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Jateon S&hcklji Journal, Pnbliihed Bvsry Frld»y. E. k J nr CHRISTIAN EDITORS AND PUBLISHERS. TJC ttJUS—Strictly In •Mdvanct. Three month*. 00 Six m0nth5....... ....42 00 Oua year $3 00 Ralta of «ldv<rt ini tty 1 One dollar per squire of ten lines for the grst insertion, and Seventy-flvg Lents per tqnaro for each subsequent iueei lion, not ex reeding three. One square three months..., } g 00 On* square iik month* 12 00 One square one year 20 00 T»o squares three months 12 00 J«o squares six months IS 00 wo squares one rear SO 00 P'Otirth of a column three moths 30 00 Fourth of a column six months At) 00 Half column three moths 45 00 Hslf column six months 70 00 Oue column three months 70 00 On* column six months 100 00 Job Work of every description ere entedwith ueatuess and dispatch, at moderate, rates. HOYL & SIMMONS, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, D.nrAo.r, - . GEostai.t. L C. noVL. jsn2s Ir. r. s. simxions. G. B. WOOTEN, ATTORNEY AT LAW, 2ly Dawson, Ga. J . HATCH JSpLn AND REPAIRER : M. JEWELER. Dawson, Ga., 18 prepared to do any work in his line in the very best style. feh23 ts J. (j, >i, SMITH, SMITH and Machinist, f).f ll’SO.* 1 , Georgia. Repairs all kinds of Guns, Fistols, Sewing Mahines, etc., etc. - lv - W, c. PARKS, attorney at Taw. M*rß 1 f l).i !S'SO.V;G.#. C.w. WARWICK. jt'torney at Late and Solicitor in Equity. a'. If ITRVtLLL - - - GEO., IVTILT* poetic* in Lee, Sumter, Terrell ▼ V and Webster. LA.W‘ NOT I C3 K 1 | iHORG/11 will pMCfice in all the .1 1 • con-f# ot’tbe Soil*h western, ill irwin ol the Southern, 0 »flee and A.pp! n z <*f Gie Rr un swirk, and moat of the com ?p of the Fu tmtlft Circuit*. Office on Wi^in K »on Stree*, npno*«*e the Fa *r. is office, Alojmiv, Gi. ®avll ly t.AAV GA m>. rpHK undersigned will at'eiid to »n.f legtl Jl busincHS entrusted to his care, in Soa*h* western Georgia. Office atCutberr, Randolph so., Ga. ma?ll,ly K. Id. PLATT T. K. BTE WA HT. attorncv at law, Culhbtrt, ndolph Cos., Ga.. Aft l,n*tne*a en’rnsted to his csre will be faithfully attended to. June 1 E. L. DOUGLASS, Attorney at Law, June i c uritnc nr, <?>#• J. E. HIGGINBOTHAM, ATTORNEY AT LAW, Calhoun Cos., Go., Will pra-tlo* to *'l lhe C° urt * of the South' * rn »°d Circni's. Juue 1 AC K E L FO R D, attorney at law, CAMILLA, HIK’I*® 11 Cos., Oa., AGK2TT for p****** nn ?‘ ale 0 CAND. June 1, lcj66. DK. & Cm. ROB KII SON, SURSSONi DENTIST jiwj i Cufhhrrl, Georgia. J C L MARTIN GKSERAL INSURANCE AGENT AM» exchange dealer, EVW.iIC.i i Alabama Meceetea t» * paid Capital in A No. 1 i!orop».iie«, »f f#»,000.000. Takes ,*'lre, Inland, Uiver Marine, Lite, and Acci dent risks. JjO?? 8 * f ro Wff r adjusted arid ~no, jaoya, riiog. if. £?z«r^ay. pRO*N &,STEWART; "Ware House nnd COMMSSIOtI MEKCIIASIS, at Sharp A Brown's old stand, p.fiftso.y GEonoifi- We are determined to use our utmost en deavors Jo gjye entire satisfaction to all who m»y favor 3s with their patronage ! and as hr as possible to J;e them, In this depart ment, (what we have often felt, apd what eve. ry planter must feel that he needs) jij-t and erliahle Mends, That we may be betrer ena bled to carry out this design, we have secured aa business agent, the r?l, jfOfiva »u 4 reliable papt. Joho A. Pulton. “A ju*t balaiuu," is our motto. Afarcli 8 1867. ITbT&ITm. THORNTON Practical Dentists, irso.r, G*i. .or Office In Harden's naw building, West Bide, Depot Street. Dec. 14 , WILL. SELL! FCRKITURE, Buee'es and Roekeways at Coat for the Cash, as I wish to close •at that branch of my business. 4peit l*th, 186f 1® £. B OOTLESS. THE DAWSON JOURNAL Vol. 11. ISABEL'S CHOICE: cm THE RIVAL LOVERS. Isabel Wyndham lay lazily back on her host cushioned fauteuil, with her hands clasped behind her head, look ing dreamingly out of the curtained window. Slowly and serenely sailed up t he full round room behind the misty Kentucky hills, anti the roar of a rapid river very near rose above the sighing of the melancholy night wind. 