The Dawson weekly journal. (Dawson, Ga.) 1868-1878, April 14, 1870, Image 1
THE DAWSON WEEKLY JOURNAL. BI S. R. WESTON. S;iwsoa ciletklß loimul, POULISUID EVERT TIICBBWT. rrn Strictly hi Meant*. Three * Si* 2 00 Ois ve ar •• • • advertising RATES : ONE MOSTH. TWO MONTHS. THREE m’tHS. SIX MONTHS. O\K YEAR. Ko. squ’m- $ 3 00 $ 5 0" # 7 00 fl 2 50 S2O 500 7 50 10 00 IS 00 25 00 7 00 10 00 12 00 20 00 30 00 9 oo 12 00 1 5 0 0 2 5 00 4 0 00 10 00 18 00 415 00 40 OO 00 00 pd 15 00 25 00 35 OO 00 00 110 00 1 coi. |250040 00 00 00,110 Ooj2oo 00 lo Advcrlhers ;—The looney for ad vortisiug considered due after first iuscr- Alvertlseraents inserled at intervals to be eharired as new each insertion. An'additional charge of 10 per cent will bsmade ou advertisements ordered to be in wrwd on a particular page. Advertisements under the head of Spe cial Solices” will be inserted for 15 cents ncr line, for the first insertion, and 10 cents per line’for etch subsequent insertion. Advertisements in the “ Local Column," wiil he inserted at 20 cents per line for the first, aud 15 cent-per line for each subse quent insertion. All communications or letters on business liWidrJ for this office should be addressed " Tut DaxtsoS JoCRSaL ” rail-road guide;. Ksiilrwttd I*:»a sesiger 'BTuiJi*. fiOLT, I’rcs. | VIRGIL POWER, Sa p LriT.rM.cnn R : r 'o *. M. Arrive .tEufaula '2 l * I’ H. Leave Euiaula 7:20 a. u. Arrive at Mac*n 4:.i0 P. M ConneeOng wi h Ai-nmv branch train al .Ruithvi le, aiui with Kurt Caines biauch tiain at 6'ut'nber. aertULA NI OUT ASH ACC.IMMOIiATIOS TRAINS Leave Jfaeon 8-25 p. M. Arriv at Eufula 11 :<'« a m Leave Eu'au'a. 7:IS P. M. Arr.ve a.Vmon 9:ln a. u. Connect at .S.nithv lie wiili \1 any ir.in oi j jf„- a,v, Tuesday, Thu- “day ond K'idav | iiirhis, So train I’hs.-s ou Sa urday nights. j CoLtIMR'JK PaSSKNUKR TKAIKK. Leave d/.co 7:25 a m. ! Arrive ai f.'yiii'nbus 1:22 P o. Lnve Columbus i 2 25 P. M Arrive ai M con tbt'.i P. 11. CoLI'KBUS NIOHT PASSKNUr.P. TRAIN Le.vt» Ma. cn 7:10 p. m Arrive At Columbus 5:05 a. v : L«.ve Gnlunihus 7:(»u p m. \ Arrive at J/.cou 4:43 a. m. i natron and Rmurwirk l*sxi.s:':i ger 'l'i'iiiiiv. GEO. W lIAZELUCUdr, President. Leave Macon .9:15 a. m A-iive n> B'un.aick ln:2n p xi l.v.ve firt:u.wick •....4'30 A* ai Arrive at M con 7: jo F. M TRAINS TO HA-KI.NSVII.LK Leaves M icon 3:00 P. M Arrivr a! Hawkinwille *3:3>l r M L-aw ll.wkiusvillc 7: ,| ti a m Anire »t M.con <3:15 a. xi Thin train i mis daily, Sundays excepted Western & Aiiaiatic liailniiid. FOSTER BLODGETT, Sup’t. VlflHT I’aSHKNUK.R THAI N l.e.ve Atlarna ..7 OOP V Arrive at Chattanooga 3.3 b A V Lure Chattanooga 7 150 P. V Arrive at Atlanta •..! 1-1 A. V. I'AY I'ASSENtiEK TRAIN. Reive Atlanta 5 A. V Arrive at Chattanooga 4 2 1 P. V Leave Chattanooga 7.10 A. M Arrive at Atlanta 3.17 P. M Dalton accomkndati "ti. Guts Atlanta 3.10 P V ArriTe at Dalton 11.35 I’. II ■*»*e Dalton 2.00 A. V Arrive at Atlanta 11 00 A. M mu Nt B iarywta Uroffssiomil (Sard#. K. F. SIMMONS, attorney at law, gj. I )LOMPT attention given to all business ■*- intrusted to his care. augf> 9:tf *• B - "'OOTKN. L. C. UOTLR. WOOTEN & HOYLE, Attorneys at I.aw, T AMIFSO.r,OJ. J»a 6-lr. R-w.davis, Attorney at Law, n«nwßo*f\ 6J. kSSTOfBce over J. B. Perry’a Store. Dec ‘23rd, ’69. ts. c. W. WARWICK, y at Law and Solicitor in Equity, smith ville, aa. la circufu Ct n* 5, " ,,h Western and Patau s’ promptly remitted. K ' J - wARR EN, attorney at law, . . . t,(. Dawson Business Directory, l»ry tMiodv Hcrclnml*. . DIIRSEY A Healers in J J Dry Goods, Groceiics and yjardware, -'/tin street. ( 111111, A TICKIIR, Dealers in all Y dkiudsof Drv Goods mid Groceries. Main Street. KI T.UIR, .IVCOII, Dealer in all kinds of Dry Good., Mam street. IOYLIiSS A GKiri im, Dealers J in Stuple Dry Goods and Groceries ulso j and Commission .Verchants, J/iin Street, \ | eKIINNEY Ai CROUCH, |i v 1 Dealers in Urv Goods, Clo'hing, Staple Goods and Family Groceries, A/ain street. (YJiSt, \V. E. Dealer in Fancy andsta- A pie Drv Goods, Maiigst., under ‘‘Jour ( nal” Pi luting Office. 