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THE DAW SON WEEKLY JOl K.NAL
0 WESTON & COMBS.
ijateait Journal,
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY.
TERMS—* Strictly lit .Idvance.
Three n outhi • ••■ f 75
Six months 1 25
One year 2 UO^
for the Children.
Cats can bo taught many cunning
tricks, which lyake them pretty and
interesting. We have soen a cat that
lould sit up ou her hind legs, just like
a trained dog, and give its right paw
t 0 shake bauds.
Os course, tho most sensible trick a
cat can learn is to catch rats and mice;
But she can do all that, nnd be taught
other things too, it you treat her kind-
" It is so cruel for children to throw
stones at tho cat, or set tho dog on her
to see her bristle up and fight; or to
kick and cuif her, and pull her tail.
jj 0 W ondor, then, that she scratches
vour face, and makes you cry. She
feels mad and ugly, just as you do
when some naughty child pounces up
uU you aud heats and hurts you, when
you have not harmed or liurted any
%• naughty children arc cruel to
poor dumb animals, and do not shrink
from torturing to death any little help
less thing they can lay their hands on,
such as birds, fish, bugs and flies.
It seems too bad to go bunting
through tho meadows and forests after
„ me ; but shooting a bird dead in an
instant is nothing to bo compared to
the cruelty of stealing little birds out
their nests, and letting them starve to
death, and then throwing stones and
wounding the old bird, when she comes
ciying around the nest after her young
—killing her by slow torture of pain
aud grief, as some bad boys have
done.
If little children wish to be loved
and treated kindly by their parents
and friends, who aro older aud stron
ger than they aro, they must not for
get to be kind to little animals, which
ure more helpless than they aro.
They have no more right to strike tlie
dog with a whip, or do all those wick
ed things to the cat, or to pull off but
terflies wings than grown people have
to hurt them.
And little folks would not like to be
jerked and cuffed or swung around,
until their arms or logs were pulled off.
Bo careful, then not to forget that an
nuals have feelings too. —Elm Orlou.
A Phenomenon in the Morris
Ca
The New York Sun tells the follow
ing extraordinary story of a phenom
enon in tho Morris Canal:
“The citizens of Broadway, Warren
county, N. Y., and the residents of' the
neighboring townships have been
greatly excited by a curious phenom
enon. On Monday morning, about
ten o'clock, as a canal boat from Phil
lipsburg was passing over tlie seven
mile level between New Village and
Broadway, the driver of tho boat heard
an unusual rumbling noiso, liko that
of muffled thunder, and looking ahead
lie saw in the canal, about a hundred
yards beyond, the water seething and
boiling like a whirlpool. Though
stricken with fear, ho crossed in safety
tho dangerous eddy, but had not gone
many yards when lie was startled by
an unusual noise, and, turning, dis
covered that the bottom of the canal
bad given way, and in a short time he
was on dry land. The water in the
canal for a distance of a mile an if a
half had in a wonderful short time
disappeared in a cavity, of which
tho dimensions of tho opening were
forty by fifty feet.
“Careful investigations were made
of tho neighboring streams and the sur
rounding country, but no outlet for
the water was discovered.
“Above the canal, in a wood, three
apertures were made, averaging in di
ameter twenty-five feet. In those holes
or cavities rocks and trees were swal
lowed up. The tops of the trees were
visible to the eye, while the trunks
were entirely buried in the earth. Fis
sures were made on the surface below
the canal to the extent of hundreds of
yards.
“Laborers have been constantly en
gaged in filling up the holes in the ca
uaL but as yet have made no apparent
Ingress. One hundred bundles of
tom stalks, together with the branch
es ot trees, were thrown into the cavi-
Ij'i and disappeared immediately from
Ihe cause of this phenomenon is a
Mystery, which only an Agassiz can
attempt to explain. Some think that
'l'Ore is a cave in. the hill, and that
l: h immense volume of water has been
■sposited there by a breakage in the
"pper layer of earth surmounting the
' ave. Others are of the opinion that
•is being a limestone region a spon
janeons combustion of the lime has
jeen going on for years, and a vacu
um or cavity necessarily produced, in
' ’ I‘ich these waters have been pre
-1 Jpitated. Which of these opinions is
|‘io correct ono will bo made manifest
' future developments. The loss to
I >o Morris Canal Company by this ac-
Pn t is calculated to be about $lO,-
, r an a lover he eallod a suitor when
h(J don’t suit her ?
