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JUtuson cKitfckln Journal,
Published Every Friday,
E. & J. E. GHUISTIAN
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Jo’> W’orti of pvery description ere
emf»d*ifh and dispatch, at moderate
UOfL & SJfWSViQNS,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW, ' j
D.flf’SO.V, - - GllontiM.
'I. C. ItOTt,. j mitsi V. R. t. SIMMONS. I
C. B. WOOTEN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
“ly DfI'WSOTI. fia.
J. P. ALLEN,
f WATCH AND
HEPAIKKB JEWELEB.
Dawson, Gra.,
rS prop ire J to and» any work in his line in
th« very hef»t ptyk, feb23 ts
j. sjiith,
CiTJJST SMITH and
Machinist,
IM IFiO.r. : .* Georgia.
R- P UfB all kinds of Gun#, Pi-dots, Sewing
llaiihic**, etc., et«. * v, »
W. C- PARKS,
Attornov at Law.
MtuS 1 v ».l ll'SO.r.ll.*-
C. W. W ARWICK,
a! Late and Solicitor
in Equity.
ri.VIT2II'ICZ.E - - -
\\TlVti prse.tlee in L?",''Sumter, Terrell
vV knd Wfls er.
j, E. HIGGINBOTHAM,
ATlOftlCr ATI- hW,
•Maryan, Calhoun Cos., Cla.,
Wilt pmotio* in all the Courts of the South
western and Pa atilaOi’cui s. June I
UlffSOV HOTEL
BY WILY JOi'iES
fIIUE Proprivtor Ins neatly Cited up the
| Uiarspn Hotel, and u prepared to make
Yus customers taUefied with both Care and
C.odging
Connected wirti the Fletm is a ii ll.S££
MtOli.VS,” i:i wkiclt is kept the hist ii
■qsoia in lire city.
N r .. oj'iis sill he snared In nlenne. fr22ftm
paimimtf raamui
JAS. M- DODWELL,
H USE AND [SIGN PAIKTIiB, &<•
DAWSON, G A-,
IS prepared to do all woTk in his line—such
as house and sign painting, graining, pa
per hanging &c., in the very best, style, and
on short notice, at reasonable prices,
febl.flm.
MILLS HOUSE.
turner Queen dfc Heeling Sirs.,
CHARLESTON, S. C.
THIS First. Class ITot;1 has been thoroughly
repaired, refitted and refurnished through
oat and is now rea iv for the accommodation
of the Traveling Public whose patronage is
reap -ct.full v solicited. C- aches always in
readiness to convey Passengers to and from
the Hotel. -
The Proprietor promises to do everything
in his power (or the fnnift.it of guests.
| J OSEIM ,P URC E L L,
feb22.tr ' TVrptie
BROWN HOUSE,
la. E. HKOYViI & SOI,
Fourth St., Opposite Passenger Depot,
.ft aeon . Georgia.
ITtROM the Ist of July the business of this
. House will be conducted by E. E. 3towu
& Son, the Senior having associated his sou,
Win. F. Brown, in the management and in
terest of the Hotel.
The house contains sixty rooms, which are
reserved chiefly for the use of travellers and
transient quests. Competent assistants have
been ses cureu in every department, and eve
ry attention will be p.rid to ensure comfort
. ,' *r customers. Rooms clean and airy, and
tlte table aUv.J* ?n ' ) P Ued
country affords. Fen ..'" s “ * “ b 2g - e
departure of all trains to c { s'rect to
and conduct passengers across Uk
their quarters. juH27,tf
LKttOV lIKOH .V, TIIOS. H. BTI A a UT. :
BROWN & STEWART,
"Ware House and
COnnASIOI ' ITIJUItCH ANTS,
at Sharp & Brown's old stand,
D.f H’ift.V GEO/IGI•!.
W« are determined to use our utmost en
deavors to give entire satisfaction to all who
may favor us with their pitronage I 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) just and
grliable friends. That we may be better ena
bled to carry out this design, we have secured
•a business agent, t.he well known and reliable
Capl. John A. Fulton.
“A ju*t balance,’’ is our motto.
.March 8 1867.
W. R. & N. M. THORNTON
Practical JYentists,
jjwi irso.v, ft./.
- w Office in Harden’s new building, West
Side, Depot Street. Dec. 14 ,
THE DAWSON JOURNAL
Vol. 11.
, POETRY.
Who is My Neighbor t
This touching little piece, fays one of our
exchanges, has been floating about for many
years, and is occasionally cast upon tbe shore
of newspaperdom. It is worthy of preserva
tion, and may well be laid to heart in this too
bitter minded day.
