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fULUHER'B INDEPENDENT,
PUBLISHED EVKBY SATURDAY AT
QUITMAN, ( A- ,
BY
J. C. GALLAHER.
mn or WMCMMtosi i
TWO DOLLARS per Annum in Adrunce.
"ju-m.il -J .
(Writciifar Gam.ahkrs Indkpkjidkst.]
TOO LATH, TOO LATE.
BY JOHN DIAMOND.
Tho*c simple words whose fearful power
The son! doe* feel in sorrow's hour;
When from the depth* <>t dark dispair,
The heart poor* forth It* anguish prayer.
Mid storm* of woe that oft arise,
And wrap in glooui life'* radiant skies,
Hope builds no rainbow o’er the gate,
Closed with the direful word*—Too Late.
How oft amid the rare* of life,
While passing through the world * **d strife.
We rush unheeding by sweet joys,
And blindly rnnnt them worthless toys;
Till halting on some dismal plaiu.
We turn and view our prth again,
Bee the lost blessings dear, ami groat
And sadly sigh, too late, too late.
Perchance is hurled, the piercing dart
That wrings with grief a loved one's heart;
The angry, bitter, parting word,
With bunting touch remorse has stirred;
Till forced a pardon kind to seek.
With eager, burning words to speak,
Hitnma to find Death reigns m state ,
While pitying angsts sigh, Too I.ate.
The convict in his gloomy sell.
Led by strength of sins dread spell
Whose baud* aro red with human blood,
Steeped in crime’* wild, degrading dotal,
Turn* backward to his early day*,
And track again hi* boyish ways.
Kinds the first steps that led him down
To tremble ’ncath a prisoner's frown.
He sees again the dear one stand.
Who then found home'* unbroken band,
A mother's prayer aud bitter tears,
A father's counsel, anguish fears;
H ears all, as pass the phantom train.
Bees alibis errors, writhes in pain,
Regret, remorse, upon him wait,
Aud demons shout, Too Late, Too Late!
Low spread beneath the mortals feet
Behold Hope's scroued offerings sweet!
There lie the lost and mispent hours,
There lie Truth's crushed, neglected 11 iwor*,
And when night shades begin to fail,
In vain would man the past recall,
The soul bends o’er life’s shadowy gate,
And wails earth's saddest words. Too Late.
Baltimore, Md., May 1874.
THE TWO NEPHEWS.
At the parlor window of a pretty villa,
near Waltou-on-Thames, gat, one evening
at dusk, an old man aud young woman.
Tbe age of the man might be some sev
enty years; whilst his companion had cer
tainly not reached nineteen. Her beauti
ful blooming face, and active, light and
upright figure, were in strong contrast
with the worn countenance aud bent, frame
of the old man; but in his eye, aud in the
corners of his mouth were indications of u
gay self-confidence, which age and suffer
ing had damped, but not extinguished.
•‘No use looking any more, Mary,”
said he; ‘‘neither John Meade nor Peter
Pinch will be here before dark. Very
liard that, when a sick uncle asks his two
tiephews to come to see him, they cun't
come at once. The duty is simple in the
extreme —only to help me to die, and tnke
What I choose to leave them in my will!
Pooh ! when I was a young man, I’d have
done it for in y uncle with the utmost eeler
jty. But the world is getting quite heart
less 1”
“Oh, sir,” Bnh! Mary.
“And wlmt does ‘Oh, sir I' menu ?" slid
W “D’yethink I shan't die? I know
better. A little more, and there’ll Vie an
end of old Billy Collett. He’ll have left
this dirty world for a cleaner—to the great
aorrow (and advantage) of affectionate reb
ativea 1 Ugh! Give me a gloss of the
doctor’s stuff!”
The girl poured some medicine into a
glass; and Collett, after having contem
plated it for a moment with infinite dis
gust, managed to get it down:
“I tell you whst, Miss Mary Sutton,”
soul he, “I don’t by any means approve of
pour “Oh, sir !’ asd ‘Dear Sir,’ and the
test of it, when I'Ve told yon how I hate
to lie called ‘sir’ at all. Why you couldn’t
be more respectful if you were ft charity
girl and Ia beadle In a gold-laced hat.
None of your nonsense, Mary Sutton, if
Jrou please. I’ve been your lawful guar
dian now for more than six mouths, nnd
you ought to know my likings and dis
liking*/'
“My poor father often told me how you
disliked ceremony, 1 ’ said Mary.
“Your poor father told yon quite right/'
feud Mr. Collett. “Fred Sutton was a
taan of talent — a capital fellow. His only
fanlt Waa ft natural inability to keep a
farthing in his pocket. Poor Fred Ihe
loved me—l’m sure he did. He bequeathed
me his only child—and it isn’t every
friend would do that. ”
“A kind and generous protector yon
have been 1"
“Well, I don’t know; I’ve tried not to
be a brute, but I dare say I have been.
Don’t I speak roughly to you sometimes ?