5 )Ui;s*l.S>, w. H., Dealer in fliaplo ■ * and Fancy Dry Goods, Main street. Grocery llcrcliiiiits \ RTBSEHS, S. !>., Dealer in Groceries iland Family Supplies. J/ain Street. I.TO\, .1. A., Warehouse and Commission Merchant, and Dealer in Ba con, Flour, Meal and Provisions generally, at Sharpe & Brown’s old stand, Main st. PARSUU, FIMItPU A GO.. i Dealers in Dry Goods, Groceries, and Plantation Supplies. i 1 KEEK A M7IYIO\S, Giorery V J and Provision Dealeiß, South side Pub lic Square. HOOD, If. SI., Dealer in Groceries and Family supplies generally, 2ud door to 'Journal” Office, Main st. \ I i'&V.l-lj, 81. C. A Go. Grocery and avi /’rovisiou dealers. Next door to the Ho tel Alain Street, Dawson. i'Ari:iui*.!s. S'X ?I 77 .ITU A 41, C. A., Druggist and YL Physician. Keeps a good supply of Drugs and Medicines, and prescribes for all the ills that flesh is heir to. At his old stand, the Red Drug Store, Main st I AXES A EOVS.ESS, Dealers in *} Drugs, Jfedicines, Oils, Paints, Dye S:ufis, Go den Seed, &c., &c. BA KERY. I I. 50L.0.120.Y, B.ker, Confeo e/ . lioucr, and dealer in Family Groceries Fish and Ovsters, J/aiu Street, next to J. W. Roberts & Cos. i*M KStCIANS. ff ODIGTT W. 18. I’.ac'ieing Phy i I “ician. and Surgeon. Office at Cheat - .a.i.’s Ring Sure. ? v! t*. .». W. IMK’E A 5,0^, 1/ ihinkmi for past, ptrironage bv do-c .Mention and moderate charges hope to re •••ive a conMiiuai.ee of the snnr. Office, D,. Gilpin's old siand. j >u 13, <f. V.olcli ai< p:tirfr. V8.5.81M, ’."OSi'S F*., wiil , epair Wa'cites. Clocks, Jewelry, .Vu«lc Books, Acco dions, Ac , alw ,vs tube found at his old stand, on North sije of Public Square. Eivtfi'y SS!»J>sa:n. In A 553 tSka*S7. Sale 1 and Feed So.ble. Horses and J/ul s lor sale. Horses boarded. North side Pub ic Square. ISASt-EISfOJI. !)1T \y V ts I), Dealer in Fine Wines, 1 Brand! s. Whiskies, L<ger Beer, Ac, West side public Siniare, Main street. O. 11. ADAMS, It. K. WASHnt'RN, A A. ADAMS. Eatouton, Ga. Savannah, (*a. AmeiicuSjGa. ADAMS. Wile JX& & CO. FACTOII3 —jl*d— Commission Hcrcliants, No. 3, Stoddard’s Lower Range, ay13’69,8n Sin am ah, Ga Alk’.a IT Cpi.qi’iTT, Jamks Baous, Baker County, Ga. Newton, U*. llLMlii 11. Col-QIIITT, SiVauliah, Ga. COLQUITT & BACCS, COTTON FACTORS & GENERAL COM MISSION MERCH ANTS. Bay fctreef, Savamiali, Ga. Special a'tention to the sale of Colton, Lumber and Timber. Liberal advances on Consignments. maj6;tf brown house. E. E, BROW.Ii A SO.Y, Fourth St., Opposite Passergrr Depot .fI.TCOiI, GCOi'fjStt' r pHI3 House having lately been refitted L and repaired, and is now one of the best Hotels iu the State, and the most conve nient in the city. The table is supplied with everything the market aflords. feblS t>9 LYON, DeGKAFFENSEU) & HO IN, jlTTO&pty? JIT MW, Jlacon, - - - Georgia . YITILL give attention to Professional Iliiai- VV ness in the Macon, .South-western, and Pat aula Circuits; in the U. S. Courts in Sa vannah and Atlanta; and by Special Con tract in any p»rt of the State. Sept. 83, ’6# ; ly- X* COHEN So GO. IMPORTERS OF. Brandies, lines. Gins, Segars, and dealers in RYE, BO'JRBON ADD MONONGAHELA WHISKY, Also Manufacturers of the Celebrated StoncAvall IJitter^, If 'hit,hall St,. •Manta, Ga. DAWSON, GA., THURSDAY, APRIL 14, 1870. SELEGTED POETRY. Tin? Ut‘U4>r Part BT ESSIE H. CHKKDSBOHOUGH. “ irhat would I bo?” snid a beautiful As she shojk the curls from her fuee; ‘lll toll you : I’d be the belle of the ball, And move with imperial gr«oo, ! ‘l’d glory to see men ut my feet, .ts 1 swept by iu satin and pearls ; My eyes should be azure, aud golden tlie rays Thrown out from my lustrous curls.” “What would l be ?” said a maiden fair. And thoughtful the light in her eyes ; - “I’d write stirring words, I’d bring out the spell | That in poesy’s sweet harmony lies, j I’d rouse up the heart with my melody sweet, *4ud nerve men by words true aud strong, -4nd gather the tribute of piaiseand of fame That ever tojenius belong.” “ JHiat would 1 be ?” said ageulleone, .