d at these rates.
Ta folio ri “ i'e one lowest contracting
U\TKS:
1 Sq’r Six ratmths 87..0ne year 512
2•• “ • Jl.i •• *• 20
3..•• 16.. “ “ 28
i column G mo. 20.. “ “ 35
a 6 *• 30.. •* “ 55
a •< 5 <• 40.. “ “ 70
j a 6 “ 50.. “ “ 80
VJror'iwnents tmrieers and transient
p irsvis mast be paid for in advance.
Legal Advertisement*.
*leof Lander by A ininUlrMor*,
eX-’i-tiHirs, and On <rdian, pe- qmre, fa 00
f il.o 1 P-r*inal pr*inerty tiv Adinini.tr.Uir*,
eX-cntnr*,amt Gu.Piliftii., per aquar*. 3 SO
K nica tu n-l>inra amt Creditors, 3 *0
*t nice fur L ire to Sid I, * ‘*9
Citaiinß fur t. -n.r. of Ad ninUtra'lim 2 7a
Ci ati in for D mi.aim from A lmini*trtion, 500
Citation fir Di.oiis.im from Guardians'dp. 3 ‘.'A
The Law of Newspaper*.
1. ‘tubicribws who do not give express no
tice to the contrary, a>e considered as wishing
to continue their subscription.
i. if subscriber* order the discontinuance
of their newspaper, ‘he publisher mav continui
to send then until aM arrearages are paid.
!j If subscribers neglect or refuse to talc
jJ.\T nr.tvsp ipis“S from the office to which they
.re directed, the.v are held respons ble until
they have settled the bills and ordered them
discontinued.
4. If subscribers remove to oth-r placis
without informing the publisher, and the news
paper* ire sent to the tormer direction, they
are heM responsible.
5. The courts have decided that refusing, to
take newspapers from the ofJic p , °r removing
and leaving them unenJlcd for, is pritna fteie
evidence of intention il fraud.
fi. The United. States Cou.-ts have also, re
pe.te llv decided, that a i’ostrosster who neg.
leott t> pe'firm his dutv of giving reasonable
notice, as required by the Poet Office Depart
incut, of the neglect of a pc.-son to take from
the offi c new'p.pers vddresaed to him, rend
ers he Postmaster liable to the publisher for
t.Ht* <!*>*<•,nation
jiarpT.
~ JOHN C. REID,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
jjiinel‘s9-tv. ( ifeenesbttro, Grors<n.
HOLINw7 ST EVE NS.
ATT6RKKY IT LAW,
GREENSBORO* ORdROIA.
WlhU , iractico tit the counties of Greene,
itilil viu, Putnam, v*an, Oglethorpe.
Tiliafarro an! Hiucock. [FVb. 2. l u soff]
UNITED STATES HOTEL,
MNo. 232. Broad Street,
AUGUSTA, GEORGIA.
DWELL & MOSHER, Proprietors
. UWKIL | J- MttSHKB
HdUcaS Card.
[HEREBY ‘ rod. r n.y Uianicn untie politic for kmd
ty bestowing <>n me ticreiufiire, a li.ger ahar of
pitr >*e'd)iinJ anticipated, ami agarn ntrerm.T pro
f< s.ioiisl ivrTtre.to any wt> tnv give me a call
When not professionally engaged, I may bo toon”
at WoodVDrtur Store.
-Jan 12. IBGO ly. W. L BBTHF.A. M. D
DENTISTRY 7 .
f ir.fl. .IIORG.I.V,
Sirgeoa ntd Mechanical Dentist.
Peufeld, Georgia,
WOULD i iform the ciliwii* f Greene end ed
joining o,uoiir, that he is prepared to perform
may operation pertaining to hie profeeeion, withoret
.etei* and diepateb. He will insert from one oon eu
tire set ot teeth, ft'shis intention topleeee
iH- wlli'fce in rGreoueeboro. on Monday. Tuesday
and Wednesday of each wees* and ia Penficld the
vem-inder of hi* time.