Haven't I gteea yon good, prudent,
worldly advice about John Meade, and
made myself quite disagreeable, and un
like a guardian ? Come, confess you loV6
thia penniless Dephew of mine.”
“Penniless, indeed,''
“Ah, there it Is," said Mr, Collett.
“And what business has a poor devil of
an artist to fall in love with my ward ?
And what business has my ward to fall in
love with a poor devil of an artist ? Why
couldn't you fall in love with the discreet
#ne —the thriving ? — Peter Finch—con
sidering he’s an attorney— a worthy
young mao ! He Is industfkm.i is the ex
treme, and attends to other people’s busi
ness billy when he’s paid for it. He de
spises sentiment, and always looks to the
main ebaffee. But John Meade, lay dear
Mary, may spoil canvas forever, and not
grow rich. He's all for art, and truth,
(fed social reform, and spiritual elevation,
lEallalicr'e ItuVprniirnt.
VOL. 11.
and the Lord knows what. Peter Finch
will ride in his carriage, and splash poor
John Meade as he trudges ou foot.
The harangue was hero interrupted by
a ring at the gate, and Mr. Peter Finch
was announced. He had scarcely taken
his seat when auother pull at the bell was
heard, and Mr. John Meade was an-1
nouneed.
Mr. Collett, eyed his two nephews with ■
queer sort of smile, whilst they made
speeches expressive of sorrow at the na- 1
ture of their visit. At last, stopping'
them.
“Enough, boys, enough!” said he. I
“Let ns find some better subject to dis- j
cuss than the state of an old man's health, j
I want to know a little more about you
both. I haven’t seen much of you up to |
the present time, and, for anything I
know, you may be rogues or fools."
John Meade seemed rather to wince j
under this address; but Peter Finch sat
efflru and confident.
“To put -a case now,'* sahl Mr. Collett;
“this morning a poor wretch of a gardener
came begging here. He could get no
work, aud said he wns starving ! Well, I
knew something about tlio fellow, and I
believe he only told the truth; so I gave
him a shilling to get rid of him. Now ,
I’m afraid I did wrong. What, reason had
I for giving him a shilling ! What clnim
had lie on me ? What claim has he on
anybody ? The value of his labor in the i
market is all that a workingman has a'
right to; and when his labor i3 of no value, 1
why then he must go to the devil, or!
wherever else he can—Eh, Peter ? That’s
my philosophy, what do you think ?”
"I quite agree with you sir,” said Mr.
Finch; “perfectly agree w ith you. The
value of their labor in the market is all
that laborers can pretend to —all that they j
should have. Nothing acta more perni
ciously than the absurd extraneous sup
port called charity."
“Hear, hear!" said Mr. Collett.
“You're a very clever fellow, Peter. Go
on, my dear boy, go on.”
“What results from charitable aid?”
continued Peter. “The value of labor is
kept at an unnatural level. State charity
is State robbery; private charity is public
wrong. ”
“That’s it, Peter 1” said Mr. Collett.
“Wlmt do think of onr philosophy,
John ?”
“I don't like it, I don’t believeit 1” said ;
John. “You were quite right to give the
mun a shilling. I’d have given him a
shilling myself.”
“Oh, you would, would you ?” said Mr.
Cojlett. “You’re very generous with your
shillings. Would you fly in the face of
all orthodox political economy, you Van
dal ?”
“Yes,” said John, “as the Vandals flew
in the face of Borne, and destroyed what
had become a falsehood and a nuisance.”
“Poor John,” said Mr. "Collett. “We
shall never make anything of him, Peter,
lteally, we’d better talk of something else,
i John, tell us all about the last new novel.”
, T'hev conversed on various topics, until
the arrival of the invalid’s early bed-time
1 parted uncle and nephews for the night,.
Mary Sutton seized an opportunity, the
next morning before breakfast, to speak
, to John Meade alone.
“John,” said she, “do think more of
j your own interest —of our interest. What
occasion for you to be so violent last night
to contradict Mr. Collett so shockingly ?
I saw Peter Pinch laughing to himself.
John) yon must be more careful, or we
shall neVerbe married.”
“Well, Mary dear, I'll do my best,"
said John. “It was that confounded Pe
ter, with his chain of iron maxims, that
made mo fly out. I'm not an iceberg,
' Mary.”
“Thank heaven, you’re not!” said
j Marys “btlt an iceberg floats—think of
that, John. Bemember—every time yon
j offend Mr. Collett, you please Mr: Finch:”
“Soldo!” said John. “Yes; i'll fe=
! member that: ”
“If yon would only try to be a little
mean and hard-hearted,” said Mary; “just
a little to begin with. You would only
; stoop to conquer.”
j “May I gain my desert#/ then I" said
I John. “Are Jou not to be my loving
wife, Mary ? And are you not to sit at
I needle-work in my studio whilst I paint
my great historical picture 1 How can
] this come to pass if Mr. Collett will do
j nothing for us ?”