-/nd she smiled with a heavenly grace ; ‘‘l’d biuu up the wounds, and wipe all the tears From poverty’s thin, pallid face. I’d scatter my gold iu the paths of the poor ; None should hunger aud none should be sad ; I'd throw precious gifts, like incense, around, And make every heart young and glad’” Ah the seraph stood by, he said, with a smile. . As h(f krsfH*d the last speaker’s face, “Thou hast chosen the mission w hich angels love To perform it may God give thee grace. For 7 J leasure is vain, and Beauty must die, >4nd genius (lies never to rise; But Charity shines the bright gem of the earth -dud glows brighter when set in the skies.” [From the Register. | Shall We? HX NELLY MARSHALL* Shall we, wlieu we go to sleep, In the quiet of the grave, Cease to smile and cease to weep ? Shall we care for anything, That we loved and thought was sweet, When we lived and breathed and moved i Or will Oblivion be complete i Will we sigh a»d feel and weep All we feel aud weep for here i Or will wc sleep, aud only sleep ? And never know a smile nor tear i Do the dead e’er talk together ? Do they love ? .dud do they hate? Or are they only lying there In cold and silent state ? Bliall we, when wego among them, Know our dead < our “gone before” ? * Or will we too lie desolate, Aud breathe aud smile no more? Shall we when the trump is sounding, Smile to hear its echoes tell “Judnient Day” is come at last? Shall we feel with us ’tis well ? Shall we ? Shall wc ? Uho can tell MISCELLANEOUS. From the Southern Home. Just Before the Surrender Sopliie aud 1 sat iu the break last room ono bright balmy morning, waiting the entrance of the gentlemen. Sophie’s dainty slippered feet rested upon the lender, before the glowing lire ; for, although it was spring time, the mornings were bracingly tool. Her little hands lay idly in her lap, and site was gazing into the lire with a dreamy look, as though indulging in a pleasant reverie. 1 was reading the morning paper, and Seip stood with his salver, beside the hissing urn, as motionless as Calhoun’s bust on the bracket shelf behind him. But here come the gentlemen, with cherry voices aud ijuick steps, along the ech oing hall. Two of them are our guests, Gen. Enron and Major Tal ford, and the other my father, Col. Cliesney. The usual gay greetings were exchanged and Maj. Tailor;,L managed, with his accustomed adroit ness, to secure a seat beside Sophie. I had not seen papa before that morning, and I went up for my morn ing kiss. Although smiling, ho was paler than usual, and there wajfca fixed pre-i c. upiod look in his ej’es, which convinced me that there was some trouble on hand. My love for my father was like that of Madame de Staid for the good old Necker, and my patriotism, too, like hers, was one of the ruling principles of my life; and therefore I thought 1 understood the feelings of that gifted woman, when she exclaimed, in her dying hour, “I have loved my God, my fa ther and my country 1” So I forgot tho usual pleasure altordod me by the racy conversation of Gen Huron : for got the pretty love-making going on between Maj Talford and Sophie, and racked my brain to find out what was the trouble with my dear father. Breakfast over, 1 followed papa to the library. 1 looked mutely into his face, fori disliked to ask a direct question. “Yes, my child,” said lie, drawing me towards him, “you must call up all j your courage and fortitude ; for I am , obliged to leave you. I am ordered j to defend the ford at D. Sherman’s 1 army burned Columbia last night, and are advancing in this direction.” I was cold as 1 listened. “You must con- | ceal all your valuables, and if possi- ; hie some provisions. The house will probably bo burned, and you and So-1 phie must try, if possible, to reach vour grandmother’s before to-morrow night. Their place is so se.luded that I think it is scarcely possible that the Yankees will reach it.” “When will you leave, papa?” I asked, for this news of his departure was the most terrible of all to me. “This morning, on the eleven o’clock train ; so there is no time for me to lose. Scip has promised