'J he stars cleaving bright and keen through the blue black arch, looked bleak and wintry, and a hard black frost backed the earth. But to Miss Isabel Wyndham, nest ling oosi'y among the rosy cushions of her chair, the outer coldness and des o'stion only made the comfort of tier pretty chamber moro luxurious. It w as the prettiest, tho daintiest of maid en bowers, pm feet from the mosey car pet, where rosebuds bloomed, to the plump, snowy bed and the oval pic tures on the tiuted walls. It was all charming, but nothing there was more charming than herself, as she lounged with negligent grace in that gold col oreo morning robe with its black b it, and her trim s ! ippered feet resting on an ottoman. Her black hair Jell, all tumbled and loose, over her shoulders, and her dark eyes were misty w ith languid thought. “I wi h I knew what to do," Miss Wyndham was ti inking, rather rue fully ‘ I don’t want ty be rnnrrbd that I know of, tnd I'm not in love I’m certain ; anil yet it seems I must be Mrs. Somebody befc re long, or my dear absurd old uncle will go distract ed. I wish I could take to matrimony in the natural way like other girl*, and , have done with it. I’ve had the nteas- , les, and whooping cough, and searleti na, and the rest of the diseases coin- , mon to juvenility, but I can’t fall in I love. 'J he nearest approach I ever felt to the tend, r passion was at the age of fifteen Now I am thrcc-und twenty, and—come in ” A rap at the door disturbed the cur rent of her thoughts. Miss Wyndham sat erect, and a tail, thin old gentle man, got up in fault’ess even’ng cos tume, entered, and paused iu the door way aglia.-t. ‘•Miss Wyndham, are you aware it is half-pust six, uud we date at sov- 1 en ?" | 1 Good gracious, uncle ! Half-past six ! I never dreamed es such a thing ! Has anybody come?" ‘ Uur guests are all down stairs.— Mr. Raymond and Mr. Warner arriv ed this moment. This negligence on your part, Miss Wyndham, is abso lutely disgraceful.” Isabel jumped up aod rant* the bdl ‘ Don't be eras', uncle Tom, that's a darling, tmd I will be ready in fi‘ — teen minutes. I know it’s disgrace fit', find I’m dreadfully nshunie I of inymdt, btic I—oh, Susie ! hurry nnd make me cs pretty ns you eau I nm afraid I nhall be Into ’ busie, n bright quadroon girl, hur ried through the boudoir into the dres sing rootn, and her-in stress wua fob lotting her, when li r urule laid his bund on her arm and detained her. “Isabe 1 , you will have a proposal to night—ln fact, two proposals. ' “Two proposals! Now what on earth—’' Mr Jordan gave his niece an impatient shake “ You understand rcry well, only you aie the most agravating—Mr. .Ray mond and Mr.* Warner, have both done you the honor of asking my per m ssion to address you. Both are un exceptionable in point of family and fortune, both aie young ar.d good looking What more car, any woman in her senses require?” “Nothing,” replied Isa? el, meekly. “Am Ito accept them both ? ShaH I tnarry oue fir.-t and the other after, or both together, or how “Don’t be absurd I Accept which of ttiv'h* you please. Mr. Raymond is more po.'isbed and considerably the ivea'thiesf, but please yourself. I know both will make you an offer to-night, and one or the OtVr you must accept under pain of my o't*®p displeasure.” Mr. Jordan strode w/h dignity out of the chamber and down to the draw ing rojins where his guests were as sembled, waiting for the d'ning bell Walter Raymond and John Warner . were waiting for something else—what do young men in the last stage of love ' care for their meals ? They fidgeted and made objects of themselves, John Warner particularly, mid wn'ehed the floor, and answered at random when peopl; talked to ill m, and sat on net ties generally. ’ , Mr, Raymond, who was slender and elegant, and had a beautiful moils- , taciie and Parisian pan els, pinn bly, and to talk tp a passe laily ip red velvet; bgt Mr. Warner <ould not.— lie was a tall, fair haired young man, I this John Warner, who blushed when M iss Wy rid bam spoko to him, and had a crazy notion tun' the angels in paradise could not be tngch more beautiful or perfect than sfcu. Presently she came in, radient in bright blue glace nnd misty lace with : jewels spnrkl.ng about her, apd fct?r , dark curls flowing Mr. Raymond win j beside ’ter, roniehow, directly, with u fluah on hie cheek: and Mr. War j ner coloring up aa if he had sto’en the spoons, stood afar off, and looked and loosed Tae blunders that that young man made all through dinner were shock ing. Nothing, but being hopelessly in love with a young ltdy titling oppo site could possibly palliate his attrocit