An. cell from the country that may be tendered
Mm will meet with prompt attention. He rater* to
air 4 dm R Murohy of Rome —Feb. t*. l**o
MATTINGS
AT
REDUCED PRICES.
4*€
- WHITE M4TTIX6, $9,00 A I!) L.
M
White Matting, $lO, a Roll.
White Matting. sls a Roll
(40 YARDS IN EACH BOLL)
The Above are CASH Price*.
t#* Orders faithfully attended t.
JAS. O, BAILIE 1 URO„
h’ew Carpet Slurs.
August*, ‘it , Jobs ST.
n LAMMS of a., kinds neatly printed at
M> this }•<*. s fWt eerie* and an raneen
site’ -JM
A Waa&ly JiMpaal’—Odvoted to China Literature, £srlcltare, Foreign and Domestic Sews, Wit, Humor, &c.
MSSGKLLANK DOS.
H atching the Cloud *
BY MBS. CARRIE HOWARD.
Loaning my Lead on the window sill,
I sit for liotirs. when the day is still.
Gazing far np in the deep blue sky,—
Gaging with listless, dreamy eve, —
Watching the clouds.
None may know of the shadowy things.
Floating cm airy, gossanur^wings,
That Fancy pictures,—nor visions bright
That greet, for aye, the ’wildered sight,
Watchiug the clouds.
Life-like, and full of a changeful hue,
Are the pictures I paint on the ether blue;
Faithluliy traced,—dark and sad, or blight
aud fair,—
As oft 1 dream by the window there,
Watching tbe clouds.
Scenes of this life, ye are passing away,—
Visions of beauty, ve speed to decay,—
Hastens the hour when I'll sit uo more
By window sill or cottage door,
Watching the clouds.
From the Rural New Yorker.
GKAXDMOTAER’S CHEST.
“Mother, let us go and look at the things
in Giaitdnta’sChest—don’t you want to? ’
••No, not now, my child.—you may any
time you wish.”
After a moment’s silence my mother
said, in a btilt sadder tone, **’Tis sixteen
vears. yesterday, since, we looked at her
last, — i have had no mother sit ce !”
The tears ran down her furrowed cheeks
aud feeling grieved for having so thought
lessly calico forth these sad memories, 1
but her alone, that her expressions of sor
row might flow unchecked, as memory
went wandering hack through years a gone,,
when a mother's smile lit up the darkest
hours, whet, her hand softened the rough
est cares and perplexities, and her* voice
rose in praywj for the safely of her chil
dren gathered round the hearthstone.
Then as they chose companions new,
and ties were formed stronger than those
which bound them to their home, they
were scattered; hut wheu they knew their
mother was dying, slowly nut surely, the
little band was again united until each
should receive her (jA ting blessing Still
the mother lingered, and her children's
chihliett were often canied to the bedside
for Iter kiss and fond caress,
“Granina, tell me which is the prettiest
Hairy's baby, or mine {’’and the response,
“O Maria! ’tis bald ti leave the little
ones,’’ would check mrtlitr’s merry sally,
as she knew she must leav.. us seen.—
Mother told me this, hut “Harry’s baby,”
my pretty cousin, never thinks of her who
loved us so truly then, aud teUlum of the
one with whom she was compared. Why
should she I she has no reason to remem
ber , other and, perhaps, higher thoughts
engross her at tentiun. But can 1 forget,
when it was grandmother who said of me,
“Call her Lucinda, and that alone, for by
that name wo called my iatile one, —the
yiuugest. and the prettiest of >y flock,
and 1 am going to her soon,— very soon.”
My mother tciis me, too, tiin atb-ctiou so
fieely bestowed upon me was second only
to the priceless love for ncr own children
L is a great pleasure to rue to know this—
so tew lovo me now, the ugly, d>funned
dtild, they all seem •bethink me. 1 seldom
leave uiy cottage home, and l sometimes
wonder if si e, too, would not forsake me
for fairer forms aud faces, auu something
like biiteruess steals over my heart. Then
1 come here, open the little chest, and
draw it to the window, where I can look
away to the hill-side grave-yard beyond
the school-house, and see the marble slabs
at the head of her grave and grandpa’s,
with the locust tr< stretching its limhb
out over them,—aud 1 wonder it they look
down into my heart and see there the strug
gle bet weu distrust and an endeavor to
love iu spite of neglect and scorn, or if
they never can know how 1 strive to live
to meet them again, and pray tor strength
to wait patiently.