me to drive the ca-riage for you to your grand mother’s, and I think he will be faith fid, My valuable papers I have placed in a tin box, which you will find upon my dressing table. Take it with you, and got your uncle Herbert to place it in some secure position.” I listened to all those instructions with a weight upon my heart But the carriage was now at the door to take papa and the other gentlemen to “Get your cloak aud hat, tny darl ing, and ride with me to tho station.” I gladly obeyed, for ovory moment with him was precious. On reaching the station, a confused scone presoutod itself. A crowd of ladies wore on tho platform, bidding adieu —-perhaps a last adieu—to their nearest and dear est. My Aunt Edith was there to say farewell to my father. Her husband had been killed in battle a year pre vious, and she held tho hand of her orphan boy, Charlie, as she joined us. Her eldest son was in the army. “1 will stay with Bessie and So phie,” weru tho first words she spoke, as she clasped her arms around her biother’s neck. “God bless you, Edith,” lie an swered, with broken voice. “I know you would.” A shout from tho soldiers attracted our attention—a,‘mraloade yf Confed erate oiucors wore approaching on horseback. “Look! look !” exclaimed little Charlie, with all a child’s enthusiasm, “It is Gen.—, and Gen.—, aud Col. ; aud oh, mamma, there is Harry !” It was, indeed, my cousin Harry, Aunt Edith’s eldfst son. He was riding the splendid horse which we all knew and loved as a member of the family. Upon tho buck of this noble animal, Harry’s lather had been shot and had fallen dead from the saddle. The horse’s name was Loon, and as Harry rode up to the platform, Iris mother stopped to kiss him, while Charlie threw his little arms around Leon’s head. “Oh Harry,” said I, “what nows do you bring ?” “Nothing good, dear Bessie,” said he, shaking his head—what a sad, yearning look was in his largo blue eyes—despair was written tlioro Os all the sad things in the war, this breaking down of youthful hope and enthusiasm was tho saddest. My fa thcr’s stem fortitude looked death and defeat calmly in the face, for tho vi cissitudes of life had tuught him to prepare for the worst; but Harry and all the noble, chivalrous boys at the South counted upon ultimate victory as n certainty. Surely, they thought, Christians liko Jackson and Lee, could not make the mistake of light ing in an unholy cause and surely God would be with the right. “Uh Harry,” said Charlie, you must not ride Leon, where the Yan kees will shoot him.” “Leon’s life is a small considera tion, Charlie,” said Aunt Edith, her lips trembling as she thought of her darling Harry’s being exposed to tho same deadly missiles. And now too, when all knew that they were fight ing without hope ! Nothing I noth ing 1 to gain, and life only to lose ! Jiut the moment of parting comes j —my lather clasps me silently in his . arms—lie cannot speak. Harry says, “I will see you again, mamma and Bessie—l am not to leave until next train,” and gallops oil to his place at Uen. s side. “Now Bessie, to the church,” says • Aunt Edith, drawing my arms within hors, “prayer is our only hope.” Again we encounter a crowd of j pale, tearful women at the church door. Ah, I fear there was rebellion in our prayers that day. \\ o felt as if wo could not bear the storm that was approaching. Sureiy (io.i would hear tiie agonized supplications ot his ! people. 1 verily behove that He did hear and answer, hut not in the .way : we expected When Aunt Edith and 1 reached home, we found Sophie playing an air of Meiideisohn’s, softly and sweet- j ly, as though putting her own happy thoughts in the uotes, and as uncoil scums of impending danger as the eat 1 which purred at her leet. “We need not tell her, ’ said Aunt Edith, “troubles come to all soon enough. You and 1 will be able to j make all the necessary arrangements for our journey to-morrow.” Wo dared not trust any of our servants everything must be done secretly. But I called Aunt Dinah to my room, and gave everything which