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GALLAHER'S INDEPENDENT,
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY AT
QUITMAN, GA.,
J. C. GALLAHER.
TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION!
two DOLLARSpfr Annum in Advance.
.jL-lU— ■■!■ J- 1—
TO TUB IVY.
Lom tenant of the wasted spot
Wherf* softened desolation sin ilea;
Where wood*, grow rank o’er graves forgot,
And ruin signs through grass grown ais.es!
Htill clinging round some withered trunk,
Or mouldering tenement of age;
Or where the riven wall has sunk
Beneath destruction's leaguering rage.
* Child of decay fno blushing flower,
No cup of treasnred sweets is thine,
* *To 1 treat he in beauty’s fragrant bower,
Or charm where statelier rivals shine;
„vi The column the desert place,
Hie warriors cross, the nameless stone,
Itweire thy clasping boughs’ embrace,
And show thy clustering wreaths alone l
violet aud the queen-like rose,
Frail minions of a passing day,
Brief as the faith which falsehood show!—
But bloom while lasts thier worshipped ray;
To me thy mourful leaf sxoels
The fkireat buds whose petals fling
Their oders where the summer dwells
Or gem the verdant robes of spring.
Vet type of truth! when fortune wanes;
Andgrui/L hamit the mouldering tomb;
And love, as death, sustains
The whirlwind’s shfick and tempest’s gloom;
Thou still, amidst the howling blast,
When all is drear, art smiling on;
Unchanged, unshrinking to the last.
And green when even hope is gone !
IVIIAT BECAME OF lIIM.
BY W. A. PETERS.
Ho was only the village school master,
teaching a term, homeless and friendless,
boarding around, quiet and few knew h ; m,
awkward and laughed at by many, and it
was reasonable to suppose that life had
not many swoete, and few prospects for
him in his weary struggle with its wants.
It was a dismal afternoon in November
after the noisy children were dismissed,
that he trudged along the muddy road to
bquire Simpson's, where he was to board
out the time that was apportioned to the
Squire as one. of the school committee.
Tue Squire was one of those, men who
know their worth in a community and
taught the valuation to his fumily. A
tnnn of importance in Baldwiusville, pos
sessing mitny qualities of usefulness in his
little community, but belonging to that
class who are easily swallowed up in large
places.
He had a good farm, well cultivated by
the toil of others, and had by good man
agement brought his family up to that jk>-
eition in society that wealth gives when
coupled with any good qualities; and the
Squire's family possessed many of them;
they were members of the village church
and prompt in attending all the meetings
of the society, teachers in the Sunday
School, vocalists in the choir, and on the
committees of charity, aud Dorcas socie
ties aud church fairs.
His family consisted of his wife, a son
of twenty years and a blooming daughter
of eighteen. His wife was one of those
.young-looking women, who try to rival
their daughters in society, and she had
passed from her earlier days of industry on
the farm when they had begun life to
gether, to a position of ease, and no more
did she look to the dairy, w ith her tidy
aprons on, as she had been wont to do in
the old days of frugality; nor attend to
the duties of the old fashioned kitchen
-with its huge boiler and bake oven, nor
sweep, nor scrub, nor ftfike, as in the good
old days when fashion was not a queen in
tiie land. Now she had servants to do
these things, which gave her leisure to
enjoy society with her daughters, and at
tend political reform meetings and public
places generally.
Her daughter Aland was n belle in the
place, and could be so peculiarly captivat
ing as to draw almost any one into her
train of admiring devotees. She was one
of these dreamy, languishing beauties that j
could effect such ft sweet innocence of
tuanner, as to remind one of their pre
conceived idea of an angel, but, like the j
bat that purs upon the hearth, Miss
Maud bad claws in her temper ull nicety j
hidden away under the velvet, and with
them she used to unmercifully scratch the j
hearts of those young men who fell be
noath her captivation and made avowals of
their tender passion, when with a toss of
disdain aud spirit of triumphant scorn,]
She would repel them and for the first
time they would feel the claws of her
treachery in their quivering hearts.
She was in the position that many oth
ers have been in; those she could get she
wouldn’t have—she was looking higher—
and those she wanted she couldn't get, be
cause they were fine young men of sense
and position, who could see that she in
the rough east material had been good,
bnt had been spoiled in the finish and
polish of fashion and accomplishments;
bnt she was not yet old enongh to realize
the fatality of her coquettish amusements,
and it was quite natural that she should
bring her charms to bear upon the poor
yonng school master, when he came to
board at her father’s house; he was intel
ligent and pleasing in conversation and j
Could so nicely select thoio subjects of j
Conversation she preferred, that she liked j
him, and was glad of the opportunity to j
pass away the time; for just then there
Was a lull in the storm of her little con
quests. She hud made a kind of whole
tale smashup of them during the lute se- j
ties of church fairs, and for a while she
was left at a respectful distance by the
"burnt children that dreaded the fire,” as
well as by those who, seeing the others
Writhing in pain, dreaded to he burned.
Oeorge Seymour was tall and well
formed, but possessed that awkwardness
of manner that self-made men usually have
in early life; his face was interesting and
would have been particularly handsome
had not anxiety, labor and hard study
given it a thin, careworn expression; and
yet a physiognomist or phrenologist would
nave marked him as a man of no ordinary
ability in the present, or intellectual pros
pects in the future.
