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gstastm a'Ucklir Journal, Published Every Friday. E. & J. E. CIIIUSTIAN EDITORS AND PUBLISHERS. TERRIS— Strictly in •IU ranee. Three months *1 00 Six months *2 00 Ouv year.' fS 00 Rules of • Itlrerlising : One dollar por eqiuro of teu lines for the *irst insertion, and Seventy-live Cents per square lor each subsequent insertion, not ex ceeding three. One square three months $ 8 00 Wne square six months 1-2 00 One square one year 20 00 I'wo squares three mouths 12 00 TVo squares six months 18 00 Two squares one year. 80 00 Fourth of a column three moths 30 00 Fourth of a column six mopths 50 00 Half column three moths 15 00 Half column six mouths 70 00 One column three months 70 00 One column six mouths 100 00 Job Work of every description exe cuted with neatness and dispatch, at moderate rates. HOYL & SIMMONS, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, IKI If 'SO.r, - - «KOfl«/4. r.. c. HOVt.. j ni2sly. it. p. simmons. C. B. WOOTEN, ATTORNEY AT LAW, lily Dawson, Gra. DR C.A. CHEATHAWI, O.IWSON, CEOBWIA, Office, South West corner Public square. CfONTIX UES the practice of Medicine in J all its branches. He pays special attention to the treatment *f all chronic affections of either sex; and toake* Womb and Secret Diseases a speciality. He may be consulted by letter. Charges moderate. Terms Cash. Janl-1867. 57 1?. ALLEN, WATCH AXD REPAIRER JEWELER. Dawson, G-a., IS prepired to do any work in Lis line in th« very best style. feb‘23 ts ” J. o*. S. SWITII, 11TJN SMITH and Machinist, IU irso.f, ; : Georgia. Rep lira all kinds of Guns, Tistols, Sewing Maldives, etc , rto. 2 ly- W. G- PARKS, _A.Ltornev nfc Law. m h si y i>. i n\sojr\Grf. a. W. WARWICK. torney al i.atr anti Solicitor in Equity. ... geo., 1 ILL practice iu Lee, Sumter, Terrell tl and Wcbs’er. la A- W NO TIC K 1 1 [IIOUC W will practice iu all the 11. courts of the South western, in Irwin cl the Southern, Coffee and Appling of the llritu >wick,and most of the courts of the IV- UuU Circuits. t tfliee on Washington Street, opposite the Kx.*r« ss office, Albanv.Ga. mayll ly Yawcabd. fpH R undersigned will attend to any lc£il 1 btiMincss entrusted to his care, in South wefltei n Georgia. Office at.Cnt.berf, Randolph co., (la. maylljly E. 11. PLATT £O. RANDOLPH HARDEN, Attorney at Law, j ul,Am CITRRERT, GU. tThTstewa rt~ zittorsev at law, Cuihkert, ndolph Cos., Ga., All business entrusted to his care will be faithfully attended to. June 1 E L. DOUGLASS, Attorney at Law, June 1 C l TTHRERT, fivf. J. E. HIGGINBOTHAM, ATTORNEY AT LAW, •Morgan, Calhoun Cos., Ga., Will practice in all the Courts of the South* western and l’alaulaCircuits. June 1 E. H. SHACKELFORD, attorney at law, CAMILLA, Mitchell Cos., *»«., AGENT for purchase and sale o LAND. June 1, 18GG. Dlt. S. G. ROBERSON, SURGEON DENTIST Mbj4 Culhbrrl, Georgia. MARTIN GENERAL INSURANCE AGENT AND exchange dealer, EC IF.H I.t : : Alabama Represents a paid Capital in A No. 1 Companies, of l§ii2t£, 000.000. Takes Fire, Inland, River, Marine, Life, and Acci dent’ risks. Losses promptly adjusted and paid. apr 27-ly. Tin andkrson. w. woods, joskph dat, Special Pari. ANDERSON &. WOODS, COMMISSION MERCHANTS and dealers in STAPLE DRY GOODS, GROCER IES and COMMERCIAL FERTIL IZERS, TMI I MID ST. MeECOJT, ti.i. ocUfl 3m. THE DAWSON JOURNAL, Vol. 11. STOItYOF A COHITJKTTE. BY CHARLES BRANTFORD. My mother wits very angry to hear I had broken off with George Lytllo ton I had several admirers in Brnr ford, but we elected him because lie cotiid otter mo iho best home; his father, a thriving solicitor, having promised to take him into partnership on our marriage. We lived in a cot tage in the outskirt of the town, and to give ip the opportunity of exchang ing this for one of the linest houses in Barnlord seemed to my mother a mad ness. “Your flirting and coquetting have driven him frantic,” sho said, the morn ing after the quarrel; “but I believe the game is in your own hands yet.