we were obliged to leave into her care. Her husband and six stout grown sons ■ could do much towards protecting my father’s property if they were so dis posed. “You may depend upon mo, Miss Bessie,” said Aunt Dinali. “1 won t deceive you, ma’m —my sons want to he free, but we love our master too, for he has been kind to us, and his forefathers to our forefathers, and wo will he faithful to you; but if God gives us our freedom, we will take it and be thankful. But it is not for the want of love to you, Miss Bessie, continued she, bursting into sobs, “lor you hhvc been as dear to me as one of my own children, ever since 1 nursed ! you at my breast, when your dear mother died.” That night was a sleepless one to mo and Aunt Edith. We walked through all the rooms, thinking we would never see the dear old house again, for the torch was Sherman’s principal weapon—burn the houses, turn out the women and children, to perish with cold and hunger—con quer the men by destroying all they have to live for. Scip had the carriage at the door by dawn, and we set out for my grand-mother’s. We were heavily loaded—Aunt Edith and I, Sophie and Charlie and Scip, besides a large trunk and any number of valiees. Just as wo were starting, our neigh bor, Mr. C. rode up to us and said he feared the Yankee troops would cross the river at the ford, nnd in that case we would meet them. - With this fear filling our hearts we traveled all lay Even *•’ phiv j. and 1 t'd anxiously forward. But we trav [ eled all day without encountering any , danger. Night came on, and still wo j wore ten miles from my grandmoth ! er’s. Our poor horses were almost exhausted, and Scrip advised us to try to procure others at some of the plan tations we passed. “Here is Mr. Toomor's ma’am,” said lie, “1 am sure lie will let you have a pair of horses to take us over to old missus’s. It is only ten utiles, and 1 can bring ’em back in the morning.” We stopped at the gato, and Airs. Toomer, on hearing Snip’s request, came out to the gate with a lamp iu her Ittunl, and her young daughter, Lucy, with her. l’ale, tearful faces again ! “My dear Miss Chesney,” said she, ‘there is not a horse on our place. Mr. Toomer lias removed them all to a safer place, aud he himself is at the ford with your father. Wo are ex pecting the Yankees every moment — a detachment of them were at AI. this morning, and are expected to take this road to . Tlmre is no one here but Lucy and myselfj and the servants, she added, as her voice fail ed otnirely. “But take tills lamp, Alias Ches ney,” said Lucy, with her sweet bird like voice, “there is no moon to-night and the road is bad in places.” “Will you not stay with us to night 7” said Air. Toomer, “you can go on in the morning to your grand mother’s.” “Oh no,” said Sophie with a half smile, “thank you, dear Airs Toomer. hut wo are too much afraid of the Yankees.” 4 Y r es,” said Airs. Tuonror, smiling also, but tho smile was accompanied by a long tremulous sigh, “you are right; your granilmother’s place is much safer.” Seip placed tho lamp so as to throw the light on the track below, and wo journeyed on in the darkness. But we had not gone two miles when a terrible crash and jolt brought us to a stand still—one wheel xvas com pletely crushed. There was nothing now for it, but to walk the remaining eight miles, wearied as wo were with the long day’s journey. We had bee'n told that the woods wore tilled with deserters from both armies. Seip was obliged to remain with the carriage to protect our property, for our trunk aud valises were tilled with jewels and other precious commodi ties. Many of our friends had begged us to hike charge of their valuables, and our being so heavily loaded was the cause of our breakdown. It was the darkest night I ever remember to have seen, hut wc were all familiar with tlie road, and tho lamp gave suf ficient light to enable us to find it. We readied my grandmother’s by twelve o’clock mid found lny grand mother and uncle Herbert were Loth watching fyr us—wo had written them that we were