Newspaper Page Text
VOL. IV.
Advertising Kates.
Ona square, first insertion $ 75
Each subsequent insertion 50
One square three months 5 00
One square six months 10 00
One square twelve months 15 00
Quarter column twelve months... 30 00
Half column six months 40 00
Half column twelve months 60 00
One column twelve months 100 00
teg-T en lines or less considered a square.
All fractions of squares are counted as full
Squares,
newspaper decisions.
1. Any person who takes a paper regu
larly from the post office—whether directed
to his name or another’s, or whether he has
subscribed or not—is responsible for the
payment.
2. If a person orders his paper discontin
ued, he must pay all arrearages, or the pub
lisher may continue to send it until payment
is made, and collect the whole amount,
whether the paper Is taken from the office or
b >t.
3. The courts Lave decided that refusing
to take newspapers and periodicals from the
postoffice, or removing and leaving them un
called for, is prrna facie evidence of inten
tional fraud.
TOtFN DIRECTORY.
Mayor —Thomas G. Barnett.
Commissioners —W. W. I’ornipseed.D. B.
Bivins, E. G. Harris, E. R. James.
Clerk —E. G. Harris.
Treasurer — W. S. Shell.
Marshals— S. A. Bolding, Marshal.
J. W. Johnson,Deputy.
JUDICIARY.
A. M. Bpker, - Judge.
F. D. Dismuke, - - Solicitor Genera!.
Butts—Second Mondays in March and
September.
Henry—Thirf Mondays in April and Oc
tober.
Monroe—Fourth Mondays in February,
and August.
Newton—Third Mondays in March and
September.
Pike—Second Mondays in April and Octo
ber.
Rockdale—Monday after fourth Mondays in
March and September.
Spalding—First Mondays in February
and August.
Upson—First Mondays in May and No
vember.
CHURCH DIRECTORY.
M kthodist Episcopal Church, (South,)
Rev. Wesley F. Smith, Pastor Fourth
Sabbath in each month. Sunday-school 3
p. m. Prayer meeting Wednesday evening.
Methodist Protestant Church. First
Sabbath month. Sunday-school 9
A. M.
Christian Church, W.S. Fears, Pastor.
Second Sabbath in each month.
Baptist Church, Rev. J. P. Lyon, Pas
tor. Third Sabbath in each month.
CIVIC SOCIETIES.
Pine Grove Lodge, No. 177, F. A. M.
Stated communications, fourth Saturday in
each month.
DOCTORS.
DR. J. C. TURNIPSEED will attend to
all calls day or night. Office i resi
dence, Hampton, Ga.
"I\R. W. H. PEEBLES treats all dis-
J ' eases, and will attend to all calls day
and night. Office at the Drug Store,
Broad Street, Hampton, Ga.
TvR. N. T. BARNETT tenders his profes-
Ar sional services to the citizens of Henry
and adjoining counties, and will answer calls
day or night. Treats all diseases, of what
ever nature. Office at Nipper’s Drug Store,
Hampton, Ga. Night calls can be made at
my residence, opposite Berea church. apr26
JF. PONDER, Dentist, has iocated in
• Hampton, Ga., and invites the public to
rail at his room, upstairs in the Bivins
House, where he will be found at all hours.
Warranls all work for twelve months.
LAWYERS.
JNO. G. COLDWELL, Attorney at Jaw,
Brooks Station, Ga. Will practice in
the counties composing the Coweta and Flint
River Circuits. Prompt attention given to
commercial and other collections.
C. NOLAN attorney at Law. Mc
• Donongh, Georgia: Will practice in
the counties composing the Flint Circuit ;
the Supreme Court of Georgia, and the
Uuited States District Court.
WM.T. DICKEN, Attorney at Law, Mc-
Donough, <ia. Will practice in the
counties composing the Flint Judicial Cir
cuit, the Supreme Court of Georgia, and the
United States District Court. (Office up
stairs over W. C. Sloan’s.) apr27-ly
GEO. M. NOLAN, Attorney at Law,
McDonough. Ga. (Office in Court bouse )
Will practice in Henry and adjoining coun
ties, and in the Supreme and District Court?
of Georgia. Prompt attention given to col
lections. mch23-6ra
JF. WALL. Attorney at Law, //amp
. ton.Ga Will practice in the counties
composing the Flint Judicial Circuit, and
the Sopreme and District Courts of Georgia.
