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GALLAHERS INDEPENDENT, . FUBUBUES EVERY SATURDAY AT QUITMANj a., J. C. GALLAHER. TKKMS OF SUBSCRIPTION l TWO DOLLARSper Annum in Adrance. [From the N. Y. Sunday Murvttry.J A HUMAN SPECIMEN. BY HAKBIET IB VINO. I.ike a fate or a fury Gabrielle Jo Vincy burst in u|x>u her guest, face nil tune, eyes swollen with weeping, long hair streaming behind her, her guest the picture of neat ness and decorum, a moonlight smile rest ing on her features, a devotional boot in her hand —a sedate Diana, sedutely pre wiring for repose. "Euphrosyne,” exclaimed the hostess, gesticulating grandly with the dressing comb she still carried in her hand. “Eu phrosyne, you were right. You told me he was old, uufeeliug, a uiouster." ••Now Oabrielle, dear,” expostulated Euphrosyne. “Monster 1 You must know ] wouldn't use such a word about Mr. De- Viney. I esteem him highly.” “But it’s true, ” sobbed Gabrielle, “tme, true ?" ... And, having reached a climax of woo, she sank upon the iloor at the feet of her guest, the wild disorder of her floating crimson wrapper and flying hair contrast ing as vividly with the sober-tinted, un ruffled folds of the other’s dress as did her wildness of manner with Euphrosyue’s culm demeanor. “He is a monster! I should die if 1 didn't tell some oue, aud 1 don’t mind your knowiug it, for 1 wouldn’t spoak of it to any other living soul, not even my mother. I'm jealous—wild." "Jealous," said Euphrosyne, with an | incredulous smile. “\Vliy, Oabrielle, you must be out of your senses.” “laui, almost, with grief, "said Oabrielle, “but it isn’t causeless; indeed it isn't. 1 •am jealous of a great nasty spider.’ "There, lie down on my bed.” said Euphrosyne, soothingly, while a form oi distress ' contracted her fair forehead. “Don’t talk about him to-night. 111 get soule water and bathe your forehead. Hadn’t I better call Mr. De Viucy ?” “No, no. I see what you think, ’sob bed Oabriella, bursting the next mo meut into a laugh. *’l in not insane. A vear ago he s|H Ht evening after evening by my side, only too glad if he oould hold my hand. -I went to him to-day, when lie was bending over that great glass case—l wish my eottin was in it, indeed 1 do—and 1 ; haul, just us gently a* I could, for I know ; men don’t like a scene: I • • ‘Herald, you seem to he interested in I that creature. “ -Intensely, my dear,’ he said, espe cially at this time. Don’t make a noise.’ •T liad to swallow that. Not make u ! noise ! My heart was beating like a bass | drum. Iso longed that he would look at | mo just a moment. •• Gerald,’ said I, ’has it a heart, a liv j iiig, boating heart like mine ? “ No, my dear, these, Croat urea are con structed bu very different principles from ! the Vertebrates,’ said he, und tucu he did : turn his eyes, with such mind suprise in! them. • Don’t laugh, dear. I kmnv it'd farce tit nnv "in ele*.', lint niy Ucurt is broken. “ hues it [line for Jim when you ure ' sway ? II is it emotions, longings, memo rics?' mini I, anti l laiil my buna on nn In'iirt. 1 know 1 was a loot, amt mul 1 suppose I Lookeil like an affected one, lull it was tin- strength of my feelings, ilear. •• (iabrielle,’ lie saiil, just imagine it, Eiiplirosyuo, ’you must tvally excuse mi it 1 euu’l puy proper arteution at tiiis mo ment, but ipnet is very essential. Come ; to luu at some other time, my love, and I'll do my best to answer your question. There's much controversy on these points muting men of science. Kuu-away for the present.' “1 hate him, Euphrosyne, and I hate the ugly, little speckled beast —hate it With an undying hatred.” Ephrosyne looked shocked. (iabrielle burst into a laugh, then wiped her eyes and resumed the combing of her tresses, the storm quite spent "Euphrosyne," said she, presently, "will you lend me your lover ?” A delicate pink suffused the calm fea tures. "There, please don't pretend you don’t know who I mean'' she added quickly. "Of course we all konw that William adores you, but let him appear to adore mu for a time. It will not be the first case of the kind. 11l make him jealous, and