Thv neighbor * It is he whom thou
Hast power to aid and bless )
Wltese aching heart or burning brow
Thy soothing baud may press I
Thy neighbor ? 'Tis the fairwing poor
Whose eye with want is dim,
Whom hunger sends frfmi door to door—
Go thou and tUccor him !
Thy neighbor f ’Tis that weary man,
Whoso years are at their brim,
Cent, low with sickness, cares and pain—
Go thou and comfort him 1
Thy neighbor ? 'Tis the heart bereft
Os every earthly gem ,
Widow and orphan, helpless left—
Go thou and shelter them!
Thv neighbor ! Yonder toiling slave,
Fetter’d iti thought and limb,
Whose hopes are all beyond the grave—
Go thou and ransom him I
When’er thou meet'st a human form,
Loss favor’d than thine own,
Remember 't's thy neighbor worm,
Thy brother or thy sob.
Oh, pass not, pass noi her dices by !
Perhaps thou canst ledeem
The breaking heart from misery
Ga, share thy lot with him.
MISCELLANEOUS.
TH KILL IN« iDVENTIBE
Tbe following thrilling sketch is
from tin English Magazine:
“Father will have done the great
chimney to-night won’t he mother?”
said little Tommy Howard, as he stood
waiting for his father's breakfast,
which he carried to him at his work
every morning.
‘ If o said that he hoped all the seaf
foldSmr would be down to-night,” an
swered '.he mother, “and that’ll he a
tine sight; for I never liked the ending
of those great chimneys; it is so risky
for father to be the ins; up.”
•Eh then, but ITI go and seek him
and help cm to give a .‘-bout afore ho
comes down,” said Tom.
“And tli, n,” continued the mother,
‘if all goes < n right weagre to have a
fiolio to morrow; and go into tbeeoun
try atiii take our dinners, and spent!
all the day - n the woods.”
“Hutiili I” cited T in as he rur. off
to ids fa hers place of w ork \vi h a can
of milk m one hand and sound . bread
in the other. Ilis mother stood in the
h.or, w atching him as hfi w ent merrily
whistling dowo the street, ami she
thought of the dear father he was go
ing to, and the dangerous work he
-w is engaged in; and then her
heart sought ils etnv refuge, and she
prayed to God to protect and b'esa her
treasures.
Tom with a light heart pursued his
I way to his father, and leaving him 1 is
j breakfast, went to 1 is own work, wh'ch
|was at some distance. In the evening
on his way borne, he went around to
see how his father was getting on.
James Howard, the father, and a
number of other gentlemen, had been
bn lding one of those lofty chimneys,
which in one of our great manu'actu
turing towns almost supply tbe place
ot other architectural beauty. The
chimney was of the highest and most
tapering that had ever been elected,
and as Tom shaded his eyes from the
slanting rays of the setting sun, looked
up in a search of his father, his heart
.almost sank within him at the appal
ing height. The scaffold was alirnst
down; the men at the bottom were re
moving the last beams and polos.—
Tom’s father stood alone at the top.
Ho then looked around to see that
everything was right, and then waving
his hat in ti e air, the men below, an
swering him with a long loud cheer, lit
tie Tom shouting as loud as any of
them.
As their voices died awny, however,
they heard n different sound, a cry of
alarm and horror from above. “1 be
rope ! the rope 1” The »-*-m looked
around, and coiled upon the ground,
lav the rope, which before the senftbid
ing was removed, should have been
fas'ened to the chimney, lor Tom’s
father f.o come down by ! The scaffold
ing had been taken down without re
membering to take the rope up. They
all knew it impossible to throw the
rope up high enough to reach the top
of the chimney, or if it could, it would
hardly be safe. They stood in silent
dismay, unable to give any help or
think of any means of safety-
And Tom's father. He walked
round the little circle and the dizzy
heignt seemed more and more fearful,
an J the solid earth further from him.
In the suJ rleD lost his r r f ß '
ence of mind, a;.” 1 »•« B f ns f u * a,!e . d r
h'm. He shu. his eydT; < '‘ t | '*
the next moment lie must od dasbeu
to pieces on the groun I be ow.
The day passed as industriously ns
usual with Tom's mother at home
She was always busily employed for
her husband and children in some way
or other, and to day she had been har
der at work than usual, getting ready
for the holiday to-morrow, fthe had
just finished her arrangements, and
her thoughts were silently thanking
God for the happy home, and for all
the blessings of lile, when Tom ran
in.
