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THE DAWSON WEEKLY JOURNAL.
jffS. R. WESTON.
jjiDsm ffltfkla Journal,
rt.u.M* ««» tmksdat.
m -str icily in advance.
n* Ma . $76
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j^VERTISINRATES .
OH K IfOKTH.
. TWO MONTHS \
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All communication! or letters on buainepa
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h'‘Tbi Daw.a* Jucrsal”
RAIL-ROAD GUIDE.
IsHlbwesU-tn Railroad Pas
senger Traius.
WAs. DOLT, Pres. | VIRGIL POWER, Sup
Lear# Haco* 8:00 A. u.
Arrira at Eufaula 6'Bo r. n.
Uara Kafaiila 7:20 a. M.
Arrire at Mac»n - 4:50 p.m.
Oaaaectiiig with Alban? branch train at
daithvi le, and with Fori Gaines branch train
tl (V.hbe-.
HfiCL* SISST ASD iCCOMMODITION TS*I»«
Lain J/acoa 8-25 »■ “•
A.rira a. F.ufula 11:00 a m.
Lmt« Euiaula 7:18 P. M.
Arrive a Jficon .. .9:10 a. M.
C.tmtc. atEwithsille with Al any train on
Jfaaday, Tuesday, Thursday Hnd Friday
N. train leaves on Saturday nights.
CDLCMBSJ PISSKNOKR TRAINS
Leva Jfacon 7:26 a M.
Arrive it t?olu'"bus. 1:22 P. a<.
Laara Colnrabm 12:25 p. M
Arrive at M con fi:o6 P. m.
COLCMBC* MOUI PiSSINOKR TRAIN
Lim Macon 7:40 r. x.
Artiri it Coluinbua 6:05 A. u
laiti Columbus 7;(>0 r. M
Arriti al Arieon 4:43 A. u.
Huron and Bi unrwick Passen
ger 'trains.
810. W UAZELHORSr, President.
Ln TI Miron 9:16 A. X
Arrive a*. 8run5wick........... 10:20 p - h.
Lure Brumwick 4:30 A - X.
ArrireitM eon 7:60 P. x.
mm to hawrinstillr
L.iimM.cod 3:00 P. x.
irrire it ll.wkin.vllia 6:30 P. X
Leire Hewkioirille 7:i'o a x-
Affirm Micon 6:16 a. x.
Thi* train iun* daily, Sunday* excepted.
Weiiern 4 Atlantic Railroad.
FOSTER BLODGETT, Sup’t.
3IOBT PABBSNOER TRAIN
kin Athnta 7 00 P M
Affiri at Chattanooga 3 SO A M
Lure Chattanooga 7 50 P. M
Arrive at Atlanta •. .4 14 A. M
DAY PASSENOEK TRAIN.
L«»*» Atlanta 1.15 A. M
Arrirnt Chattanooga 4.40 P. M
Laire Ch ittanooga 7.10 A. If
An *»« at Atlanta 8.17 P. M
DALTON ACCOM KNDATIOR.
Laare Atlanta 3.10 P M
Arm* it Dalton 11.35 P. M
wit* Dalton 2.00 a. M
Arnre at Atlanta 11 00 A. M
frotosiioaai
R - F. SIMMONS,
ATTORNEY at law,
«»*.
* tt * n, i»o giren to all butinene
‘•truated to bii care.
augs 9:tf
*• *• Wmtin, . ,
- L C. HOTLK.
Wooten & hoyle,
Attorneys at Law,
R - w. DAVIS,
Attorney at Law,
w- A IK * n ' s <*.r. c<t.
08c ‘ OT,r J. B. Perry'. Store.
Dec 23 rd, ’69. ts.
Att° W ' WARW,CK »
ty at Law wd SoUcitor in Equity,
w Slf tntriLLs, ga.
Western and Patau-
Collection, promptly remitted.
J,K - Warren,
iTTO W<*T AT LAW.
•’—’-.a a* ...
Dawson Business Director),
Dry gAi, merchants.
DURSEY & NELSON, Dealers in
lJ Dry Goods, Groceries and /hardware,
Jfain street.