ies. Mr Raymond—oh, thrice bles sed Mr. Raymond I—sat by her side, and poured soft eli queoce iu her lie- DAWSON, Ga., FRIDAY, MAY 31, 1807. tening ear. Ho could'nt eat any more than that unhappy John; but Miss Wyndham took her soup, and her fish and her de=crt as calmly and with as good an appetite as if they had been at the antipodes Still she had rather liked it; and Mr. Raymond’s eager rhajisodies and Mr. Winter's blun ders and distressed face amused her. She was inclined to prefer the fortrer; a husband who would blush whenever she looked at him to the roots of his whiskers, and who drank frantically out of his finger glass, and overset tho gravy, was not desirable. Besides, he had fair hair and no moustache, and Isabej liked moustaches, and raven locks, end men who knew how to use their tongue. Yes, she decided before she rose she preferred Walter Ray mond ; and yet —poor John ! He had been her playmate long ago, her brave, true hearted boy lover, and she had always liked him. It did seem a little bard. In a eoraer of the long drawing room, something in a shadow, Isabel sat at the piauo, playing brilliantly, with Walter Raymond turning her leaves, an 1 bending over her with such a rapt face. Tho storm of music ceased, and then there was an idle strumming on tire keys, ami the D—out it came—one pa stun ate, eloquent, im petuous appeal. She listened half frightened, yet pleased, too—it was so romant'c, y ti know. The Corsair never wooed “Medora” more eloquent ?y than this. Poor John Warner, sit ting melancholy and alooi, still saw and understood it all. Isabel, lilting her eyes from the piano keys, saw hitn too, and the half sacred '‘Yes" tremb ling on her lips died there. Poor John ! Her heart flu'tered a little, and then stood still. She had cotm | from a race of heroes, this dark eyed ' Kentucky maid, and the blood of her forefathers rose in her veins. “Mr. Raymond, I—you ara very ' good to care for me so much; but I I am alruid I don't like you ; you know just as much as I ought. If you will wait, if you will give me time—” He caught her hand and kissed it in a rapture. Give her time—of course, he would give her eternity, or any thing else, if he had it. ‘ Thank you,” Isabel said gratefully, i “Give me six months, and then you shall have your answer. ’ I Mr. Raymond locked rather taxon , back. Six months was longer than what he had antic'pa’ed. But no mut ter ; he would be gallant and wait | “In three months I expected to rail for Europe," he said ; “but your will, fair lady, is my law. I will postpone the journey, and whin I go, far s', and dearest Isabel, I trust, I believe, you will go with me.” That poor John Warner'—didn't he see and understand till this in his remote corner, »nd gnash his tee.h w ith impotent rage and joa'no-y. “The lights were dec!, The pail l.als dead, And :he bai fj'iet hall deserted.” I But st 11 he sat there, silent and sulky—that’s lhe word for it. Miss Wyndhnm wrapped herse'f in a ciim son shawl and stepped out on the ver andah with a yaw n that was not v*ry cncouragin ; lie started up, goaded to desperation, ands ood beside her. 1 Ah, how pretty she was ! You nrght have fallen in love with her yourself had you not seen her there, her long dark cuils fluttering, her eyes Ike stars, and the moonlight fall ng like a tender glory around her. There Mr John Warner told his story—rather incoherently, rather hysterica ; ly, not at all as the Corsair or “Count Lara” would have told it. Miss Wyndham letened and looked at the moon, and fell a little sorry for him, poor fellow, but the words were cold that fell Irom her rosy lips Still there was hope in them, hope Mr Warner had hardly dreamed of lie was to wait six months—at the end of that time, she, Miss Wyndham, would have made up her mind. Mr. Warner rode home that nig’ntin the silvery moonlight, an ecstatic mar. lie couldn’t eleep of course; he could do nothing but smoke segars and think of Isabel’s black eyes. Mr. Raymond more sensible, went to bed 1 ke a chris tian, and Isabel dreamed with her rosy cheek pillowed on her white arms, that she was being married to tin in both, and likely to have a perp’exing time between them Five months bad passed away, r.nd t’ e great rebe’lion bad broken forth. The war cry from Sumpter bad echo ed through the length and breadth oi the land. The Soutn cried aloud to , her yong men to gird on the sword . and fiee their lovely land from the ty rant yoke of lhe oppiessor. With one hoaiT they answer—an army of braves and went forth from kindred and friends, to fight fOT their freedom and their right. 