Prompt attention given to collections. ocs
EDWARD J. REAGAN, Attorney at
law. Office on Broad Street, opposite
the Railroad depot, Hampton, Georgia.
Special attention given to commercial and
other collections, and cases in Bankruptcy.
BF. McCOLLUM, Attorney and Conn*
* seller at Law, HaroptoD, Ga. Will
practice in Henry, Clayton, Fayette, Coweta,
Pike, Meriwether, Spalding and Butts Snpe
rior Courts, and in the Supreme aod United
States Courts. Collecting claims a specialty.
Office no stairs in the Mclntosh Bnildm*
FOLDED EYES.
1 have somewhere seen it written, *
And have wondered if 'twere true,
"Folded eyes see brighter colors
Than the Open ever do.”
(Jan it be, the little sleeper
Dreaming on the mother’s knee,
Really sees, what, from its smiiing
We can fancy it must see ?
Little lips, oh, open for me,
Tell me if indeed ’tis true,
“Folded eyes see brighter colors
Than the open ever do.”
Happy maiden, idly dreaming,
Where the shadows come and go
In among the apple blossoms,
Tell me truly if ’tis so ;
Is the picture funoy sketches
Brighter than all else to you ?
“Folded eyes see brighter colors
Than the open ever do.”
Folded eyes, from which the sunlight
Faded, leaving us in shade ;
In the light which fadeth never,
Is it true, as poet said,
Still beholding in unfolding
Glories that are ever new,
“Folded eyes see brighter colors
Than the open ever do ?”
E H S.in Home Journal.
Eugenie.
Now that public attention is directed to
Cbistlhurst, and the sympathy of the world
goes out to the widowed and childless
woman, whose very life may at any moment
yield to the latest burden of soirow, a special
interest attaches to all that relates to the
life and history ol the ex-Empress. Eugene
Marie de Guzman was born at Grenada, in
Spain, May 5, 1826. arid is second daughter
of the Count of Montijo and of Marie Man
uela Kirkpatrick. At an early age she dis
played an intelligence tqual to her great
beauty, the style of the lutter being very
remarkable; for with Andalusian form,
features and the soft eyes peculiar to Spain,
it united a coronal of golden hair not often
seen in that Southern clime. These bnd
some other characteristics she doubtless in
herited Irom the Northern ancestry ot her
etill beautiful mother. Her education was
varied, and colored by localities in which it
wns received. Accuslomed as she breame
in her earliest years to the music and the
mystic poetry of Spain—as much so as to
the blue skies, the oraDge and citron groves,
the vivid coloring of flowers and of costume
in that romantic «Jaud, she was sent to
acquire knowledge first to Toulouse, and
afterward to Bristol. With England, there
fore, she soon became acquainted, as like
wise with many of the English people. To
ward France, however, that France for
which ber father had voluntarily fought and
suffered, the thoughts of the young Eugenie
were often turned with keenest iuterest, and
over that fair land, in her imagination, the
eagle of Napoleon, under whose banners her
. father bad marched to victory, was ever
ready, despite all changes of dynasty, to fly
from tower to tower, until resting with fold
ed wings on the heights of Notre Dame in
Paris.
In 1839 her father died at Madrid, and
now no less than ever before, was 6he likely
to forget the legends of French glory by
which he bad charmed her childhood. It
must consequently have been with a sort of
nascent pride and earnest sympathy that she
heard first of the attempt of PriDce Louis
Napoleon ou Strasbourg, and afterwards in
(1840) near Boulogne. Women adore hero
ism, and though men may SDeer in jealousy
at the attempt of an exiled Prince to re
enter the land of bis birth by the aid only
of half a hundred men, and by the light of
that star of bis destiny in which be had
implicit belief, there was something heroic
in the eventful voyage of this Prince across
the British Channel, in the steamboat called
the Edinburg Castle, and all the more bo
because he hud already been mode to pay
the penalty of banishment to America lor
bis sudden entry into Strasbourg. From
America he had come back, at the risk of
his own life, in the hope of soothing the last
days of his adored and adoring mother,
Queen Horteure, and latterly, in England,
be had not shruuk from the consequences of
that act of filial duty, which hud helped to
entail noon bint consequences, including
poverty, from which the eonl of a less brave
man woold have recoiled. So it was no
wonder if the fair Eugenie, born of heroic
race, and early smitten with the legends of
the First Napoleon’s glory, did feel that
which many might deem even a romantic
interest in the luckless landing of Prince
Louis Napoleon at Boiiogne. Soldiers on
the French coast were excitedly ready to
bail him with rapture ; other brave men
likewise ; but be wa^aptorc^an^jM^^
HAMPTON, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, JULY 25, 1879.