CRIB, A TUCKER, Dealers is all
kiuds ot Dry Goods and Groceries. Main
Street.
KUTNER, JACOB, Dealer in all
kinds of Dry Goods, Mam street.
I »VEE«S * GRIFFIIf, Dealers
LJ in Staple Dry Goods and Groceries algo
and ommission Aferchante, J/.iin Street,
UeHCUWEY A CROUCH,
IvA D. alera In Drv Goods. Clorhing, Staple
Goods and Family Groceries, JMain street.
ORR, W, F. Dealer In Fanny and sta
ole Drv Goods, Main at., under “Jour
nal” Printing Office.
PEEPLEN, W. Hi., Dealer in Staple
and Fancy Dry Goods, MaiD street.
Grocery merchants.
ARTHUR, 9. 0., Dealer in Groceries
and Family Supplies. Afain Street.
FUETOYf, J. A., Warehouse snd
Commis-ion Merchant, and Dealer In Ba
cob, Flour, Meal and Provisions generally, at
Shame & Crown’s old gt, md, M tin st.
FAHYUM, AH4RPE & CO..
Dealers in Dry Goods, Groceries, and
Plamation Supplies.
Greer a simmoYis, Grocery
and /’rovi.ion Dealers, South side Pub
lic Square.
HOOO, R. 11., Dealer in Groceries and
Family suooliea generally, 2nd door to
Journal” Office, Main gt.
MIZF.EE, R. C. A Cos. Grocery and
Provision dealers. Next door to the Ho
tel Main Street, Dawson.
Drniiisli.
pHEATHAH, C A., Drugeist and
v Phveician. Keeps a good supply of
Orus» and Medicines, and prescribes for stl
tlif ills that, flesh is heir to. At bis old stand,
the Red D-ng Store, Main st
JAYE 4 ft EOVI.EMS, Dealers in
D-nes, Af-dicines, Oils, Paints, Dye
S ufl«, Go den Seed, tie., Ate.
Drngsiili.
BAKERY.
TL. SO 1.0710.9, Baker, Confec
• tinner, and dealer in Family Groceries
Fi-h and Ovsters, ifain Street, uext to J. W
Roberts At Cos.
I*ll aSICIAAS.
HODYETT W. H. Practicing Phy
sician, and Surgeon. Office at Cheat
ham’s Drug Store.
DRk, J. W. PRICE A SOU,
thanklul for past patronage by
attention snd moderate charges hone to re
ceive a continuance of the s»ine. Office, Dr.
Gilpin’s old s'snd jin 13, if.
Watch Repairer.
VEEEY, JOIIY P., will • enalr
Wa'ches, Clocks, Jewelry, J/usic Books,
Aooo dious, &c , slways to be found at his
old stand, on North side of Public Square.
El very Stableu.
A SHARPE, Sale
' and Feed Stable. Horses and Jfol-s
for sale. Horses boarded. North side Pub
lic Square.
PRI9CE, Y. G. A J. K., Rale,
Feed and L'verv Stable, Depot Steel.
Good horses and vehicles for hire on reason
able terms. April 14, ly.
BAR-ROOm.
PAT AVARD, Dealer in Fine Wines,
Brandi' s. Whiskies, Lager Beer, Ac ,
West side public Square, Main street.
and. H. anaMS, h. k. washbcsn, a. a. adams.
Eatontun, Ga Savannah, Ga. Ameiicus.Ga,
.HD,IMS. WASBURN & CO.
FACTORS
—AND
Commission Merchants,
No. S, Stoddard’s Lower Range,
aylß’69;Bn Savannah. Ga
Alp’3 H. CoLQCtTT, JaMK* BaOOS,
Baker Coi’ntv, Oa. Newton, Ga.
Hugh H. Colquitt, Savannah, Ga.
COLQUITT & BAGGS,
COTTON FACTORS & GENERAL
COMMISSION MERCHANTS.
Bay street, Savannah, Ga.
Special attention to the saie of Cotton,
Lumber and Timber. Liberal advances on
Consignment*. may6;tf
BROWN HOUSE
E. E. BROWN A SON,
Fourth St., Opposite Passei>gcr Depot
.Macon, Georgia.