— lie will .come on again, and let this affair bo n warning to you.” “It shall boa warning to me to have nothing more to do with him/’ 1 replied. * ‘‘l will have none of this romance,” rejoined my mother. “1 insist that you receive him when lie comes as if t otbing had happened, or, at least, meet him half way.” “You ask the sacrifice of niv life, mother,” I returned, goaded into re volt. “To George Lyttleton 1 can never be reconciled, lie is not only tyrannical, but spiteful, and in marry ing him I should marry misery.” Here we heard the well-known knock at the door. “Now, Alice, you have had your heroics, and you know wi.at you have to do,” sai Imy mother, in her steru est tone. She had hardly spoken, when George came in. I never raised my eyes, but I knew that he looked haggard, and he made no response to my mother’s smiles “I suppose you know all about this affair, Mrs. Seymour ?” ho said, after an uncomfortable pause. “What affair?” replied tnv mother. “IknnvAlieo has been muttering aoout something, but l never pay at tention to lovers’ quarrels ” ' “Well, 1 wanted nothing unreason able. She it engaged to me, and 1 thought she ought to dance with me and nobody else; but last night, at Mrs. Buhnet’s, site danced witii any body but me. And I acknowledge I spoke strongly about it. Hut I atn willing to overlook it now, and go on as b fore.” My mother laughed “Tit t : s the way to settl i UiflrtvnetM,” she said, “so 1 shall 1 avo you to. kiss and be friends.” Hut L caught her arm. “Stay, mother !’’ I said, resolutely. “1 want you to hear me say that 1 shall never he Iriettds with Mr. Lyttleton again— that I contemn and despise him, and won tier 1 could ever have engaged myself to him ” My mother knew that these words were decisive, and her eye lighted on mine witn a look that, though it did not shake my purpose, made my heart quail At the same moment George started front his cuir, with a constrained laugh. “I tell you what it is !’’ lie cried, “I atn no longer the best match in Barn ford. Ihe young squire has come home, and— ha ! ha ! iia I —don't mind my laughing, Mis. Seymour—our Mi-:s hero, has been casting eyes at him, and culling him handsome, and I do believe sho is setting her cap to be mistress at the Hall." It vt as true that l had conceived such a project, and tho accusation brought a glow to ray cheek, which did not escape my mother. In tacitly h r face cleared; she drew hors df up, and turned on George iu her most dig rifled manner.* “After such language from you, I must side with ray daughter, Mr. Lyt tlclon, and acknowledge that she has taken a right view of your conduct,” sho said. ‘‘.Pray, sir, leave my house, and never enter it again.” George was thunderstruck. lie had never dreamt of being given up by nty mother, and now asked pardon, and I believe wotrld have gone on his knees —only I quitted the room. I went up stairs, and waited till I should be join ed by my mother, for I felt sure that she would come to me on George’s de parture. But I was mistaken He liad hardly gene when she also leJ the house, and I remained in sus pense. But a load seemed to be taken from my heart, I was free, and my glass told ine that I had power to on.dave. There might be difficulties to over come ; but on meeting these I should have my mother’s help, and I already counted on triumph. I heard her return, and my heart beat quicker, as she came straight to my room. “I have been to the Hall, Alice,” she said. “The Hall!” I echoed, with a con scious blush. “Yes. I heard last night that Mrs. Rush worth wanted a companion and reader, and I thought that, as you are now at liberty, the post would suit you, so I wem about it at once, know ing tijere would be a hundred appli- 1 cants. I have got it for you, and you ' are to take up your abode there to- j morrow.” I could, not help looking at my mother as the spoke; our eyes met, but now I did not b.ush, for I saw in her a hard glauce a worldliness that made me tremble. I trembled more when my gazo turned into my own bosom, and l beheld the same world liuess there. All that night this imago was be fore mo—in my thoughts, and in rnv snatches of sleep, rising like a ph an tora,*presenting tny past life as a blxnk, and my future as an imposture DAWSON, OA., FRIDAY, MARCH M, I saw myself uujoving and unloved, and I thought of a time wln’ti my youth would bo gone, my beauty with ered, and I, old and forlorn, would be in the world without a friend. More than this, I despised mvselftts much ns I despised George Lyttleton, and the tears streamed front my eyes as I felt what a mean thing I was." Hut where I had contemplated further deception, I now sa w a way open for amendment The situation at