then he’ll know how ho has tortured me—Why don't you speak ?” "1 has nothing to say,” replied Euphro- Bjue, judiciously. "Air. ltawdon is his own master." "But us far as you are concerned, you are willing.” “Quite,” said Euphrosyne, and perhaps she was. Perhaps it was uot an uneasy feeing that made her glunco first at the coral rod of Ciabrielle's cheeks anil lips, then at her own fair countenance in the mirror. It may be that Gerald Do Vincy had such need of keen observation in his zo logical studies that lie kept none whatever for ordinary affairs of life. However, that maybe, William ltawdon, erst devoted to Euphrosyne, because assiduousion his at tentions to Gabnelle De Vincy. Together they roamed, with every appearance of the merest accident, through the apartments devoted to the researches. Now an opera, now a theatrical preformance en ticed them from the De Vincy mansion. If the naturalist were aware of the fact, he gave no sign, but steadily watched and recorded the antics of the "speckled,” beast, "his last new specimen. Euphrosyne, meanwhile, was as calm os ever, a little more pallid and cold, per haps. If William ltawdon in his evening vls'ts occasionally inquired for her she was usually not at home. No one guessed of the tears that bedewed her window cur tains behind which she watched the pair depart. A fortnight had passed. "I shall end my visit to-morrow,” t said Euphrosyne, quitely. “I am convinced that she loves him, that he loves her. It is nothing to me that he may some day come and kneel at my feet. I should spurn him. It was a base deception all along. Her end accomplished, she is now happy, her husband unconscious of her , artifices.” Bo saying, Euphrosyne retired to her apaitmeut, to be awakened at tho "noon of night” by an awful figure—(labrielle de Viucy in a snowy robe and floating vail of hair. “Euphrosyne!” cried she, "wake up; I want you; I shall go mad if lam alone. Give me your haud. dearest. I'm not sorry. I made up my mind to do it. It was my only chance of happiness. I thought he was dead—please keep my se cret, dear; don't let any- one kn w I did it. lie lifted himself up afie, he was dead, VOL. 11. i stared at me, he said, as plainly ns living ! person spoke. ’Yon needn’t expect to he j happy,’ und he laughed ! O it was dread ! fill. O those eyes I O Euphrosyne. ’ Shu j ended with a wild laugh. With many mingled emotions, Euphro syne laid her hand on the head that was pressed upon her bosom, kept it there till a heavy breathing showed that Oabrielle De Viucy slept. In the darkness and silence, her bewild ered brain conjured up a thousand hor rors. The most prominent idea of all was that the poor woman was insane; that jea lousy had made her so, or that, perhaps, the insanity had produced her jealous rage. Then another fancy gained upon the watcher's mind, that her first suspicious had been correct; that Oabrielle De Viucy I had practiced a deception upon her friend; that by premeditated murder she had sought to secure the happiness which wed ded life had denied her. So, wandering nmotig her imaginations, slumber fell upon her eyelids. It was midday when she awoke. The excitement of the past night had had the effect of sending her intoa profound sleep. Gabri elle stood by her bedside. “He is very ill,” said this strange wo man, her white lips trembling. “Not dead 1” exclaimed Euphrosyne. “Not dead, thank God ! \Vhat do you mean ? Why should he be ? Eu phrosyue, you won't betray me ?” Euphrosyne held silence. She followed Oabrielle De Vincy down to her husband’s room, where he lay, an ashen gray color on his face, his eyes star ing vacantly. Then the wife suddenly assumed a man ner which showed her a finished actress. “Euphrosyne,” said she, in alight tone, very different from the horror-stricken whisper in which she had just been speak ing, “Mr. De Viucy feels poorly. Do tell me what you think is the matter. See if you can get him to speak to you. I have sent for a doctor." Euphrosyne looked, and pity for the stricken man struggled with the horror and reluctance she felt. She drew nearer timidly, and