THIS Houb* having lstelv been raflt'et*
and repaired, and i» now one of the bear
Hotel* in the Bute, nod the moat conve
nient ’n the city. The table is supplied with
everything the market afford*. feblß’69
LYON, iMGKAFFKAJtEIW & IRVIN,
tfiobjity ts U*.
.Macon, - Georgia
WILL give attention to Professional Busi
ness in the Macon, iSouih-western, and
PatauU circuits; in the IT S Courts, in Sa
vannah and Atlrnta; and by Special Con
tract in anv part of tbe State.
Bept. 23,’69 ; ly.
Plantation Supplies
#ll Tim® S
»re now Belling Planter* th*ir
Supplies un Time,
for Jf.oon or Savannah Paper. We Invite
the attention of Planters ol Snutfiwest
Georgia to nor law prices.
I JOHNSON) CAMPBELL $ CO.
I ai’eb 3. But.
dawson, ga., Thursday, june 16, mo.
SELEGTED POETY.
Word*.
feom “household wohds.”
Word* are lighter than the cloud foam
01 the realleaa ocean spray;
Veiner than the trembling shadow
1 bat the next hour steala away;
By the fall of summer raiu-drops
la the aJr a* deeply stirred;
And the roae-leaf that we tread on
Will outlive a word.
Yet on the dull silence breaking,
Jfith a lightning flash a word,
Bearing endless desolation
On its lightuing wings, / heard.
Xarth cam forge no keener weapon,
Dealing surer death and pain.
And the cruel echo answered
Through long years again.
I hare known one word hang star*like
O’er a weary waste of years,
And it only shone the brighter
Looked at through a mist of tears ;
JPhile a weai y wanderer gathered
Hops and heart on life’s dark way,
By its faithful promise shining
Clearer day by day,
1 hare known a spirit ealmer
Than the calmest lake, and clear
As the heavens that gazed upon it.
With no ware of hope or fear;
But a storm had swept across it,
Aud its deepest depths ware stirred,
Nerer, never more to slumber,
Only by a word.
/bare known a word more gentle
Than the breath of summer air,
/n a listening heart it nestled,
And it lived forever there ;
Not the beating of its prison
stirred it ever, night or day,
Only with the heart’s last throbbing
Could it pass away.
Words are mighty, words are living;
Serpents, with their venomed stings,
Or bright aegels, crowding round us,
With heaven’s light upon their wings ;
Every word has its own spirit,
True or false, that never dies ;
Every word man’s lips have uttered,
Echoes in the skies.
MISCELLANEOUS.
I From the Workingm*n.]
Turning Over a New Leaf
“It’s a shame !” said Mrs Fogg, as
she hurried away, after the funeral of
Mrs. Grant, escaping from the poor,
desolate room where two children, al
most habes, were sleeping, un
conscious that they were motherless.
“It’s a shame that nobody’ll take
them.”
“Yes—a hitter shame !” replied a
neighbor, who was also getting off as
fast as she could, so as to shift respond
sibility on some other shoulders.
“There’s Mrs. Grove; she might
take them as well as not. But they’ll
go to the poor-house, for all she cares.”
“Well, somebody’ll have to answer
for it,” said Mrs. Fogg. “As for me,
I’ve got young ones enough of my
own.”
“We left Mrs. Cole in the room.—
She has only one child, and her hus
band is well-to-do I can’t believe
she’ll have the heart to turn away
from them.”
“She’s got the heart for anything.
But we’ll see.”
Mrs. Cole did turn away from the
sleeping babes, sighing aloud, with a
forced 6igh that others might hear,
and give her credit for a sympathy
and concern she did not feel.
At last all were gone—all but a
man named Wheaton, and a poor wo
man, not able to take care of herself.
“What’s to become of these chil
dren ?” said Wheaton.
“Don’t know. Poor-house, I s’pose,”
answered the woman.
“Poor-house!”
“Yes. Nobody wants ’em, and
there’s no place else for ’em.”