tho Hall would dcliv. r me from the thral dom of my mother, and I decided to go there; but far from retaining my first design, I resolved :o studiously avoid Mr. Hushworth, and try only to be servicablo to his mother. At last the time arrived for starting; a tly came to the door, and wo set out my mother and I, for the llall. It was a gloomy day ; there had been a good deal of rain, and the road which wound round the outside of the part wall, looked dreary. My mother eat silent, and I was too glad’to he left to my thoughts, which, though sad, had a lacinntion for me. By and by we reached the lodge, whonqp our carri age swept round a lawn to tho house. Then my mother broke silence. ‘You don’t, seem wail to-day, Alice,” she said, “and I should like you to he looking your best; for much depends on a lit st appearance. You musn’t expect this to bo an affair of I came, I saw, J conquered. It will bo difficult; and if I had known at first what l know now, I should hardly have for warded it. It seems Lady Uharteris wants Mr. Hushworth for her daught er Fanny, one of the belles of Hie county. And the Rushworths are so proud—another obstacle. I don’t want to discourage you, and I have been weighing whether I should tell you of these things; but it is better that you should be prepared. And now good-bye—for I must leave you at the door.” My eyes filled with tears, and I felt impelled to throw myself on her neck, and teii her my renouncement of the design and my purposes of amend ment. Hut u glance at her face told me how fatal would be the confession —that instead of approval, it would invoke derision, and entail on me new fetters. So I simply bade her adieu, and entered the house, where I inten ded to w..rk out iny regeneration It was a fine old mansion—one ol the Elizabethan structures, and I found tnysell iu a large ha'l, where suits of armor, and trophies of the chase, placed between family pictures, exhib ited beta the pursuits and descent of the owners. 'J he hou-ekeeper, a quaint dame to a horn 1 had been consigned by my mother, luce direc ed a servant to c.nduct rre to the mistress of the mansion. Mrs Rishworth was an invalid. Fur years she had nut left her own rooms, but she art up, and, as her apartments opi?n and into each other, was wheclc 1 every day into her boudoir. She had been a beauty, and preserved the re mains, with a manner haughty lo scorn; and of this I felt the effect iu the stare with which she received me. I foresaw my post would he a trying one, but all I anticipated fell short of the reality; for Mrs. Rushworth’s tem per was implacable. She could not bo pleased, because her pleasure was in finding fault; and having always wor ri and her attendants till they became frenzied under the strain and 11 >w in her face, she hated every ono who ap proached her from the conviction that the feeling was mutual. This ban did not, indeed, ex'end ti ter son—fir him she ido'iz.d. Alfred Hushworth was now *25, and bad just taken possession of bis pa'riraony, aLer spending live years iu traveling round the worid. 1 had seen him as he was passing through the town and turned te look at me, and this fired my ambition. But, under hie own roof, I found it easy to keep my resolution of avoiding him ; for he only appeared in our part of the house at a certain hour, when he paid his daily visit to his mother, and then I took care to be absent. Thus I got over the first week, trying all the while to conciliate Mrs. Rush worth, but with no oilier effect than to make her more exacting. One morn ing she desired me to go down to the li i brary for a book. J “Yi u will lied it on my sou’s table by the door,” sho added. “lie said he i would put it there for uie before he went out. Now, don’t bo blundering i with a servuut, but go yourself—though, t for that matter, you are as. likely to; blunder as anybody.” Thus graciously commissioned, I pro ceed to the library, not without a tre mor, for it was there that Mr. Rush worth constantly sa‘, making it a forbid den precinct to me, even in Bis absence. I did not wonder that it shoutd bo his favorito apartment when I entered.