coming. Aly Uncle Herbert was a disabled soldier, hav- I ing lost his leg during the first year ot the war. Nothing but his utter inability to mount a horse could have kept him out of the service. Nut being able to fight, lie said his next duty was to raise provisions for those xvlio could, an 1 nobly ho strug gled through xviud and storm, rain and snoxx' —and from daxxm until dark, ! to carry out his purpose. No planta- ! tion sent larger supplies to the army I in proportion to its force than did j Chesney Wold. We found the coffee xvaiting for us : hot and strong, and a delicious supper | for Aunt l’atsy xvas not yet free, and then did her duty in her place in this xvork-a-dny xvorltl. We xvere so tired, and slept so soundly that the Yankees might have almost hurdl'd the house down over our heads, xvithont xvaking : us. A xvagon was sent to Slip’s re lief. Wo rose early the next morning, lioxvever, for much xvas to bo done in anticipation of a possible visit from the Yankees Everything valuable xvas to be concealed The negroes | themselves were to conceal and take care of the provisions, hut everything , in the house, plate, jewels, money, i Ac., xvas to be secreted by ourselves. 1 Long xvere our xvhi-pered consultations 1 about the best hiding places. The 1 plate xvas buried one dark rainy night j by uncle Herbert lyul myself—he hav- I ing (lug the hole previously and con- | vexed away the earth, throwing it by basketfuls into a stream near by. Vv e placed the articles in, one by one, in silence, each endeared to nie by long familiarity and numberless childish: and youthful associations. Uncle Herbert then covered them until earth, and 1 felt as if 1 were | standing by a grave. Aunt Edith concealed her diamonds, by making them into a package and winding yarn around them, until it looked like a simple hull of yarn from which she was knitting a sock. Sophie thought herself very canning, when she con- ; coaled her tiny, enameled, gem-one- j rusted watch, with its chain and trin kets, in her hack hair, winding the glossy coil above it and seeming it firmly with hair pins. Various were the squirrel nests, in hollow trees, filled with sets of pearl, ruby, cameo, and coral, and the little fairy denizens of the woods must have wondered much at the morocco and velvet cases around which they capered in the knavled old trunks. When everything was done, we waited and watched anxiously for ti diivs—looking with wistful eyes, out of doors and windows, expecting, ho ping, fearing, praying. ' One evening just at dark, a party of ers and sons. Tt proved to be Maj. Talford, Maj. Herndon and < 'apt St. John. Sophie hung back, behind us nil, hut her sweet face was rosy with pleasure. But 1 supjioso in my grave, anxious eyes, Maj. Talford saw the question “What doost thou here, Eli jah'! 1 ” and lie hastened to dtiplain that Gen. ’s command was encamped ut Comer Hill, two miles oft', and ho and his friends had obtained permis sion to come over and spend the even ing with us. They brought hut little news—rumors tlmre were iu plenty, hut so various and conllicting, that no reliance could he placed upon them. Aly Father was still at tlie Ford, aud the Yankees had not attempted to cross. There was a strange mixture of trouble and happiness in Aluj. Tal ford’s fine face—happiness when his eyes rested upon the gentle girl at his side, who so tally returned his love for her, and trouble when thinking of the gathering clouds which were so surely to burst over our devoted heads. Maj. Herndon and Cupt St. John were thorough men of the world, both raised in Northern cities, although faithful citizens of the South ut pres ent. If the solid earth had been quaking under their feet they would have bowed and smiled with their wonted grace, and conducted them selves with their accustomed savoir faire 1 had no heart to listen to their elegant nonsenco —my father’s life was poossibly in danger, and my coun try was more than probably in the last throes of a nation’s dissolution. I withdrew as soon as I could do so with