“Mamma ! mamma !” cried a plain
tive voice, and a flaxen-haired child,
not much over a year old, rose up in
the bed, and looked piteously about
the room. “I want mamma.”
A great, choking sob came into the
man’s throat.
Then the other child awoke and
said —“ Don’t cry, Sissy. Mamma’s
gone away.” At this the little one
began crying bitterly.
“I can’t stand this nohow,” said the
man, speaking in a kind of desperate
way ; and, going to the bed, he gath
ered the two children in his arms,
hushing and comforting them with
soothing words.
“Whaton earth have you got there?”
exclaimed Mrs. Wheaton, as her hus
band came striding into the room,
where she sat mending one of his well
worn garments.
“What?”
“Mrs. Cole’s two babies. I’ve been
over to the funeral, and I tell you,
Jane, it wasn’t in me to see these little
things carted off to the almshouse. —
There wasn’t a woman to 100 4 after
them —no, not one. Every soul sneak
ed off but Polly Jones, and 6he’s of
no account, you know. Just look at
their dear, little faces !” And he held
them up in his arms, and let their
tender, tearful, half-frightened, half
wondering eyes plead their cause with
his wife, and they did not plead in
vain. .
Surprised as she was, and with an
instant protest in her heart, Mrs.
Wheaton could not, iu the presence of
these motherless little ones, utter a
word of remonstrance. She took the
youngest one from the arms of her
husband, and spoke to it tenderly.—
The child sobbed two or three time#,
and then laid its head against her
bosom. There was an influx of moth
er-love into the heart of this woman,
who had never been a mother, the in
stant her breast felt the pressure of
the baby’* head, and tho arm that
drew it closer with an involuntary im
pulse was moved by this now lpve.
Not many words paaied between 4h»
the husband and wife—at least, not
then*, though thought was very busy
with both of. them. • Mrs Wheaton’s
manner toward the children was kind
even to tenderness, and this manner
won their confidence, and drew from
them such looks, and ways, and little
expressions of satisfaction, as touched
her heart and filled it with a loving
interest.
After night-fall, when supper was
over, and the children asleep, Mr. and
Mrs. Wheaton sat down together,
each showing a little reserve and em
barrassment. Mrs. Wheaton was
first to speak.
“What were you thinking about,
John ?” said she, almost sharply. “I
can’t have these children.”
Wheaton did not lift his eyes, nor
answer, but there was a certain dog
ged and resolute air about him that
his wife noticed as unusual.
“Somebody else must take them,”
she said.
‘ The county will do it,” Wheaton
replied.
“The county!”
“Yes. There’s room for them at
the almshouse, and nowhere else that
I know of, unless they stay here.”
“Unless they stay here!” Mrs.
Wheaton’s voice rose a little. “It’s
easy enough to say that; but who’s
to take the care of them ?”
“It’s a great undertaking, I know,”
answered the husband meekly, yet
with anew quality in his voice that
did not escape the quick ear of his
wife, “and the burden must fall on
you.”
“I wouldn’t mind that, to much,
but ”
She kept hack the sentence that was
on her tongue
“But what ?” asked her husband.
“John,” said Mrs. Wheaton, draw
ing herself up in a resolute manner,
and looking steadily into her husband’s
face, “as things are going on ”
“Things shall go on differently,”
interrupted Wheaton. “I’ve thought
that all over.”
“How differently, John ?”
“Oh !in every way. I’ll turn over
anew leaf.”
Wheaton saw a light flash into his
wife’s face.
“First and foremost, I’m not going
to lose any more days. Last month I
had six days docked from my wages.”
“Why, John!’
“It’s true—more s the shame so.
me. That was eighteen dollars, you
see, not counting the money I fooled
away in i He company—enough to pay
for all these babies would eat and
wear twice over.”
“0 John !” There was something
eager and hopeful in his wife s face as
she leaned toward him
“I m in downright earnest, Jane,”
he answered. If you 11 take the ba
bies, I’ll do my part. I'll turn over a
new leaf There shall be no more
lost days ; no more foolish wasting of
money, no spending of ovenings at
Mcßride s.”