*ueh rigor that it seemed very doubtful
whether the beautiful Spaniard, destined one
day to become his wife, would ever mpet
him in this world, for as yet they were per
sonally strangers to each other.
From the first moment, however, that the
Emperor had beheld Mile, de Montijo,
Oountesse de Teha, after the Revolution ot
1848 had given him power over the land
from which he so long was an exile, his fate
was fixed ; and whether at the Presidential
festivals, given at the palace of the Klysee,
under Ih? auspices of his accomplished
cousin, the Princes Mathilda, or at St.
Cloud, or elsewhere, the lovely and grucelul
Spanish lady was observed by him as the
one most worthy to be placed on the throne
of France. Accompanied by some of her
relatives she had visited that country. When
first she arrived there she found the accent
of the French language somewhat opposed
to that of her own melodious and more
southern tongue ; but at last n day came
when the illustrious host of St. Cloud, where
she was on a visit with many other guests,
said to her : “Is it love that has taught
you French ?” And she iB reported to have
answered: “No, sir; it is the Fiencb that
has taught me love.” In a company such
as that then assembled at St. Cloud—the
once favorite abode of Queen Marie Antoin
ette, and afterward of the Empress Josephine
—it is often difficult to trace the real origin
of anecdotes such as this, but there can be
no doubt whatever that in the month ot
January, 1853, the Emperor Napoleon HI.,
having convoked an assembly ol the chief
legislative representatives at the Tuileries,
thus announced his approaching marringe
with Mile, de Montijo : “She who has be
come the objict of my preference is of eleva
ted birth French in heart, by education,
and by'the memory of her lather’s blood
shed for the cause of the Empire ; she, as a
Spaniard, has the advantage of being the
member of a family on which it might be
necessary to confer honors and dignities.
Endowed with all noble qualities of the soul,
she will be the ornament of the throne, while
in the day of danger she would become one
of its most courageous supporters. Catholic
and pious, she will address the same prayers
as myself to heaven for the happiness of
Fiance. Gracious and good, she will, I
firmly hope, by being placed in the same
position, revive the virtues of the Empress
Josephine.”
'I he address having met with most favor
able response, the marriage of Napoleon 111
with Eugenie de Montijo, Comtesse de'l’eba,
was celebrated at the Tuileries on the 29 1 h
of January, 1853, and on the following day
at the Cathedral of Notre Dame. Almost
immediately afterward the Empress-bride
gave an indication of that generosity of dis
position which hag upon various occasions
since distinguished her, for the sum of $120,-
000 having been voted by the Municipal
Council ol Fan's for the purchase of a parure
of ornaments, suitable not only to her beauty
but her imperial rank, she entreated that,
instead of devoting this sum to her own
personal adornment, she might be allowed to
“consecrate it to the foundation of an estab
lishment for the professional education of
poor young girls,” who, though possibly
welT born, and gifted with some talent, are
precluded from the honest exercise of the
latter by lack of special training essential to
its development. Nor was this the only
sign of beneficence given by the newly wed
ded Empress, for the Emperor having placed
in the Corbeille de Manage a earn of $50,-
000, her Majesty divided the whole of it for
the double and humane purpose of increasing
the hospital accommodations of Paris, and of
alleviating the wants felt by various mate
rial societies in that city. From the mo
ment that she became bis wife, the Empress
associated herself with all that was good and
glorious iD the career of Napoleon 111., and
whether during bis Italian campaign, when
her intelligent sympathy invariably displayed
itself by Government measures at borne, or
whether as the companion of bis various
progresses through France, or in the moment
of immediate danger—such as that which
threatened his life at the beginning of the
year 1858, or in more recent days, such as
those plague-stricken ones when Amiens
was devastated by cholera—the Empress
Eugenie has invariably manifested heroic
characteristics, a lofty courage, a grand
power of endurance, a spirit of self-sacrifice
which none but those who personally knew
her best would expect from so fragile look
ing a being, from one so radiaut in the
midst of brilliant festivities inaugurated by
her, or one so adored whenever appearing in
the midst of Paris outside her own palace
walls—that Paris which her imperial con
sort fennd made of brick, but left built in
marble.