Ilis face was as white as ashes, and
ho could hardly get his words out: —
“Mother! mother! he cannot g-d
down ”
“Who, lad? thy father ?” asked the
mother.”
DAWSON, GA., FRIDAI, JULY r>, 1867.
“They have forgotten to leave him
the rope,” answered Tom, still scarce
ly able to speak. The mother started
up, horror struck, and stood for a mo
ment as if paralyzed, then pressing her
hands over her face a<if to shut out the
terriole picture and breathing a pray
er to God fur help, she rushed out of
the house.
When she reached the place where
her husband was at work, n crowd
gathered around the foot of the ohim
ney, and stood quite helpless, and gaz
ing up with faces full of sorrow.
“lie says he’ll throw himself down.”
“The munna do that, lad,” cried the
wife with a clear hopeful voice; “thee
munna do thaL Wait a bit. Take off
thy stocking lad, and unravel it, and
let down the thread with a bit of mor
ter. Dost thou hear me, Jem ?”
The man n.ude a sign of assent; for
it seemed ns il ne could not speak—
and taking oft his stocking, unraveled
the worsted yarn, row after row —-
The people stood around in breathless
silence and suspense, wondering what
Tom's mother could bo thinking of;
uud why she sent him in such haste for
the carpenter’s bull of twine.
“Let down one end of the thread
with a bit of st ne, and keep fast hold
of the other,” cried she to her hus
band. The little thread came waving
down the tall chimney, blown hither
and thither by the wind, but it reach
ed the out-stretched hands that were
waiting it. Tom he’d the ball of twine,
while his mother tied one end of it to
the worsted thread.
“Now pull it slowly,” cried she to
her husband .and she gradually un
wound the string until in reach of her
and husband. ‘Now hold the string fust
pull it up,” cried she, and the string
grew heavy and hard to pull, for Tom
and his mother had fastened a thick
rope to it. They watched it gradually
and slowly uncoiling from the groULd
as the string was drawn higher.
There was but one coil left It had
reached the top. “Thank God, thank
God !” oxo aimed the wife. She hid
her face in her hands in si ent prayer,
and tremblingly rejoiced. 'Tbe iron
to which it should bo fastened, was
there ail right—hut would her hus
band be able to make use of it! Would
not thu terror t f the past hour so have
unnerved him as t« prevent him from
taking the necessary measures for his
safety ? She did not know '.lie magi
cal influence which her few words had
exercised over him Stie did not know
the strength that the sound of her
voice, so calm and steadfast had tilled
him with—ns if the little thread that
carried him the hope of lift once more
and ninwyed to tun some porti nos
that faith in God which Ro bing ever
destroyed or shook in ht r pure heart,
bMio did hot know th-t as si a waited
, there, tbe words came'vver him, “Why
’ art thou cast down, Omy sou!, why
art riot! disquieted within me ? hope
thou in God.”
f he lifted her heart to God for hope
tied strength tut could do nothing
more for tier Lusland, and her heart
turnei to God and reeled on him as
<m a rock.
1 There was a great shout, “lie's f afe
mother, hVs safe !’ cried little Torn.
“Thou hast saved ttiv 1 fe. my Mary,”
said ter husband, f lding her in his
arms. “But what ails the? thou seem
est more sorry than glad about it.—
But Mary could not speak, and if the
strong arm had not held her up, she
would have lallen to tbe ground—the
sudden joy after such great fear had
overcome her.
“Tom, let thy mother lean on thy
shoulder,” said his father and we will
take her home ”
And in their happy home they pour
ed forth thanks to God lor his g eat
goodness, and their happy life togeth
er felt deartr and holier for the peril
it had been in, annd the nearness the
danger bad brought them unto God
And the holiday nest day—was it not
indeed a thanksgiving day.
Power of an Axe.— The other day
I was holding a naan by the Laud—a
haud as firm in its outer texture as
leather, aud bis sunburnt face was as in
flexible as parchment. ; he was pouring
forth a tirade of contempt on those who
complain that they get nothing to do,
as an excuse for becoming idle loaf
ers
Said I—'Jeff whs* do vou work
at ?
‘Why,’said he‘l bought me an axe
three years ago, that cist me Iwn dol
lars That was all the money I bed.
I went to chopping wood by the cord.