Ibe cheapest and longest convey
ance—A train, of thought.
L is not always he who has the
n ‘ost noze knows the most.
ho class put more real feeling in
‘ : ‘ eir vocation than pickpockets.
My boy, what does your mothor do
, ur a living V’ was asked a httle baro-
M( *ted urchin. ‘She eats cold vict-
Ua ls, sir.’
Put Me iu My Lillie Beil.
Oh huddle, 1 am tired now,
1 do not cine to hear you sing;
You’ve sung your happy gongs all day,
Wow put your head beneath your wing;
/'ni (loopy too aa I can be,
tout sister, when my prayer is said,
/ want to lay me down to rest,
So put me in my little bed.
Oh I sister, what did mother say,
U hen she was call’d to Heav’nawsy?
She told me always to be good,
-4nd never, never go astray ;
1 can’t forget theday she died,
She placed her hand upon my head,
She whisper’d softly, ‘keep iny child,
Aud then they told me she was dead
•Oetr sister, come and hear my pray’r
-Vow ci e 1 lay me down to sleep,
Within my heavenly Father’s care,
While angels bright their vigils keep; v
And let me ask of llim above,
7b keep my soul in paths of liight,
Oh I let me thunk him for II is love,
Ere 1 shall say my last -‘good night.”
Chorus:
Come sisicr, come, kiss me good night,
For I my evening pray’r liuve said,
I’m tired now and sleepy too,
Come put me iu my little bed-
A Condensed Sermon.
We commend the spirit of the fol
lowing beautiful little poem by Mrs.
C. C. Field, of Athol, Mass.:
Z’he poor you have to-day,
Close to your very doors:
Search out their needs without delay;
Give from your hoarded stores;
Nor deem that with the setting - sun,
Your work of charity is done.
.Forgive your enemies ;
Let not your heart be set,
On still remembering iujuries,
Forgive and then forget.
Aud Aiiow for once how sweet is life,
Lifted above ignoble strife.
Then if you can be free,
From lust of power and gain.
From pride, self-love, and vanity,
-<4nd all their luring train,
Y’oull surely have that peace of mind,
So many seek in vain to fiud.
Easy enough to do i
Simple as one'could ask ?
Easy to as preach, say you ?
Try, then, the simple task.
And let me know, next Sunday morn,
How many sonls anew are born.
WOSITII WINNISC.
A neat little room it was in which
Mr. and Mrs. EUerton sat at breakfast.
The firo burned brightly in the grate;
the mellow sunlight, penetrating the
heavy crimson curtains, cast a warm,
shadowy gloom throughout tho par
lor. Everything woro a cheerful as
pect, except the two faces at the table.
The husband was a stern looking
man, with a dark frown on his other
wise handsome brow ; the wife a pale
delicate woman, with traces of former
beauty upon her careworn face. She
looked as if that which she craved
was denied lic-r—the fond smile, tho
affectionate caress of other days.
Who, to see her, would think that
five years beforo sbo was a happy,
trusting bride, who thought that in
the future there would be nothing but
sunshine for her ?
But let us listen to tlieir conversa
tion, and wo shall bo better able to
judge of the nature of the occupants
of the room.
‘Clara, this coffee is dreadful. In
stead of acting as a stimulant, it
would serve as an emetic to a weak
stomach.’
‘Well, my dear, I really can’t help
it. lam sorry you do not relish it.’
‘I could tolerate it for once, but it is
the samo every day. You could rem
edy it by rising half an hour earlier
every morning, and superintending
tho preparation of breakfast, instead
of leaving it to the care of a servant.
‘I know, George, I overslept myself
this morning; but I don’t think I de
serve censure, for it does not often
happen. And the children were so
very restless last night. I don t think
that Lily is quite well.’
This was spoken in a faltering
voice, as if the overcharged heart was
bruised and bleeding under tho
thoughtless remarks of tho idolized
husbard.
‘Always some exeus6 for ill-prepar
ed food ! You women can find a pal
try excuse for everything. But 1 as
sure you, Mrs. Ellerton, no apology is
needed.’
This was uttered in a sneering tone,
with a touch of sarcasm.