peersed into his face. “Can I do anything fur you ?" sheeuun ciated, slowly ami distinctly. “No use, no use,” he murmured feebly, anil turned his face to the wall. Then the doctor arrived. As Euphro syne passed out of the chamber Gabrielle grasped her hands. “O, darling,” she said, “go in again,! while 1 wait here. Tell me what he says. 1 am doing of remorse, to think that 1 should have brought him (o this. I never was unhappy before; I thought myself miserable; hut this is worse, worse, and all my own work. Jealousy is very wicked, Euphrosyne. Never indulge in it.” Euphrosyne laughed a scornful sort of laugh aud went m and stood by the bed side. “In danger ?” she asked of the physician with a silent motion of her lips. He shook his head doubtfully. “There has been some terrible shock,” he said; “a full or blow, perhaps. Mis. De Vincy does not seem able to enlighten me. The patient cannot or will not ex plain. l’eopie should be frank with a physician, if they wish him fo do any good." All this was prowled in an undertone. Euphrosyne considered. What did sin know? Absolutely nothing. That a mur der had been attempted; that the victim had revived from seeming death, lint, tin means, the weapons used of these, noth ing. Again, the patient might recover— 1 probably would; that raised anew com plication. He might or might not wish others to know. “Silence is golden !" sho whispered to! herself, “i'll hold my peace for the plus cut." Whatever Gnbrielle had been heretofore, she was now a faithful wife, sitting by her husband’s bedside, caring for his wants, until she dropped down from sheer fatigue. William Itawdon occasionally came aud snt beside her. Then Kuphrosyim’s Very flesh quaked with indignation. She turn ed an ice-cold shoulder upon her recreant lover, and left his presence. Sho felt, it a painful duty to remain in the house while the wife’s repentance, if real, might turn to some less Christian feeling, while the husband's life still trembled ill the balance. Two weeks that were years to this watch er, then the sick man sat up in bed ami said: “Gabrielle, I think I’ll have a beef steak. ” A flush of genuine delight ovorspread the woman’s face. She gave the order to a servant and came back, stooped down and kissed the thin hands that lay upon the coverlid. “You forgive me, Gerald I” said she. Euphrosyne picked up her ears, meta phorically speaking, and drew near. She felt she had quite a right to the confidences that were coming. “For killing him I” whispered Gabrielle. “Yes, dear. It was a great shock. One thousand four hundred pages written, and the book will never be finished, I fear, not as it should be. He was a splendid speci men, and rare.” Euphrosyne gave a great sigh cf relief. Here had been much ado about nothing, ■indeed. But she could not understand it all yet. •‘l’m awfully sorry,” said Gabrielle; “I know I ought to have been ashamed of myself, I had a dreadful time with the thing, Gerald. He reared up and looked me in the face when I struck at him. O, what eyes ! I thought he spoke. I sup pose 1 was nervous, but I really seemed to hear words. I think I said something of the kind to poor Euphrosyne when I wak ed her out of her sleep, dear girl.” “I’m sorry, Gabrielle, but I'll bear it with all the philosophy I can muster,” said her husband. “May I work with yon when you are well ?” asked Gabrielle. “I hope yon will, my dear; bnt the work has somewhat lost its interest. I am iu tered in another specimen now.” “Are you my love?” cried Gabrielle, vivaciously. “I havn’t seen it, but I’m so glad ?” “It’s a human specimen, dear, with a heart, emotions, sentiments, passions—one evil one, fearfully developed, that of jeal ousv. You really made me believe yon had” taken a fancy to William Itawdon. It wasn’t so ?” “You thought that,” said Gabrielle. “You never let me guess it ?” “I also thought it was scarcely a proper th ; ng to speak of. But it troubled me.” “If you had only spoken—but bush! There is William Itawdon to speak for himself.” Euphrosyne’a delicate cheek burned and her hand yielded, just a little, to the pressure