“0 John ! ’ In her suprise and de
light, she could only repeat the excla
mation. As she did so this time, she
rose, and putting her hands on his
shoulders, bent and kissed him on the
forehead.
“You 11 take the babies ?” said he.
“Yes, and twenty more, if you keep
to this and say so, ’ answered Jane,
laughing through tears.
“All right, then. It s a bargain.”
And Wheaton caught his wife s hand
and shook it by way of confirmation.
From that time Wheaton turned
over anew leaf Neighbors express
ed surprise when it was told that Jane
Wheaß n. had adopted the two orphan
children. Fellow-workmen taunted
John, calling him soft-hearted, and a
fool, for “taking other men s brats. ”
One said to him—“ Are four mouths
easier to fill than two ?"■ Another.—
“You 11 be sick of all this before
the year s out ”• And another—
“lll see you sold out by the consta
ble in less than six months.”
But John had little to say in reply
—only maintaing an air of quiet good
humor, and exhibiting more interest
in his work.
For three weeks John Wheaton had
not lost a day— something very unu
sual ; and not one evening during
that time had he spent at Mcßride s
drinking-saloon. His poor little home,
which had come to have a neglected
look, was putting on anew appear
ance. The gate that for months had
hobbled on one hinge, now swung
smoothly, and the mended latch held
it shut. Rank weeds no longer filled
the door-yard ; the broken steps were
mended, and clean panes of glass fill
ed many a place in the sashes where
had been unsightly rags and sheets of
paper. A neglected running rose was
trimmed, and trained to its proper
place over the doorway, and was now
pushing out young, green leaves and
buds.
Within, pleasant changes were also
apparent. Various new out inexpen
sive articles of furniture were to be
found. Old things were mended, pol
ished up, and wonderfully improved.
With all this, marvellous to relate,
Wheaton's earnings had not only been
equal to the increased expenditure,
but there was an actual surplus of ten
dollars in hand.
“I never would have believed it,”
raid John, as he and his wife sat one
evening talking over their improved
condition alter the babies—loved now
almost as if their own—were asleep.
“It s just as old Brown used to say—
‘Waste takes more than wank’ I de
clare Ive got heart in me again. X
thought we should have to let th?
place go; that 1 and never be able to
, pay off the mortgage. But hare w#
j are, ten dollars ahead in Jess shau a
month; and going on at this rate,
! We'Sha-reaL’ alaar ktofhtdsmadntiu?.'
Next day a fellow-workman said to
Wheaton, half in banter—“ Didn’t I
see the constable down your way yes
terday ?”
“I shouldn’t wonder,” replied
Wheaton with more gravity of man
nor than his questioner had expected.
“I thought I saw him looking
around after things, and counting his
fees on his fingers.”
“Likely as not,” said Wheaton. “I
know of a good many rents not paid
up last quarter. Money gone to Mc-
Bride’s instead of to the landlord—eh?”
The man winced a little.
“How are the babies ?” he asked.
*,First-rate,” W heaton answered,
and with a smile so real that his fel
low-townsman. could not pursue the
banter.
Time went on, and, to the surprise
of all, Wheaton’s circumstances kept
improving. The babies had brought
a blessing to his house. In less than
eighteen months he had paid off the
light mortgage that for years rested
on his little home; and not only this,
had improved it in various ways, even
to the putting up of a small addition,
so as to give them a neat breakfast
room.
The children grew finely—there
were three of them now, for their
hearts and home had opened to an
other orphan baby—and being care
fully trained by Mrs. Wheaton, were
a light and ioy to the bouse.
At the end of five years we will in
troduce them briefly to the reader.
Wheaton is a master workman, and
employs ten men: He has enlarged
his house, and mads it one of the
neatest in the village. Among his
men is the very one who bantered him
most about the children, and prophe
sied that he would soon be sold out
by the constable. Poor man !it was
not long before the constable had him
in charge. He had wasted his mon
ey at Mcßride’s, instead of paying it
to the lanlord.
VVal-ing homeward, one evening
after work was over, Wheaton and his
journeyman took the same way. They
were silent until they came to the for
mer’s pretty dwelling, when tho jour
neyman said, half in jest, yet with
undisguised bitterness—“l guess we’ll
have to take a baby or two.”