‘Oh, don’t George ! You know not
what pain it causes me to hear yoxi
speak in this manner ! You know 1
am as thoughtful of your happiness
as my cares and delicate health will
admit.
‘Many cares, indeed !
This last cutting remark was more
than the poor wife could bear ; so she
gave vent to her pent-up feelings m
a flood of tears.
‘Tears ! Oh, well that is ( quite
enough to drive me from home.’
So saying, he took his hat and left
the apartment. Passing from the
house, something impelled him to
turn back and console his weeping
wife, tho partner of his bosom, the
sharer of his joys and sorrows. But
no—his pride iorbade it; he could not
so humblo himselt. m
‘Oh, pshaw!’ ho thought. Why
should I let a woman’s tears annoy
me thus ?’ ’Tis only a fit of weeping;
sho will get over it soon.
‘Ah Georgo Ellerton, do you re
member that bright May morning,
over five years ago, and tlio beautiful
vouug being that lent so confidingly
Son your arm ? She placed her nap
pLs, to y.«. kyg.
yon 8° ~ Wliat
were'the vows you took upon you
Should they not be considered sacred?
All you havo well-nigh wrecked the
happiness of the one you promised to
love honor and cherish •
‘Perhaps Pm a little rough and ill
natured sometimes, but I think m
DAWSON, GA., THURSDAY, JULY 13, 1871.
partly excusable, for I am so harrass
ed by business cares and porplexities.’
‘No excuse, Mr. EUerton,’ the voice
whispors. ‘Your wife is a frail, ten
der weman, who should bo nurtured
'and cared for; you, a strong, brawny
man, who, as her cares increases,
should try to lessen instead of adding
to her burdens.’
‘l’ll be lningod if I ain’t a cross
brute !’ he ejaculates, half aloud.
With these reflections still chasing
each ether through his mind, ho pro
ceeded to his place of busiuoss. But
he seemed ill at ease, and startod at
an early hour homeward.
We will step into tho young wife’s
chamber, and see what sho has been
doing in her husband’s absenco. Af
ter his sudden exit she arose and who
to her room, and there, kneeling, of
fered up a prayer to heaven, implor
ing aid in her great trials, with forti
tude to bear them aud to perform her
duty under all circumstances.
In tho meantime, she, too, is think
ing of their happy bridal, and her
bright hopes of the future. A joyous
light beams in her eye, and a smile
wheaths her lips as she says.—‘Ah,
I was happy—oh, so happy ! My life
soomed all unclouded as a summer
day. My hopes were too bright to be
lasting. My kind, loving, indulgent
husband ! ‘He never caresses mo
now, never allows me to lavish any
wealth of affection on him. There is
such an aching void hero,’ pressing
her hand to her heart.
As she spoke these last words, her
lip quivered and her brow contracted.
‘Perhaps it is my fault. I’ll try to
win back my husband’s love ana af
fection.’
So saying she sprang from her chair
aud went to the mirror.
‘flow five years’ time,’ said she,
‘tells on my delicate frame.’
Her husband’s neglect had made
her careless of her personal appear
ance ; so, unwinding her glossy brown
hair, she exclaimed :—‘The same he
used to admire so much ! Now I will
dress my hair the way ho always
liked to see it.’
Her hazel eyes sparkled with anew
light; and with more energy than she
had shown for years: she went on
preparing her toilette, donning a blue
merino dress (blue was liis favorito
color) and tiny white collar aud cuff's.
Then she took another glance in tlie
mirror, and, with a burst of enthusi
asm, exclaimed :—‘l look almost like
myself again! I will win bis love
back yet, for it is worth winning; I
never knew how to appreciate it until
now. I will win it back—heaven
helping mo, I will!’
‘lt shall not take you long, cither,’
exclaimed her husband, rushing into
the room and clasping her in his arms.
‘Oh, Clara —my Clara, you shall never
again hunger for the affection which
you crave. I havo been a brute to
treat you so. You shall henceforward
be my own little wife.’
‘Oh, George, I knew you did not
mean to be cruel. But I’ll see that
you don’t have any moro insiped cof
fee.’
‘Never mind that now, darling; we
won’t grumble any moro. But come;
I think some fresh air will do you
good. Get ready, and I will take you
for a walk.’
Little Lily entered just in timo to
hear this last remark, and said: —
‘l’apa shall take mo to walk out with
you, mamma ?’