of William’s, yielded it- Huif, entirely, a little after. QUITMAN, GA„ SATURDAY, AUGUST 8, 1874. PRIVATE LIFE OF ACTRESSES. The marriage of actresses, especially j when they are united to men outside of their profession, are frequently iuharmon j ious. Nor is it strange, since the theatre has a world of its own—very different from the real world—and forms views and fixes j habits not likely to be understood by per - sons of other training anil experience. The fault is not with the player, bnt with i her conditions, inevitably opposed to such |ns commonplace matrimony requires. IJer | sons joined in wedlock should have much jin common to begin with; a thousand cir icu instances arc liable to come between i them subsequently, even when they are | favored of the connubial gods. A mau in other pursuits who weds an actress with the expectation of entire con cord, is generally as unwise as she is to ao cept him, hoping to make him happy by her self disposal. A case in point is that of Louis J. Jen nings, now of the Times, and Miss Henri- ’ ques, who for several years was the lend-! ing lady at Walhick’s Theatre. Mr. Jen-! { iiiugs fell in love with this comely actress | j while ho was correspondent for the Lon-1 i don Times, and duly espoused her. A \ j brief taste of matrimony, and she again 1 appeared on the stage. This gave rise to ! many rumors. She played hut a short | time, when she retired permanently. Though still engaged, sho lias lost much of her freshness aud beauty, since sho is ! the mother of four children. The redoubtable Ben Butler chose his i consort from the stage. Sho was a Miss J Hildreth. Rose Eytinge, who has been playing the leading part in the highly successful “Led Astray,” at the Union Square Theatre, has not been without her connubial expe rience. She was married some years ago ]to a Mr. Barnes, a journalist iu the Times ! office, who finally separated from her, with j 1 entire satisfaction to both parties, j George Butler, a nephew of Benjamin, | | also became her wedded lord just before lie went as Consul-General to Egypt. A paragraph to that effect was printed at the time in some of the city papers. Butler! denied its truth, and the marriage license was then published, which was at least strong corroborative evidence of the fact. ! i The newly-appointed official then asserted J | that lie had no recollection of the perfor | miioco of the ceremony an indication of Ids intimate acquaintance on that occasion 1 with a very popular though impersonal la dy, known as Widow Clicquot. The un- ! ; ion, if not delightful, was certainly brief; ; its duration having been variously estima- ' ted at from twelve hours to twelve weeks, i Poor Matilda Heron, the once famous I i Camille, could novel have been a favorite I l of Juno, who, ill the mice lit mythology, ! ‘ is presumed to hav e presided over lnarri age. Her alliance with Hurry Byrne, of j San Francisco,- was not divulged till she ! went there not long ago to claim property ! jas his widow. The court decided against | her on tlie ground that she had another ■ husband, Robert Stoepel, formerly the ! leader of the orchestra in one of the thea tres hero. She lias a distressing story to tell of her inhuman treatment by the mu- , sieian ; of his getting possession of all her J property; of his outrageous abuse of her, j and of his driving her to the verge of dis- j traction. Those claiming to know, say her ! story is true. Sho is a sad wreck of what i she was. Unquestionably, she has been! for some time insane. She is poor, friend- J less, prematurely aged, absolutely broken hearted—a melancholy sight to those who j knew her in her days of pride and fame. ! i) tiring the war, Jean Mario Davenport j and General Lauder were made man and | wife. Their happiness did not last long, | for he died of a wound in the second year ' of the rebellion; while sho served the Un ion cause most zealously, going into the | hospitals at Washington, and giving her ' time aud money thereto. Sho so impair jed what was once, a handsome indepen dence that she was afterward compelled to ! return to