He was a stranger, and had come in re
ply to an advertisement of the vacancy to
be supplied by a young man at a mere
pittance and board round. He had passed
his examination, more than creditably in
the usual degree, aud easily obtained the
position, and the Squire’s was his second
boarding place, and as his first had been
in a family where there were no young
persons, and only an old lady in specta
cles, who sat in the corner knitting socks,
to keep him company, he had looked for
ward to his home at the Squires with a
degree of pleasure, in contemplation of the
society of Maud, whom he had seen in
chnrch but not at the fairs; for his means
had been too meager to admit of his go
fog to them, where the yonng ladii s ex
haust a man and leave him bankrupt after
the first hour; and he felt that he could
not have stood one draw on the gabbag or
the postage on a letter.
He was met at tie door of Squire Simp-
(Sallaljcr's JJiuVncmVnt.
VOL. 11.
son’s comfortable mansion, on tho day in
question by a servant, who conducted
him into tlie parlor, and as Mrs. Simp
son was not at home it devolved upon
Maud to meet him. preparatory to his be
iug shown to his room aud entering upon
his new life as one of the inmates.
Now, os we said before, Maud could be
very sweet and she certainly possessed a
pleasing manner in the entertainment of
guests in her father’s house, however
humble their position might be; and upon
this occasion she was charming without
reserve, and looked her best —as any nice
girl does, in her neat aud natural home at
tire.
Never before hnd she appeared as lovely
to Oeorge Seymour as upon this occasion
in the quiet of her home, aud poor fellow,
who had never loved or been loved before,
: now felt tho warmth of his heart going out
ito her in anew existence, fervent and
’ generous beyond the condition of his uu
; developed nature.
On meeting him she gave him her hand
in a native and generous man nor that
thrilled his frame, as sho made him wel
come by her sweet words and unassuming
manner, and when he was shown to his
room, preparatory to meeting the family
! at supper, he felt a strange kind of excite
ment, and made some awkward mistakes
jin his toilet. He poured the water from
i the bowl into the pitcher, amb threw a
j glass out at the window, and after comb
' ing his hair he removed the gleaning of
hair from the comb and placed it on the
table, while he threw the comb iuto tlie
slop-pail. After this manner of prepara
tion he was soon ready to he shown down
; to supper, which the ringing bell told him
; was ready. There he met quite a hearty
reception from Squire Simpson, who pre
sented him to his wife, and also formally
to his daughter; the son he had met before
and they exchanged the compliments of
| old acquaintances.
i The table gave indications to our young
1 schoolmaster that his inner m in was to fare
i better than at his former boarding place,
j and hope, beat high in expectation of many
i happy hours with the fair daughter of the
household. In this he was not doomed to
I disappointment, f>r after supper ho was
j invited to the parlor and agreeable euter
| tained by the family, but more paticulurly
by Maud, who ployed upon the piano for
him many of his favorite airs, aud she
j sang charmingly some familiar songs, in
which he joined his perfectly cultivated
! voice to hers, much to the surprise of all,
j for lie had not given any intimation of
; proficiency in vocalism, and had not joined
i the choir, to which he was now earnestly
j requested to attach himself, and altogether
I things bid fair to brighter prospects and
pleasanter circumstances, an 1 he went to
I his dingy little schoolroom day by day
with more sunlight in his soul than had
ever shone in it from the sky over llald
i winsville, while his evening were passed
j in a kind of delirium of bliss in the pres
! cnee of Maud, who was quietly drawing
' him on in the toils of her fascinations,
while he, happy in the bought that she
I hired him, was casting himself in devotion
at her feet, and all the noblest elements
of his nature bubbled up aud overflowed
like a pure spring for her to quaff its crys
i tal excellence, but she wanted wine, not
I water, not the purity of nature's fountain,
! but tin color of those intoxicating, debas
i ing, subserving qualities, that the word
j love so well to traffic in and barter away
everything for.
The crisis came at last. As he one evon
| ing sat by her in the parlor, poor fellow,
he offered him*elf to her, not much, but
all he was, his, love, his labor, his life, for
her he would do anything, he wouldstrug
gle up from his poverty, from his obscurity
to wealth and a name. Never was a more
earnest appeal made, it came from a heart
and soul that were too large for their poor,
pinched surroundings.
She b< ard him through, and then her
studied expression of scorn overspread her J
face, as with a gleam of triumph o’er the j
heart she wua about to crush, she said:
“Marry yon ! a poor, unknown teacher
of a country school ! your presumption is
surprising; but perhaps you’ve been so
little used to kindness that you have mis
taken hospitality for love, and if so I can
excuse you. lat least know how to ex
tend to every one proper entertainment in
my father’s house, but I have yet to learn
how to throw myself away upon a penni
less adventurer. While you are a guest in
our house, I am still in duty bound to
treat you politely, even kindly, but on a
repetition of such presumption, I shall be
compelled to close the entertainment of
onr parlor;” and with these cutting sar
casms she quietly watched the expression
of agony on his face, with as much compo
sure as an inquisitor would note tho dying
struggles on the racks.