Again 1 turn to the chest and take from
it an old black silk bonnet,—so large that
1 can scarcely see. from under it when it is
on my head, its lining yellow w ith age,
and the strings wrinkled by tying, just as
she left them.—a pin-cushion, thread-case,
needle-hook, —with the letters “A. R.” of
round-headed pins, just as she placed
them before she died,—a note-case con
raining slips of paper daper 1829, a half
doll ir of pewter— uine of “Harry’s” coin
age, I tbiuk.—and* bit of “Willie’s first
vest.” Title pair of gloves my mother
well remembers as having covered * pair
oi bands calmly folded, when care and
work was lain aside and the wearer listen
ed attentively to the “good man’s” words,
a “checked bankerebief,” aud a plain one
of grandpa’s, (1 can remember him, for
ofleu have 1 sat upon his knee and hsii-u*
ed to his tales of the atdswt time, often in
terrupted to give me a kiss or a little
snug.) aud this plain silk reticule, or old
fashioned “work bag.” over which I love <
to linger best of all. I will optm it now as
it lies beside uie, and you shall see its
contents. Here are four snuff-boxes, ton
so old and worn tbe pictures are gon*. bat
tb* others f have bad much pleasure in
GREENESBORO’, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY MORNING, JULY 25, 18GD.
gazing upon ; one with a little gitl, a bas
ket of flowerß, and a Newfoundland dr-g
b p sidc her, the other a portrait of a lady
with pissed sleeves, curling hair, and in
nuini-ralde beads upon h r bead and neck.
Here is yet another, a square box, with
a snialh-r lady dressed in a fashion older
still. I shall not show you its conteiits,
your wondering gaze would be but no,eke
ry compared with mother's longing, w ist
fnl look You may wonder that she ke ps
these bits ot lace and worsted, but each
is a treasure in her eyes, as is this bit to
bright hued wail paper, and these little
papeis labeled, “Mary,” “Emily,” “Har
riet,” and “Emelinc,” containing long got
den tresses, or _ black curling ringlets.
With each paper is a bit of muslin, taken
front the shrnuuds of those once happy,
buoyant, girl-friends of my mother, and 1
cherish them for her sake.
But we will explore the Old Chest no
further, —you do not look at ir as 1 do,
with reverence, or. at lenst, respect, and
Ido not wonder. You have not listened
with nte to the little life-incidents, told by
quivering lips, <-r wandered to thp silent
graves in the pitying moonlight, when
the very stavs seemeJ to look into yojjr
soul, the doors of your heart all open, and
holy thoughts driving hence the evil.
“No mother since.” My father’s moth
er yet lives, but never does she call moth
er, “My Daughter,"—the “Son’s Wife,”
has no place in her heart. “No Mother.”
All these sixteen years those words have
echoed through the chambers of her
hcait, and found no rest. “No Mother.”
O, can I thank “Our Father” enough ;
that in all his chastening love, he has
withheld tire greatest punishment, and
that if is not yet my lot to say, “1 have
No Mother.’” ” i.. m. b.
lonia Cos., Michigan, 1860.
The Best way to Eudurc Matrimony,
Timothy Titcomb write# as follows on
what is called, with exquisite irony, tbe
divine institution :
1 suppose there, is a modicum of ro
mance ill nios* natures, and that if it gaili
ets about any event, it is that of marriage.