WheD by the speech already receded Na
be one of the most courageous supporters, he
uttered u prediction which has been fulfilled
by her beyond even what could have been
his most ardent expectations ; for, though
strangely prophetic of many things that have
come to pass, he could not have anticipated
the sudden and overwhelming storm which
would peimanently dose his reign, and call
forth on the part of the Empress those char
acteristics which could never hove been dis
played to the whole world save in the day of
such danger that natures of a less exalted
type would recoil before it. When, true to
the spirit of her own brave Spanish ancestry,
and speaking the words of Queen Marie
A ntoinette—speaking those words in the
very palace where that fair Queen of France
had uttered them—the Empress Eugenie de
clared that she would “rather be nailed to
the walls than fly,” she was even in greuter
danger than was the high-souled daughter of
the heroic Maria Theresa before her forced
departure from the Tuileries. Near the
Empress, when the maddened and infuriated
mob CHme pressing nnward toward that pal
ace, was no crowd of armed defenders, no
husband to sustain her. She was afone with
one lady attendant, her leetric". when the
probability of her terrible and immediate
danger was suddenly imparted to her by a
devoted adherent of the Imperial throne, but
who, even for the sake of the Empress her
self, was compelled to depart the moment
after his word of warning hud been uttered.
There was not a moment to spare, the cour
age of the Empress wus undaunted, but, just
then, utterly unprotected though she was,
the safely ol others not present was involved
with her own. She could not (ail to remem
ber, by a painfully vivid flash of memory,
that in case of mortal reverses ensuing to
her absent husband, the hope of a future for
the Prince Imperial rested in her decision at
this unforeseen instant, when everything of
most solemn import, not only to herself but
to those she loved far herself, de
pended on her discretion. Wherefore, just
as the murderous mob approached the con
test of the Tuilei ies, the Empress departed
from it into the ancient Palace of the Louvre,
front which Ibttro was still possibly a com
paratively safe exit for her and her faithful
lady attendant, whose privilege it was to
share the danger of her gentle, though Im
perial mistress. Fortunately they weieboth
in outdoor costume when the alarm was
given to them, and, by the help ol a thick
veil, the Empress might yet hope to pass out
in the street through the portal of the
Louvre, near which she at length found her
self. But, for a moment, there was an
agonized suspense, the key—the key by
which alone this portal could be opened
from the inside—wus missing from the place
where it was usually to be found. The Em
press neither screamed nor fainted, though
there was not an instant to be lost, and even
more than her life depended upon her instant
escape. But the key was found on the floor
where it hail fallen. The heavy portul of
the Louvre, on the Seine side of that antique
and historic edifice, turned on its hinges, the
veiled Empress und her attendant stepped
into the street and hailed a cab. A little
fellow, one of those sharp street boys, called
nut in his shrill tones while pointing to h< r
Majesty “There is the Empress!” but Eu
genie escaped from the city.
The sudden nature of the event? which
forcibly prevented the return of the Emperor
Napoleon 111. to France, and banished the
Empress Eugenie, only brought forth those
noble qualities which the Emperor had dis
cerned in her when he first presented her to
his people as the wife of his choice, who
would grace the throne in time of peace and
uphold its honor in time of dunger. She lias
done so. Even in her voyages she has done
much not only for France but for the world
at large. It seems but the other day that
she was floating up the Nile, and illamining
the Eust with her presence. But these and
other journeys were not undertaken by. her
for the mere purpose of personal amusement,
or even in search of health, for tach one of
them, more or less, involved a political pur
pose for some desired benefit to France. The
same may be said in regard to the Universal
Exposition of 1868, when she degiied that
Malmaison should be reproduced as fur as
possible, together with the Little Triavon,
just as both these historic abodes bad been
wbeD the ex-Empress Josephine wept in the
one, and the youthful Marie Antoinette, un
conscious of the tragic times in store for
her, smiled, radiant with happiness, in the
other.
As a mother the Empress Eugenie has
proved herself worthy of her high missioo,
aud of the solemn trust reposed io her; for,
however gcutie her character, however ten
der her general disposition, she never jbrauk
from enforcing the discipline essential to the
education of her son iti» i '.•
(xiandfatlier Hmdetie’s Lec
ture* to Young Men.
