The Dawson journal. (Dawson, Ga.) 1866-1868, May 17, 1867, Image 1
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C. B. WOOTEN,
ATTORNEY ATj r LAW,
21y "Dawson, Ga.
«J. P.~ALLEN,
wvtch and
lEPAIRER JEWELER.
Dawson, G-a.,
IS prepared to do any work in his line in
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J. <u. s. smithT
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0.1 U'Sft.r, : Georgia.
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attorney at Law.
Mat Sly n.W'SO.Y\G.I.
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•A'lorney at Late and Solicitor
in Equity.
m.HITIiI'MI.EE - - - GEO.,
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and Webster.
Law L t 6ti c L
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A business entrusted to hie care, in South*
western Georgia. Office at Cntb»*rt, Randolph
co., Ga. niayll,ly K- U- PLATT
T. ±t. STEWART,
attornev at law,
Cuthlert, ndolph Cos., Ga.,
All l.nsiness entrusted to bis care will be
faithfully attended to. June 1
L. DOUGLASS,
Attorney at Law,
June 1 C VTHBEItT, G.t.
J. E. HIGGINBOTHAM,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Jsorgan, Calhoun Cos., Ga.,
Will practice in *ll the Courts of the South
western and PataulaCircuits. June 1
E. H. SHACKELFORD,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
CAMILLA, Cos., «a.,
A GKNT far parch.*** and tale o
LAND. June 1, 1806.
DR. S. G. ROBERSON,
SURGEON! DENTIST
Mu;4 Cuthhert, Georgia.
J C L MARTIN
GENERAL iNwRASCE AGENT AND
EXCHAN6E DEALER,
JE IJFVFtLwf t •.Alabama
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LSXOT BROWW, THOS. O. STK7T A UT.
DROWN &STEWART,
Ware House a n<l
COMMSSIOA MERCII HITS,
at Sharp A Brown’s old stand,
p.nrsar geougi.i.
We are determined to u*e our utmost en
deavors to give entire satisfaction to all who
may favor us with their patronage ! and as
far as possible to be to them, in this depart
ment, (what we have often felt, and what eve
ry planter must feel that he needs) ju-t and
efliahle friends. That we may be better ena
bled to carry out this design, we have secured
as business agent, the well known and reliable
Capt. John A. Fulton.
Just balance," is our motto.
Afarch 8 1867.
~wTr. & N. M. THORNTON
Practical Dentists,
Opt wsojr, «.f.
HF" Office in Harden's now building, West
Bide, Depot Street. Dec. 14 ,
WILL SELL!
FtJRKITURE, Buggies and Rockeways at
Cost for the Cash, as I wish to close
pot that branch of my basineas.
Apr'l lltb, IW7-jm E. B LOYLES3.
THE DAWSON JOURNAL.
Vol. 11.
Home and its Influence*.
A writer of some celebrity has
truthfully abservod, thut the throe
sweetest words in the English lan
guage are Mother, Home, and Heaven.
Os the joys, the influences, and tho at
tractions of home, poets have sung in |
their most harmonious strains. Around
i it, in childhood, in the prime ot life,
| and in old age, cluster the heart’s pu
rest and best affections. Like a bea
, con of light to the way-worn traveler,
! it guides the weary to a haven of rest,
j It needs no palatial mansion, no highly
| ornamented grounds ; nor indeed is it
I necessary that wealth shru'd at all
' surround us to muke our homes hnp-
I py. Loving hearts, and lips that
biealhe naught of anger or unkindness,
should belong to the home circle
There tho influence of woman is felt
by the little band that gathers eaoh
day and night around the cheerful
hearth stone, where pleasant stories,
useful reading, and conversation be-
I guile the hours. As mothers and
wives, women exert an immense influ
ence over the destiny of men. The
chivalrous heroes of ancient times
made the approbation of woman, the
incentive to glorious deeds of arms.—
Yet such renown she covets net; but
prefers that her influence shell fall
gently on those around her; for this
her name will figure less in history and
furnish less food for romance than for
merly. A sentiment purely feminine
, leads her to regard home as the legi
timate sphere of action, and the pure
morals of her children as her greatest
crown of jlory. Washington, when
in the youth of his renown, enjoying
the highest honors within the gift of
his country, ascribed his ruccess to
the teachings of his mo’her, and to
| the good influence thrown around him
when a boy. Home is, or ought to
be, a place too pure and sacred for
boisterous revelry. The young man,
unless he is lost to all sense of honor,
never sullies the presence of his mother
or sister with profane language or un
gentlemanly bearing. The gentle influ
ences that are thrown around us in our
childhood’s home, will prove a shiela
nguins: many temptation'. When care
bts left its sigret upon the once radi
ent brow of the wayward young man,
he looks back to the time when he was
cherished by a mother’s love and
shielded by a father’s strong arm ; ho
now recalls their holy teachings, and
yielding to his re awakened better feel
ings, he is saved. Homj should boa
place where the best emotions of the
heart are cultivated, and where the
sweet face of innocent childhood greets
us with a happy smile. So far ns it is
in tt e power of parents, they should
make home beautiful, “make it an Eden
of beauty and gladness,” thus leading
the thoughts of the infant mind from
nature up to natures God.