Most people marry their ideals. There
is more or lesa fictitious and fallacious
gloiy resting upon the head of every
bridje, which the inchoate husband be
lieves in. Most uu-n and women manu
facture perfection in their mates hv a hap
py process of their imaginations, and then
marry them. This, ot course, wears a
wav. By the time the husband lias seen
his wife eat heartily of pork mid beaus,
and, with her hair frizzled, arid her oldest
dress on, full of the enterprise of over
hauling thiligs, lie sees that she belongs to
the same race, as himself. And she. when
her huoband gels up cross iu the morn
ing. and undei takes to shave himself with
cold water and a dull razor, while, his sus
penders dangle at lus heels, begins to see
that man is a very prosaic animal. Iu
other wotds, there is such a thing as a
honeymoon, of longer or bhbrfcr duration.;
aud while tho attOMisltine lasts, the radi
ance of tl;e soveuth heaven cannot com
pare with it. It is a very delicious little
delirium—a febrile mental disease, which
like measels never return.
When the honeymoon passes away, set
ting behind dull mountains, or dipping
s'lei.tly into the stormy sea of life, the
trying hour of marriage-life lias conte.
Between the parties there are no morn
illusions. The feverish desire of posses
sion has gene—vanished into gratification
—and all excitement has receded. Then
begins, or should begin, the business of
adaptation. It they find that they do not
love one another, as they thought they did,
tiiey should double tuuir assidiotts aUtit
tions to one another and be jealous of eve
rything which tends in the slightest dt-gtee
to separate them. Lite is t<-o precious to
he. tlirowu away in secret regrets or open
differences. And let me say to every one
to whom the romance of life lias lied, and
who are discontented in the slightest de
gree with their condition and relations,
begin this work of reconciliation before
you ate a day older.
Renew the attei.lions of earlier days.
Draw your hearts close together. Talk
the thing all over. Acknowledge your
faults to one another, and determine that
henceforth you will he all in all to each
other; and, my word for it, you shall find
in your relation the sweetest joy earth lias
for you. There is no other wav for you
to do. If you are happy at home you
must be happy abroad ; the man or woman
who hag settled down upon the conviction
that he or she is attached for life to an un
congenial yoke-fellow, and that there is
uo way of escape, has lost life; there is no
effort to costly to make which can restore
to its setting upon tiio bosoms, the missing
pearl.
17* Edward says that the use
of alcoholic beverages has cost tbe United
Btattje directly, iu ten years, $120,000,000;
caused the destruction of 320.000 lives
mad* 250,000 criminals, aud 1,000,000
orphans.
0F We regret to learn lhut Mj. E.
Bioughtmi, Assistant Engineer el’ the
South Western Railraod, died in Enf.tula,
Aim, on Saturday night last, from the ef
fects “f aun-atrnke
Are Women Naturally Polite ?
BY MRS. GEO. WASHINGTON WYLLYS.
Mrs. Wyllvs asks that question, and
then elaborately answers it herself, thus:
.Are women naturally polite, did you
ask, dear, good-natured Public ?
Did you ever know a woman to make
room in an omnibus, five on a side, when
Number Six was entering, flounced and
velveted, until ordered by the driver ?
Did you ever know a little pair of gai
ter boots to turn one inch either to the
right or left when they could have saved
you from a streaming gutter by the opera
tion? Patent leathers don’t behave so—
not they!
Did you over know a woman to say, “1
am sorry to have given so much trouble,”
when the dry goods clerk had turned
things topsy tnrvy, without finding the
right shade of a color that never existed?
Did you ever know a woman who did
not know it was “outrageous’’ for another
woman to travel with a baby, or who didn’t
regard it as “cruel and barbarous,” if any
one objected to the crying of her baby ?
Did you ever know two women to talk
over a third without ridiculing Iter, even
if she was her “dear particular friend ?”
Did you ever praise one young Indy in
the presence of another, without being
confidentially told of some enormous fault
or deformity in the Lamer which you
hadtrt dreamed of?
Did you ever tell your wife what a beau
tiful new dress your neighbor had got,
without learning that “it was only that I
dowdy old silk dyed ever ?’’
Did you ever know a pretty woman to
n.ake an impulsion without a half a dozen
other pretty women ruining the effect of it
the instant she li ft the loom?
Dnl yon ever know a woman to apt lo
gize for having knocked another won. ait’s
bonnet into “pi” (that's printerisin, hut
cxpiosMve, notwithstanding,) with the
corner t t her parasol l •
Did you ever hear of a woman who had
an idea that she was making trouble by’
her little airs aud graces?