I have done nothing else, and have earn
ed more than six hundred dollars,
drank no grog, paid no doctor, and have
bought me a little farm in tbe Horsier
State, and shall be married next week
to a girl who has earned two hundred
dollars siuce she was eighteen. My j
old axe I shall keep, in the drawer, and
buy me anew one to cut wood with.
After I hit him I thought to myself,
“that axe and no grog.’ These are the
tbingß that make a man in the world.!
llow small a capital that axe—bow
sure of success with tbe motto, ‘No |
grog’ Aud then a fa m and a wife,
the best of all.
A colored witness was examined in
a Washington city court to prove the
identity of a white man the other day
District Attorney —‘Did you see tho
man ?’
‘Yes, sir, I seed him ’
‘Was he a white man ?’
‘D d’t know, sir.’
‘Do you tell me that you saw the
man, and cannot say whether he was
white or black V’
‘Yes, sir, I seed him, but dur is so
niany white fellers calling and mselbs nig
gets round here, I can’t till one from
toder.’
Witness dismissed—oxp'anntion sat
isfactory.
Strata item.
“lie's a dear darling, clumsy old
bookworm,’ slid Clara Lennox, cutting
t ho dead loaves off her pet geraneum
with a pair of tiny scissors ; ‘but as for
marrying Charlie Penn, why, 1 should
as soon think of marrying the big book
case or the piano, or any other solid,
substantial piece of furniture 1’
‘Then why do you encourage him and
flirt with him, and rceeivo attention
from him ?’ asked Sybil Waite, indig
nantly.
‘Why? Oh, because—’
Sybil replied;
‘Clara, you’re a ciquettc, and I think
yon deserve to live and die an old mai l,
if you trifle with the feeling-of such a
noble young mac as Charlie Penn.’
Hut Clara made no answer but went
on with her scissors, si aging some mer
ry air to herself, while the warm sun
shine, falling full on her blue eyes,
turned them into fills of liquid light.
Yes, Clara Leuuux was very pretty,
and she knew it; and so, alas ! did Char
lie Penn.
Ifow the saucy little beauty torment
ed the faithful truehearted fellow 1
som.'timrs she rained sweet words und
sweeter smiles upon him—sometimes
she would hardly notice him—and,
sometimes, again, her cold, ceremoni
ous dignity would chill him to the very
heart. And through it all he hoped at.d
trusted on, as men will no.
‘lt’s too bad, Charlie,’ said Sybil, who
was Charlie’s cousin and faithful ally ;
‘1 wouldn’t bear it a minute longer!’
‘Yes,’raid Mr. Peun, sorrowfully;
‘but suppose y<u couldn’t help your
self? Imagine that all your happiness
depended on a girls fancy—as—as mine
does ?
‘Are you realiy as far gone as that
Charlie?’ said Sybil, pityingly.
’I am,’ sail honest Charlie.
‘Sybil, dear ! if I or,!p knew whetber cr
not she cared fur me 1’
‘l’il ascertain that Charles,’ said Sy
bil, nodding her bead significantly.
‘How ?’
‘Ah ! what an absurd questi. n to ask !
How ean I tell how ? Only—l It do i; 1
Promise uie one tiling,-Charlie. Don’t
see Clara un and I give you permission.’
‘I promise,’ said Charlie, looking
very much puzz’td, and a little amused.
‘How long is it likely to be?’
‘Well,’said Sybil, thoughtfully, ‘uot
very long.’
And she tripped away, full of sly lit
tle plots, plans and machinations.
Clara was busy making some attract
ive kind of head-dress out of some j iuk
ribbons and artificial pink buds, one
blight June evening, a firtle subs< quent
ly, when Miss Sybil Waite w s an
nounced
‘Clara,’ said Miss Waite, mis. erious-
I ly, ‘l’vo s mo news ter you !’»
| ‘News ? \\ hat ?’ SsiJ C'ara, rather
! abstractedly, putting her head on one
I side to contemplate tht effect of her
work.
I 'Oar Cbarlieis going to be mirri
ltd!’
Clara loi ked up suddenly.
‘lVhat ! Charlie Putin ?’
‘Why, to la sure—wL ui clso.cou'ld
I mean V
‘Married !’
Tho rosy glow was C'mlng and g ing
unconsciously on Clara's cheek. Sac
laid down her work.
■Married ? And to.whom ?’
‘Oh, that’s a tecrct—Charles- must
tell yiu that himself? Are you not
glad,- Clara ?’
‘ Y—yss very glad 1’
But Clara Lennox spoke slowly, and
her lip quivered a little. She did not
look so much rejoiced alter all. Syhi
watched htr fair lace with a keen, clb
servaut glance.