"My God,” he exclaimed, ho staggered
to his feet, ‘can these cruel words come |
from you, or is my brain on fire, arid is it \
the mocking of delirium ? Oh, heavens ! J
it is too true, ’tis you that’s spoken so; j
can there be under the fair form of aU an- i
gel such base deception, such deep treach
ery to all that a soul could offer; under !
the guise of innocence and truth, can there j
be so much cruelty and implied falsehood? I
Why have you led me on to this fatal fall? :
You knew in your heart what I’ve told ;
you to-night; have you no mercy, are you
cruel and relentless i:r your coquetry as j
death itself, to crush out the existence of j
your : How human creatures this way, and j
gloat on the ruin ? No, no 1 hope gleams j
not from your eyes, there isn’t an angel
in heaven that hovers over you to-night |
with a pure influence, but borne upon
the wings of the lost spirits are the stoical
gleams that light your cold eyes, and now
forever I leave yon to the fall of eternity’s
vengeance that will as surely come upon j
you as you have spurned the offers of my
honest soul, and crushed the love of a
warm heart; never will yon open the doors
of your home’s bospitility again. Igo j
from your father s roof to-night, forever, I
forever, forever;” and as the last sound of j
that omnibus "forever” fell upon her car '
like tlie sentence of her doom, he rushed j
away to his little room and gathering up J
the few things he called his own, he sped ;
away down the road in the darkness.
Never before in her flirtations had Maud
struck so deep a wound, nor aroused so
proud a spirit, and the very energy and i
vehemence of his dispair made her love
him, and throwing herself upon the sofa,
she cried in anguish:
“O, George, George, come back ! I
will recall those cruel words; I knew not
what I was doing: I never knew you loved [
me so; lam too false for one so good and .
noble as yon. Oh ! what a sentence was j
that 1 Not an angel in heaven to night j
hovers over me with a pure influence, j
Oh ! ’tis only too true; in my deception I
have deceived myself. ’Tis too late; he
is never coming back; there's too much
QUITMAN, (tA., SATURDAY, MAY 16, 1874.
manhood under those soul orbs of his,
that gleamed upon me to-night, not to
mean what, he said;’’ and in a half-sense
less condition her mother found her, aud
by much persuasion learned all that had
passed.
Next day, the village was thrown into
Confusion by the disappearance of the
schoolmaster. Tho children clamored
around the door and wondered what it
meant. The grown people canto round
and wondered too; but wondering did not
solve the mystery. Squire Simpson and
his family wisely kept the secret of his
sudden departure, but started that he had
disappeared some time during tho nigl.t
and had not occupied his bed, but had
taken away his thiugs; and beyond this
no further explanation came, and no
traces of him were found. Tho little
school house was closed, and the children
had an unexpected vacation, untill another
schoolmaster came to the vacant place.
He was an old, dried up man, and pre
sented a painful contrast, in the eyes of
Maud, when he came to Occupy George
Seymour’s little room.
Two months afterward, a body was
found floating down tlie river, very much
decomposed, but the people of the
village decided that it was that of the
i young schoolmaster, and solemnly the
j remains were borne to the churchyard,
accompanied by tho whole villugo.
Poor Maud ! it was agony to her; her
! punishment was almost more than sho
| could bear; aud, iu mourning she went to
the.grave, where she stood , quietly weep
| ing until they went to lower the body
down when her feelings overcame her and
she threw herself upon the coffin and
i shrieked.
“Oh ! it was mo, I did it, I drove him
| off, bury mo with him, I am not fit to
live 1"
Thus the once proud belle of Baldwins
ville humbled herself in the dust, much to
| the surprise of alt present; but tlie old
| schoolmaster with a quite satisfaction,
j took note of all this.
* * * * # #
Ten years ro led by, und many changes
i had taken place; most of the young peo
| jilt! of the little village, who were out in
1 society at the begining of the decade,
! were married, and many even of the school
| children, who still remembered the mys
■t, rious departure of the school-master
j they liked so well, and with sadness they
thought of the subsequent funeral and the
little gravestone with its simple inscription.
During all those years someone had gone
every week and placed flowers upi n the
grave. It was Maud; she was still unmar
ried, and unconsoled for tho death that
s iefeltsln h dcau ei 1 , Sho hiul de .el p and
into beautiiui womanhood of twenty-eigut;
lovely through all those years of grief,
caused by words she had not meant, but
had spoken merely for tho love of flirting,
aud how bitterly she had suffered from
them, none knew but herself.
Great preparations were being made iu
Baldwiusville for reception of tlie Lieu
tenant Governor of the State, who hod ris
en to Hint position, from speaker of tlie
State Semite, by the death of the former
incumbent of t . ii! position.
The grand night at last arrived; and in
the brilliantly lighted town hall, all fes
tooned with flowers and spangled with
flags, aud brass bauds playing “Hail to the
Chief,” the reception began, ns one after
another of tlie dignitaries of the town were
presented to lii.s Excellency. Squire Simp
son approached with his wife and daugh
ter, and when Maud was presented to his
Excellency, Governor Seymour, she gave
one straight look into his face, one pierc
ing scream, and fell fainting in his arms,
and he held tho woman who had been
sprinkling his supposed grave with tears,
and strewing it with flowers for ton long
years.