‘Yes, darling, you shall go with us.
Did I ever dream that I could bo so
supremely happy ? Oh, I could not
bear it alone !’
‘Y’ou aro not alone, darling; lam
here to share it with you,’ said her
husband, stooping and imprinting a
kiss on the lips of this fair young
wifo.
Here wo will leave them, hoping
the future may be as undimmed as
now, remembering one slight mi stake
or harsh word may wreck a whole
life.
Gratitude is the memory of tho
heart
When flatterers meet, Satan goes to
dinner.
A good business habit and reputa
tion is always money.
Love reposes at tlio bottom of pure
souls, like a drop of dew in the chal
ice of a flower.
Language was given us that we
might say pleasant things to and of
each other.
An unbridled tongue is a fair sign
of an unsatisfied heart.
To what bird may a bride be most
appropriately compared ? A ring
dove.
It is only ugly men whom women
tell they “can’t bear handsome ones.”
Each day brings its duties in tlio
morning and carries them away with
it in tho evening.
If others neglect their duty to you,
do not neglect your duty to God, your
self, nor to them.
Whatever is done by those around
you, be yourself fully determined to
walk in tho most excellent way.
Liko the tree, we should bo con
stantly growing outward men, and up
ward toward God.
Were we eloquent as angels we
should please some, more by listening
than by talking.
The friend that hides from us our
faults, is of less service to us than tho
enemy that upbraids us with them.
A Michigander who ‘taught 2 terms
school & attended College 4 yrs at de
troit michigan,’ ani is 26 yrs avage,’
■wants a ‘pocition’ as teecher’ in. some
Ohio comonaria-’
The IKiiit; M ite.
Lay thegcra upon my bosom,
Let me feel her sweet warm breath,
For a strong chill o’er me passes,
I know that this is death*
1 would gaze upon the treasure—
Scarcely given ere I go—
Feel her rosy dimpled lingers,
Wonder o’er my check of snow.
I am passing through the waters,
Fut a blessed shore appears,
JTneel beside me, husband dearest,
Let mo kiss away thy tears.
Wrestle with thy grief, my husband.
Strive from midnight until day,
Jt may leave an angle’s blessing
IFlicn it vanishes away.
Let the gem rest on my bosom,
’Tis not loug she can be there ;
See I how to my heart she nestles.
’Zls the pearl l love to wear,
if. in after years, beside thoe, *
Sits another iu my chair,
Though her voice be sweeter music,
Ami her face than mine more lair* •
If a cherub call thee ••Father !’>
Far more beautiful thau this,
Love thy first-born ! Oh, my husband,
Turn not from thcMoltliericss,
Tell her sometimes of her mother--
Y'ou may call her by my name,
Shield her from the winds of sorrow,
If she errs, oh, gently blame.
Lead her sometimes where I*m sleeping,
I will answer if she calls,
And my breath will stir her riuglets,
Wheumy voice in blessing falls.
Then her soft blue eyes will brighten,
u4nd she’ll wonder whence it came,
In her heart, when years pass o,er her,
She will find her mother’s uaine,
•
It is said that every mortal
IPalks between twoaugels here,
One records the ills, but Mots it,
If, before tne midnight drear,
Man repenteth -if uncancelled,
Then lie seals it for the skies,
And the right hand angel weepeth,
Lowing low, with veiled e yes.
I will be her right-hand angel,
Scaling up the good for heaven,
Striving that the midnight watches,
Fiud no misdeeds unforgiveu.
You will not forget mo, husband,
When l.m sleeping ’ncatli tlie shade?
O, lovethccjewel to us given,
As 1 love the—-next to GOD 1
From Pomeroy*s Democrat.
Philosophy of tlie Pretty Ciiil,
The pretty girl is always attractive.
She is one of the indispeusablo feat
ures of tho society of the period, and
largely in demand—too largely so
The pretty girl is alxvaj-a at home in
places whoro she can be seen, because
sho is ornamental in tho highest‘-de
gree to almost every scone.
The pretty girl differs vory essen
tially from the beautiful girl. A girl
may be beautiful, for tho clear, intelli
gent expression of her eyes, may bo
beautiful in the wealth of lior mind,
beautiful in her temper, or beautiful
in tho grace of her heart and tho pu
rity of her character. None of these
aro necessary to the pretty girl; thoy
would be an almost utterly useless in
voice of burden to weigh down and
conti.no her audacity. The pretty girl
depends Entirely upon her “cheek, ’
which is better if it is rosy, and which
never shrinks from its full duty.