‘You see,’ said bil, ‘I thought
yon would like to kuoW, because you
and Charlie were such old frionds.’
‘Yus, to be ture,’ sai<i Clara, aud the
pink lihbous slipped unheeded to the
floor, while Clara leati.d her cheek on
her baud and looked dreamingly at the
far- iway sunset.
Sybil arose to go, and Clara started
from berreverte. But Miss Waite was
satisfied with the result of her inqui
ries, and no persuasion could indues her
to stay longer.
Clara went back to her seat in tbe
sunset loneliness to think aud—to cry !
For Clara Lennox wa* very low spirit
ed, and wished to find out the secret of
her own passionate, impulsive little
heart.
‘Clara !’
Miss Lennox da -he-. the drops away
f,om htr cheek with a quick motion—
she had not beard the lumiliar footsteps
ou tbe threshold.
‘Mr. Penn!’ •
She did not say ‘Charlie,’ as she had
been wont to do
‘You have been crying, Clara: may
I ask you why V
‘I don’t know why,’said Clara, tell
ing a deliberate ftlseaood. ‘i suppose
because I felt lonesome—and—’
She paused abruptly lure.
‘Clara,’said Charh- gently, ‘I have
something to sty to you to-night.’
•h’gsomething,’ thovght Oluri, her
heart beginning to beat hurriedly ‘1
wonder who she is? 1 know —1 know
1 shall hate her !’
‘Can you guess what it is ?’
‘Yes,’said Clara passionately, ‘I know
what it is ; you ale iu luve !’
And the tears burs: firth—she hid
tier face in her bands.
‘Dear Clara, will you give me a word
cf hope ? will you prornhe one day to
be mine ?’
‘l!’ repeated Clara, looking up, with
sudden agitation, ‘C’ji, Charlie, is it
me ?* /'
‘Whom else c im> it be, dearest ?
You have always bu u first aud dearest
to uiy heart. Answer me, Clara—toll
' me yes.’
| Aud Clara’s 'yes’ was almost inauda
ble through her bobs; yet, she was very
haprji too.
‘I tuld you I could fiud ou*,’ said Sy
bil, looking very wise, when Charlie
Penn name back exultant to tell her
that (Lara Lennox was to be bis wife in
August.
Sybil's stratagem had proved Sue
ee.asful.
Ki'otluir Crawford’s Sermon.
A Southern exchange gives this as
the first of anew minister in a villago
in that section, lie begun apolegeticly
as fellow::
“You don’t see mo to-day in tbe
the dress I al’ers wear; I otme among
you as a stranger and am now tricked
outiuniy storo clothes. lam not. n
preud man, but I thought it would‘be
more becoming among strungers.’
Afrer this bo r used a 1 ymn, in which
the congregation joined, lie then be
gan Lis sermon ;
My dear brethreu aud sisters, first
and forern ist, I’m guine to tel! you ilie
affecting partin’ I had with my congre
gation at Billie) Chapel. After I had
got through with my farewell sermon
as I come dowu outen tho pulpit, the
old gray headed brethren and sisters
who listened to my voice twenty years,
crowded round me with sobbing voices
and traiful eyes, said—Farewell, broth
er Crawford !
As I walked dowu the aisle, the young
ladies, tricked out in their finery, br:.ss
jcwalry, gegaws, jimcracks, paint and
flounces, looking up with their bright
eyes, and prnounced with their rosy
lips— Crawford !
The young Win their tight patent
loathe' - boots, hieh collars aud da.-by
waist-coats—smelling of pomatum and
cigar smoke—with shanghai coats, and
striped zebra pants they, too, said—
Far well, boother Crawford !
The little children—lambs in the
fold—l.ftcd up their tiny hands and
small voices, aud with ime accord, said
—Farewell, brother Crawford !
The col >rod brethren of the congrega
tion now catno forwaid (tila. k sheep
who had beeu admitted to the fold un
der my ministry.) with tears rolling
dowu their sable check, they, too, said
—Farewell, brother Crowford !
As I got ou my hoi so and bado adieu
to my congregation forever—l turned to
take a !a:;t look at. the ehurh where l
had preached morc’u twenty yearr—and
ns Ig: Zid at its dilapidated walls and
moss, covered—it, too, seemed to say—
Farewell, brother C awford !