‘ Make it a temple of holy revealing*,
Andtove its bright angel with shadowing
wings."
It is sad to contemplete the many
thousands of homes throughout our
beautiful South whose household gods ,
are broken, and heorfti-stones made j
desolate. The memory of what made 1
those places dear, will cheer the hearts J
of the surviving occupants, and enable
them to enjoy more perftctly a home in
heaven. Earth prevents the eyeef mau
no scene more fair than a hsppy home
when all the Christian virtues are
taught by precept and example. Over
such, ang«la will pause in their mis
sions of love and gace on them With
admiration.
When age has dimmed our eyes
and paled the roses on our cheeks, we
may adopt the sentiment of the follow
ing lines, alluding to the influence of
home,
’Twill like the Oder of each blossom,
Live in onr hearts where'er we roam,
As wheo we slept qp one fond bosom,
And dwelt witbin our happy horns.
Miss Florence L. Aldeuoff,
Aldehoff t Institute, Dawson Ga,
The nzAD of a Dead Man Tries
to Speak.— A poor fellow was guiiotin- 1
ed here a few days after our arrival, j
According to the custon his hoad and j
body was given tQ the surgeons for the i
advancement of science.’ An expert- 1
meet was tried with the head with a
very interesting result. They injected '
into its arteries, fresh air and blood ta- ;
kon from a dog, and shortly af the head >
gave uumistakable signs of life. The !
color returned to the cheeks and lips, |
the eyes open ad, the lips moved •&aif ,
attemdting vainly to speak, and the en
tire face bore the resemblance of ac
tive life. So soon as the operator ceas
ed to inj ’ot tho life blood of the dog,
the appcarynces of death rabidly sue- ■
cetded. It was earnestly held by the
eminent surgical gentlemen in atten
dance, that during the oboratjon the ‘
brain was in full and natural action, !
and that the lips tried to utter the last j
thought wbish fonnd resting place in
the mind of the condemned.
Paris Correspondence Petersburg Ga
zette.
DAWSON, GA., FRIDAY, MAY 1~, 1867.
THE VAHFIKE;
Or Acted to the Lite.
BY ALFRED HARKS.
How delicious, after the crowd and
bustle of the city, are the first few hours
of a walking trip iu the country. My
hea t had been moldy and lonely for a
long time, until one sultry day in ••Sep
tember I received a note from Mark
barn, asking mo to take a holiday and
visit him at his mother’s villa. I per
suaded myself that I wus overworked
and wanted rest, and determined to ttke
Markham at his word. I sat down and
wrote U o lines, telling him that I
should walk down, starting that very
night, and that he might expect me as
soon as twenty rniies a day and a zigzag
road would bring me. In ten minutes
I put up a few things to send before
me, packed a knapsack, and then shoul
dred my traps and rushed from the hor
rible gloom of my ehambors, and in an
other hour found myself on a country
road, doing my first stage in the moon
light.