AU Baldwinsville crowded around him
when they found that he was the lost
school-master, and it was like a family j
affair, and no one thought wrung of it as
he pressed # the forgiving Maud his
bosom.
He knew it all; the little, old school
master was bis uncle, who had quietly
made a note of Maud’s devotion at the
grave.
Kind reader, yon pity poor Maud and
forgive her, do you not V
The generous Governor forgave her and
loved lior mole than ever for her long
years, of suffering and devotion over his
supposed grave. Bhe bad been purified by
those years, and now sho makes him the
best of wives in his rapidly rising career,
and that is “What became of him.”
The Caterpillar and How to Destroy it.
This has been a most serious enemy
for the last few years to onr fruit trees in
all parts of the country. Some years it
has nearly stripped the orchards of foliage
to the great destruction of the fruit crops,
and if left alone to accumulate and gather
strength, it will finally very much enfee
ble the tree. At this season of the year
will he seen a small glutinous ring around
tlie small branches, and at or near the ex
tremities of these. This ring is composed
of eggs in number from three to five hun
dred. In the winter the eggs are protected
by a water-proof varnish which can be de
stroyed neither by frost nor rain. There
is no trouble about detecting tlie little
knots to which reference is here made.
And now is the time for their speedy de
struction. For this purpose it is best to
select a cloudy day, as ou a bright one, the
continuous round of inspection which is j
carried on is painful to the eyes. Take a ]
basket and bidder so that you may be able
to ascend at pleasure. Scrutinize the
branches closely, and cut off all those on
which eggs are located and burn them.
In this way, in one hour, more of the pests
can be destroyed than in a whole day,
further on in the season, when they are
scattered about on the trees. Jf any of
4 he eggs chance to be overlooked they will
be hatched about the time the leaves be
gin to open. At this stage the most ef
fectual method is to take a long polo, at
the end of which attach a sponge. Then
prepare strong lye, into which dip the
sponge. Finally, swab the nest of cater
pillars thoroughly, and every single insect
that the sponge comes in contact with will
be killed.— Cor. Farmer's Home Journal.
“Doctor,’ said an old lady to her family
physician, “Kin you tell me how tis that
some folks is born dum ?' “Why, cer
tainly, madam,” replied tho doctor. “Its
owing to the fact that they come into
the world minus the power of speech.”!
“La, me ?' remarked the old lady; “now
just see what’ tis tew liev physic edica
tion I’ve axed my ole man a hundred times
that air same thing, an all that I could
ever get out uvliim was, kase they is! '
A Father in Israel.
Among tho delegates to the General
Conference of tho Methodist Church, re
cently held in Louisville, Kentucky, is the
Rev. Dr. Loviok Fierce, of this State.
I He is reported to have addressed the oon
j ferenee aa follows:
j My Beloved Brethjn I stand before
j vou rather as a marvel iu tho history of
i Methodist preachers. It would bo very
| unbecoming in me to congratulate you ou
| account of mv presence with you, hut it is
; right that I should congratulate myself on
: being permitted to see this very certainly j
| the last General Conference I shall ever
: attend. I have been greatly honored—
more certainly than I have ever deserved.
I have never been left out since tho time !
of my eligibility as a delegate. 1 have i
never done much. I have always felt in
clined to retire rather than make myself
bold and prominent. I had no expectation
when it, was auuounci and to me that 1 was
elected to this General Conference that I
could bo present >f ith you. It may be
considered as tlie first instance in history,
at least in that of our own ministry, that a
man iu his ninetieth year has traveled six
hundred miles and occupied his seat daily
iu a body like tliis; but God has conferred
upon mo this very remarkable blessing.
Iu regard to myself, Im vy say that my
voice has ever boon cle ir. 1 could be
heard readily by ten thousand attentive
listeners, and it was never weakened or
eniokfld for sixty-seven years. During i
this long period 1 preached many long j
and hard sermons, so that in this lino of j
things, I acquired great reputation for my
preaching Dowers. But now my voice
is gone, alia it cannot be repaired, so
that I can not do what I desired to do at
the request of my friends. During my
life 1 have offered to the General Confer
ence only four resolutions requiring change
in our discipline, but I have had the pleas
ure of seeing them all accepted, and they
now stand on your discipline.
Although 1 have not attempted—-to use
a common expression—to tinker much
with tlie Discipline, 1 have never seen the
day when 1 was perfectly satisfied to have
the phraseology remain perpetually the
same. I have prepared some changes for
your consideration, but fa ding well satis
fied that 1 can not command my voice, I
have not brought them with me, though
I have written them out with care, and it
is impossible for me to bring them before
you except by your indulgence, which I
am satisfied will always bo granted when
it is properly asked. I have drawn up
three papers from my ministerial experi
ence, running far into the sixty-ninth
year, which proposes moasuros intended
to vitalizo and energize the itinerant min
istry. They are but little after all, and
perhaps you may not appreciate them as
much as ido myself. 1 have some others
relating to the administration of discip
line in the church upon which I desire
that, tho conference will allow me, if able
to do so, to say a few words from time to
time. I trust when the weather is more
favorable that 1 ajnill bo able to say wliat I
desire. I say thi* much only now so as to
have my infirmities in your hearts, and I
know they will liavo your sympathy. At
another time, with your indulgence, I
shall present the changes which I propose,
and you may adopt them if you see fit, or
let them perish iu their passage.