Asl roiie to rough tho vil age the people
who poked their heads outen the win-,
ders, and the servants who leant on
their brooms, all seemed to say—Fare
well, brother Crawford^
As I passed along down “the high
way through the forest, the wind as
it sighed and whistled through the
tree tops, playing on the leaves and
branch ihe burden of salvation, it, too,
seemed to say —Farewell, brother Craw
ford.
Crossing a little creek that was gurg.
ling and singing over its pebbly bed, as
it rejoiced cu its way to the great ocean
cf eternity, it, too, seemed to say—
Farewell, brother Crawford !
As I rode along dowu a hot, dusty
laDe, an old sow that was asleep in a
fence corner, jumping out of a sudden
with a loud brqo-top, bron-too, she, too,
seemed tosay Farewell, brother Craw
ford !
My horse got frightened and jumped
from under me, and as he curled Lis
tail over his back kicked up his heels
and running i ff, he, too, seemed to say
Farewell, brother Crawforo !
A Hard Hit at Home Guards
During the last stages of the war, whilst
tbe Ouufedcrutu army was retreating
through ijjuth Carolina, tsargiant Me
D , of Western North Carolina,
was sent on'detail to the town of M—,
where a regim Dt of home guards were
stationed. These valoious h-rjes, seeing
a soldi.r from the front, gathered t round
him, eagerly inquiring the news. ‘News’
said Maek, tolemnry, ‘I believe there is
none. Y’es, there is a little too, Dot it is
of not much importauce ; old il-rdee
burut up a regiment of home guards at
Florence the other day, to keep them
from falling into the enemy’s hands.
Mack walked, coolly in, and no more
questions were esked.
Wholesomeness of Atti.es. —Raw,
mellow apple are digested iu an hour
and a hair, while boiled cabbage re
quires five hours. The most healthful
desert tliatcau be pi; ced on tho table is
a baked apj k\
lfca'cn frequently at breakfast, with
course bread aud butter, without meat
or flesh ot any kind, it has an admirable
tff -ct on the general system, often remov
ing constipation, correcting acidities
and cooling off febrile codditions more
effectually than the most approved med
icines Liebig says they prevent debil
ity strengthen digestion, correct the
putrifiiotion tendencies of nitrogenous
food, avert scurvy and probably main
tain and strengthen the power of pr u duo
tivc labor.
Pifm.—Tho following are the
charges tor newspaper puffs, which we
find in ain del Florida journal : »
For a modest puff, 3 juleps; a toler
ably good one, 1 box cigars; a gooei
one, 2 pair boots ; a very-good ooe, 1
vest and two sbiits; a splendid one, a
cloth coat; a perfect sockdolager, a
whole suit.
Three dogs in the neighborhood of
KentOD, Ohio, a few days ago, killed
forty sheep, worth from §4 to $5 per
head, To test the guilt of or-ethe dogs,
he was taken into a doctor's ofliee, chlo
roform administered, an opcing made
in his stomioU, examined. Wool be
ing foun 1, they ooucladod not to sow
him up agaiD.
No tune, it is said, is so popular, yet
»o hard to catch, as fortune.
No. 'i i.
itlieirilt Coffins o|:eis<-<i.
Tbe trustees of the old stono burial
ground in Cranston, Rhode Island, have
recently removed the remains of throe
of their aneesters to that place—Job
Stone, his first wife Hannah Barnes,
and bis second wife, Abigail Foster.
The bones were in an entira state of
preservation. The man had been bu
ried one huudred and seven years, tho
first wifo some hundred aud fifty
four years, and tho second wife one hun
dred an I s'x years. Hannah B trues,
buried 171'2, was a little girl at die
decease of II g r IV 11 ms, and died
between thirty and forty yeats of ago,
and yet tho skeleton was as sound and
perfect as if cleaned aud kept in a case ;
the hair al.se, braided, wound up in a
coil, was soimd and a« p< rfect as on th
day on which she laid down to sleep, al
though one hundred and fifty years of
summer and winter have passed sway
slucc that, hair was braided and coiled
in sorrowing kindness on the head
where most c fit still rC3ts. Iler de
scendants arc and have been more than ;
two thousand ; more than half that num
ber are nt\v living These b dies wore
bulled from five aud a half to six foe
deep, ou a small ridge of land near a
branch of the Bachassct river, the bot
tom of tho g some seven or eight
feet above tho level of tho branch, in
bluish sandy cloy. —Providence Journal |
Norllierii or Suffrage.