We don’t believe you ever did, reader.
They are a race of unaccountahles, these i
women, just as sweet and piquant as June
roses, sometimes, and then, again, brist
ling like so many venemous thorn bushes.
There’s one tiling we never ceased tc be
inwardly thankful f<>i—that we’ie not a
man, aud consequently obliged to marry
one of’em! Why she would drive us
crazy in a week with her whims and fan-1
cics, her exactions and her pettish ways. 1
We would make the lamentable, henpe.ck- !
ed husband in the world, unless, iudeui, I
wc had ilm nerve to run away from her, j
or shut her up in.the closet for a week,;
nntil site promised to behave belter. !
When a woman chooses she eau be the !
nearest thing to an angel of anything in i
this world, and what n pity it is she doesn’t
always choose.— Lift• Illustrated.
How Torn Bought a Saddle.
Upon the banks oi the Mississippi, in’
the Statu of Tennessee there once dwelt an
old c hay by the name o* Yad—Turn Yad.
Now Torn had liftett an honest and hard
working man all his life, but he had never
owned a saddle; but as Tom grew old, his
w< ,-illh and importance increased, and with
it a desire for a lmg skin ; so ito one day
packed up a clean shirt, stuffed a hundred
doll.ns into his wallet, stepped upon a
steamboat, and away he started down to
New O leans to buy him a saddle. New
this was the first trip Tom ever made; he
had lived all Ins life where lie was born,
and had never heard any other language
than that of his mother tongue. Iu the
course ot a few days lie landed upon the
lev* e at New Orleans.
Poor Tout little knew what lie had to
encounter. The Frenchman was there,
ttie. Italian was there, the Spaniard was
there, the Gcjmau was thcr<—some from
all parts or the world were crowded upon
the levee ; and there was Tom with his
eyes stietcheU and ears open, completely
mvstified aud he wildered at the strange
jargon going on around him ; he stood it
as long as mortal man well could, and at
last struck out with his mind fully pie
paicd to bo surprised at nothing he saw
his errand of the saddle.
After wandering abut the city for some
time, lie at length found a saddler’s shop.
Tom, with heart elate, walked in
The first and only living creature which
met tiis vision, was a baboon of the lar
gest species, sitting upon the counter,
playing with the girts which were hanging
from the saddle immediately over his
head. Torn very politely ad.creased him ;
“How do you no, sir l”
The baboon grinned and nodded.
*•1 wish to buy a saddle,” say* Tom.
Tbe sana- expression from the monkey,
[it a louder key, from Tom.
“1 want to buy a saddle.”
Avery polite grin from the baboon.
“1 will give vou*tweuiy dollars for that
•addle,” says Tout, at the same lime ban
•ring him .i twenty dollar bill.
The animal l aving seen his master put
money into the drawer, took it, and hop
ping along tho cannier, made a deposit ui
Tom’a twenty dollar note. He returned,
I however immediately to but tat liter posi-
I lion.
“Well, hand us il aw it tit# pig skin.
Very little notice from the babboon.
“Hang it, why don’t you give me my
saddl* l ? Ihave paid you for it, so hand
it down, or 1 will take it myself.”
An awful chattering from the baboon.
Tom not intending to be fooled v ith any
longer, reached out and caught hold of
his property ; but no sooner had the poor
fellow done so than the nails and teeth of
the monkey were driven into his arm.—
Tom kicked and swore—the baboon bit
and screaiued--until, at last, the owner of
the simp, a Frenchman, with long mous
tache, came rushing into the room.
“What you do, sare ? What ybu want
in here, yon old rascal? By gar, you
shall give me satisfae.hune.”
Tom not in the least daunted, but very
much exasperated ripped out:
“You i tenia I old hairy mouthed scoun
drel ! I believe you want to steal iny
twenty dollars ! 1 came in here, bought a
saddle and paid the money drwn for it,
and now when 1 want to be going with it
your “sou’ there has refused to let me have
it ?”
Tom however, got fiis saddle, and re
turned the next morning on the boat go
ing up the river ; hut has been beard to
swear it was the last one he ever wanted to
purchase.