A School Boy Flogs the Master, and
Served Him Right.
W. J. Weeber lias been teaching the
“young idea how to shoot” at tho village
of Palos, some thirty miles south of Chi
cago. One day last week some of the
mischievously-inclined pupils captured
about half a dozen squirrels, and carried
them into the school-room, and, waiting
until the eyes of the teacher were not
upon them, turned one of the frisky little
animals loose. It immediately perched
upon the nearest vacant desk, and, with
its antics, created great merriment among
the children.
Mr. Weeber left his chair, and while he
was attempting to capture the intruder
another was turned loose, and another,
until one after other the whole six were
running wildly around the room. The
master striving vainly to dispose of the
innocent cause of tlie confusion, only
added more to the excitement, until the
whole school was in uproar and confusion,
the girls joining with the boys in their
pretended attempts to capture tho squir
rels.
At last order was restored and silence
reigned supreme, except an occasional tit
ter from some far-off seat in the corner.
Weeber now proposed to have a settle
ment with the culprit or culprits, but ns
he had not seen the parties at the time
the squirrels were liberated, he did not
know where to commence. He called on
the offender, whoever he was, to walk up.
No one walked up. He then asked some
of the small scholars to name the guilty
one. Thero were no informers present.
Finally, his patience becoming exhausted,
he called in loud tones, “YVho did it ?”
Echo answered, “Who.”
He next resorted to the schoolboy’s
terror —the ferule—and said he would Hog
the whole school, and as the innocent
would not inform, they should suffer with
the guilty. Thereupon he began the ar
duous task of inflicting corporal punish
ment upon no less than forty boys.
After having gone about half way
through the school he met with a set-back
in one of the boys, Michael Cavenaugli,
who was blest with a strong arm, sinew,
nerve and courage. When Cavenaugli’s
name was called he stepped boldly up,
aud with a resolute demeanor and an eye
that looked dangerous, informed the mas
ter that he had no hand in causing the
merriment, and therefore he would not
suffer himself to be disgraced by quietly
submitting to a thrashing. This was more
than the irate Weeber could stand, so ho
walked into Oavenaugh with a vengeance,
which the children stated was terrible to
behold, and here it was that the boy found
his strong arm of value, as he knocked
the master down, and punished him se
verely for the assault.
YVeeber feeling that his dignity was Out
raged, boarded the first train for Chicago,
and, arriving here, swore out a warrant
for the arrest of Oavenaugh for assault
and battery. Justice Hillsdale heard the
evidence against the lad and discharged
him, stating that the boy had only acted
in self-defence. —Chicago Tribune.
Attaohino A Pew fob Debt,— -Rush R.
Sloaue, an eminent gentleman residing
lately at Sandusky, now of Europe, left
behind in the bustle of his departure a
pew in oPe of the aristocratic chnrohes of
that place. It was attached the other day
for a debt, Mr. Sloane neglected to li
quidate before leaving.
Lost in Life.
The foeling of intense loneline* that
I often comes over the stranger iu a great
|ei y, has been frequently noted and
moralized by philosophical writers. The
companionship that nature gives to one in
| field or forest is pitilessly walled out by
' the arid brick and stone of the leafless
I town, und to realize when thus insolated
i that iu all the swarming thousands of hu
j man beings in tho teeming streets you
have not one friend or acquaintance; that
not one of them all is aware of your per
sonality iu life or will give a thought t >
your death, is to know u solitude impos
sible elsewhere. Then, again, how sug
gestive is the fact that even the fellow
eitizens of such places as London, Paris
and New York may live for years in the
street with—aye, in the very next house
to—-each other and yet never know so
much as each other’s name !
Aud when hundreds of thousands of
men and women are at once so near und
so fur—physically near, liko the count
leas trees of a great forest; morally, as
isolated as those same trees —they are
really but so many intricacies of a world
wide human wilderness in which brother
may be lost to brother, love to sweetheart
husband to wife and children as utterly
aud irrecoverably us by death itself. It
is told of Joey Grimaldi, the famous Etig
lisn clown, whose life by Dickens is the
most readable of tributes to a genial aud
i guileless character, that in early life a
j boy-brother of his went to sen aud, not
! being heard of thenceforth for years, was
! supposed to have died,
j “One night in tumultuous London a
i face in the surging throng flashed upon
j Joe Grimaldi. It was the face of his long
| lost brother. Grimaldi approached and
i accosted him, and in a moment they were
hanging on each other’s neck, mutually
recognized and united. To compare
j notes and commune with each other the
! brothers repaired to a public house, where
; they remained for some time. On leaving
] they became accidently separated in the
s irgiug throng o itside and from that
! moment to the hour of his death Grimaldi
neither saw nor heard anything of his
brother, so strongly found and lost.
While tho story sounds liko a marvel,
how easily explicable, how practicable of
duplication is it, in tlie light of tlie fore
going considerations of the solitude of the
individual in the bewildering human
mazes of a great city. If those who love
each other would wander apart with any
assurance of certain reunion, let them
venture it elsewhere than iu the “wilder
ness of brick and mortar.”