Sumner proposed to extend Negro
Suffrage, bv Congressional enactment,
over tbe Northern us well us the
Southern Stutes. Within the Inst
few years, several of the Northern
Stutes have voted on the question. —
The following are the resu’u:- •
At the first Presidential election in
which Lincoln whs n candidate for Ex
eeutive honors, (18<i0) New York gave
it majority against tho proposition of
140,481 ! Lincoln’s majority at tbe
same election was 60,116 ! No Lin
coln organ Jior Lincoln voter advocat
ed tbe proporit on The open ndvo
cates wire the crazy Abby Kelly
ites.
Connecticut, 18G5, at a special elee
tion, voted on tho same qu stion ; and,
by a majority of G 272 repudiated
niongre’ism at tbe ballot box. The
majority tor tl < Radical candidate for
Governor nt the spring elution was
over 11 000 1
"Wisconsin, tho same year, rejected
Negro Suffrage by 0,000 —giving at
the same time, 10,000 majority for the
radical Gubernatorial candidate.
Minnesota also refused to sanction
Ntgro Suffrage by 2,513 majority; al
though cbosing a radical Governor by
a majority <>t 3,476.
Colorado—voting on a piroposed
Constdutifin the same full—rejected,
by a vote of 7 to 1, the degrading pro
position.
It will, therefoie, be seen that the
men who, in these instances, defeated
Negro Suffrage were Republicans.—
It wus the work of this “great party
of freedom ” Were they right, or
wrong then? If wrong then, ire they
right now ? Ties, too, is the great
“party of prifie'p’e.”— [Starke County
(i) ) Democrat.
Tiik Giri.s to the You mo Men
The literary department of the luka
(Miss ) Minor is edited by four your g
ladies. Their last number conttrim !
tho following paragraph, which ex- |
her s the young muu to “depend on 1
hims'lf.”
“Most young men consider it a mis- ’
fortune to be born poor, or not to I
have capital tnottgh to establish them- j
selves at their outset of life iu a good
and comfortable business. This is a
mistaken not on. Po fur Irom poverty ;
being a misfortune to them, if we may
judge from what we dai y behold, it j
is a b’essing; the chances are more
than ten to one against him who S'arts
with a fortune. Most rich men’s sons .
die in poverty, while many poor men's ]
sons come to wealth and honor. It is
a blessing, instead of a eurso, to have
to work out their own fortune.”
Not Yjt—‘My son give me thine
heart.
‘Nuttct,’ said the little boy, ss be 1
was busy with his top and ball,
‘when I grow older I will think about
it.’ . •
The bnygrrw to boa yonng roan,|
‘Not yet,’ said the young man. ‘I am
now about to efiter trade ; when I seo ;
my husiuess prosper, then I shall have ;
more time than now ’
Business did prosper; 'my children;
must Lave my care ; when they are set- !
tied in life, I shall he better able to 1
attend to religion.’ lie lived to boa
grey-headed old man. ‘Not yet,’ still ;
he cried ; I shall soon retiro from trade, ]
and then I shall have nothing else to do
but to read and pray.’
And so be died. He put off to anelh I
er time, what should havo been done
when a child Ho lived without God.
and died without hope.
Curious History —Fivo centuries :
ago, in Mexico, Cortez, holding the
commission ot Charles V., the head of
thut great Imperial house, from which j
Maximilian himself is descended, p>utj
tho lust of tho Montezumaa to death J
Five centuries roll away, end the In-;
tlian I’resident, Jaurez, puts to death, j
in the same country, the most promi
nent and -.eocndaut of ILo house of Charles
Y.
Nover bo so rude as to say to a
man:
“There is a door?’ but ssv, “Elevate
your golgotha to tho summit of your
pericranium, and allow me to present
to your ooculat* demonstration that sci
entific piece of mechatrcism w hich con
stitutes the cg r ess portion of this apart
meat ”
Mill, FACT, AND FANCY.
______ a
What ii better th in a promising
young ratiu? A p»)ing one,
“Th false,’ as tho girl Slid when her
lover t<ild li f tint* she had beautiful
Lair.
Wlial a prior world this would bo if
it had no wnrncn and newspapers in it.
How would the news get around ?
Mem people—the men who kick pec*
pie when down, and a subscriber who
refuses to pay for his paper.
“Good blood will always show itself,’
as the old inly said when she was struck
by tbe rcducss of her nose. •
Almost every young lady is public
spirited enough to have her lather s
bouse used as a oourt-bousc.
“Plonso exchange.” said our print- 1
er's devil, when ho kissed his sweet
he apt Saliio.
Why is the Expedient Churn like al
Cutterpjllar? Because it makes the
butter jl//.