I absolutely danoed with delight, it
was so glorious to be free once more
I was walking through a woody country
and frit a pleasure I cannot a- scribe iu
reminisccDsoes of childish terrors awak
ened by tho strange forms that moon
light showed among the trees. When
I oame to a break in tho woods, I lean
ed over a gate opening into meadows
that stretched far away, all gleaming in
the light which lends beauty, delioate
but mysterious, and almost unearthly,
to the most common objec's. As I lean
ed, I listened; not a sound, except tb.-
tiukling of a sheep bell; now aud then
the bark of a dog, baying the moon, or
a village churchbell striking the hour.
But soon I saw, breaking over the
horizon, dis'ant lightning, which worn
cd me that a storm was approaching.
I had still some miles to go before I
could reach the end of my first stage, so
I pressed on again. Before an hour
had passed the wind had risen aid was
swaying the tree tops overhead iu tte
narrow arched lanes, and soon the moon
was hidden, and 1 felt the firtt slow,
heavy drops of rain. Half and; zzled at
times by vivid flashes, and splashing
through puddles already formed in the
oart ruts, I hastened forward, but it
was nearly miduight when, drenched to
the skin, 1 reached the little town of
It did not take me long to bunt up
the market place and to find out the
li:d L'on, wiiicb I knew to be the 1 est
ion. It was not qui'e sreasy, however,
to gain admittance ; but at last a sus
-1 icious porter, after a parley from a win
dow, leisurely d'seended, and having
narrowly examined me, admitted my
claim to a night’s ludgiug, and ret about
showing me to a room. I tallowed him
as he went along the passage, past
rooms with their names painted over
the doorways, uu stairs and aloug the
gallery which 0 er'o ked the oouriyard.
“You’ve got a theatre here then?”
I said, as my eyes fell on a bill wafered
to the wall.
“Yes, sir,” said the porter. ‘-Yes
sir, they do say a* how Miss Barry is a n
uncommon good actress. Sho has only
been here a week, and the oompany
wont stop long, for there ain’t many
people to fill a theayter, except the young
chaps from G , likewise some gents
from the university.”
I stopped to look at the bill—a long,
narrow document, which announced the
appearauce of Miss Hurry in the “Thril
ling melodrama of the the Vampire!’
I smiled as I read the bill, which not
only set foith the performers’ names,
but gave in a tew words the leading
characteristic* of the personages of the
drama. “Sir Grenville Llburne (he is a
swar hy baronet, of ancient lineage,
poor, but haughty, proud and revenge
ful); MarsdeD, the Vampire!!! (a de
mon who renews his life by diinking
the blood of maidens.)”
“That’s her father,” interposed the
offic ous porter.
“Isa (a lovely girl)
“That’s true enough,” out in the por
ter. “She’s fit for* better theayter nor
this here. There’s a city manager com
iDg down to-morrow on purpose to see
her.’
1 finished the bill, went into my room
and takiug off my clothes, gave tho por
ter particular instructions to have them
well dried against the morning. But
alone and in bed in the hugo room, only
half lighted by the candle, left burning
and flickering the gU6ts of wind which
made their way to it, I found it impossi
ble to sleep. There I lay, wide awake,
listening to the thunder, which still
muttered in tho distance, and to the
wind, which seemed to gain fresh
strength every now and then, as it came
dashing fall against my windows. Then
I watched the fl ckering shadows of the
bed hangings, and fro-u that I fell to
thinking of the playbills and oft ho hid
eous subject of the play.
As I lay turning in my huge bed. I
confess that I wished tho town, the thea
ter and its bill had been anywhere but
in my road that night. At last, how
ever, I got tired of turning over and
ovor, and my candle dying out, after
many fi'ful leaps, which startled mo not
a little, I fell asleep.