Tho eyes of tho pretty girl aro
dreamy—half closed, melting eyes,
that seem always in a doze of amazo
ment, struggling to comprehend the
world and its philosophy, but always
Sliding such things far beyond tlieir
capacity. If there be not such eyes
as these, then there will be the light
ning, Hashing eyes, that differ from
the others as Jupiter from Venus. —
These flashing eyes do not wait in
dreamy quiet for your compliment,
but they toll you in tho very introduc
tion, “Oh, I’m pretty—you needn’t
tell mo so, for I know' it.” Such eyes
romp through the world, regardless of
tho wmrld’s opinion, but keenly alive
to the world’s enjoyment. Their pret
ty girl possessor lives in their own lus
trous light, a light that dazzles critics,
and dispels tho dampness of criticism,
as the sun dispels the mist about the
mountain and leaves all glorious and
radiant.
The pretty girl must have a com
plexion of superior clearness, a nose
and chin of graceful lines, a mouth —
well, a mouth must be small, and tho
hair must be consistent with tho
dreamy, or tho dashing spirit of the
girl. Such a girl you may place on
exhibition anywhere; she does not
need hours of manipulation at tho
hands of tho hair-dresser and
tho maid. Sho is pretty whether
her hair be “up” or “down,’’and, how
ever sho may be dressed, sbe is the
same “pretty girl.” If she could ever
be caught in the kitchen—which she
never can—sho would be just as pret
ty there as in the drawing-room.
But this is all there is of your pret
ty girl. She is pretty becauso she is
physically fair. Tho pretty girl can
not be intellectual in any very great
degree, for just as soon as the girl be
comes truly intellectual, sho rises far
above tho plane of tho “pretty girl,”
and becomes beautiful, oho may be
far loss attractive in her outward form,
but sho is beautiful, and enviable, up
and beyond the reach of the simply
“prettv girl.” The pretty girl with
tho glance of her eye may bring to her
feet the weak fool whom tho beautiful
girl would scorn to subdue with her
power of intellect.
Your “pretty girl” is tho torture of
her {mother, but with that mother's
conuivanco and consent. She is indo
lent, and is indulged in that indolence,
because if she did aught it would not
1 become her as a pretty girl. Pretty
1 girls are not useful. They are not ex-
I pected to be. If they were they would
not be “pretty.” The mother of tho
pretty girl is” wonderfully keen to the
i matrimonial chances of her pretty
daughter. Every ono cannot marry
1 the pretty girl, nor would every ono if
they could. All suitors arc industri
ously pooh-hoolied by tho anxious
mother, until the right ono come3, and
the right one is always wealthy—it is
of no consequence whether ho has any
other possession than gold—and then
if the marriage is a happy ono, it may
always be put down as tlie result of
accident, for happiness, other than that
which gold purchases, was tho last
thing thought of.
It is not tho husband that is noodod.
A husband is always in tho way of tho
pretty girl. After he lias provided
her with such noeessary and luxurious
surroundings as he may bo equal to,
she rather prefers then to bo left alone,
unencumbered with his immediate at
tentions. And lie ! well, poor fool, lie
probably deserves his fate, for giddy
as his pretty wife may bo, ho richly
deserves of Sliakspearo this :
“0 niurd’rouß coxcomb I what, should such a fool
L»o with so « wife l”
And thus ho passes with his friends.
They may enjoy the pretty fascina
tions of his companion, but they havo
no envy for tho domestic happiness—
which lie knows not of—and they have
no admiration for tho want of judg
ment that led him into the snares of
tho “pretty girl.”
Your “pretty girl” always distin
guishes herself with an unreasonable
selfishness. Everything about hor
does duty to her fascination, until sho
ceases longer to be fascinating in hor
exactions. At home she is encouraged
in this. She is the prize offered by tho
mother in tho lottery, to ensnare hus
bands and gold, and indulgence rapid
ly advances her to the position of a
potty tyrant iu tho household. All
things aro sacrificed to gratify hor,
and she accepts it all selfishly, as tho
tribute duo the “pretty girl.”