The First Schoolmaster In New York.
The first schoolmaster who ever wielded
the ferule in New York, came hero in
April, 1623, on board the good shipSout
berg, from Holland, in company with
stately old Evcrardus Bogardns, the do
mine who married Anncke Jans, ando tru
ed jointly with her so goodly a portion of
worldly wealth, which afterward came
down to Trini'y Church, in conjunction
with much heart-burning and an inter
minable lawsuit.,
. Adam Roeluudson (or R.Jamison) was
tbe first schoolmaster of Manbatten Island
and his name should be remembered ns
that of the local tutelar saint of the book
and the ferule. He came io other good
company, too, for Wouter van Twilier, the
new Director-General, was on board the
same ship—good old Wouter, whose lu
minous decision and portly breadth of per
son have teen so drolly caricatured by
Irving, and who really seems to have been
not only a thriving and prosperous mer
chant, but quite as good a Governor—spite
of traditional ridicule—-as the timw could
very well afford for such an out-of-the
way and cver-troublesome colon) as New
Amsteidam. Adam Roelandsen had not
a pedagogic charge of great extent. The
little tin horn, with, with winch lie called
bis dilatory charges from tlie school-house
door on sunshiny mornings, could be heard
over nil the settlement; and tho school
house itself was only of rough slabs, of
height enough to clear tbe head of the
pedagogue, aud a dozen feet each way in
extent.
Affecting Scene. —Remarkable Re
cognition <>J an Exhumed Body. —“ Not
many years since,” says Fraser’s Mnga
zine. “certain miners working far under
ground, came upon the, body of a poor fel
low who bad perished in the suffocating
pit forty years before. Some chemical
agent to wliicli the body had been sub
jected—an agent prepared in the labora
tory of nature —had effectually arrested
the progress of ileeay. They brought it
to the surface, and for a while, till it crum
bled away through exposure to the atmos
phere, it lay there, the image of a fine,
sturdy young man. No convulsion -had
passed over the face in death—the fentuies
were tranquil ; the hair was black ns jet.
No one recognized the face—a generation
had grown up since the day ou which the
miner went down his shaft for the last
time But a tottering old woman, who
bad liunkid from her cot on hearing t lie
news, came up, and she knew again the
face which, through all these years, she
had never qnrte forgot. The poor miner
was to bave been her husband the day af
ter that on which he died. They were,
rough people of course, wbo were look
ing on—a liberal education and refined
feeling are not deemed e ssential to the
man whose work it is to get -up coals, or
even tin ; but there were uo dry eyes
there, when the grey headed old pilgrim
cast herself upon the youthful corpse, and
pouted out so its deaf car many words of
endearment, unused tor forty years. It
was a toftching contrast—the one so old,
tho other so young. They had both been
young these long years ago. But time
had gone on with the living, and stood
still with the dead.”
Iron Burnt. * for Europe ■—The manu
facture of heavy iron beams for buildings
and other purposes has been confined al
most exclusively to this country, the iron
men of Enrope not being shin to produce
them, as has been done in this State. At
the i'lioenix Works, the largest sized
beams heretofore made have been nine
inches deep, but, in consequence of largo
orders from Europe of wrought beams of
15 inches deep, arrangements are making
to commence their insnnfactnre in Hep
lumber. These beams are to be 40 foet
long.— Philadelphia Ledger.
The ceiisueof Houck)ale. pa., skews a
population ot 2,504, Against 2,263 in 1850
’ lining i increase of only 243 in ten yosrs.
Tcrms-~51,50 Always in Advance.
A Rough Description oj Minnesota. —
An attorney in Minnesota, who had ro
ceived from another State an account for
collection, after acknowledging the receipt
ot the letter of instructions, replied as fol
lows:. “Now, I am perfectly astonished
at you for sending a claim out here for
collection, in these times. You might as
well east your net into the ‘LakeofFiro
and Brimstone,’ expecting to catch a sun
fisli, or into the celebrated Stygian pool to
catch pickled trout, ns to try to collect
money here. Money! I have a faint re
collection of having seen it when I was a
small boy. I belie v e it was given me by
my uncle, to buy candy with (The candy
Ido remember.) But it has been so long
since I have seen any, that I almost for
get whether gold is made of corn or mus
tard, or silver of white onions or fish scales.