1 In the tendor twi.ight Isabel Bat pi one, the sbnw ows of tfce clematis climbing round the window, coming and goiug on her thougbtlul face.— Only one month left no* and as fur from a decision as ever. “It dosn’t matter much,’’ she thought ! “this is no time for marrying or giv- I ing in marriage. Now is the oppor - I I unity ol p-i'ving what mettle they ary 1 made of, wnen fhejr country calls.— | When the Boutfj is freed from the Northern yoke l«t tlujn letijrn, and iny promise will be kept. “Nope but I tl.fl brave deserve the lair. 1 ” While the thought was yet in her , 'mild the door opened, uud Water 1 Raymond, elegant as ever, stood be fore her. Miss Wyndham aro e with j a welcoming smile, and an inquiring I glance. She hud seen neither of her 1 suitors for the past three weeks, and there w ee a certain anxious expression in Mr. Raymond's sane now that told her, before, his visit meant more than a rnero lover'a caH. A low desultory common plane, and then hi struck in to the heart of the mutter at once. “laabwl,” he said nervously, “tho bu-iness I spoke of five months ago, cannot any longer be postponed. I must depart at once for Europe, but before I go will you not give me that promised answer ? Oti, Isabel I wi 1 you not come with me P* Before Miss Wyndham could reply tho door was flung open by a servant, andJohn Warner strode in'o the room, lie looked eager and flushed, and he wore the gray uniform of tbo (Jonfed erate army The flush faded from his face at tho first sight of Isabel and Raymond seated side by side, her hand in his, that down cast look in her face. She hastily Snatched her hand away, and stood up us her second suit or came forward. “Pray don’t disturb yourself, Miss Wyndham,” Mr. Winner said, coldly, and with a very pale, stern face. “I shu'l not remain a moment. I merely rode over to say good bye.” “Good-bye,” Isabel faltered, “you mean you are go’ng—” ‘AYhere glory leads me, and all that son of thing,” trying to speak careless ly, “I am Captain Warner now, very much at your serv'oo, and off tomor row to face tbe foe. Good bye Mi s Wyndham - say farewell to Mr. Jor dan for me.” With a nod to Raymond, he was gone—standing over the moonlit lawn with his cap pn led over his eyes, nnd his heart plunging tumultuously be hind Lie Confederate grey. It bad all passed so quickly, this inter.option, that Isabel scarcely realized he was there, before he was gone. She drew a long, stuveiing breath, and sat down, shite and still. “Isabel, dearest, your answer.” She look and up in Walter Raymond’s handsome face, with a se.chiug glance in deep dark eyes. ‘TI iw long will you be away ?” “Months—a year perhaps. You wi 1 eorne w ith roe, Isabel—my love— my wile ?’’ Ho would have taken her hand again, but she drew it away and stood up. “No.” she said ; ‘ now, when brave men are fighting nud dying for free dom —when homes are desolate around us, there is no time for wedding fes tivities When tho war ends, como to i me again and you rhal. have my an-1 swer.” # * * * * # « Four years! The long weary stt ugg e ot might against r'ght was at an en I—the cm) Ithat so often cl sea siii'li s r-.’ggles in this world. Might had conquered; over-fiowered by numlrers, the heroes who had fought so long a od so nobly, laid down their arms a' last, arid peace reigned agair. in the land. Rlie inn nock in the oM homestead. Isabel Wyndham changed in the.-e years from a gay gill to a thoughtful, uddened worn n In the hospitals she had been u ministering angel; in the pr so ,s she had been a comforter ami I.iend ; but it was »U over now, and she was back where the old trees w.ived, looking i t the sun go down oiu.e more behind the ruisty, purple j bik Rhe sat mder a heavy elm, dressed | in deep mourning, paler, thinner, and J with a sadder beauty than of old.— Her uncle was dead, the old servants gone, and she sat in the tender spring twilight, desolate and alone. Tlic gate opened. A man came up the lo ;g avenue, ard in the pale cheek j a rosy light came. Handsome, well! dressed, more polisbel than ever. Wal- ( ter Raymond bad just returned from abroad, with the old love stronger, il j possible, in bis heart In all these 1 years they Lad not met btfor ; now he bent over as if they bad parted but yes- I terday. ‘ls.