Wo cannot wonder at her selfish
ness ; nor do we marvel that hor con
ceit loads hor to believo herself beau
tiful. Abroad sho is praised and flat
tered, aud exalted so far abovo her
girl companions that sho monopolizes
all, and thereby finds anotlior incen
tive to selfishness. Sho does not dis
criminate between tlie opon, shame
less, and too often vulgar attention
given the pretty girl, and the quiet,
earnest, and unostentatious horuago
bestowed upon tho beautiful girl. If
sho did, she would not be satisfied
with tho quiet devotion. It is too
much for her naturo, and sho courts
tho easily-bestowed, unmeaning, noisy
compliments of the world. Upon these
sho feods, and with thorn she contents
herself.
Your pretty girl falls moro easily
than another, because blio is caught
with flattery, and temptod with the
promise of luxury. These aro two
evils that your thoughtful, plain girl,
or your truly beautiful girl, are rarely
enshroudod with ; but they aro evils
that continually encompass the “pret
ty girl.” Sho is Lauded along tho
linG of an almost countless army of
admirers, and sho at last bocoinos
common. These glittering stops aro
natural ? they havo been traveled by
many, many of your pretty girls in
tlie heretofore—they will feel tho foot
steps of many another in the years to
come.
From this pretty girl tho beautiful
differs as does inusclo from brain ; al
most as widely as differs pandomOni
um and paradise. The beautiful girl
may bo pretty, but she is much moro
always than that; tho “protty gill”
is never anything moro thau just
pretty.
t-li:iII Wt! Meet Again.
Tho following is said to be ono of
tho most brilliant articles over written
by the lamented Georgo D. Prentice :
“But the fiat of naturo is inexora
blo. Thoro is no appoal for relief
from the great law which dooms us to
dust. Wo flourish and fade as tho
loaves of tho forest, aud tho flowers
that bloom and wither in a day havo
no frailer hold on life than tho might
iest rnonaeh that ever shook tho earth
with his foot-steps. Generations of
men will appoar and disappoax as tho
grass, and countless multitudes that
throng tho world to-day will to-mor
row disappear as the foot-prints ou
tho shore.
Men soldom think of tho gTeat event
of death until tho shadow falls across
their own path, hiding from their eyes
the traces of loved ones, whoso living
smiles wero the sunlight of thoir ex
istence. Death is tho greatest antag
onist of life, and tho cold thought of
tho tomb is tho skoloton of all feasts.
We do not want to go through the
dark valley, although its passage may
lead to I’aradiso ; and with Charlie
Lamb, we do not want to lie down in
the grave, even with princes for our
bod-fellows.
In the beautiful drama of Tron, the
instinct of immortality, so eloquently
uttered by tho death of tho devoted
Greek, find a deep response in every
soul. When about to yield his young
existence a sacrifice to fate, his bo
loved Clernantha asks if they shall
not moet again, to which ho replies :
“I ask that dreadful question of hills
that seem eternal, of tlio clear streams
that flow forever —of tho stars among
whoso fields of azuro my raisod spirit
hath walked. As 1 look upon thy liv
ing face, I feel that there is something
in thy love that cannot really perish.
We shall moet again, Clernantha.”
He submits to be seen through a
microscope, who suffers himself to bo
eaught in a fit of passion.
Thero is only one objection to peo
ple who mean well, and that is, they
never can spare time to (tarry out their
meaniiig.
There is only ono stimulant that
never fails and yet never intoxicates
duty. Duty puts a bluo sky over
every man —-up in his heart maybe
into which tho skylark, happiness, al
ways goes singing.
Jo.li Billings on Hotels,
I don’t know pf any business moro
1 vetter-some than the tavern business.
There don’t seem to be anything to do
but to stand in front of tho register
with the pen bohind tho ear ana see
the guests onter the house, yank tho
boll six or soven times, then tell John
to show tho gentleman to D7O, and
then take four dollars and fifty cents
noxt morning from the poor devil of a
travi lor, and let him went
This scorns to be the whole thing
(aud it is tho whole tiling iu most ea
ses.)
You will discover tho following des
seription a mild ono of about nixie ho
tols out of ten botweon tho Pacific aud
Atlantic oceans, across tho United
•States in a straight hue.
Your room is thirteen foot five in
ches by nino foot sevon inches parraJi-.
elogruuiic.
Your room is on the uttermost floor.