— Lofty and spacious, with bay windows looking on the grounds, and admitting a lbod of light, sumptuously furnished withal, and shelved round with volumes in every tongue, it afforded a retreat tempting alike to tho scholar and the idler. Nor could Iboat a loss to dis cover his table, even without his moth er’s directions; for it was marked by his open desk, and at the coiner I found tho book, which be mett to turn me into stone. It was addressed to Mr. Hushworth, in the hand of Georgb Lyt tlcton.aud there could be no doubt that its object was to traduce me. 1 took it ; np, the seal was broken, so that I could draw out the inclosure and read it. I felt irresistibly tempted, aud held the letter a moment; but then a belter feel ing prevailed, aud I laid it down. My eyes rose as I did so, and I beheld Air. Hushworth , “Mrs. Hushworth Bent me for a book | I stammered, acquiring speech 1 kuow \ not how, ‘and I saw this letter, aud took it up to be sure that I was not mistaken in the writing. I beg ji ur pardou fur tho liberty,” Mr. Hushworth declined his head. “1 lear that I haven’t exploited tny conduct,” I cantiuued, “but.—but tho tho writer of the letter is my enemy, and L fear he can have written te you but tor one object—to slander me.” “Fray, say no more,” he replied, cav alierly. “You and dn’t read tho letter, and I don’t complain of a curiosity which lho circumstances excuse ” 1 had jjoruo with tho temper of his mother, never resenting her contumely however it pained, but my spirit tired at being treated with such indifference by a man. It brought back my old pride of boauty ; I forgot nty good resolutions and all my difficulties, and thought only of the moment. “I trust you will consider that the circumstances justify a greater curiosity, sir,’ [ said; tit least l mast ask you whether that letter does speak of too, il it does, I beg you will allow mo to r tad it.” Heuowlooksmc iu tho face. “You ask too much,” he replied in a more serious tone. “I am sorry you th : ok so, sir ; your words are a confessi rn that the letter is about me ; and I oauuot consent to re main in your house, if I am to stay un der amputations which are ooueculed from me.” “1 wish so Hpare you pain, and pain to myself. Is it not enough that 1 dis believe the calumniator?” “Let me read it, sir,,” I pleaped, lay ing my band upon the letter. Agon he inclined his head. 1 waited for no more, but ran through the letter before I breathed. Here it. is:j Sir : I think it a duty to put you on your guard against Miss Seymour, who lately entered your establishment; she has jillod hali tho young men in JJran ford, and her plotting mother bus plan ted her at the Hall, with the design of entrapping you. The young lady fully enters rate the scheme, arid is determin ed you sLa.l bo her husband before the year is out. Take this warning from One who wishes you well. I felt the bloo 1 kiave my cheek at the fir.-t words of the letter, but then it came back, for I exulted that, whatever my original design, I had arrived at the llall with a pure and tu uorablc purpose. Mr. Hushworth could not misinterpret my feelings as 1 looked up ; the blush was not that of shame but of triumph. “That letti r is written by Mr. George Lyttleton,” 1 said. “His slanders arc so conteir ptible that they dou’t even make indignant.” Yet as the wends fell from my lips I remembered that L once entertained the motives ito ascribed lo me, and this whi.sp.tr of my eoncicnce set my brain in a whirl. 1 caught a chair and sank into it, barely in time to prevent my failing. Mr Hushworth was at my side in an instant; he exhorted rne’to be composed, to dismibs this slaudrou* letter from my mind, fecif-respeet told me that 1 must leave Lis house ; and I thought of the reception I should meet from my mother; the triumph I should afford to George Bytderon ; (he tales that would be spread about Branford, But it would Le easier to bear all ibis than tbo scorn I I Alfred ltusbworth. ‘I know not bow to thank you for your symp-thy, sir,” I said with tears. ‘But I feel that I must return home.” My resolution took hi n by surprise, and he had no time to frame a reply ; fir here a servant lushed in and an nounced that his mother had Lecn found insensible. I flew up stairs, end in a moment was in Mrs. Rushworth’s room which I hardly left (or a fortn’ght afterwards. Daring that time she hung between life and den‘h, and more than ouec her son watched be! with mo, expecting each mrmeat to be her Inst. But sho ralli ed, and seemed to shako off with the fever the evil temper, so that sho