“Why,” asked Wheaton, not per
ceiving what was in the man’s thought.
“For good luck,” said the journey
man.
“Oh!”
“You’ve had nothing but good luck
since you took poor Mrs. Grant’s or
phan children.”
“Only such luck as evory one may
have il' he will,” answered W heaton.
“I can’t see it,” returned the man.
“Your wages were no better than
mine. I had one child, and you sad
dled yourself with two, and not long
after added a third. And how is it
to day ? You a nice house, and
your wife and children are well dress
ed, while I have never been able to
make both ends meet, and my boy
looks like a ragamuffin half the time.”
“Do you see that house over there
—the largest and the handsomeest in
in the place ?” said W heaton.
“Yes.”
“Who owns it ?”
“J immy Mcßride.”
“How much did you pay toward
building it ?”
“Me ?”—in surprise.
“Yes, you ? How much did you pay
toward building it ? ”
“Why, nothing. Why should I
help pay for bis house ?”
“Sure enough ! Why should your
hard earnings go to build and furnish
an elegant nouse for a man who
would rather sell liquor, and so ruin
his neighbors, body and soul, than
support himself in a useful calling, as
you and I are trying to do ?”
“I can’t see what you are driving
at ?” said the journeyman.
“How much a week do you spend
at Mcßride’s saloon ?”
The man stood still, with a blank
look on his face.
“A dollar a week ?” asked Whea
ton.
“Yes.”
“Say a dollar and a half.”
“Well, say as much ”
“Do you know what .that amounts
to in a year ?”
Never counted it up.”
“Seventy-eight dollars.”
“No!” •
“Yes, to a dollar. So, in five years
at this rate, you have contributed
nearly four hundred dollars toward
Mcßride’s handsome house, without
getting anything but harm in return,
and havn’t a shiugle over your head
that you can call your own Now, it’s
my advice, in a friendly way, that you
stop helping Mcßride, and begin to
help yourself. He’s comfortable
enough, and can do without your dol
lar and a half a wee;. Take a baby,
if you will, for good luck. You’ll
find one over at the poor house; it
won’t cost you half as much as help
ing Mcßride, and I don’t think he
needs your aid any longer. But here
we are at home, aud 1 see wife and
- waiting for me Come in,
won’t you ?’
i “No, thank you. I”1 go home and
talk to Ellen about taking a baby for
good luck. And he tried to smile, but
it was in anything but a cheerful
way. Be passed onward, but called
back after going a few steps.
‘,lf you see anything of my Jaok
about your place, just seed him hems
will you 7'
J aok was there, meanly dressed aud
dirty, and in striking contrast with
Wheaton’s three adopted children,
who, with the only motuer they knew,
gave the happy man a joyful welcome
home.
“I’ve turuod ossor anew Jfeaaf,” said
the journeyman when he done to
work the uqß morning.
“Indeed j I’m glad to hear it,” re
turned Wheaton.
“Ellen and I talked it all over last
night. I’m done helping saloon keep
ers build fine houses. G lad you put
it tome just in that way. Never looked
st itrso before. But it’s just the hard
truth. What fools we are !”
“Goinjj- to take a baby ?” said Whea
ton, smiling.
“Well, we havn’t just settled that.-
But EUen heard yesterday of a poor
little thing that’ll have to go on the
connty if someone don’t ta s e it; and
I shouldn’t wonder, now, if she open
ed her heart, for she’s a motherly
body.”
“Where is it?” asked Mr. Whea
ton.
“Down at the Woodbury Mills.”
VY heaton reflected a few moments,
and then said—“ Look here, Frank;
take my advice and put this baby be
tween you and Mcßride's—between
you and lost days—between you and
idle thriftlcssness, and my word for it,
in less than two years you’ll have your
own roof over your head.”
Only for a little while did the man
hesitate, then, with an emphatic man
ner, ho exclaimed—“l’ll do it.”
“Do it at once, then,” said Whea
ton. “Put on your coat, aud go over
to the Mills and get the baby. It will
be an angel in your house, that will
help and bless you in every hour of
temptation. Go at once. God has
opened for you this way of safety, and
if you walk therein all will be well.”