Why, sir, we live without money. You’re
behind the timos. It is a relic of barba
rism—of ages past. We live by eating,
sir, we do. Hoot, man ! the milicnium is
coming the year ofjubilec has come, and
all debts are paid here as much as they
will be, unless you take ‘piujuce.’ The
word ‘money’ is not in our vocabulary ;
in the latest Webster (revised for meridian)
it is marked ‘obsolete, formerly a coin
representing money, and used us a medi
um of commerce.’ A few small pieces
can be seen in our Historical Society’s col
lection, where they are exhibited as curi
osities along with the skeleton of the
‘mastodon,’ Noah's old boots, and Adura’a
apple.”
A good story is told concerning the writing
of J. W. Brooks, the great railroad mana
ger of Michigan. He had written a letter
to a mail on the Central route, notifying
him that he must remove a barn, which in
some matin, r incommoded the road tiinlei
penalty of prosecution. The threatened
individual was unable to read nuy part of
the letter blit his signature, but took it to
be a free pass on the road, and used it for
a couple of years ns such, move of the •con
ductors being able to dispute his interpre
tation of the document.
It is our honorable privilege to give to
the world another verse of “Old Undo
Ned ” never before published, but written
audßung by the original author. It is an
important “addendum” to the picturo:
‘•Uncle Ned’s old dog laid down by his grave
And he howl’d in de light of de muon,
And wonder’d if Ned wouldn't come bockagain
To huut for de possum an’ de coon.”
tiPIURAM.
Maria’s a clock, they say,
Unconscious of her beauty.
She regulates the live long aay
Exact iu ev'ry duty.
If this be true, snch self command,
Such well directed pow'rs,
• Oh! may her little miuute hand
Become a hand of ours.
Four boys who were fishing, when a vio
lent storm arose, immediately started for
home as fast as possible, but bad gone but
a short distance when a vivid flash, follow
ed by a terrific clap of tliundet, brought
them to a stand. Thunder-struck, as it
were, for a moment, they stood silent and
aghast. Then the leader spoke: ‘Sam,
cat, you pray V ‘No.’ ‘Bill, can yon
piay V ‘No.’ ‘Jack, can you pray I’
•No.’ ‘Nor I either. What iu h—ll shall
wo do V
Asa dandy was wending hU way through
a narrow passage, he met a pretty girl,
and said to her; ‘Bray, my dear, what do
you call this passage V ‘Balaam’s pas
sage,’ she replied. ‘All! then, lam like
Ba^nn —stopped by an angel,’ said he.
‘Ana I,’ rejoined the girl, as she brushed
past him, ‘am like the angel—stopped by
Traveler on the Mississippi: What
makes you have the bar in the centre-why
don't you have it on the side oct of tho
way t Barkeeper: Well, wo would, but
you see it won’t do to have so many pas
sengers oa one side of tho boat!
A young lady in Muscatine lowa has ex
ercised thp leap-year privilege with a per
fect success. Her William hung down his
head and blushed, but said lie was willing,
and should have popped the question him
self, it be had had spunk enough. Ladies
with bashful beaux, go and do likewise.
- - ■W r— —
A philosopher who has studied out al
most everything, says he is satisfied that
the reason why girls are in the habit of
pouting out their lips is because they are
always willing that theirs should meet
yours half way.
The papers are bragging of an invention
by which leather chii be tanned in ten min
utes. Wchave seen the human hide, how
ever, tanned in five. Our schoolmaster
used to do it occasionally lu two.
Women are a great deni like French
waiches—very pretty to look at, but very
difficult to reguluto when they one* talas
to going wrung.
Jack said b once worked fttr a man who
raised bis wages so high that be could only
roach (bean once in two years.
Wh v fa lbs loiter j| like the first glass of
rum I Because it it Hi* beginning of misery.
NUMBER 30-