now appreciated my attentions, and always spoke to me kindly. As for her son, nothing could bo more considerate that bis demeanor, aiming as it did to set me at uise, without obtruding a painful recollection. He was too succcsslul; for Lis presence not oDly gave me ia e, but happiness. The moments flew when wc were together, aud I counted them in his absence. In short I loved him. Nemesis bad entered my bosom ; and where 1 once thought of being the victor 1 was vanquished. Often 1 recognize this retribution, but never mournful—rather with sat isfaction, indeed ; for it gave me what 1 lacked before—somebody to love ; and though it was a love unknown and which would never be requited, yet I felt the richer for. it, and locked it in my heart like a secret treasure. 1 must soon re turn home—for I only d‘ ferred my de parture till Mrs. Hushworth should be better, and then this hidden passion, though it could not but be a sorrow, would also be a oomfort, for I could hold by it and rest on it, when every thing else beside give way. I had strolled out in the sunset iu the park, to dwell on the.-c thoughts, and they so absorbed mo that I did not notice a figure lurking ancoDg the trees, and before I looked up, George Lyttle ton stoo 4 in my path. “Well, Alice, I think you have play ed this game out now,” he said, “aud 1 have come to give you another chance. I shall never marry any girl but you, aud I am determined that you shall never marry any one but me ; so let us try again !’ I made no reply but sought to pass on. “Come, you ain’t going that way,’ “dou’t think of it!” 1 turned my back, and thought to re treat in tho other direction, but he an ticipated my intention by stizing uie round the waist. “You won’t forgive me? you won't bo friends ?’ lie cried flosoely ; “then \ say so ! give me y mr answer 1” 1 auswarod iu a stream, and was strugglcing in Lis grip, wben a power ful arm struck bint to Ihe ground. “Scondrel! how dare you molest (his lady ?” exclaimed Alfred Kushwortb.l “Bog-mo, or I will have you borsewhip cd into Branlord.’ George Lyttlotoli sneaked away with out answering a word, uml 1 stood us speechless. I had uo voico, because my feelings, were what my voice could not divulge nor even express—admiration, grati - tude and love, love that would brave anything but discovery. But, after a moment, 1 murmured my thanks, aud accepted my deliverer’s escort to the. house, replying to Lis remarks on tho way iu tremulous monesylablcs. I took leave of hiui in the hall, and ran to my own room It was a week t.frer this occurrence that I aunou- cod my intended depar ture to Mrs. Hushworth. .She was now in stronger health then before her ill nes, and we had been out in the car riage, an exercise site bad not attempt ed for years. Hut this did not reconcile her to my going awty, aud she clung to tnc so, that when I thought how dllf r ently I should be treuted by my mother, nty resolution almost faltered. But I. withstood her tenderness, though with a choking voice and bursting heart. That Evening I was taking my tytual stroll in tho park, now keeping always in view of the house, when I caught sight of Mr. Hushworth. 1 had recurred to my old practice of avoiding him, so I turned into tho alley of trees leading in another direction. But I had not gone far, when I heard a quick step behind me, and the next moment Alfred was at my side. “I am glad to Lavo met you, Miss Seymour,’ he said, in a voice I thought troubled. “1 imagined you had given up your intention of leaving us; but my mother tells me you still adhere to it.” “I have no alternative,’ I replied, al most inuudiblv. Pardon utc’ he returned, laying his hand on mine ; ‘there is one—if 1 could persuade you to cuurider it. You have become indispcnsiblo to my mother, and you arc as the light of day to me. Rc pain here, then, to make us both hap my—her with a daughter, and me with the being I admired at our first meeting, and now devotedly love'.’ I dou’t know how my feet bore me at that moment ; for the ground seemed to rise and fall, the trees to whirl, and the sky to bow down. IBs band bad twiued around mine, aud scut thrills to to my heart, which bounded wi.l.ia me. But even then my mind was made up. “This must not be ?’ I said. ‘I should be the worthless creature i have been called if I consented.” ‘You refuse me, Alice! you whom 1 so love, so adore ! Ah ! why did I tell you ? why did you forocme to speak be fore I had a chance of moscss.’ I burst into tears. A word more, and 1 should Lave fallcu on his neck; but L now felt my weakness, an 1, waving my baud, which ho had allowed to drop, 1 hurried to tho house. Nor did 1 feel • safe from myself there. 1 stayed only to write a note ol farewell to Mrs Rush worth and then stole out uupcrceivcd, and made my way home. I Carno before my mother like a spec tre. “What is tho nutter sho cried, scan ning my pale fioc and staring eyes. ‘lu Heaven’s name, speak out!’ “I have nollriDg to say mother, ex cept that I come hack,’ I rcpl cd. Hut don’t let this Double you, I can get cut again in the same capaei'y, or as a governess.’ My mother burst into a frantic Uuah. ‘As a governess !’ sho cried, seizing me by the t-h raiders and shaking me violently. ‘You t>b;t!l go out as a bride and before he is a month older, too ’ l'n briug George Lyttleton here te-moorovr, and t ike care how you brhavo to him Now you can go to bed.” VVhat a uight of missery I passed— as if 1 had been a criminal, oa tho eve of execution ! rather would die, indeed than give my hand to George Lyttleton. Never—such was my risdvc—never would 1 wed any one but Alfred, and him 1 had refu el. 1 remained in my room iu the morning, fearing to meet mV mother, and considering how I could j escape her toils. She did no: summon me down, aud, after a time, the servant came and announced that she had gone out —on what errand 1 knew too ‘well llcuco my heart quailed when 1 heard a carriage stop at the door. Th ,-te was a siir in the pasasge. I listened till mv ears throbbed, and then all was qii et. 1 darted to the stairs, and mot the servant ascending, but did not heed what she said. The parlor door stood open,showing me Mrs. Hushworth with in, and 1 sprang forward, and sank at her feet. “My dear child, why did you leave me? she said Deeding over, aud press ing a kiss on tny cheek. 1 looked round and u‘tercd a cry ; for there stood A’fred, too. lie Bmileil now, and caught me in his arms. Aod what my mother throaUcned came to pass, 1 became a bride before 1 was a mon'lt older—hut the bridegroom was Alfred Hu-h worth. Potash Salts you Roots. — At the late meeting nf the Royal Agricultural Society, D.\ Ve. I -ker reported ou the j experiments which were made under bis direction ou ditf rent farms : lu uo iesiuuco the u.e of potash salts for root crojs was found bentfi.ul, and in some cases crude potash salts some what diminished the produce. He as | cribcs this to the cold and wet season, and the committee suggest that the j 1 same ex; erimonts should bo repeated i j for a succession of years on light as well j as heavy laud. TVo. *5. ReVoltijio Fokne at am Kxecv , cion. — Iho St. Vincent Witness eporP the recent execution of i woman, nam ed M iry James, for murder. When tb< chaplain who attended tho wretched wo man to the scaffold had biildeu her farewelj. he drew back, hut the move ment could scarcely nave been perceiv ol, for the order was given, the droj 1011, and ihe culprit was seen standing unharmed on the platform—her eyes from the beginning were very imperf oi ly bandaged. Looking down she drew buck further from the trap., and, her arms being Irec, she removed the pieoi of muslin with which her eyes were cov ered. From this time she appeared to dread the (rap, having seen the danger, and she could not bo induced to go for ward. 'J ho provost marshal ihon summon and the turnkeys, who, with tho tmigman were eon .trained to use forte to get her on tho trap-door. The instinct of sell preservation seemed to nerve her with streng’h, and a set.ffl ■ ensued on tb< platform of the gallows for ten minute , when she was ui imitoly (ripped up. a*ri sh? fell heavi'y on one of the large side beams of the gallows, and rolled -or tho scaffold, where sho lay motionless. She was then pushed ovt r on tho trap door which was pulled, and she fell through head foremost. She never made a Btruirglo or movement after she was thrown down, and many persons supposed that life was oxtiuct before she fell through the trap. Death of a Yovng Child.