I awoke late, feeling heavy and oui
of humor, aDd my temper was not at all
improved by fiuding that tor the present
there was no chance of getting further
on my road. All above was one dull
mass of clonds, from which the ruin stili
poured in torrents. I breakfasted slow
ly, wrote a fey letters rendered ncoessa
ry by my abrupt departure, and then
looked out into the market pl»ce at the
puddles; when tired of this, I turned
for consolation to he literary resources
of the coffee-room, but fouud nothing
worth reading. Utterly miserable—for
my clothes, despite my injunction, had
fctjien wretchedly dried—X had afire lit,
and sat before it till the waiter came ’n
to ask mo when I would dine. As din
ner, carried to tho pitch of repletion, ap
peared to bo the readiest means of ren
dering mysolf impervious to meteorolog
ical influences, I ordered a repast which
taxed the resources of the Red Lion to
to the utmost. I hud scarcely sat down
to it when a carriage drove to tho door,
and shot out a large man, who entered
with much bustle and a loud tread. It
was the “city manager” of whom the
porter had told me. In him l was glad
to recognize Potts (let mo veil his per ■
sonality under this discreet pseudonym),
an enterprising lessee, known to me
slightly through Markham, who had
written for his theatre. Ho recollected
me, and we dined together, fla con
fi mod tho porter’s account of the object
of his visit, and asked me to go with
him to the theater. I accepted, for
there was something intensely amusing
to mo in the lively talk of the manager,
his anecdotes and knowledge of the
world. The rain had ceased, aod it
was now a lovely afternoon, but still so
wet unuer foot that I thought I would
stop at It another night; so we sat
over our wine—he talking, I listening
and laughing—till it was time to be iff
It was not the fact of the theatre be
ing a wretched one that so much sur
prised me, as that D——— should
have one at a'l. Os ali the unhappy
investments in brick and mortar which
ha7e ever tome under my observation,
that was deeideu ! y one ot the very
wors\ Nevertheless, traveling com
panies did occtsional y take it for a
while, though I should not like to af
firm thflt any of them ever got u livintr
out of it.
The performance had begun before
our arrival, and it was with some diffi
culty that we lound any one who
would consent to take our money and
admit us. The ill-lighted, emp y look
of the house, with its tawdry decora
tions, all faded and rnoldered, was
wretched in the extreme. My atten
tion was far too much occupied by
tho chit-chat of Potts to alow of my
noticing particularly what was passing
on the stage; but the acting 1 knew
was ludicrously bad, for it excited in
us so much merriment that an irrup
tion into our box of the L> pop
u:ution was at one time threatened.—
But alter a while appeared the young
actrrss, whom Potts’ account had
made me anxious to see. Ceitainly, 1
had rarely beheld more exquisito beau
(y of face and figure, or more intelli
gent ac in. Her dress, too, was sim
pie, and even poor, yititgave evidence
of a refined taste, w hich surprised me
iu a girl so situated. Tho managerial
eye of Potts saw her capabilities at a
glance, and for a while our merriment
was icstrained, only to be re awaken
ed, however, by the eti'rance of the
supposed vampire. “Her father ” said
Potts; ‘ decayed gentleman, poor old
fel ow; won’t let his daughter act
without birr.” It required all my sym
pathy to retrain from langhing out
right at the absurd antics of the poor
old man, who had to sacrifice many a
prejudice before he cou’d consent to
allow his daughter to employ her tal
ents as a means of livelihood.
I have almost forgotten the olot of
the piece; but it was in tho filial act, if
I recollect rightly, that the lovely girl
was to become the vampire’s victim.—
When the curtain rose, she was dis
covered alone. After a short solilo
quy she reclined on a couch, and the
plot of the piece required the entrance
of her father after a short pause.
He came, and never to my dying
day shall I forget the fearful impres
sion caused hy his appearance. My
professional studies had made me ac
quainte 1 with all the fearful forms
which death assumes; but the hue of
the face which was before me l bad
never met with. I had not dreamed
that it was in the actor’s art to pro
duce so awful an appearance, which
seemed the result rather of the abso
lute withdrawal of aU color—l hardly
know how to express my meaning—
than the production of any external
application. No words of mine could
describe the terror of tiis deejJy sun
ken, heavy eyes, and his stealthy, nois
less tread. A habit of observation,
which had become a second nature to
me, compelled me for an instant to
withdraw my gaze from the ghastly
figure stealing a ong the stage, and to
glance round the theater.
The effect of the apparition was ap
palling. Children, wild with terror,
eluDg to their mothers, scarcely less
terrified than they ; while strong men
hid their faces in their hands. I look
ed at Potts, the cool man of the world.