Don't judge a man by his clothes. Can
you tell what the circus is going to tie like,
by looking at the Italian sunset pictures on
the fence ? Do you value « turkey for its
plumage? And isn’t (he skin of the mink
the most, and, indeed, the only valuable part
of him? There be men. loir to look upon
who wander up and down this eountry, and
sit in the coolest places on the hotel piazza*,
who are arrayed in fine linens and cardinal
socks, and who have to hold their hand over
their scarf pin when they want-to see the
moonlight, who, unassisted and unprompted,
do not possess the discretion to come in
when it ruins, and don’t know enough to
punch a hole in the snow with an umbrella—
new, soft snow at that, without any crust on
it. Now and then, son, hefoie you are as
old as Methusuleh, you will meet a man who
wears a hat that is worth twice as much as
the head it covers. On the other hand don’t
fall into the error of believiug that all rbe
goodness, and honesty, and intelligence in
the world goes about in shreds and patches.
We have seen r. tramp, dressed in more rags
than yon could rukti out of the family rag
bag, and with more dirt and hair on him
than would suffice to protect a horse, who
would step up to the Iront door and demand
three kinds of cuke, halt a pie, some black
coffee and vanilla ice cream, and then steal
every movuble thing in the yard, kill the
dog, choke up the pump with sand, tramp on
the pansy bed and girdle the cherry trees
because he couldn’t carry them Hwuy. Good
clothes or bad, my son, they are never an
infallible index to a man that is in them.
ADVICE
Young man, when you see anything you
want, usk for it like ain in. II you want to
borrow fivo dollars of a' man, or if you crfHy
want to marry bis daughter, don’t sidle up
to him und hang onto your hat and talk pol
itics and religion and tell old stale jokes,
whereof you ean’t remember the point, until
you worry the old man into a nervous irriiu
tion. Go at him with a full head of steam
on, and your how ports open like an iron
clad pulling for a shore battery. Snort und
paw und shake your head if you feel it, no
matter if it does make him look astonished.
Better astonish him than bore him. Go into
bis heart or his pockelbook, or both, (it
amounts to the same thing,) like a brindle
bull with a curl in his forehead, charging a
red merino dress, eyes on fire, tail up and
dust a flying. Then you’ll fetch him. Or,
possibly, be may fetch you. But never
mind, you’ll accomplish something and show
you aren’t afraid to speak what’s on yonr
mind. And Unit's a great deal more than
you’ll accomplish by the other method. You
needn’t be cheeky, but yon ought to be
straightforward.
TUB FIRST WRKSTI.B WITH A BTOVH-FIPK HAT
Yes ray son. you me correct. The first
time yon wear a stove-pipe hat, everybody
looks at yon. Not, as you may vainly
imagine, because yon are th.> first young
man who ever wore a stove-pipe tint, hot be
cause it is apparent even to the old blind
man who sits in the back pew, without any
cushion in it, away back under the gallery
where the poor have the gospel preached at
them, that it is the first time you ever wore
a hat of that description. Your old father
claps one on the back of his head, pots his
bands into bis pockets, holds up bis head and
walks off down the streets in a gale of wind
and never thinks of his bat. But you, sou,
you pull yours on at the most graceful angle
it cun be posed, and you go teetering aloog,
both bands ready to fly at the hat at the
slightest provocation of the ghostliest phan
tom of a puff of wind. You don’t look com
fortable, 800. Your bat is ulways trying to
come off ; you bump it against everything
you pass ; you rub it the wrong way when
you try to brusli the dint off it ; when you
curry it in year hand up the aisle, everybody
smiles, because you first hold it by the brim
and let the crown tip gracefully over your
arm, and by the time you have bit three or
four worshippers on the head with it, you
change and turn it under your arm and try
to carry it that way without touching it,
and the first thing you do in that pose, you
put a woman’s eye out with your elbow.
Then when you sit down, you put the hat
down on the floor, setting it on the brim; a
fatal mistake. And then before the sermon
is half through, you pot your feet on it three
times. Bui never mind ; you have to learn
some time. Only don't imagine that people
never saw anything of the kind before; be
cause they have And finally, son, if you
are ooly five feet three inches tall, don’t
think that a bat three feet five inches high
improves your appearance or makes you look
taller. Because it doesn’t. It may make
you look as though you clerked in e second-
<•- rf-oyocie— *nat sue win never get 1 oJ
wear it sn natnrally that it will become you<
Bat the first time oh. my son, my son I
ADVICK.TO A YOUNG MAN—A GRADUATE, FOE
INSTANCE.