“Ah, how indeed ?” said Mary. “But
here’s our t friend, Peter Finch, coming
| through the gate, from bis walk, 1 leave
! you together.” And so saying, she with
drew.
“What, Meade?” said Peter Finch, ns
he entered. “Skulking in-doors on a fine
morning like this ! I’ve been all through
the village. Not an ugly place—but wants
I looking after sadly. Roads shamefully
muddy! Pigs allowed to walk on the
footpath 1”
“Dreadful 1” echoed John.
“I say, you came out pretty strong last
night,” said Peter.- “Quite defied the
old man ! But I like your spirit.”
“I have no doubt you do," thought
John.
“Oh ! when I was a youth, I was a lit
tle that way myself,” said Peter. “But
the world—the world, air dear sir—soon
cures ns of all romantic notions. I regret,
of course, to see poor people miserable;
but what’s the use of regretmg ? It’s no
part of tlie business of the superior classes
to interfere with the laws of supply and
demand must lie miserable. What can't
lie cured mitet, Im ad*ured"
QUITMAN, GA., SATURDAY, JUNE 6, 1874.
“That is to say," said John, "what we
can't cure they must endure.”
“Exactly so,” said Peter.
Mr. Collett this day was too ill to leave
his bed. About noon ho requested to see
his nephews in his bed-room. They found
him propped up by pillows, looking very
weak, but in good spirits as usual.
“Well, boys,” said he, “here I am, you !
soe; brought to anchor at last! The doo j
tor will be here soon, I suppose, to shake !
his head and write recipes. Humbug, my I
boys ? Patients can do asmuch for them
selves, I believe, as doctors can do for j
them; they’re all in the dark together —tho
only difference is, that tbe patients grope
iu English, and the doctors grope iu
Latin.”
“Yon are too skeptiaal, sir," said John
Meade.
“Pooh 1” said Mr. Collett. “Lot us
change the subject. 1 want your advice,
Peter and Johu, on matter* that concern
your interest I’m going to make my will
to day—and I don’t know how fo act
about your cousin, Emma Briggs. Emma
disgraced us by marrying an oilman.”
“An oilmau I" exclaimed John.
“A vulgar, shocking oilmau 1” said Mr.
Collett; “a wretch who not only sold oil,
but soap, candles, turpentine, black lead
and birch brooms. It was a dreadful blow
to tho family. Her poor grand-motlier
never got over it, and a maiden uuut
turned Methodist in despuir. Wells
Briggs,the oilman died last week, it seems;
and his widow has written to me, asking
for assistance. Now, I have thought of
leaving her a hundred a year in my will.
What do you thiuk oi it ? I’m afraid she
don’t deserve it. What right llad she to
marry against the advice of her friends ?
What have I to do with her misfortune ?”
“My miud is quite made up,” said Pe
ter Finch; “no notion ought to be taken of
her. She made an obstinate aud un
worthy mutch—and let her abide the con
sequences.”
“Now for'your opinion, John,” said
Mr. Collett.
“Upon my word, I thiuk I must say the
same,” said John Meade, bracing himself j
up boldly for the part of the worldly man.
“What right had she to mnrry—as you
observed feith great justice, sir ? Let her j
abide the consequences—as you very prop
erly remarked, Finch. Cau’t she carry on j
1 the oilman’s business ? I duro say it will]
; support her very well. ”
I “Why no," said Mr. Collett; “Briggs!
died a bankrupt, and his widow and chil- !
dren ure destitute."
“That does not alter tho question,” i
saiil Peter Finch. “Let llrigg’s family do i
t something for her.”
“To lie sure 1” said Mr. Collett,
j “Brigg’s family are the people to do
something for her. She musn’t expect
anything from us—must she John ?”
“Destitute, is she ?” said John. “With
; children, too I Why, this is another case,
sir. You surely ought to notice her —to
assist her. Confound it, I’m for letting
her have the hundred a year.”
"Oh, John, John I What, a break
down! said Mr. Collett. “So you were
trying to follow Peter Finch through
Stony Arabia, and turned back at the sec
j ond step ! Here’s a brave traveler for
| you, Peter 1 John, John, keep your
Arabia Felix, and leave sterner ways to
very different men. Good-bye, both of
you. I’ve no voice to talk any more.
I’ll think over all you have said.”
He pressed their hands, and they left
the room. The old man was too weak to
speak the next day, and in three days af
ter that he calmly breathed his last.
As soon sis the funeral was over, the will
was read by the confidential man of busi
ness, who had always attended to Mr.
Collett’s affairs. The group that sat
around him preserved a decorous appear
ance of disinterestedness, and the usual
peramble to the will having been listened
to with breathless attention, tho man of
businesss read the following in -a clear
voice :
“I bequeath to my neice, Emma Briggs,
notwithstanding that she shocked her
family by marrying an oil-man, the sum
of four thousand pounds, being fully per
suaded that her lost dignity, if she could
ever find it again, would do nothing to
provide her with food; or clothing, or
shelter. ”
John Meade smiled, and Peter Finch
ground his teeth —but in a quite respecta
ble manner. The man of business went
on with his reading.