His sell possession prevented him from
betraying what the firmly set mouth
told me he could not wholly suppress.
Every sound io the theater was hush
ed, and it was amid a silence as that
of death, in which I could bear the
rapid beating of iny own heart, that
the vairq ire sto eto tho couch of the
recumbent girl. What vague f rebod
ing deepened the terror with wbioh I
watched his up; roach to the girl, I
know not; but I felt that to turn my
bead for an instant, or to open my lips,
would be utterly impossible.
I would have given woilds for tho
power to cry out; but every musclo
was powerless, as if under tho domina
tion of a speli, and my gaze was fixed
uncontrollab y on the actor, as he beDt
his head toward the neck of tho seem
ingly sleeping girl. An instant later,
and with a cry like tha. of a death
stricken creature, she sprang from the
couch, totteied toward the footlights,
and fell huddled together on the stage.
Had she, too, become suddenly en
dowed with some wondrous fuculiy
which gave to the acting of a novice a
pow-'r beyond that of the high 0.-t at
tainments of art 7 The reality of her
fearful cry, the mann, r of her fall, and
a dark pool under her head told a dis
ferent tale. Released, I krew not how
from the fascination which had held
mo a moment before, I leapt from my
seat, clambered over the footlights,
and ru'sed the girl’s hoad on my knee.
A gush in her small delicate throat
shcwetl that all was too real. Potts’
had followed me; with his uid I car
ried tho girl into a dressing-room
where I gave her all the assistance in
my power.
“Her father !” I said to on actor,
who followed us ; “where is he? he
must not escape ”
The man rushed out of the room,
but returned a few minutes later to
tell me that he had found the girl’s
father lying utterly unconscious on the
floor of his dressing room His man
ner terrified me.
“What do you mean ?” I said
“It was not he !” he whispered in a
hoarse voice; ‘he had not finished
dressing for the part !”
“Shut tile stage-door,” I auid. “Is
there any way besides of leaving the
theater from the stage ?”
“None.”
“But we were too late; before the
alarm was giver., the other had gone
out, with a handherekief to his face.
***••• *
I have little to add to my story
The girl’s beauty, her gentleness and
intelligence had awakened in me a
strung feeling of interest, and I willing
ly gave up my holiday to pass it at
her bedside. I was in love with the
girl whom a strange and awful fate
had thrown in my path. I tended her
with all my skill, and when I was com
pelled to return, and to leave her to
other care, it was arranged that I
should eve'y day have news of her;
and that us soon as she could possibly
bear ’.he removal she should te
brought to London. A recovery from
her wound seemed possible, when she
was attacked by fits of such a charac
ter, that their continuance, I knew,
would be fatal. It would be too pain
ful for me to dwell cn the agony of
these attacks, during which tho recol
lection of that ghastly fa te was always
prisent to her. A month after I left
her 1 learned with bitter grief that all
was over. My abscence spared me a
terrible shock she died raving mad
in a lunatic asylum.
A rigid inquiry left no doubt on my
mind of the father’s complete inno
cence. His a count was, that w hile
dressing in his room he happened to
turn toward the door, when he saw
before him a figure dressed in all re
spects as he was to have been, but
with a face so awful that he fell sense
less He recollected nothing more till
on his recovery, ho found persons
standing by him. The most careful
investigation tended to corroborate
this statement, but failed to produce
any other evidence. From the first I
had refused to believe iu the father’s
guilt, aud after the death of his daugh
ter I was instrumental in procuring
him employmeni in the city. In the
hope < f finding some clue to the mys
tery of that awful night I had him con
stantly watched ; every step he took
was dogged, a 1 his actions were recor
ded, but nothing to alter my opinion
was discovered. I did not require this
confirmation ; I knew how ho had lov
ed his daughter; knew how his life
was bound up in hers; I noted his im
patience at the slow approach of death,
and it was with a feeling of self re
proach, which the sense of a duty ful
filled could not stifle, thut I followed
him to his gravo<
From the Brooklyn Eagle.
Waterfalls— The Cregurinc
Question.