The carpet is ingrain—ingrained
with dust, kerosene oil and iuk spots
of four generations.
There is two pegs in the room to
hitch coats on to; ono of them broke
off, and the other pulled out and miss
ing.
There is ono towel on tho rack, thin
but wot. The rain water in tho pitch
er camo from tho well.
The soap is as though to wear as
tlio whet-stone.
There aro three chairs, nano seat
tors, one is a rockor, and all three aro
bursted.
There is a match safe—omply.
There is no curtain on tho window,
aud there don’t want to bo any ; you
can’t seo out, who can see in 't
Tho boll rope is come off about 6ix
iuohes this side of the ceiling.
Tho bod is a modern slat bottom
with two mattresses, ono cotton and
kfu.sk and both harder and about as
thick ns a sea biscuit.
You enter the bod sideways, and
can feel overy slat at once as easy as
you could tho ribs of a gridiron.
Tho bod is inhabited. (Bed-bugs.)
You sloop some, but roll over a good
deal.
For broakfast you have a gong, and
Rio coffee too cold to molt butter, fried
potatoes which resemble tho chips that
a two inch augur makes in its journey
through an oak log.
Bread soiled beefsteak about as
thick as a blister plaster and as tough
as a hounds ear.
Table covered with platos, a few
scared todoath pickles on ono of thorn,
and a sow fly-indorsed crackers on tho
other.
A pewterinktum castor with tliroo
bottles in it, ono without any mustard
in it, ono without nuy pepper, and one
with two inches of drowned flies and
somo vinegar in it.
Servant girl with hoops on, hang
ing around you earnestly, and wants
to know if you want anotlior cup of
coffoo. Y'ou say ‘no ma’am, 1 thank
you,, and push back your chair.
You liavn’t enough to pay for pick
ing your teeth.
Ilolinoss of heart is tho jewell-clasp
that binds humanity to heaven.
Prayer should bo tho key of the
(lay and the lock of tho night.
Ho who is indifferent to praise, is
generally dead to shamo.
Mon aro often warned against old
prejudices ; lot them also be warned
against now conceits.
An old bachelor stopped into a coun
try dry goods store, u (lay or two ago,
and called for a half dozen button
holes.
Go Home.—A witness in a case of
assault and. battei’y when asked what
ho said, replied : ‘1 said to Into, with
tho too of my boot ‘Go homo !’
Fhuitlbss IjEAttvisra.—Mankind lias
boon learning for six thousand years,
and yet how sow havo learned that
their fellow-beings are as good us
themselves.
Hoehobs of W*e. —lt will bring
homo to our renuers tho murderous
extent and horrors of war when it is
announced that tlio Ptnssiau Govern
ment has ordered tho supply of 200,
000 wooden legs.
A thick-headed ’squire being worst
ed by Sidney Smith in an argument,
took his revenge by exclaiming, “If I
1 mil a son who was an idiot, oy Jove,
I’d make him a parson !” “Very prob
able,” replied Sidney, “but I see your
father was of a different mind.”
A Tkuth. —lie who thinks no man
abovo him but for his virtuo, none be
low him but for his vico, can never bo
obsequious or assuming in a wrong
place, but will frequently em ulate men
in stations below him, and pity those
nominally over head.
Sows E.itixo Dios. —Young sows
will sometimes oat their offspring, from
costiveness, which may bo prevented
by feeding some laxative food, and
rubbing the backs of the pigs with
an infusion of aloes ; or raw salt pork
given to the mother will prevont her
from eating her pigs. It has been
given tc them with success after they
had oaten one or two of their pigs 1
Miss Deli<t Roberts, a Kentucky
Bchool teacher, twenty-two years of
ago, hung herself because of her
lovo for ono of her boy pupils, a lad not
yet fourteen. On the evening before
her death she went to tho boy’s house,
and calling him to the gate, said :
“Ned, you will never see mo again .
When you grow to be a man and mar- J
ry, tell your wife about tho woman old
enough to be your mothor who died
on your account.” Thus saying, she
clasped tho object of lior strange pas
sion to her bobom, and was nover soon
alive again
VOL. VI. —NO 22:
<'oii>3>nrison* .Hot Always Flat*
ter lug.