propriety, and spent the night in tears and prayer. Ah how many heart-stricken Southern women wore similarly engaged ! But there was two much self-will in our supplications. \V r e did not realizo that our national iniquity, like that of tho Amorites, was now full, and that the hour of re tribution had come. Not that tlioso chosen to inflict our punishment wore less guilty than we : —tho Philistines were sent by God to scourge Ids cho sen people. Our sins were “pride, fulness of bread and abundance of idleness.” Yes, tho hour of retribution had com;', because “Thou servodst not the Lord thy God with joyl'ulnoss and gladness of heart, for the abundance of all thintjs.” What people had been blessed with such abundance as we, had forgotteu the hand from whence it came. And now, xvo rebelled against the chasting hand of God, ut terly unconscious of pur sins. Many even impiously in their hearts charged God with injustice. But time passed and the war was over; our dear ones, my father, Har ry and Maj. Talford, returned to us, and we had still much to live for. Aunt Edith aud her two sons have lived with us since Sophie's marriage, and she aiul my father arc traveling down tho vale of life, peacefully and calmly—trusting that tho troubles which still environ us, may, in God’s own good time he removed, and we will become again a lmppy and pros perous and a better people. — Tlie Golden Test. The minister of Is!y sat in h:s study lato on Saturday night, a weary, dis heartened man ; he had just finished a week of arduous duties, and harass ing cares, and he had not expected to preach the next day, as he was suffer ing from a severe cold; but Ins antici pated help had not come, and his ser mon nas unwritten, and himself in anything but a devotional frame oi mind—for ministers, after all, il they are ambassadors of Christ, are human Their physical natures are often weak, and their spiritual condition is not al ways perfect, even with the divine help they constantly implore. On this night Mr. 1 ieduiond loaned his aching head on his study table, and almost wished that he M erc not a minister, that he might at least provide his family with the comforts they so much need, that so much would be ex : pected of him, and so little given in return. He was not e ven sure That he i had the prayers of his people, they i were so distant towards him, and he 1 felt strongly tempted to have no ser -1 \ ice on tho next day in the church, and 1 so excuse himself altogether. ; But was that doing his Master’s j work ? No. Ho could not prepare a i written sermon at that Into hour in his present depression ot spirits, hut lie could talk to the people affectionately from the pulpit, as u lather to his chil dren. He opened a Bible to select a text, ! and chose the first his eye rested on : “Bear ye one another’s burden’s.” Never had he spoken so impressive ly as he did on that day; never had the relation of pastor and people seemed nearer to him, or his sacred office of more endearing beauty. He spoke of tho saintly fellowship of , Christians upon earth, and his heart ! was in what he said. I Ilis people had only respected him before; that day they loved him.— There were some narrow-minded men in the congregation ; one of these sat the next day in his comfortable home and talking with his wife and children over yesterday’s sermon. “It seems to mo Mr. liedmond felt badly,” he said. “I thought so too,” said his wife. “Kitty, 1 have been thinking over that text, and have about concluded to bear his bunion a little.” “lion* can you ilo*it,” she asked. “I’ve got a: ight more of that smooth 1 thanl VOL V. —NO. .9 ; snug ham and sausage meat ahookl j find its way to tlie parsonage. But that was not all tlie good that text did. j John Collins was a night watchfnart at tho warehouse of Bakor &c. He ! was a poor man and his wife sick, and do what lie would ho could not make' both ends meet. 1 hero xvas a trifle of monoy coming to him from a first employer, but it would not be due till three months.