"Having always had the opinion that
woman should be rendered a rational and
in'aperda.it being—afid having duly con
sidered the fact that society practically
denies her tbe right to earn her own living
—I hereby bequeath to Mary Hutton, the
only child of my old friend, Frederick
Sutton, the sum of ten thousand pounds,
which will enable her to marry. ->r to re
main single, as site may prefer/’
John Meade gate a ptoffigiems start
upon hearing this, and Peter Finch ground
his teeth again—but in a manner hardly
perceptible. Both, however, by a violent
effort, kept silent. The man of business
went on with his reading.
“1 Bate paid some attention to tho
character of my nepkeit, John Meade,
and have been grieved to find him much
possessed with a feeling of pbilanthrophy
and with a general preference for what is
noble and true over What is base and false.
As these tendencies are by no means such
as can advance him m the world, I be
queath hire the sum of ten thousand
pounds—hoping that he will thus be kept
of the workhouse.' and be ehabJed" to\
f V ®* Jk- AHA *•# -—*• Mb .a-*— I
paint his great historical picture—which,
as yet, he has only talked about.
As for my other nephew, Peter Finch,
he views all things in so Bugacious and
selfish a way, and is so certain to get on iu
life, that I should only insult him by of
fering an aid which he does not require,
yet, from his affectionate tinolfe, and en
tirely as a testimony of admiration for his
meutal acuteness, I venture to hopo that
he will accept a bequest of five hundred
pounds towards the completion of his ex
tensive library of law books.”
How Peter Finch stormed aud called
names—how Johu Meade broko into a de
lirium of joy—how Mary Hutton cried first,
and then laughed, and then laughed and
cried together; nil these matters I shall
not attempt to describe. Mary Sutton ia
now Mrs. John Meade; and her husband
has actually begun the great historical
picture. Peter Finch has taken to dis
counting bills, and bringing actions on
them, and drives about in his brougham
already,
SINGULAR MARRIAGE OF A TENNES
SEE BELLE.
Miss Hallie Belle Martin, of Alabama,
lately a reigning belle in Memphis, Ten
nessee, recently dared a young gentleman
named Joe Stone, a well known society
man, while walking in the streets of that
city, to lend her to the alter. When the
gentleman got that far he haulted. (they
left the church and continued their walk,
and called at the office of Fred Martin
who kept a milk route, but who had be
fore the war, been wealthy and moved in
the best society. After usual greetings had
been exchanged between Mr. Martin and
his friends, Joe Stone laughingly remarked
to Martin: “Miss Sallie has just backed
me out on a proposition to get married.”
“Well,” said Martin turning to the
lady “yon cau’t back me out.”
“Yes I can,” laughingly responed Miss
Martin, and then for two or three minutes
the parties indulged in laughter repartee,
finally closing with the proposal of Mr.
Stone to go off aud get a license.
This was agreed to by all tho parties, j
and the trio set off for the oifice of the j
clerk, where the coverted document was j
to be had. Arriving there they fortunately
mot Mr. John Overton, Jr., who aoquiesed
in the'proposal to go on the marriage bond,
and in ten minutes the license was signed,
sealed and delivered by the smiling clerk,
Mr. James Reilly. Coming out the ques
t'on was put by Mr. Martin:
“Where will we go to get married ?"
In that Obliging manner which renders
him such a favorite, Mr. Stone proposed
the nearest ’Squire (Hall.) That official
was not in.
Nothing daunted, Mr. Martin proposed
to walk up street. Iu passing up Second
] street they took a carriage and drove out
to St. Mary’s on Poplar street, os tho
most convenient place for the ceremony.
The rector, the Rev. George C. Harris,
was not in, and the trio, still ou matri
mony bent despite the cruel fate which
seemed opposed, started back down town.
When near Fourth street Mr. Martin
espied Mr. Harris on the street, aud at
once aceosted him asking his services.
With a profound bow the obliging rector
expressed himself willing and ready, and
tho quartet, taking a street ear, again
proceeded to St. Mary’s, being joined by
two young ladies friends of all parties,
who happened along at the time. Arri
i ving at the cliU 'cli, it being dark by this
time, the lights were turned on, and the
rather strange looking bridal party—Mr.
Martin being in his every day working
clothes—proceeded at once to the chancel,
where, in his clerical robes, awaited the
reverened gentleman who was soon to
unite them forever.
Neither lady nor Mr. Martin, by this
1 time very sober in the expression of their
| countenances, faltered for a moment, but,
! joining hands, stood before tho man of
God. When the question was asked Mr.
Martin—
“ Wilt thou have this woman to thy
wedded w ife ?” he, in a low, firm tone,
answered, “I will.”