He did walk therein, and all was
well. Wheaton’s prophecy was ful
filled. In less than two years the
journeyman had his own roof over his
head, and it covered a happy home.
Thu Family at the Table.
The family board should be honoied
of all, with joy, peace aud love. It is
a shrine where churlishness, coldness,
silence and frown should have no
place. It may be made thrice a day
the scene of festival richer aud rarer
than picnics in wooded groves, or
sumptuous feasts in gilded saloons.
Its offerings may be frugal and hum
ble—no matter, better is its dinner of
herbs, if flavored with love and spiced
with cheerful vivacity, than the rich
courses of a grand hotel, where hun
dreds swallow and gulp amid a clatter
of dishes, regardless of each others
presence—or the weary and monoto
nous meals of the boarding house,
where the people know each other too
well to he entirely reserved, and too
little to be familiar. Each assemblage
round the family table has its peculiar
charm and each wnay be made a
feast.
The table is no place for stiff digni
ty or austerity. BiLiug bread and but
ter, and taking soup from a spoon
may be done leisurely and gi acofully ;
but infused dignity aud stiffness is in
excusably riiliculous. Hunger is* a
leveler, and eating and drink one of
the most delightful pleasures. No one
has a right to disguise the iuuocent
satisfaction of it at the family board
by the affection of an exemption from
so human a weakness as an appetite,
or disdain of the viands set before
him. The pleasantist family pictures
are those cheerful dining-room assem
blages where father, mother, brothers
and sisters eat and drink cheerily, as
though it did them good, and cloth,
urn, dishes and sjioons seem to look
happy in the general joy.— Ex.
A Word to Veuiit .Hen.
Somebody once said, “oor govern
ment land cost one dollar and a quarter
an acre, and good whiskey two dollars
a bottle. How many men die landless
who during their lives swallowed whole
townships-treos and all!” There is food
for reflection in this little paragraph
Every day of our lives, and almost
every hour, of each day, we meet
individuals not merely landless, but
homeless, houseless, and pennyless,
who in coi r e of tl ei* in os have swal
-1 .we i ardent spirt enough to pay for land
and houses andhave pennies and dollars
for their pockets besides. But it is not
the drinker of ardent spirits alone who
thus deprives himself of the comforts
of a home—the tobacco-chewer, the
cigar-6moker, the young man who
spends precious hours of each day and
evening.in worse than listless idleness.
How rarely such persons reflect upon
the folly of their course. The young
man who smokes three five-cent cigars
a day—and many of double the quan
ity at double the price—puffs away
enough in the course of ten years to
give him a handsom start in buisness
or to provide for himself and family a
comfortable home. How frequently
we hear such persons complan of their
inability to take a newspaper, ora
literary magazine, or purchase an
interesting book. They will tell you
they are too poor for that, and yet the
next moment will spend for a glass of
ale or brandy, or for a cigar, a sum
sufficient to pay for two daily papers
for a week. And this folly is repeated
half a dozen times in course of every
twenty-four hours. Young men, give
this subject a moment’s reflection.
Sit down and calmly think it over,
and ifi when you have fairly done so
you conclude that it is better to drink
and smoke, go on ! The day will come
when you will discover your error, and
it will be perhaps too late!—* Hoeniny
Herald.
So opposed to all selfishness is the
spirit of Christianity, that it denies to '
us the right of claiming as our own
anything that we have or are. We
have no right to do as we like with
our lives, our talents, or our worldly
possessions. They are given to us in
order that they may be of use, and
that in the orderly use of them we
may further our own development and
wtoii being, mdjjnd our own true hap
pines*. T
YOL.V™NO. 18.
Sensible Admonittous.
Don’t buy a piano for your daugh
ters while yout sons need a plow.
Don’t let your horses be teen stand
ing much at the liquor saloon,- it don’t
look right.
Don’t give the merchants a chanotf
to dun you. Prompt payment makes
independent men.
Keep good fences, especially lina
fences; they promte good feeling be
tween neighbors.