-abel,l Levs come, for myanswor.’ A tall figure that had been walking | amongst tbe trees, drew near, but stop-' ped as he beard the words She looked up, very quiet, and very pale, ‘! he answer is no, Mr. Ray mond.’ ‘O, Isabel 1 After all these years ?’ She smiled Dimly. 'You »re very kind, but I cannot marry you.’ ‘And why, l abel ? I-» it for any one else? Is it for John Warner I »m re jected r . The Instability of Life. That life is unccrtsin, and death an avoidable, is a maxim which, though all admit to bo true, all scorn willing to forget. I is a maxim which has been so often n Derated, that none can bo ig-1 norant of i‘ : and if any were disposed to disregard i f , the perpetual occurrence j of its fu fi’lraeot migkt bo sufficient for ; its establishment as eternal truth, j Granting, then, that it be true, is it not i a matter of such consequence as to de mand our most serious attention? Can any one bestow np:n it even the slight-1 ost consideration without feeling its im-1 portancc—without porce»viug that, re- i garding it merely as relating to a ecu plete Removal from this world and all its concerns, independent of the rcwaid or punishment which to follaw, it is a joint if tbe utmost importance ? CaD auy one reflret, as on a muter of no concern, .on being separated from all those whom he loves, and by whom bo is beloved ? Will ho disregard (ho tears which will bs shed, and tbo sighs which will burst from tbejbosom of those whom fillul or fraternal affoctson have bound to him ? Can ho think unmoved that he will no moro augment their joy or sooth I heir grief—that whatever dan gcr may threaten them he can no long er lend bis assistance to avert it, and that whatever blcssiogs may erj >in to make them happy, will be embittered ,by tbe rifleotion that he is uot a sharer .in them. 11s who can think on these without emotion, is more or less than man. let these arc tbe consequences of that event J t he occurrence to which to every one is eritaiu, and the period at tvhioh it will .take place is unknown. Ota it le de tiled, then, that this is a matter demand cd our most sriiuv attention? But .tho departure from tbu world, however affection or friendship may cnJear it to us, must ever be considered by the vir tuous, as a cause of joy, as it removes them from a region of sin to realms of light and purity. Surely, then, he who wishes even to make bis death contribute to the hap piness of those whom ho loved while living, will so conduct himself iu this life as to leave no anxious doubt ing on their minds with respect to his welfare in the lift eternal. 110 will sot |so that in the end he may look bach with tranquility, and forward with rap I ture, without regret for tbe past or fear tor the future. But the disposition of mind necesary for the attainment of a life produc tive of this desirable conclusion, cannot be acquired except by a frequent and sorious consideration, aud a firm convic tion of the truth of the above maxim ; since, without such conviction, the Lightest incentive to virtue would be wanting. It is, then, not only the duty, tint the interest of every one to reflect in a manner suitable to tbe importance of tbe subject, on tho uoertainty of the present lifa, and on the consequent ne cessity us Itcing prepared lor the change which we know must take place at some peri >d, how near or how remote we are by all-wise Providence, kept ignorant of. Nor can the wisdom which dioiates this concealment be impeached. VVer3 the time of our desoluiion known to us, its remoteners, if distant, would breed in dolent security, or its tuldenness, if near, occasion terrors which would pre vent preparation fur it. Os Wo Consequence. It h not a little curious to trace the origin and result of sums alienations which realy embitter the domestjj peace of similies Mr. Mrs. Graham had a most delightful courtship; ihey always jhought alike upon every subjeej. But during their honeymoon they encoun tereii a squall. It began thus .' ‘My dear,’ said Mrs. Graham, ‘bow plentifully your father ato last night of i the oyster-patties!’ 