To the questson, “Wilt thou have this
! man to thy wedded husband ?” etc., Miss
Martin promptly responded, “I will.”
To the question, “Who giveth this
woman to this man ?” Mr. Htone stepped
forward (as next friend) and taking the
lady’s hand gave it to the minister.
When that part of the ceremony wns
reached where, after plighting their troth
the ring is given, it was found that neither
|of the parties had the necessary golden
circlet. One Of the young ladies men
; tioned noticing the stop, slipped a ring Off
j her finger and handed it to the parties,
i and in a ftrtfe filaments the minister Said:
j “I pronounce that they are man arid bife,
j in the name of the father and of the Son
I and of tbe Holy Ghost, Amen," aud the
romance was completed.
The bridal couple after congratulations,
j proceeded to tbe house of a relation where
i Mrs. Martin, free Miss Martin, had been
! stopping. It required a little time to
explain matters after which wine and cake
were brought in, and in company with a
few friends, all went merry as the tradi
tional marriage belle-
Beautiful souls hare beautiful thoughts,
and beautiful thoughts mate' beautiful fa
ces. Our looks are governed almost en
tirely by our thoughts and actions.
Pleasant faced people ate generally the I
nYost welcome, but the auctioneer is always I
pleased to see a man whoso countenance I
, in’ for bfdd*in'|; V j
The Origin of tho Postage Stamp:
Tho postage stamp was born in Loudon,
on the 10th of January, 1840, and Eng
land employed it alone ten years. France
adopted it on the Ist of January, 1849,
and Germany in 1850. According to M.
Alphonse Esquires, it was a curious inci
dent that gave rise to the idea of postage
stamps. A traveler was crossing, about
forty years ago, a district iu the north of
England. He arrived at the door of an
inn where a postman had stopped to de
liver a letter. A young girl came out to
receive it; she turned it over and over in her
hand, and asked the price of the postage.
Tills was a large sum, and evidently the
girl was poor, for the postman demanded a
shilling. She sighed sadly, and said that
the letter was from her brother, but that
she had no money; and so she returned
it to the postman. The traveler was a
man who rambled about the earth for
instruction and' observation. Having a
good heart, h offered to pay tho postage
of the letter, and, in spite of tho resistuueo
of the young girl he paid the shilling,
This resistance tnade him reflect. Scarcely
had the postman turned his back than the
innkeeper’s young daughter confessed
that it was a trick between her and her i
brother. Some signs marked upon the '•
envelope had told her all she wanted to
knoll, btit tho letter itself contained no
writing.
“We are both so poor,” she added,
“and so we invented this mode of corres
ponding and prepaying onr letters.” The j
traveler, continuing kin road, usked him
self if a system giving place to such frauds
was not a vicious one.
l’he sun had not set before Mr. Rowland
Hill (that was the name of the traveler)
had planned to organize the postal service
upoii a iiew basi#; He Said that ih Eng
land, where family ties are strong, and
where the members often live far apart,
where, too, the spirit of commerce knows
no limits, the correspondence lifts Ohly
limited by the cost of tho post; and that
by lowering this barrier a great service
would be rendered to society without
hurting the resources of the treasury.-
These views were agreed to bjr the English
Government, and ou tlie 10th of January,
1840, not more than a penny was paid for
letters which circulated over the whole
extent of the British Isles. This bold !
scheme soon surpassed the hopes of the
legislators. Ten years later, in 1850, the
number of letters increased from 1,500,000
to 7,239,9(5’!. Mr. Rowland Hill occupied
in England the post of secretary to the
postmaster general.
Paddle Your Own Canoe.- Judgo S.
gave his son #I,OOO, and told him to go to
college and graduate. The son returned at
the end of the freshman year without a
dollar, aud with several ugly habits.
About the close of vacation the Judge said
to his son:
“Well, W’lliam, are you going to col
lege this year ?”
“Ihave no money, father."
“But I gave you SI,OOO to graduate
on.”
“That’s all gone, father.”
“Very well, my son; I gave you all I
could ufford to give you; you can’t stay
here; you must now pay your way in the
world.”
*A new light broke in upon the vision of
the young man. He accommodated him
self to the situation, he left home, made
his way through the college, and gradua
ted at tho head of his class, studied law,
became Governor of the Stats Of New
York, entered the Cabinet of the Presi
dent of the United States, and made a rec
ord for himself that will not soon die, be
ing none other than William H, Seward.
The Father of Forty-One Children.
John Hepner, of Reading, Pennsylva
nia, claims to be the father of forty-one
children by three wives. The Reading
Eagle says:
“He was born in 1815; and twenty-five
years afterward—lß4o—he married his
first wife in Germany. They lived hap
pily together for eight years, when she
died. During that time they were blessed
with seventeen well formed children;
hence at the age of thirty-three Mr. Hep
ner found himself the father of quite an
extensive family. The little ones came on
earth as follows: Two pairs of twins, four
sets of triplets and one at a single birth
seventeen in all. The children () f this
marriage are how all dead. Mr. Hepu'er
remained a widower but a short time, for
in less than a year after he married an
other fair daughter tit Germany: He was
made the happy father of another ohild in
the month of February, 1849. Oil Christ
mas following in the same year another
was born uirto bifrf.-
Then they were blessed #i lli Griffs five
times in succession, and subsequently
three more children at single birth #efe
both tttttti thent; /ffftking fifteen iff nil.