Ducont. substantial clothing for
your children, makes them think bet
ter of themselves, and keeps the doo-*
tor away.
Don’t starve your land; If you do»
you will grow leant.
Don’t become security for film who
wants for tho sheriff.
Teach your boys to look up an'4
forward, never down and backward.
When the labors of the day are passed,
let good books and newspapers invite 1
the youngster to the sitting room.
Hlr. Stephens’ Dedication.
Hon. Alex. H. Stephens, who has
just completed his Second and last
volume the “War between the States,”
sends it forth with the following beau
tiful and and appropriate dedication j
“To the memory of those whose
lives, in the late war between the
States, were sacrificed, either in bat
tle, in hospital, in prison, or elsewhere,
in defense of the Sovereign Bight of
Local Self government, on the part of
the people of the Several States of the
Federal Union; and in defence es
those principles upon which that Uu-*
ion was established, and on which,
alone, it or any other union of the
States can bo maintained consistently
with tho preservation of Constitution
al Liberty throughout the country, thi*
volume is most solemnly and saoredly
dedicated; while others are to-day,
strewing flowers upon their graves,
this oblation, with like purpose and
kindred emotions, is thus contributed
by tho author to the same hallowed
shrine.”
The views expressed in the follow
ing article from the New York Jour
nal of Commerce, have certainly great
force, and are worthy of consideration
at the hands of the Northern people:
“Political Bejtuse Religious Har
mohy.—lt is now apparent that a ces
sation of political unfriendliness be
tween Northern radicals and the South
must precede the establishment of
harmonious relations between the re
ligious bodies of the same denomina-'
tions in the two sections. It would be
better if the latter consummation could
take place first and help on the former.
But the religious loaders both North
and South act as if they thought oth
erwise, and we do not look for a fra
ternization of Methodists or Presbyte
rians until the way has been prepared
for it by a restoration of cordiality a-<
mong northerners and southerners, be
longing to those two sects, in their
political relations. The Methodist
Episcopal conferences south gave their
views on this subject recently with
great positiveness, and now the South
ern Presbyterian General Assembly
take similar ground of objection to
present union with northern Presby
terians in even stronger language of
refusal. The discussion of the differ
ences on both sides has done one good
thing, at all events; it has developed
the full extent of ths antipathies mu
tually felt, and, in the case of the
Presbyterian branches, has made
clearly known the real cause of dissen
sion between them—and that is mix
ing up of politics with religion in some
of the Northern Presbyterian churches.
Whenever the Presbyterian Assembly
of the North is ready to vote against
the expediency of commingling reli
gion with politics, we doubt aot the
Southern Presbyterians will receive
them with open arms. The same is
true of the dissevered Methodists. But
there is little likelihood that this will
be done for some years—probably not
until the unkindly feelings of radical
politics toward the South have ceased
to make themselves manifest in many
Northern pulpits.”
‘Can you return my love, my dear
est Julia 7 Certainly ; I don’t want H*
I am sure.
Said the late Amos Lawrence, of
Boston. “I owe my present position
in society, under God, to the fact that
I never used rum or tobacoo.”
Let us never forget that every sta
tion in life is necessary; that not the
station itself, but the Worthy fulfill-'
men! of ita duties, does honor to a
roan.
Judge Johnson, of Muscogee (Ga.)
Superior Court, decides that marriage
without a license is valid. The only
legal requirements are ability to con
tract and actually contracting.
A verdant young man who Was pry
ing curiously into shop windows wae
rudely asked by the proprietor of a
customerless establishment what ha
wan tod. •
“I wanted to see What you sail
here,” replied the young oountrymau.
“We sell fools/’ was the response.”
“ JFeli, you must de a good business
for you’re the only one left.”
No measured eloquence from the
pulpit, no strong pleading in a book.
; ever penetrates so deeply as tbe wise
\ and earnest words of a living ™an
talking alone to the man ho loves.
Meet of Us need to be bettor and wi
, ser than we are, to speak after this
manner to the people about us; but
, we may all watch against “corrupt
communicationsand when we can
not speak wWososne wctrAs, keep 4*
lout