Woman, notwithstanding her weak
ness for waterfalls, is to he trusted.
But I notice that storekeepers who
trust her generally send their bills in to
husbands.
This ought to be an insult to the sex,
and when women vote I hope they will
have spirit enough to resontitand make
it a misdemeanor punishable with the
eocfiscatioß of the debt.
Speaking of waterfalls, do you be
lieve the story about the “gregarines 7”
Or is it the invention of a scientific
enemy 7
Not having a microsoope in tho
house, I examined Eliza Jam’s water
fall through an opera glass, but was un
able to disoover any animate objects.
I then tried animal instinct, end
placed the wa'erfall before our dog Cic
ero, who, as l have already informed
you, is a pup of much canine sagacity.
He seized upon the waterfall with fe
rocity, and the way he made the hair fly
was a caution to insects.
If there were any gegarine around
they must have been asten'shed.
Eliza Jane was wroth when she dis
covered the wreck
The experiment cost me seventy five
cents for anew waterfall, and Cieero
got a licking for his share in the experi*
ment.
The ladies are not to be scared out
of their waterfalls by any such scientific
nonsense.
But they have changed their base,
and wear the waterfalls on the top of
their heads cow, balancing their hat on
the top of their nose.
By and by the waterfall advances,
tho ladies will wear their hats under
their chirs.
Which is none of onr business.
Yours, festively,
Court O'Lanus.
A Yankee and a Southerner wore
playing poker on a steam boat
“1 haven't seen an ace for some
time ” remarked tho Southerner
“Web, I guess you hain'-t,” said the
| Yankee, “but I eon te ! l you where
they are. One cf th m is up your
' shirt sleeve there, and the other* ar»•»
the ton nt ■— l
.. ...y UOO 8.
TVo. 17.
Tlie Incognita.
I remcmler one night going to a
masked ball given at the theatre during
the Curnival. During the evening a
young and apparently elegant worn; n
oame toward *me, attired in a domino
and mask, and putting her arm within
mine, aoaosted me thas :
“ The signer has not found her whom
his eyes sock.’’
Now I was seeking no one in partic
ular, so inferred that I was not speaking
to any one acquainted with me and I
replied, “Tho signora oau jest nt my
disappointment; docs she wish it Da J ’’
“Disappointment belongs to most men
who trust women; to all who trust
men. ’
“The signora,’’ I urged, “is too young
and lovely to have discoved that her-
Belf ’’
“I have not complained; the heart
is silent on its own sorrows, signor Cap
itano.”
I was only a lieutenant, hut the Tsea
did not displease me. “Bignora, if it
were in my power you should never have
reoson to fe. 1 sad,” I answ, red
Aud so this light badinage continued
for st.mc little time. J besought her to
tell me who she was, or to unmask ; but
this she declined to do, and iD return
told me so many little matters üboat
myself and my daily habits, that loould
not imtigiue how she oould possibly have
learned them, aud became thoroughly
intrigue. As she was very obdurate, I
wished her adieu, when she pr mised
that if I would stay until the conclusion
of the ball, she would unmask. For
want of something elso to do, and also,
perhaps, from curiosity, I stayed, and
about three in the morning I posted
myself at ike door to watch the people
as they left, and soon espied my incog -
nita. She wsdkcd up to me with a u.oßt
coquettish air, raised her mask, and dis
closed the not unoourtly visage of—my
washerwoman. She was childishly di
verted at her sucocss iD playing me i ff—
much more than I was myself.
Remedies for Prisons —Cases cf
poisoning often occur in which life
might be saved, and hours of agouy
averted, if we only knew what to do in
season. If a poison burns the throat
and acts violently opoa the stomach,
swollaw a half pint of sweet oil, or
melted batter or lard, and within five
minutes take half pint of warm water
in which has been stirred a tcaspoouful
of ground mustard and salt. The oil
arrests the action of the poison, and the
mustard, etc., oauses vomiting.