Social GirJon'ng—Weeding your
acquaintance, and cutting your intimate
friends.
It'a man marry a shrew, we are to
suppose he is shrewd
‘Mr Jon- ?, have you got a match ?’
“Yes, sir, a match for the devil; —
there she is mixing up dough.”
Jo!i>*m pointed to his wife and then
“slid” for the front down the road,
hotly pursued by a red Leaded lady
with it cistern polo. Poor Jones !
An old Dutchman untettook to wal
lop his soti; Juko turned the tables
and walloped biro. The old man enn
so'ed himself f r his defeat by
ing at iiis son’s superior manhood.—
Ho said: “Veil, Jake is u tarn
sell mart fellow. lie can whip his own
tuduy.”
The following epitaph is said to bo
on a tomb stone in Upper Georgia:
To all my friends who come this way,
A few kind words I wish to say—
Hnonld any of you drink old rye,
Think of me as you pass by. ’
An editor in Marshall, Illinois, has
bee m ■ s i bollow from depending upon
iLo printing bu-ioess alone fr bread,
that he proposes to sell himself for s'ove
pipes at three cents a Lot.
Quin told a lady that sho looked
blooming as spring, but, rccollootmg
that tho season was not then very prom
ising, lie added : ‘Wool! to heaven tbe
spriDg woull look like you.’
In a concert recently, the conclusion
us the s mg, ‘Th- re’s a good time com
j ing,’ a country fanner got up,aud cx-
I claimed : ‘Mister, you couldn’t fix tb«
I time, could you V
J ish Hidings truthfully remarks that
‘trying to livo on the reputation of a
dead grandfather is just about as enter
s rising as trying to hatch out rotten
eggs under a tin weathercock.
Now that ‘tilling hoops’ are going
I out tff fashion, let one thing be said in
i their favor—the wearers of them were
I never liable to arrest for‘Laving no vik
! ible means for support.’
A pood sort of a man in Maine was
recently a-dod to sub.cribc for a cbandl
Jier fir the cliufch.
“Now,” said lie, “what’s the use es a
chandelier? After yougot it you can't
get any one to play on it.
Mrs l’aringfon, said she did not mar
rv her second husband because she lpv
ed thu mala sex, but just because he was
the size of her first and could
wear out liis old clothes.
The I> iston Post says strawborries
sell at a (porter of a dollar a smell. Is
that a scent b piece ?
Nfk" I'oor, to a Fcwb.'-—“Mr.
Brown,’’said a little boy to a gcntle
mnn who was calling on his
“which is yrur nex'-door neighbor ?”
“Mr. Jones, my and; ar,” replied the
visitor.”
“Isn’t he a very silly man, sir?'* a.-k*
cd the child. ' •#*
‘■No, my dear : Mr. Jones is a sensi
ble man ru .u«h.”
“Oh, I don’t think he is,’* persisted
the boy, “for I heard mane rib say to
papa 'hat you were the next door to a
fool!” .
Aiivicr. to Doctors.— Have yoti
heard of the Bowery boy, who being
cut short in a bard life by a sore disease
which quickly brought him to death’s
door, .-.as informed by bis physiciau thaa
med cine cou'd do nothing For him.
“Wh-t’s my chances doctor V
“Notw r.h speaking oV
“One in twenty 11’
“Ob, n«.”
‘ Im thirty ?”
“N i.”
‘ Fifty r
“I think nob”
“A hundred
“Well ncrLaps there may be on? in It
bundle’.”
“I say, then, doctor,” pulling 1 :a>
and wn, »'nd whispering wi'h feeble ear j
estnes in his ear, ‘ just go in like all
thur dcr cn that chance.”
Tbc d'.'Ctor “went in” and the patient
recovered.
Tnr. way to Fflect Fr.oCß.—First
look to fi e color j if it is white, with a
yellowish or straw tint, buy it. If it is
very v.hite, with a bluish cust, or with
specks in it, refuse it.
Second, examine its adhesiveness;
wet ard knead a little of it between ynuv
fi- gers ; if it works soft and : sticky, it i*
poor. mmf-t-f.
Tht.u, throw a littla lump of dry Amur
against a smooth surface; irit falls itko
powder, it is bad.
Further, squeeze seme of tie flour in
your hand ;it it retains the shape giv
en by the pressure, that, too, is a good
sign. Flour that will stand these tests,
it is safe to buy. " , ’
These modes are given by eld flour
dealers, ar<l they pertain to a matter
that concerns everybody—the stall of
, life. „ ~4 ~