♦
Saturday Night.
How many a kiss has been given, how
many a cures, how many a caress, how
many a look, how many a kind word, how
many a promise has been broken, how
many a loved one lowered into tho narrow
chamber, how many a babe lias gone from
earth to heaven, how many a crib or cra
dle stands silent now which last Saturday
eight held the rarest treasure of tho heart.
A week is a life. A week is a history.
It marks events of sorrow and gladness,
whioli people never heard. Go home to
your family, man of business ! Go home
to your family, erring wanderer! Go
home to the chair that awaits you, wronged
waif life's breakers ! Go home to those
you loro, man of toil and give one night
to the joys and comforts last flying by.
Leave your books of dataplex figures—
your dingy office—your busy shop !
Itest with those you love, for heaven only
knows what the fiext Saturday night may
bring you ! Forget the world of care and
battles of life which have furrowed the
week I Draw close around the family
hearth ! Saturday night has awaited your
coming in sadness, iu tears, and in silence.
Go home to those you love, and as you
bask in tho loved presence, and meet to
return tho love embrace of your heart’s
pets, strive to be a better man and bless
iieaven for giving bis children so dear a
stepping stone in the river of the internal,
ns Saturday night.
In the Serpent’s Coil.
The Rev. Samuel W. Bush, upon retir
ing from the chaplaincy of the State Ine
briate Asylum, gives a Statement concern
ing the success of the institution which is
far from encouraging. He surprises us by
the information that few out of a hundred
are permanently reformed. We had been
led to suppose that cures from the terrible
disease of drunkness were more frequent,
and relapses rare. The representations us
ually made concerning the work of asy
lums and reformatories for this class of frail,
sinning men, have quickened many hopes
concerning them. But Mr. Bush speaks
with great definiteness of the institution
whose operations he thus watched: “This
I know, that only three of eighty-two pa
tients under the first administration have
continued in a course of total abstinence;
and all these eghty-two belonged to the
highest class of society, and were intelli
gent, educated men. Many of these are
dead, and died in a manner not pleasant to
contemplate. The rest—alas for them !”
Prevention of intemperance, therefore, is
only hopeful work. If the habit, when
formed, is so invincible, guard the young
from formation of habit.— Presbyterian.
*
Washington Allston, who stood at the
head of American artists a half century
ago, was at one time so reduced by prov
erty that he locked his studio in London
one day, threw himself upon his knees and
prayed for a loaf of bread for liimself and
wife. While thus engaged a knock was
heard at the door, which the artist has
tened to open. A stranger inquired for
Mr. Allston aud was anxious to learn who
was the fortunate purchaser of the paint
ing of the “Angel Uriel,” which had won
the prize at the exhibition of tho Royal
Academy. He was told that it was not
sold. “Where is it to he found?” “In
this very room,” said Allston, producing
the painting from a corner and wiping off
the dust, “It is for sale, but its value has
never been adequately appreciated, and I
would not part with it. ” What is its price?”
“il have done affixing any nominal sum.
I nave always, so far, exceeded any offers.
I leave it to yon to name the price.” “Will
four hundred pounds be an adequate re
compense ?” “It is more than I ever
asked for it.” “Then the painting is
mine,” said tho stranger, who introduced
himself as the Marquis of Stafford, aud
from that time became one of Mr. Allston's
warmest friends and patrons.
In a natural state, tears and laughter go
hand in hand; for they are twinborn.
Like two children sleeping in one cradle,
when one stirs and mikes, the other wakes
; also. —Peer her.
Minuteness of Atoms.
Gold-beaters, by hammering, can reduce
gold to leaves so thin, thnt 282,000 must
he laid upon each other to produce the
thickness of an iuoh: yet those leaves are
perfect, or without holes, so tliut ono of
them laid upou any surface, as iu gilding,
give the appearance of solid gold. They
are so thin, that it formed into a book, 1,-
500 would only occupy the spaco of a sin
gle leaf of common paper; uml an octavo
volume of an inch thick would have as
many pages as the books of a well-stocked
ordinary library, of 1,600 volumes, with
four hundred pages iu each.
Still thinner than this is the coating o
gold on the silver wire of wliat is called
gold lace; aud wo are not sitrc that such
coating is of only one atom thick. Plnti
uum and silver can be drawn iuto wire
much finer than human hair. A grain of
blue vitrol, or earmino, will tinge a gallon
of water, so that in every drop tho color
may be perceived. In the milt of a cod
fish, or iu water in which certain vegeta
bles lmvo been infused, the microscope die
covers animalcules of which many tlioi -
sands together do not equal in bulk a grain
of sand; and yet nature, with a singular
prodigality, bus supplied many of these
with organs us complex as those of a
whale or elephant; and their bodies con
sist of tho same substances, or ultimate
atoms, as that of a man himself. In a
single pound of such matter there are more
living creatures than of human beings ou
the face of this globe.
What a scene has the microscope opened
to the admiration of the philosophic, in
quirer ! Water, mercury, sulphur, or, in
general, any substance when sufficiently
heated, rises as vapor or gas; that is, it is
reduced to the uniform state.
Great heat, therefore, would cause the
whole of the material universe to disap
pear, and the most solid bodies to become
as invisible and impalpable as the air we
breathe. Few have contemplated an
annihilation of the world more complete
than this
Down on Dancing.
