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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.