If the poison swallowt and docs not bum
the thtoat and act with instant violence
but causes sickn ss, slupor or faintness,
swallow the whits of thtee eggs, ils i a
quantity of the strongest cuffee it b pos
sible to make, and in a few minutes take
the warm water and mustard and salt,
89 before mentioned. An eminent phy
sician says that with tho prompt use of
oil, and white of eggs and strong coffee,
and the emetic as above direeted, the
fatal results of any poison likely to fall
iD the way of man or child, may be Al
ways averted. The remedies am iD
themselves, harmle s, and might all bo
ta<:en into the stomach at once in any
quantity, without damage to the system;
and they are things that we always have
at hand. But while using these things,
don’t fail to send fora physician. And
above all, and first of all, don’t have any
poison around.
An Incident —The Pioyune relates
the following:
But while this eagerness to beoome
voters is manifested by a great many,
still there are others who ominously
shake their heads anddroliDe participa
ting in public affaire. It is often very
mousing to listen to their conversations,
hc.d at street corners. Yesterday even
ing a buDch of colored men got into a
warm discussion at the corner of Oaron
delet and Lafayette streets. One or two
wore earnestly endeavoring to persuade
the others to “pitch in” and register.
A tall, gaunt looking negro, with a
white wash brush iu his ' and, positive
ly deol-ired he would not. That be
knowed how “niggers” were ; he bad
bein on the plantation. A negro “dri
ver” when begot a whip in his hand,
was always worse than the white over
seer. The speaker got hot on the sub
joot; said be knew the “nigger’’ in the
city, and he didn't want them to boss
him ; he wanted them to stay just where
they belooge 1, aid not to be putting on
airs; if the niggers “got a bos-ing'*
bim, he was gwine to leave—emigrate
—instaD'er. Ihe maj >rity setmoi to
agree with tho tali darkey, and the
crowd di-persed, our whitewash friend
moving down tho street by himself but
still shaking his bead and earnestly
gesticulating,
Beautiful Answer,—A pupil of
the Abbe Sicprd gave the following ex
traordinry answer:
‘What is gratitude 7’
‘Gratitude is the memory of tho
heart.’
‘What is hope 7’
‘Hope is the blossom of happiness.’
‘W hat is the and ffcrcnce between hope
and desire 7’
‘Desire is a tree io loaf, hope is a tree
in flower, and enjoyment is a tree in
frui'.
‘Wbat is eternity 7,
‘A day without yesterday nr to-mor
row—« line that has no end ?’
‘What is time 7’
'A line that has two ends—a path
whieh begins iu the cradle and ends in
the tomb.’
‘What is God ?’
‘The neocssary being, the sum of eter
nity, the machinest of nature, the eye
of justice, the watch maker of the uni
verse, the soul of tho world.’
‘Does God reason 7’
‘Man reasons beoause he doubts, he
I he deoi<t<— “- *
vi 0 is omnie
i cent.; He never doubts —He therefore
never reasons,’
Fan, Fact anti Fancy.
Mi cry loves company, and so dot*
n marriugenb'e young Inly.
A negro preacher once observed fa
his henrers at the close of his sermon
as follows: “My obstinulous bradren.
I find it no more use to pi each to yon
dun it is for a grasshopp er te wew
’nee bin kluss ”
A promiscuous appetite—a Western
editor says he want* “grain, pork, tef
row, candles, whiskey, beeswax, Knen,
wood, and everything else tbet be can
eat ”
A brother editor 'ells us that whew
he was in prison ft>r libelling a justice
of the pence, be wns requested by the
jailor to give the prison a puff.
An affected singer at a concert the
other night, was told by a wag m the
audience “to come out from behind hie
nose and sing like other people.”
A burglar on being pursued, solilo
quized, ‘hang it! if I’m caught with
these spoons, I will have to go to Con*
gress.’
A YVestoi n paper strikes the namee
of two subscribers from its list becausw
they were hung. The publisher,
says he was compelled to lie severe
because he did not know their preeent
address.
A young lady hrd her “c*p set’’’ for
a rather large “feller,” but fuit'ed to
win him, whi n a confidant tried to con.
sole her with the words, “Never mind',
Mollie, there is cs good fish in the sew
us ever was caught ” “Mollie knows
that,” replied her brother, “but shw
wants a whale ”
At a church where there was a call
fur a minister, two candidates appear
ed whose namee were Adam and
Lowe. The latter preached an ele—
gont discourse from the text—“ Adam
where art thou.” In the atternoon,
jAdnm preached from these words,
“Lo, here am I.”
