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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