His second wife aud himself lived together
nine years, and then she died. By the
two marriages Mr. Hepner, at the age of
forty-two, lift'l become thC ffttlier of thirty
two children, of whom only two’ are now
living. Twenty years ago Mr, Hepner
affd Ins second wife came to this country.
He was then thirty-nine years of age.
Three years afterwards his wife died. Mr.
Hepner, not desiring to live iff a strange
land entirely alone, selected a third wife
in 1858. They are still living happily to
gether, and during the sixteen years of
their married life nine children have been
born uiito thefrr, each by single birth,
making forty-one in all. His third wife
was a widow with one child when they
married. Hence forty-two children have
called him “father." Of the third set of
children only three are living, making five i
living in all, together With th’fe extra one j
belonging to his third wife.”
Dr. Livingst/Aift was born in a' suburb !
of Glasgow*, in' the year 1815', his father •
being a weaver iff off- of the cotton 1 inilk
iff tmit
A Money Lender Outwitted.
, A farmer—we will Call him Smith for
short —lives in Madison county, nnd would
be known, at least by reputation, tomuny of
our readers were If is right mime given. But
the incident we now relate, though coming
to ns iu a reliable way, was known to few
outside of his neighborhood. Farmer
Smith lived in a quiet way, and was sup
posed to have accumulated something
ahead besides having a pretty good farm.
After his second sou had been married
about a year, he concluded to settle near
the old man's, if he could rent a place.
Henring of this, Mr. Thompson again
we withhold the true name—thought there
might be chance to sell a certain place on
pretty good terms. Mr. Thompson was a
money loaner, nnd nothing suited hiiff so
well as good interest, backed by good se
curity; and lie was, moreover, generally
considered a pretty shrewd trader. He
rode over to see old man Smith, but the
farmer said he did not feel able to buv
he might buy on credit if the price was low
enough and the interest was not too high.
His son, “Jakey,” he said, would have to
pay for the farm himself, if the trade wns
made, but that his sou was a good farmer,
aud he thought,it would be all rigid, at
least the the laud would lie good far what
remained unpaid if his son would fail.
What seemed to startle theold fellow waft the
twelve per cent interest thut Thompson
wanted.
Finally, however, after a great deal of
talk, the price was agreed on at twenty]
thousand dollars, one-fifth fetish, aud notes
at one, two, three, and four years, tiifli
twelve per cent interest from date for the
remainder. The contract was drawn and
they were about to sign, when the farmer
suggested that if he should at any time
get any more money than was due ou the
notes lie wanted to be allowed to pay, nnd
count off the twelve percent. The prop
osition seemed reasonable enough to
Thompson, and he could not object to its
insertion in the contract, and so the docu
ment wns signed in duplicate. The deed
was to be ready, the notes drawn and the 1
first payment made ou tho following Hat- !
urday.
Wliefl the tiffie arrived, both tvete punc
tually on hand, the first $4,000 was paid
and the notes were ready for signature. |
“Mr. Thompson,” said Farmer Bftiith, j
“I’ve thinking about that interest, and it |
seeftled skettj, srt 1 thought I’d gether in
some little money I had out, and pay part i
of it, and”-—pulling from his breast pocket:
a roll of money—“jist count that.”
The money was counted, and with !
twelve per cent off, the first note waspnid. j
When Thompson bad pOekctcil tlie!
money, again Smith said: “I’ve got a
soil livin’ in Missouri, Mr. Thompson, and
as soon as he heard I was buyiu’ a farm
for Jnkey, be sent me a little money,”—
pulling a little roll from his right side |
breeches pocket—“and so whatever it is
we’ll credit it ou the next note, if you have |
uo objection.” Again the money wns |
counted, and with the twenty-four per
cent off, just paid the note to ft C'efft. i
“Well, that’s luck,” resumed the Old j
man; “and notv Mr. Thompson, the old I
woman has been selling right, smalt of !
butter and aigs, and some chickens now I
and then, whew they come ’round the |
country a buying, and she told me this j
■inornin’ that! better take what she had, I
nnd maybe it wouldn’t come amiss. ” A
roll was produced from the left side !
breeches pocket, aud when counted, just
paid the third note, after tho thirty-six ;
per ceut. was deducted, and Thompson j
said not a word. Hmith seemed to be
considering for some minutes, and then,
raising his head, Haul, as though a sudden
thought struck him: “You knowed my
darter Sul, didn’t ye ? Leastwise you’ve
seen her. Sal was a fine gal. About five
years ago, at liog-killiti’ time, one o’ my
hands tuck sick, and wlmt does Sal but
turn in and help us, and, I tell you, she
could sling a hog across her Shoulder
equal to any man on the ground. Well,
you know, Sal married year before last,
nnd her husband, Hibbc.ll—yon know
Hibbell—is doin’, tliey tell me, as good
grocery business as any man' iff Lirksville.