Tho Bishops of the Methodist Church,
in their address to the conference now in
session in Louisville, Ky., take strong
grounds against dancing. They say:
Among our young people every where,
especially in tiie towns aud cities, there is
a tendency to worldliness—to vain and
demoralizing amusements, which demands
a corrective. The subject, though plain
in its general principles, is compassed
about with many embarrassmuts. The
toleration of these things by loose notions
of Christian liberty, the fact that many
Elis among us do not restrain tiieir chii
dron—the 100 eadmission of members—the
incapacity of the unconverted for spiritual
discernment, the long sufferance of the
evil in many cases from timid administra
tion, all threaten the church, adulterate
her purity, and break down her authority.
The silence of the discipline, in terms, is
the plea with some, oxpuning the para
graph in which dancing was specified
among things forbidden, has been con
strued by others into relaxation of law,
equivolent to license. We think the rule
is plain, and we konw the last General
Conference expressed itself strongly in
condemnation of this evil. Nevertheless
the pleas are made, so that the chnrch is
enfeebled in her remonstrance, mid the
preacher paralyzed in his pastoral govern
ment. Both parties look to yon for relief.
We hope you may be able to furnish it.
You can not make a now law, but you can
define the old.
Light Without Matches. —To obtain
light instantly without the use of matches
and without danger of setting things on
fire, take an oblong phial of the whitest
glass; put into it a piece of phosphorrus
about the size of a pea, upon which pour
some olive oil, heated to the boiling point,
filling the phial about one-third full, and
then seal the phial hermetically. To use it,
remove the cork and allow the air to en
ter the phial, and recork it. The whole
empty space in the bottle will then become
luminous, and the light obtained will be
equal to that of a lamp. As soon as the
light grows weak its power can lie increased
by opening the phial and allowing a fresh
supply of air to enter. In winter it is
sometimes necessary to heat the phial be
tween the hands to increase the fluidity of
the oil. Thus prepared, the phial may be
use and for six months. This contrivance is
now used by the watchmen of Paris in all
magazines where explosive or inflammable
materials are stored.
A Beautiful Florida Widow in Wash
ington.—The Cincinnati Gazette says a
Mrs. Bailey, from Florida, is attracting
considerable attention just now. She is
quite young and very striking in appear
ance, possessing the double charms of
manner and person. Her hair is blonde,
and her eyebrows exquisite enough to
tempt some sighing loiter to indite to them
a ballad. The other eveniugatthe charity
ball she was surrounded by devotees.
She wore a hyancinth colored silk train,
with a lavender satin petticoat, and point
luce fichu and scarf fastened oar lessiy
half way dowu the skirt. Her complexion
is dazzling ami her arms and neck per
fection. I suppose she will be sought
and won by some diguitary, foreign or
domestic.
■' "" 1 ♦• ♦ •
Madame Kiene, a French woman who
made herself famous by devotion to the
wounded during the siege of Btrnsburg
and who is now employed in tho ticket
office of the Vincennes railway, received
recently the iron cross from tho Empress
of Germany iu recognition of her brave
services. She returned’’ the decoration,
saying: “I connot accept a distinction
from a sovereign who invaded, burned and
sacked my native town. If in tending my
compatriots I was able to do somo good
to the Germans, it was because in the face
of suffering I could not make any differ
ence of nationality; and Iam 1 content with
the approbation of tiie conscience of a
French woman who could never under
stand cruelty against the vanquished,
against the suffering, and against the wo
men and children.”
A nice point in law was settled in New
York lately before a referee, after three
years’trial. Plaintiff and defendant had
established a business partnership, agree
ing in writing to make up tlie Capital only
in cash. Defendant, however, contribu
ted a net for $•10,04)0,' his partner agree
ing verbally. Tho security proved worth
less, but as it had been made in good
faith the referee derided for the defendant,
notwithstanding the plea of plaintiff’s
counsel that tlie provision in writing pre
vented the defendant from settling up
verbal approval of his paying in tho capi
, tal in credits.
The Man Who Can be Spfcim
When trade becomes dull, and but little
work is in tlie fnctory and n. t much pros
peot of more coming, employers ask them
selves, “Who can bo most, cssily spared ?’’
Oneor irfoTo men must be discharged, and
those most easily spared are the i me marked
out for a discharge, in the knowledge that
those most easily spared are the very men
who can be most easily replaced. The
men wo are most loth to discharge in dull
times are those who have been lone in onr
employ, who have always been attentive fcf
our interests by a jaiwaui
duty, and toward whom we have learned
:nmi long associiili-. i to .muuuun .. „-j
--ug of interest and friendship. Such men
vdl ho retained under any aud all cifi'u to
rn noes, while the Shiftless, eye serving,
'-•■id o doing, too much ''lass will be
“shipped” at the first opportunity they
can lid spared. The same result extends
to all brandies of ti iirl , . > * iid
succeed in the Hattie of life must make him
self master of his bninoo or h* reckoned
among those who can be spared.
