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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 *</