With us ono of the greatest evils to
young men is tho extravagant custom
of inviting young women to balls,
rides, amusements, refreshment sa
loons, &t\, paying expenses for two
persons before they aro able to earn a
living for one, and save anything be
side. Taken in its proper light, this,
is not a very delicate custom on the.
part of women, and it tempts young
men to run in debt and overdraw their
salaries, if not to lie and steal from
their omployors. It costs so much
mqiioy in this country for a young
man to bo engaged that many poor
ouos aro too prudent to attempt tho
luxury, and those who do venture of
ten wait years striving to save enough
to undergo tho extra expense of mat
rimony.
This is one of the great causes of
tho decroaso in marriages, and the in
crease of bachelors and old maids.
Tho social evil of “treating” is not
confined to young gentlemen taking
their sweethearts out, and spending all
the money thoy can mako or borrow,
,to give them an evenings ontertiain
ment, and a good meal of
dainties and sweetmeats, with perhaps
a glass of wine to give it a relish, all
of which is an insinuation that they do
not have enough to eat at home—but
men who drink, chew or smoke must
suffer a heavy penalty out of pocket,
or be called stingy.
Germany sets us a good example in
all these things.
In very raro cases would it be ad
missable there for a gentleman to pay
for a lady’s ticket to a theatre or con
cert, or to pay for hor cup of coffee,
cako or ices, in a case, much less to
buy her dinner.
It is purely an American custom for
a man into a saloon after a drink
of whiskey, and stand up at a bar to
tako it, iu company with three, four,
half a dozen or moro menVho happen
to bo there—some professional han
gers on waiting for invitations to drink.
Then tho “have a cigar ?” goes round;
and tho man who pays tho bill gets
twenty cents worth for about two dol-
lars.
Perhaps two dollars which his fami
ly very much need, wasted on a spon
ging rabble whose friendships aro not
gained by tho proceeding.
Ho much not only for the dreadful
habit of drinking, but for the misera
ble custom of a man who has tho mon
ey in his pocket being called mean if
ho does not pay for overy man’s drink
who is within calling distanco of the
bar.
In Germany overy man pays for his
own drink ; and a party sit down at a
able and chat together eaoh ovor his
own glass of lager, often passing half
an hour in real social enjoyment, on ah
expenditure of throe cents apoice.
Whiskey is not a fashionable drink
there; indeed it was impossible to
find a bottle of it for sale in the city of
Leipzig, excepting a little Scotch whis
key in a very small cellar kept by a
quiet old damo.
A drunken staggering through the
streets of a Gorman is seldom seen. A
German sponds his time at his busin
ess and with bis family , and when ho
amuses himself, ho takes his wife aud
children along.
Garden concerts aro tho chief resort
through tho summer ; and in winter
tho orchestra moves into a hall, and
tho crowd follow.
Fifteen cents will pay for a fine con
cert of orchestral music, and people
who attend may be sure of finding
themselves in good company, for these
concerts aro the daily resort of most
respectable people.
After business hours are ovor men
tako ulong their newspapers to read
during intermissions, women carry
tlieir knitting work, and children their
dolls,, thus mingling their
comforts and pleasures, making
charming, home like scenes, proving
that unity and concentration of inter
ests- beginning in the family circle
makes a country strong —Elm Ot luu.
An exchange declaros that “for
bearance with tho administration has
ceased to be a virtue.” This is a pity*
for tho forhoavance with wjjich we
have aii treated the administration is
life only virtue it- has ever had any
thing to do with.
p>rofesisi«aal Sanls.
Lyon, Dchrafltsnried a»;l Irvte.
Attorneys at Law,
tIiCO.V, - - - GEORWIA.
\\TII.L give attention o professional bu*-
W in ess in the Ml eon, South western .&
/‘ataula Circuits; in the U S Courts, in S.i
vaun&h, and Atlanta, and by special coa
iract ill any part of the State.
K. M. HABFEBI
fltorpey apd Calip,sellar at LaW,,
n«t fi’SO.T, tf.f.
J. L. JANES,
Attorney At Law y
BIWS#, «-A.‘
Office at Court Bouse'.
Keh. 9~6m.
DR. G. W. FARRAR
J rAS located in this city, and offers his
I l I’rofcHsional services to' {he . public/
Office next door to (he “Journal Office,” on
Main Street, whore he can be found in tlie.
day, unless professionally engaged, and
night at his residence opposite
ehohoh 1 nrtr.'SMßr