A female seminary at Salt Lake city
was recently broken up by the princi
pal marrying the whole school.
The preliminary work has begun nt
Ilunsboro, Mississippi, for the erec
tion of a cotton and wool factory there.
“Pray excuse a bit of sarcasm,” said
Smith to Jones, ‘ Pray pardon a touch
of irony,” replied Jones, and knocked
him down with a poker.
In what circumstance is a wotnaa
that wears stays? In straightened
circumstances.
Said a young fellow indignantly
called a boy—“ Don’t you cad
me u boy, I’ve chewed tobacco ttieso
six years.”
Prentice says, G«’n. Butler is a stir
ring fel.ow and makes stirring speech
es. He is said to be posses.-cr of a
great deal of stirring material—lots of
it.
Take off your bat, cried a judge to
an Amazun in a riding dress. “I’m a
lady, ’ was the rep'y. “Then lam no
judge,” said his lordship.
Captain James L Moseley, of the
Quitman Banner has established a night
school for negroes in that town.
How ro Relieve Cuoked Cattlk.
I have fattened many oaltle on potatoes,
(says a aorrespondent) and always feed
tbeui whole, and occasionally one gets
choked. I then put the animal in a
yard, where there are bars, which I let
down, so that she can jump over, bnt as
high as she can jump. I then place
her -bout two rods from the bars, with
her head toward them, and with a good
whip, well applied, I run her over the
bars on the jump, and when she touchea
the ground on the opposite ssde, the po.
tatoo will fly out of her mouth. I have
informod my neighbors of this remedy,
many of whom have tried it, and in no
case have I known a failure.
I must pity that young man who,
with little finery of dress and reckless
ness of manner, with bis coarse passions
alt daguerotyped upon his face, goes
whooping through the streets driving
an animal muoh nobler than himself,
or swagging ioto some bants of show
and calls it 'eDjoying life.’ He thinks
ho is astonishing the world I and he is
astonishing the thinkidg portion of it,
who are astonished that he is not aston
ished at nimself For look at that com
pound of flesh aDd impndenoe, end say
if on all this earth there is is anything
more pitiable ! He knows nothing of
the true joy of life ! As well say that
'be beauty and immensity of the uni-*,
vese were all eoolosed in the field wber»
the prodigal lay among the husks and
the swine ! [Chapin.
A man long noted for intemperate
habits was induced by the ltev. John
Abbot to sign the pledge in his own
way,’ wbioh he did in these words: ‘I
pledge myself to drink no intoxicating
drinks for one year.’ Few believed he
could keep it; but, near the end of the
year, he agaiu appeared at a tempo anco
meeting, without once having touohed
a drop.
‘Are you going to sign again V ask
ed Mr. Abbot
‘Yes,’ replied he, 'if I can do it iu
my own way,’ and accordingly he sign
ed the pledge tor nine hundred and
nine'y one years, ‘and if,’ said he ‘L
live to that time, I intend to take out »
life lea«e.’ ,
A few days aft r he called on th»
tavern keeper, who welcomed him book
to his old haunt.
‘Oh, landlord,’ said ho, as if in pair,
‘I have suob a lump on my side 1*
‘That’s b< cause you* have sto’pped
drinking,’ said the landlord, Yor a WOQ |
live long if you keep on.’ .
‘Will drink tako the lump away T
‘Yes, and if you don’t diink, you'll 1 ,,
soon have a lump on the other side..
Come, let us drink together,’ and h*
poured out two glasses of whiskey.
‘I reckon I wen’t drink,’ said thw
former inebriate, ‘eppooi*B' jccplng
| the pledge will bring anohter lumrvjkw
it isn t very hard to better al |V w4
with ibid be drew *»• ’ ~ * .
1 „e lump—a roll of
: greenbacks— l'rom his side pooket.and
1 walked vff, leaving the landlord to b»»
’ reflection?.