Jakey, he went over to see Sal nnd Hib
bell the other day, nnd they was a talkin’ j
about this here interest business, and Sal
ijiiys to Hibbell, says slie”—
“NeVfef ffiind what they said, Mr.
Smith,” broke iu Thoflipsffn, “just hand
over the money you were going to say
they sent you.” And sure enough tho old
man produced still attffther roll from some
fteftfftt pocket which, when counted proved
to be t lie exact amount necessary to pay off'
the last note, when the forty-eight per
cent had been duly taken off'.
Thompson pocketed the money, went
straight to the court house, acknowledged
the deed, and handed it over with only
this remark: “Youare tho d—at old ras
cal lever saw !”— hb.ringWn (Eg.) Gillette.
Tlie Oldest Human Relic.
A modern Wrifftt s'ffys that in the Etrus
can Vase Room of the British Museum is
to bo seen tlie skeleton of one Pharaoh
Mykerinus, decently incased in Hs original
j burial clothes, a,id STtfTffftitfled by frag
! incuts of the coffin, where the name of its
' occupant can be easily read by Egyptolo
gists affording conclusive evidence that
it once contained the mtimfny of a king
who was reigning in Egypt more thftp ft
century before the time of Abraham. The
proof is thus explained iu The Gentlemen’s
\ Mni/nzine, April about 2 years ago,
; Herr Duinicheh, a Gertnftfi explffnr of
the monuments of Egypt, following up the
indications pointed out by M. Marriette,
a distinguished archaeologist, discovered
era tbe buried walls of tlie temple of Osiris
Aliydos, a large table containing the
names of tho ancient Pharaohs from the
time of Misraim —the grandson of Noah,
ami founder of the Egyptian monarchy—
to tlmt of Pharaoh Seti 1., the father of
the well known Raineses the Great, includ
ing thereby tiie chronology of nine cen- I
turies, viz., from B. C. 2300 to B. 0.1400.
The tablet, by far the most important
yet discovered has been Compared to the
sculptured figures ffi the Kings of Eng
land, at the Crystal palace from William
the Conqueror to her Majesty Queen Vic
toria. Astronomical evidence, moreover,
enables us to determine the time of two
important epochs in the history of Egypt,
one of which is connected with our present
subject. Sir John Huschel has fixed the
age of tho Grout Pyramid of Uhizeh to
tbe middle of the twenty-second century
B. C. Tlie tablet of Abydos shows tlmt
tho Pharaoh Whose bon ok we how possess,
succeeded the builder of the Great Pyra
mid With only two intervening kings. We
are, therefore, warranted i'n assuming that
the re.tnafiiff of Phaffn/b Mvkeriffffft iie’fffßtr
iff fiife Liftt- t ‘J nil’ll we have assigned
them. - 7 he W orld af H'un Jees.
MISCELLANEOUS ITEMS.
Wisoifrfsiit, Minnesota, fffwft fihd No-'
hraska, promise nearly a bnndteJ million’
bushels tit wheat this year.
Pratfffr wrt# net invented, ft fburtorrf
with the first sigh, the firtt jtij-, the first
sorrow of the human heart.
A country boy, having heard of sailor*
: heaving up authors, wanted to know il' rk
was seasickness that made them do It.
A Texas titan recently declined to receive
a telegraphic dispattili from a yellow fever
locality lest ho might catch tlie disease.’
A Hunday-sftlfool scholar being asked
what became of tnen who deceive their
fellow-men, promptly exclaimed, “They
! go to Europe.” '•
Horfrding-honse keepers itre rttffoffg tho
mtlit tin: isteut believers in cretttatiun. Do
they not invariable turn their '‘remains”
into “Is fishes r
The man who married three sisters in
succession excused himself for doing-so on
the ground tfiirt lie gift tiff With only bttu
mother-in-law.
A watchmaker wanted to know Wether,
if a mun runs away from a scolding wife,
his movements shonld not be salted ni
lever eshapeißefit. ,
“Kind words nre wonderful in Ijjpfr
way,” says an exchange, “but so f ar ns
children a boot-jack exerts nwire
powerful iunueiiffe. '
[ A Philadelphia youth wns recently mar
ried to a girl who had refused him eigh-
I teen times. He wishes now he hadn’t usked
her lmt seventeen.
A inrymitir' rmwffhetH “Mat M please
vet hofltir, Jt ftrii deaf in one year." “Then
| leaVe the lmx,” replied the Judge. “A
j juror must hear both sides.”