— 1 1 he could borrow that, it would mako him straight again. But where could he borrow it ? His companions xvero us poor irs he. Tho minister might lend it, for he had been a good friend to John, hut he somehow though Mr. Redmond needed all the money he got. Mr. Baker, his employer, was rich, and he would never need it, hut he was very close. John know that. How ever, i\/r tlie sake of his little Nellie ut home, sick, and his wifo a pale snf* r serer, lie made bold to ask, stalrding by tho .rich man’s desk, and twirling his rimless hat, and telling lus story plainly and emphatically. Mr. Baker heard him through, and then looked at him from head to foot. “I cannot help you,” xvas on his lips,' xvhen like an inspiration camoSunday’s l text to tho mind. “Bear ye ono another's burdens/* And lie countod out tho money and gave it to tho man. “You have been honost and faithful in the past, John,” xvas all he said. Airs. Wilbur had never thought to inquire into the circumstances of tho woman xvlio did her xvasliing, standing all day at tho weary xvork. But that Monday morning, when she wont inter tlie kitchen, and saxv that bent form swaging to and fro over tlie steaming suds, she thought of her as a woman and a sistor, arul by a fexv questions learned her xvhole history, a very com mon ono—a xx idoxv xvith four children. Airs. W. gax'o her some warm clothes for her children, and promised to call and see her, and encouragod her by kind words. And Airs. W. resolved to never be guilty of such thoughtlessness again. “Boar ye ono another's burden’s,” yet sang iu her ears and softened her heart. It had been a great xvonder to the people of Air. liedmond’s church to see tho old miser, Thomas Fulton, come up the aisle upon tho Sabbath. It was still a greater xvonder when they lie had sent to tho alms-house for liis daughter Mary anil her crippled hoy. 1 lad tho pastor’s sermon touched that flinty heart ? Under God’s graco it liad. “Can I over lie discouraged again ? thought Air. ltodmoud, when ho boOrtl of its influence.” “Surely the angel of deliverance xvas near on that night.” There are other parishes in which that text could bo preached xvith good effect. There aro other hoarta for it to roach ami touch. It has a universal meaning; for xvlierover toiling, xveary humanity is, there should bo learned tho golden text— “Boar.ye ono another’s burdens.” liciliilifiih A mother in the habit of asking her children, before they went to al night, what they had done to make others happy, found her tn*o twin daughters silent. The question was repeated : 'I can remember nothing good all (his day, dear mother, only one of my schoolmates was happy because sho had gained the head of hor class, and I smiled on hor and ran to kiss her, so sho said I was good. That’s all, dear mother.” The other spoke more timidly : ‘A little girl, who sat with me on tho beach at school, has lost a broth er. 1 saw that, while she studied hor lesson, she hid her face in her bosom and wept. 1 felt sorry, and laid my laeo on the same book and wept with her. Then she looked up and was comforted, and put her arms around my neck ; but 1 do not know why sho said 1 had done her good.’- ‘(Jotne to my arms, my darlings,' said the mother: “to rejoieo with those that rejoice, and weep u*ith those that weep, is to obey our blessed Ite-' deerner. I.ife Thoughts. Blessed is tho man who, when the' tempest has spent its fury, recognizes his Bather’s voice in its undertone* and bears his head and bows his kuoo* as Elijah did. Three things to govern—-Temper* Tongue and conduct. Three things to think about—Lifer Death and Eternity. Three things to pray for—Faith, Peace and Purity of heart Three things to wish for—Health* Friends and a cheerful spirit. | Three things to avoid—ldleness, lo quacity and flippant jesting. i Three things to contend for—Honor* country and irionds. j Go slowly to the entertainments of your friends, but quickly to their mis- I fortunes.- Three are about 2,000,000 horses in Great Britain. I Tie movement of emigrants to the' United States has largely increased.