— Few things appear so beautiful as a young child in its shroud. The little innocent faoe looks so sublimely siutplo and con fiding ami Ist the cGd terrors of death —fearless that little mortal has passed under tho shadow—there is death iu its purest and sublimist image—no hatred no hypocrisy, no suspicions, no care for the morrow ever darken that little face. Death has come lovingly upon it; there is nothing cruel or harsh iu its victory. Tito yearnings of love indeed, cannot be h isl and; lor the prattle and smile—all the .little world of thoughts that were so delightful—are gone forever. Awe, too will overcast us in its presence fit 'he lovely voyager; for the child has gone simple and trusting into the pres ence, of.au all wise Father; and of such, we know, is the kingdom of Heaven. Wolves on a Railway. —“A cattle train on the Kailwav was stoppeJ,” says the Haris Nord, “two nights back, between • L' bramout and Hroix, by the scow. Tho brakesman was sent forward fur aid to cfear the line, and while the guard, firemen, en gine driver, and a customs officer were engaged in getting the snow lrorn un der the enginrs, they were alartyd by fi‘ e wolvo-i, which were attracted, no doubt, by the scent of oxen and sheep coop and up in railed carriages. The men had uo weapons save the fire uten sils lx lunging to the engine. Thu wolve.- temained in a semi-circle a few yards distant looking keenly on. The CDgine driver lei off the steam and blow the whistle, and lantern were waved to and fro, but the savage brutes did not move. The msn then made ther way, follower by the wolves, to the guard’s carriage Three got ia safe, and while the fourth was on tho step ono of tho animals sprang on him, but succeeded only in tearing his coat. They all then made •an attack, but were beaten off,one being killed by a blow on tho bead. Twc hours elapsed before assis anoe arrived and during that time tho wolves made •ovcral attempts upon the sheep trucks, hut tailed to get in. None of the cat tle were injured. Y Crazy Lawyer.— A correrpond ent of the Chicago Republican tells tfii story of u remarkable lunatic, who goes every day co the telegraph rffiee, corner of Broadway aud Liberty street, Mew Y'ork, to communicate with the I’iori dont on the condition of tfie cnuntr) - -he operators tako his dispatch as if they deemed it as important as ho Jo's. Twenty years ago ho was one of the most prumiueut law;era in New York, had au ample for uue, and was a ripe -cholar out of his profession. Tie lost his reason on account of some uufoitu oato love affair, of a lawyer I til ing a victim to Lis heart!) squandered his means, and at list became a mono manias on the subject of patriotism. For years ire has deemed it his duty to confer daily with the President, whoever he uuy be, upon the condition of the R I uhlir, and he never la Is to mak out l.is telegram, accompanied With di agram and character that no one c»d uud -rMand, but which he declares the Chief Executive will c. mpreheud. lie i supported by his relatives, and if entirety harmless, and even good Datur ed at all times. He is in the best of spirits, in spite of the responsibi’ity he bears, aud is as thoroughly convinced that the fate of the country hangs CD him as if he Were a member of Ctraeret6. Corn Cobs as Fuel. —Tbe Prairie Farmer Las been figuring s raie on rais ing corn and preparing it tor market, and decides that it is better to shell the oorn than to sell it ij gross, cod aod all as the practice farmer* is. By shelling in a suitable mmhiuc and leav ing tbe cobs whole, cuu.-ilcrable is saved, as a ton of whole Cubs : s equal to a ton of coal for fuel. This is au item worthy | of consideration in sections where much 1 o irn is grown and fuel is scarce and uecesfarily dear iu market. Helping Old lowls.—To Lave the poulty-yard profitably the fowls should not be kept until they are old. There is no objection to presirving a favorite [cock, as long as he is active and lively, | but henb after three years will Dot pro -1 ‘in oo marry eggs a- those of one or two yeais. ■ Moult lipotl lilt* tiideWHlk* I stood upon the sidewalk, And wa otied the busy throng Os mortals us they passod in , Each hurrying along. Some faces bore the impress Os vomit and bemity fair, While a m • had lines of sorrow And !u;ro«s made lay rare. E .chYlieriaUed some ambl’len, Some goal untouched, desired, Some enimiiHin the future To which their thoights aapired. And each was plodding onward, With throlibieg brow an.! heart, lu Iho world’s great drama acting Life’s