Now that the word “hymeneal" is so
comoiily ffsffd in refevehce'to weddings, it
is suggested that births be headed “cry
meiieHl”und deaths “diemeneal. ”
No Loss than foift fhonsand and sixty
two immigrants, the largest Dumber nv
day this vent, ftrrited at New York on
Monday, the majority of Whom were Irish
and German,
Rome recent excavations in Paris, near
the Pantheon, disclosed an ancient tomb,
and in the mouth of the skeleton was
found a Roman obolns placed there at the
tiffie of burial to pay Charon ferriage for
the deeased across tho Styx.
A Western exchange says: “The gift
ehroino business has reached its snblimest
altitude in Washington ftoffnty. An enter
prising clergyman Offers 'ftii elegftffl
ehroino’ to every person Who shall not
fffiss one tit Ills Serffidfis for a year.”
A stiflgv man, who ffMefidcd to be very
fond of his horse,• fiat kept him nearly
started, said to a friend, “You don’t know
how ifftich We ftll think of that horse, I
shall have liiffl stuffed, so iis to preservo
him when lie dies.” “toll'd better stuff
him now, so os to preserve him living,'’
retorted his friend;
At Great Barrington, Mass., the other
day, Some frogs, thinking the spring had
come, emerged from (heir winter retreat
and began to make sonorffftS inrtsic. A cold
snap come on iff the night, and great
numbers tit ‘hath got wedged fast in life
ice, their heads just sticking above il;
then a parcel of lawless hens went and
picked tlicir heads off one by one.
A Charming WidoW witll FfiMitatlfi*
Daughter's—^The Tripple Wedding.
For pure, unal oyed, unbroken happi
ness and contentment Atchison was yes
terdny the temporary nWdlfig plate Of fi
family tlmt from snfrOrtfifttog circumstan
ces should bear of the pulin. They fire oil
their wedding tour, and consisted of a
mother and two daughters who had mar
ried a father and two sons. From Illinois
they came, nnd were On their way to W.v
terville, which is to be their fntffre hoffie,
Mrs. Davis nnd her two daughters freflfe
well-to-do people, the mother a widow, of
fair features, pleasunt to look upon, and
the possessor of two handsome, bewitch
ing daughters as ever plighted troth. In
their home in Decatur county. HI., they
were near neighbors to Mr.'G. Muss*
who was favored by fortune with two
stalwart, hearty reliable boys, who have
just overreached the prescribed age that is
supposed to make men of them. Coufd
such tilings exist without the inevitable
result tlmt follows?
NO. 5.
That our subject may be more fully un
derstood, we will here state that Mrs. Da
vis was a widow; not the species that Sam
uel Weller so dreaded, but a pleasant, ac
complished lady; aud Mr. Musser was a
widower, well established in this world s
goods, and had a reputation ftif upright,
honorable dealing# excelled by none iu ftU
Decatur county.
A few months ago Ml, Musser, tiffed of
his loffe some widowfer's life, paid effort
nnd homuge to (he widow. Of course tho
brofeeedin#* could not be carried on with
out the knowledge of the young fojks,
and this knowledge led to a general fa
miliarity and intimacy thut was an inei ita
ble forerunner of n more permanent ac
quaintance. A confession frofn the old
gentleman to his sons tlmt he had deter
mined to bring anew wife to their home,
brought the counter confession from the
ambitious young gentlemen that they had
determined on the sniff# course, and con
veyed to him the startling intelligence
(lint the daughter of the widow had sue
tombed to their persuasions, and that the
time-honored name of Davis was about to
be changed to tlmt of Musser.
We are uninformed ns to the direct
channel the old gentleman’s thoughts
took, lmt iu ffrtr imagination we hear two
or three,- or perhaps four, very emphatic
adjectives drop unbidden to the ground.
A few days ago, nevertheless, there waft
a tripple wedding in Decatnr county, 111.,
Arid tho three happy couples arrived .in
our city day before yesterday remaining
two days, and yesterday left ou the Gobi
tral Branch train for 'Waterville, where
their future home will be.
The ladies were out shopping yester
day, nnd will be remembfefed by Close ob
servers us two pretty young women,
dressed in bluek, with navy blue water
proof cloaks and capes, chaperoned by •
plenaant-looking middle-aged lady.—Atch
ison ( ompan ion.
Three Shares of the New York Tribune
stock were put up at unction on Tuesday,
with a Jifice of 88,500 per share fixed on it.
but there was no bids, as the eond-rtiff#
wus that tho Tribune Associatou waa to
have the privilege of taking the stock at the
price at which it was knocked off.
If King Cotton could go into the maiio
factaring business he would be monarch
of all he s fVeycd. And why can he not
do this ? One cotton mill in Georgia last
year sold goods to the amount of 8133.439
and realized a net profit thereou of 822.-
t2a, It did not feel tire panic, afid its.
v)ta tttvif ty-fitef>er cent, greater
jhffl'i the previous vear HeTe is the why
to the financial independence of the South,
. istti mi *</