And then remember, son. that the world
is older than you are, by several years ; that
for thousai ds of years it bus been so foil of
smaller and better young men than yourself
that their feet stuck out ot the dormer win
dows ; that when they died the old globe
went whirling on, and not one man in teil
million went to the funeral or even heard of
the death. Be us smart as yon can, of
course. Know as much as you eao, without
blowing the packing out of your cylinder
heads ; shed the light of your wisdom abroad
in tiie world, but don't dazzle people with it.
And don’t imagine u thing is so simply be
cause yen say it is. Don’t be too sorry for
your father because he knows so much less
than you do; remember the reply of Dri
Wavlund to the student of Brown University,
who said it was an easy enough thing to
make proverbs such as Solomon wrote.
" Make a few,” tersely replied the old mao.
And we never heard thut the young man
made any. Not moro than two or three,
anyhow. The world has great need of young
men, but no greater need than the young
men have of it. Your clothes fit you better
than your father's tit hirn ; they cost more
money, they are more stylish, your mustache
is neater, the cut of your hair is better, and
you are prettier, oh, for prettier, than “pa.”
But, young man, the old gentleman gets the
biggest salary, und his homely, scrambling
signature on the business end of a check will
drain more money out of the bank in five
minutes than you could get out with a ream
of paper and a copper plate signature ib si*
months. Young men are useful, son, and
they are ornamental, and we all love them,
und wc couldn’t engineer a pic-mc success
fully without them. But they are not nov
elties, soil. Oh. uo, nothing of the kind.
They have been here belore. Don’t be so
modest us to shut yourself clear out; bat
don’t be so fresh you will huve to be put
uwuy in the cool to keep from spoiling.
Don’t be afraid that your merit w l| not ba
diicovered. People all over the world are
hunting for you, and if you are worth finding
they will find vou. A diamond isn’t so
easily found as a quartz pebble, but people
search for it all the more intently.
THE DEAD HEAT.
Hon of mine, hast thou seen the dead-*
beat ? Yea, thon hast seen him, for he is
before thee continually.
He invadetb every sanctuary; into the
church he crawleth. und lurketb in the the
atre ; his lair is the corner of a gin-shop,
and where the lunch is he thrivetb exceed
ingly.
Where monpy is not asked there he wax
eth. hut where money is rtq tired he waoeth.
He hath no coin of his own ; he" toileth
not for lucre; he liveth off mankind; he
will not Agfa', yet nourisheth his carcass by
sparring.
In the boarding-house he groweth like a
night-blooming hoosier; but he fatteneth
like a pigtail on rat tongnes, in the twilight
of the whiskey den. 1
Yea, where the stench of cocktails is,
there lie hiccupeth in loathsome glory.
In the crib of death, in the nest of the
bar-keeper be maketh his dwelling ; among’
the barrels he lorketh, and eyeth bis prey
through the barley on their covers.
He licketb the taps with his tongue and
gropeth among the saw-dust lor the crumb*
of the lunch table.
He noseth a cigar stamp afar off. and jnmp
eth for it as a thief of China goeth for a
sleeping chicken.
But above all things, yea, above his love
of gherkins, be liketh the poison of the bottle.
Julip of mint, gin of sling, smash of
brandy, rum of punch, and champagne of
cider, he lovetb exceedingly ; but be re—
joieeth most in aqua furtis.
He taketh aqua forti* straight and' riseth
onto Heaven as it burneth into bis bowels.
He careth nought for his tabernacle ; be
liveth to strain fiie-water through his kid
neys, and to make a swill-tub of bis stom
ach.
His intestines are stills ; yea, his whole
machinery a distillery ; he is nothing but a
snoating mash-bucket.
His carcass is the carcass of a swollen
dog ; his mrad is less than the beetle’s ; bis
soul is the soul of a jackass.
My sou. beware of the dead-beat; if tbou
art green lie will prove tbee greener ; if tbou
taketb him for a fi-h he will play thee for a
Sounder.
Strang* that nobody ever tried the effect
of a barber’s breath on the potato bog. It’s
a pretty bard remedy, but eometbing must
be doDe.
remark that the Jersey variety tfas not
NO. 3