1 “You are mistaken, my dear ;he on ! ly tasted of them ; it was the lobster sal ad of which you allude.' ‘Now, yon had better make me out that I don’t know what I see.’ ■ ! ‘And don’t you makiout that I don’t j know what I help people to/ ‘But what I saw, I saw, Mr. Gra ; ham, and I don’t give it up.* ‘And what I know, I know, Mrs. Graham, and I don’t give it up.’ ‘Well, I don't care, only I like to see people adhere to tbe troth.’ 'D>you mean to insinuate, ma’am, that I don’t speak the truth ?’ ‘Yes, I do, if you say your father did uot eat of our oyjter pat ire last night,' ‘I won’t talk with you You are one of tho most unacoountable beings ; ever knew/ And M . Graham took his (cat in an other room and began reading. Mrs. Graham took a lamp and went to her chamber. The clock struck sev en, eight, nine Tue newly married pair felt uneasy; they were lonely. The newspaper bad been rattled over till it was flimsy as a rag, and yonng Mrs. Graham grew tired of pouting alone. At ibis lute hour a mutual friend knocked at the front door. Both the parties knew the cheerful voice, as on entering the drawiuw room be ex claimed : ‘Now, this is wbat I call oomfortable. ' Bot winro is your wfe Graham? in quired the visitor ai he looked wistfully I around. ! “Anna,’ said a melodious voice at 'he foot of the stairs, ‘our friend Mr. | Wilson, is hero.’ Very toon a nimble pair of little feet came tritting down stairs, aud face ail beaming with smiles external, exclaim ing : ‘How delightod lam to see you 1 My husband and I are quite dull—we have -aid all the sweet things, and were just trying to got up a bitter pill as a contrast.’ Tbe other half of Mrs Graham laugh ed outright, and it was all over. Tbe visiter had a delightful evening, fully satisfied that there was parrallcl to be found to domestic comforts. A week or two after this little tiff, the party were expatiating upon the folly of bring easyly provoked by tri fles, and both pledged themsdves nev er again to indulge iu any evil fooling toward each other, signing, sealing and pledging themselves, aKerumoh billing and cooing, with a mutual kiss. ‘But,’ said Mrs. Graham, ‘it was so provoking in you to get so indignant be cause I merely remarkei that your fath er ate those oyetcr-patii.-e.’ ‘But they were not oysters, l tell you it was tbe lobster salad.’ ‘W*7 Kill you have it so, Mr. Gra ham V 'Because I,like the trntb, ma'nti), and want you to adht to to it ’ Mrs. Graham began to sigh, aud then orv, and say, “If she had known”— whereupon b r huaband gently pat his I band over bar month, niyiog, “Done it’s of no onDsrquenee j” and bt f r his who knows where the first quarrol would have ended ? It appears that Graham bad just been : reading tbe anecdote recorded in a late : maguz ne, where arjnarrel between a newly married pair was served up all arising from the wife’s declaration that she had just s en a moose run along, while tbe husband strenuously niain tajaed itw»%»_»at. Tb«|. tjj.wi! of. No. 10. fectually cured of hastily contradicting his wife, and she was'neharaed of being so easily exuited as to dcstry her own happiness. It is oomputed that fully half of our douiestio troubles originate from such iusiguiflcaot trifles ; and happy are that couple who are sensible enough to re member in tbo very outset, ‘it it of no consequence.'’ Cnpluiii Hlad Montague. Gaptaiu Mad Montague, as he was called, was an cnglishraaD, and as reck less a man a* ever livfd. We recol lect two anecdotes of this crack brained individual, and doubt whether they have been in print. (htptain Montague’s ship was lying at Spithead, and ho wrote to the Admi ralty asking permission to prooccd to London on urgent private cff.ii s But it whs war times then, and difficult to ob tain leave of abseooc ;so that tbe offi cial reply intimated that the Captain was SQwl.V*at liberty to proceed where his barge oould carry him Two days osier Mad Montague pre sented himself at the levee of tbe First Lord of the Admiralty, and wasgreated with : ‘How’s this sii ?—did not you receive our instructions ?’ ‘Ay, ay, my Lord,’ was the pnewer, an 1 I came iu my barge—there she i Mad Montague pointed to tbe win dow wbiuh cverlooks the courtyard of tbe Admiralty, and there sure enough was the Captain’s burge set on Wheels, with post horses attached, bm the crew all in their places, with toss and oars, in •rue man-of-war style. It may be pre sumed that his lordship oould not find it iu his heart to give the captain a very severe rao on tbe knuckles. On another occasion Mad Mortague, who was dnown far anl wide through I’ortsmouth and Gosport, s'rolled into a barber’s shop at one of these row's o c the amphibious Throwing himself in to a chair, and then pulled out a pistol and cocked it, he asked the barber if he knew him. ‘Tobesureldo—who doesn’t?’ wes was tho reply. ‘Shave me, then, said the crank-brain ed sea-dog; ‘and rn'nd what, you are about, for if you draw blood I’ll shoot you through the bead.’ The barber went coolly to work, and performed the oeremety without, flinoh ingjor accident. Struck by the fellow’s collected manner, the captain compli mented him thereon asked him, howev er, wh< tSer he did not feel afraid, siuee he knew that his brains would have beon blown out if bis razor had chanced to slip. ‘Afraid I’returned the barber; ‘not a I bit of it, sir; for if I had unfortunately ' drawn your honor’s blood, you mav dc- ' pend upon it I should have cut your I throat!’ moral Conmee iu Every-Dav Life. Have the eourage to discharge a debt while yon have the money in your noeket. Have the courage to do without that, which you do not need, however much you' eyes may et vot if. Have the courage to speak your mind, when it is nccessry you should do go, and hold your tongue when it is prudent yon should do »). Have tbe courage to speak to a friend in a ‘seedy’ ooat, even ( though you arc in comjany with a rich oue, and richly attired. Have tbe ooarage to make a will and a just one. Have tbe courage to tell a man why you will not leod him your money. Have the courago to ‘eat’ the most agreeable acquaintance you have, when you aro convinead that he lucks princi ple ‘A friend should bear with a friend’s iufirmities, but not with his vices Have tbe eiur ge to show your re spect for honesty, in whatever guLeit 'appears; and your contempt for dis honost duplicity, by whomsoever ex hibited. llavo the courage to wear your old clothes until you pay for new ones. Have tbo courage to obey yonr mi ker, at the risk of being ridiculed by man. Have the courago to prefer com fort »Dd propriety to fashion, in all thing 3 . Have the courage to acknowledge your isrnoranoe, rath rthan 'o seek end it for knowledge under the false preten us. Hava tbo coerage to provide enter tainment Tor ycur friends within your means—not beyond. Have tbe courage to take a good pa per, and pay for it annually in advance. Zs. Name of zs Street. —A French man, a stringer in New York, stopped a lad in the streot, and pihtely ask ed : ‘Mon fren, what’s *c name of xis *cre | strei tT ‘Will, who said it wasn’t?' replied the boy, ‘Wbat you call z T s streot ?’ ‘Of oourse we do ’ ‘Pardonntx! I have not ze name: what you call cim ?’ ‘Yes. Wat s, we ea’l i.’ Zis street?’ •W halts street, old fellow ; and don’, yon g> make game of me-’ 'iSacre oom de Dieu ! I ask you one, two, dree, sever<>l timis, often, will you tell me ze name of zs treet, eb ?’ ‘Watts street, I told you. You're drui. k uin't yon V ‘Mon littlo fren , vcie yon live, eh ?’ ‘ln Vandatn street.’ 'K”, bi n ! Yon livo in voc dam etreit, and you is von d—n fool!’ And they parted, entertainirg a mu , teal dislike. i “I vv»s naked and yon tt>ok me in,’’ as tUs oyster fctid to the hungry am Briolk Humors.—»A .gentleman trav eling to Pittsburg-from one of (ha neigh boring town*, stopped to sea a friend, and left bis horse tied on tha rtad, 0® bis return be found that tho animal lad slipped his bridle, and while In search of him he met an Irish of whom he inquired : , “Have you seen a strange creature anywhere hereabouts, with a saddla o* h's back ?” “Oob, by the power*, ye may say that"’ replied Pat. “Where ?’’ “Just yonder." “Will you show me tha plaoe t* “That I will, iu less than no tins/* suid tho man, approsebing a small Woods j of young timber. “Ay, there he is, auro' I cdoujgh honey.” The gentleman looked up, «t>f Mid : “I do not see him/’ “Then, by Skint Patriok, you must be blind . Not *eo him ? Oob, by let powers of mud, what’s he about now Z Only fee, be swallow* hie head I l ’’ “ W by, sir, that’s a turtle, and uot W horse.” “A torso ! and who in the deuce aaid it was a hors-o ? Sure a horse is naf a strange creature,” he added, pointing to it with fear and trembling ; * and hs has a saddle on; but hang ire if »’d fcri* die him for the whole- country.” Dkatii non Phidk -A distressing case of foolish yielding to the diotatea of vanity occurred iu Dayton, Obio,w few days ago. A young lady bad bean' iu the habit of lacing very tightly fcr « long while, and caused a hook to be placed fa the wall 1 of her roomy aud aba would fasten her corset strings to it Ho enable her to draw her corset tighter. She bad dono it so long with impunity that she had become careless, and the other day in' repeating the torture, she threw herself foo heavily on the strings and broke a blood vessel, from Whioh she died in a few hours A sad oom-' meutary on attempting to make the form from a mistaken idea of beauty, differ-' ent from what it naturally is. An Editor Tight.—We belive it iu rare that an editor indnlges iu a drop, but when they do, their readers are sura to Cod them out. A cotemporary War called on to record a ‘melancholy ovenf r tt a time when his head was rather heavy, and did it up after tbe following manner : “Yesterday morning at 4 o’clock t. a man with a heel ia the bole of hiw stocking oommitted arsenic by swallow-* ing a dose of suicide. The inquest of tho verdict returned a jury that the de ceased came to the facts in accordance with hie death. He leaves a obild and six small wives to lament tbe end ot his untimely loss. Iu death> rvw are io the midst of life. The Latest ! — A tburp youth of the African species was scattering a lot of auction baud-bilk around the city ot» Saturday, whin he was accosted by m brother treedmaw tbusly v ‘What job got dar V ‘Desc oapers? why dis is Senator WiD son’s speech.’ ‘How much you ax fir ’em ? Three for a quarter—lem me sell you some.’ ‘All right—f wan*s to learn it—.gib mo a quarter’s wufl,’ and the trade was made at once, the youth pocketing, with a self sati-fiod air, tbe supposed el qent speech of the bonorabfe gentle man from Massachusetts?—At, Intel 1 . A Lrtt’e boy on the train for King ston yesterday ; said he : ‘ Mister, the locomotive is a lover of the weed, is’nt it ?’ ‘Can’t say ; why do you* neb, my lit* fie man 7’ “Because it smokes and chews.’' “Very well I see it smokes, bot bow about the chewing?” • Did’nt you notice it in tbe depot jtmt before we left. .Pid’ot if ‘chew, chew/to 1 gt> ahead, and- then- ‘chew,-- chew/’ to hark her That will do little boy, you will be a- wit some o’ these days, if you don’t t.ke the wo and and whiskey. Rasical Tactics rx Tenresree.— The Radicals are determined to keep' possession of Tennessee, legally or ille gally, whatever the popular vote or voice may be.- One of Gov. Brown low’s right-band men thus plainly sta'es that determina tion in the papei which he edits: “Tbe m»n-b'‘»t' does not uoderß*rnd that ibis State is to remain uodef tfio' onntrol of its Iriends, at any cost or sac rifice, is cert .inly to -1 far behind the times to make a safe and frtnce-tsfuf I- g tslator. The Radicals will ruin* this- State peaceably if they ean, foicm’yif they must.” Marriages are rare among the Chinese in California. But one is recorded in cur last San Francisco papers—A-h Fy» to Cum Ho. Life ard Existence. —The mem lapse of years is not life. To eat,- aud* drink, and sleep; to be exposed to dark ness and the light; to paee round in the mill of babir, aud turn thought into im plement of tiadc—this is not life. Iu all this, but a poor fraction of the con sciousness of humanity is awaked, and tbe sanctities still slumber which make it worth while to be. Knowledge, thith love, beauty, goodness, faith alee can givi vitality to the mechanism cf exist— enoe. Tho young lady who was recom mend® 1 to take eXerotoc to improve her b ialib, says that ‘she will jump at ait offer and ran her own risk.’ A yourg l idy in Nan Antonio think* ts going t j Cal fornia to get married, for the reason she has befn told that in than country tbe men folks ‘ took tbe cra dles.” Ilex bead’s right. A story is told of a young mao wbo or ssid in love, and attempted suicide recently by tairing a dose cl yeast pow der. }£e immediately rose abovo Lis troubles. A lover, writing to his swcot burr, ssy-: ‘*Dvlootsbla dear—you are so sweet that honey would blush in your pres - sai molasses stand appalled.