Young man, remiuiun „u.i, the merf
who can bo easily spared are not tho ones
sought after when resposnsible position#
;u be iiiiud. Would you like to gauge
mr own fitness for a position of promi
■nce ? Would you like to know the pfohn
■ hties of your getfing such a position ?
quire within ! Wliat are you doibg t 6
ike yourself valuable in the position you
occupy ? If you are doing with vonr
M wh’S.vpnr hands find to do, the
chances are ten to one that you will soon
become so valuable to that position that
you cannot easily be spared from it; and
thou, singular to relate, will tie the very
imo when you will be sought out for pro
motion to a better place. Be content to
grade nniong the men who can easily be
Hpiued, and you may rest assured that
nothing will “spare you so cciuuiuy uuu
so easily as promotion.
NO. .3
How Oppression Rebouniis -sThe North,
sys the New York Day B'.’dfc, has beerf
truck with a thunderbolt from heaven,
hrough the ruin of the South. The same
(ftper adds:
Tweutv fhrtUßOtul r.* *l,O ‘o- *.,„"
have stepped from their carnages and now
walk tho streets hunting for bread; and,
•finitely worse, half a million ,„, 0 £
corking nuffi and Women, witho t u.uk.
threatened with starvation thronghont
the North—the direct and necessary result
of the labors of the’“fricjfds, 61 freedom,”
in tho front rauks of which Harper’s
Weekly has steadily borne its flag of “civ
ilization. But the recoil from their devil's
work, and consequent loss of profit*, has
suddenly opened th'e eyew 0 f these people
to the horror of the “situation.”
Druggists arc. not inappropriately
termed piliers society.
"Gash on delivery” is the custom adop
ted by popular lecturers.
Why is a chicken liko a farmer ? Be
cause both delight in a full crop.
On week days you buy yonr music by
sheet. On Sundays you can have it by
the choir.
A Hoboken editor, being challenged,'
sent word in reply, “When I want to dirf
I can shoot myself. ”
According to a Kansas decision,' it imtand
and wife oau enter a show on a ticket
bug Mmit Ctite. Most righteous'
Judge I
“You must be a quarrelsome fellow,"
said a phrenologist to a mail whose bumps
he was examining. “Bay thnt again and
I’ll knock you down,” was the response.'
In Switzerland thero is a law which'
compells eVerV newly married couple to
plant six trees immediately after the
ceremony and two on the birth of everjr
child.
Many a man'thinks it’s virtue thnt keeps
him from turning a rascal when it’s only a
full stomach. One should nbrays be care
ful and not mistake potatoes fob princi
ples.
A mormon bridegroom was simulta
neously married to three blushing brides
in Balt Lake City recently. Some con
fusion was created after the ceremomony,
by each bride persisting on her individ
ual right to the first kiss.
A friend of General Johrt C. Brecken
ridge tried to draw him out on politic#
the other day. He began by asking the
General what ho thought about A. H. Ste
phens. YVit.h a smile, Breckenridge re
plied: “I think he is in very bod health.”
The interviewer subsided.
A western papef lias the following fri
neral notice: "A long funeral cortege
wended its solemn way to the cemetery
yesterday. The deceased was a man who
neglected to buy a nice warm suit of un
derwear at the Emporium bazaar. Be
wise in time. The store is crowded with
lovely ladies, and the spruce clerks are
hopping round like a flea on a hot grid
dle. Call before it is too late. ”
The editor of the Indianapolis Sentinel
wagered SIOO with a young lady that she
could not refrain from speaking during an
entire week. He escorted the yonng lady
to the opera, bribed members of the family
to try and entrap her, and resorted to varA
mis other expedients for starting her
tongue, bnt she won the bet, aud the edi
tor of the Sentinel is probably a wiser man
on the woman business than he was oiffl
week ago.
Anew way of proposing marriage is re
ported, and we give the facts for tho ben
efit of those interested. A gentleman at
tended a fair held in this city recently and
fell iu love (as gentlnwn sometimes do) with
a demoiselle in the floral temple. He bought
a ten-dollar basket of flowers, and banding
her a fifty dollar bill, said: “If yAu don’t
give me tho exact change, I'll marry yvn. **
The blushing maid handed him back
tliirty dollars (slie was probably confused),
and lie remarked: “I thought so 1” Cards
will be out early next week l 1 —Hew York
Mail.
Heiffy Ward Beecher talks in this way ot
the Pope: “I have a great many friends
in Rome, the Pope among them. He
never came to see me, but I would just as
lief go to see him as not. He would hardly
say I was orthodox, but I really believe he
he is orthodox. I would ordain him to
preach, and I would let him preach here if
he asked me. I really believe the old
man is a good man, with some cobwebs ih
his head, but they will be brushed a Way
before long; wo all have got them, in some
way or unother, and whatever there is in
him that is pure and true and right make#
him my brother.’
As somo people cannot fathom' tho
meaning of the term “local enterprise,” uf
contemporary definesit as follows for their
benefit: “If you can think of anything
that can build up or beautify your city, go'
and do it; don’t fight it because you have
your share of the expense, keep your capi
tal at horue; patronize home institutions; 1
help your own merchants so that they may
sell cheaper; always get your work dolie
in your own city, if possible subscribe and
pay for the newspapers, don’t steal or bor
row the reading of them. If you follow
these suggestions, and your city does not
improve and buildup it will nut be your
. fault.