tlet n and real part. Aud thus Ihe thought came o’er me, Must all this Vast arruy Os youth, of ago, of infancy From earth noon p res away'— And trend the solemn portals Where reigns the monarch Death, Who batHys iu datk oblivion Earth’s mortal with his breath. Oh, yes, it is oblivion As far as mortal si Jit Can penetrate the blackness 01 death's still, solemn Dight. But filth lights up the pathway, And through i wo behold Be. ond the narfci* portal •The stile,a of ati uing gold. Y- s, alt nuts' pa.s tho portal, The rich in gilded stats, M' Stdrnp each gay udhrinqpt WU'e entering the gate ; Tii« peasairt stoop fio lower Than duke or knights j head, Fur ou a common platform Is the palace .of the dead. Earth’s moi tale, worn a td weary, May each a rost obtain. And with our blessed Saviour A heavenly mansion gain : Aud thus the prayer ascended While gazing on the throng, “Lord, thou hast bought them, save them For they to thee belong.” Bed Y’ourt Stables.— A horse, re marks the Rural World, will get tired of standing and treading on a hard floor, so will a cow, a sheep, a man. tioft bed fools ea-y—gives rest. And yet we negtect the bedding of our stables to a great ex’ent. lnjuicd limbs and oth er ailments, especially of the hoof, are the result often r.f a neglcci here, as has been clearly enough shown, and as any man can clearly enough see, if he gives the subject a moment's thought. Bed with straw, which is ploLty or sawdust, or tau batk, or shavings. The drier these materials are the bettter. Every Jay remove the moistened bedding and replace with Such u floor well bedded, adds grt ally to tho warmth of a stabte, and thus bcooqie a fodder sav er. The sm.dl holes and crevices in a tt tor, with a good bedding upon them, will I:t little or no cold through, aud will drain the stable. Rather have a ground iloor than, naked plank. . Fattening Geese. —A c r espond— eut ol it. 11-m l . P-r.u».o‘ C tpntpa • “1 see a qirslion a-kad as to the best way of fattening geese, and the reply in your Gazette givos, iu my opinion, * very troublesome one 1 uow send ono which 1 havepur-,u and for the last thirty years wi:h thegreatir success. Pnt lip Dree or four geese into 8 darkened house aud give each bird one pound of oats daily, thrown ou a pan of water. In fourteen days they will be found almost too ’at. Thus each goose is ready for tho table at art oxpense of ono stone of ea‘f!, without any other feed. As geeso pone if left alone, there never must be less than two left; as oae is taken to . kill 1 put another up.” IVodcru I>ie(ioiiary. W’u'er. A clear, lluid, onco used as a drink. Hone tv. An excellent j J*e. Rural Felicity, Potatoes and tur nips. Tongue A 1 i-tie horse that is con tinually running away. Dentist. One who fi ids work for his own teeth by taking cut those of other people. My Dear. An expression used by man and wife at the commencement of a quarrel Policeman. A man employed by tho corporation to sleep in the open air. Bargain. A luchcrou.-. transaction, in which each party thinks ho cheated the other. ■ Doctor, A man who kills you to day to save you from dying to mor row. Author. A dealer in words, who of ten Kcts paid iu his own coin. Fricud. A person who will nob as sist you before he know* your love will excuse l ira. Editor. A poor wretch who empties his brain in order to fill his stomarh Wealth. The most respectable qual ity of men. Bonnet. The female head dress for the front scats of the opera. Esquire. Everybody, yet no body; equal to Colonel. Jury. Twelve prisoners in a hex to try one or more at the bar. Stato’s Evidence. A wretch who is pard racd for being baser than his com rades! Public Abuse. The mud with which every traveler is spattered ou the road to dee'ruction. Modesty. A beautiful fliwer that fl urishes in secret places. Lawyer. A learned gentleman who rescues your estate rreiu yout enemy, and keeps it himself. Tee Grave. Au ugly holo in tho ground which lovers and poets wish they were id, bat take uncommon means I:o keep out of Aloney. The god of the nineteenth century, A hopeful young lawyer says that any young lauy who possesses 'I,OOO sons ol land presents sufficient grouuds for attachment. A man in London lost his life at a game of poker. His wife held the po ker. \Yha» excu-'c have small men or not paying their debts ? Beosuso .‘hoy aro always shoit.