the stage, where she has been j nearly as successful as in her early days. ! Fanny Morant, at present u member of the 1 Fifth Avenue company, is really Mrs. j Smith, and has been for some time; her | iiego being a good-natured, easy-going Rhode Islander. Clara Jennings, now a | part of the company at Wallack’s, adopted the profession because she had been left a widow with two children, and had no other means of support. Miss Agues Ethel, who gained much fame by representing Frou Frou and Fernando, represented tbo his trionics of clothes, making it a part of her j profession to appear iu each act in au en | tirely new gown. Conjugal disharmony ! was the cause of her adopting the stage, in which sho has had extraordinary prosperi ty, though interrupted by the unflinching resolution of a Mr. Tracy, a rich lawyer of | Buffalo, to convert her into Mrs. Tracy, jHe succeeded, and again Agnes is buried !in the limbo of matrimony. Mrs. John | Wood (who used to boa vivacious and I pleasant actress of the burlesque school) | cured all her admirers during her last visit to this country; having become decidedly j prosaic and coarse—perhaps from long dwelling in England. Hardly any one j ever heard of Mr. John Wood, who was probably dead and embalmed in his wife’s j name. .She has recently taken anew hus band in the person of Stephen B. Fisk, formerly of the Herdbl, and now editor of i the Hornet, in London, where be has re sided for four or five years. Adelaide Neilson. from the fact of being ! j rather comely, has beeu quite successful ou ' the stage. She is a Mrs. Lee; Mr. Leo enacting the part of traveling companion and looking after baggage. He is said to I be a good sort of follow, but so thoroughly English, and, of course, so ignorant of j America that all sorts of jokes tiro played upon him by native wags. I wonder why husbands of his order do ; not take the stage names of their consorts ! for the sake of preserving their identity. It is said that an admirer of Neilson, calling on her one day, was introduced to Mr. Lee, and failed to form au exalted idea of the gentleman. The next day the admirer made another j visit to the fair Adelaide, and inquired, I "Who is that muff. Loo ?” “Oh, never mind him,” was the answer, “he is nobody but my husband,” Maggie Mitchell is Mrs. Paddock, and the mother of two children. Still she plays Fanehon and other girlish parts, and is likely to continue to play them for the next twenty years. It. is a little singular j that a woman of forty should be enabled to j represent sweet sixteen, but she does so j acceptably, and if her audiences favor the i illusion nobody else has cause to complain. Mrs. Hoey, long the leading lady at j Wallaok’s, is the wife of John Hoey, the superintendent of Adams Express. Few women have beeu more attached to their : profession. She was the first actress in the city who made elaborate dressing a conspicuous feature. She spared no ex | peuso in her adornment. Her salary is ro ! ported to have been So, ooo a year, and sho , expended more than twice as much. 01- j ivo Logan was for somo time the wife of ! Henry A. Delille; but they grew heartily tired of each other, and they had no diffi culty iu living apart. Mrs. Delille that was, waited until Wirt Sykes, who had long been her puffer-general, could be le gally released from his wife and children, when she espoused him and so confused the nomenclature of the tamily that it is impossible to tell whether sho is Mrs. Wirt Sykes or he Mr. Olive Logan. The general result is that the majority of ac tresses who are wedded to outside barbari ans have brief matrimonial engagements, and their return to the greenroom with a now sense of freedom and an added love for the stage. . ——— [From l!m N. Y. I>nv-Uuk.] THE CO UR TU Y MO I ING. •‘W , li"t Supremacy” is getting to boa more advanced and pronounced question than that of .finance. The negro-voting power unchecked, reforms of all other ' character go for naught. If the stream be poisoned at its source, what folly to at tempt o purify it at its foot! Let the “Fourteenth” and “Fifteenth” Amend ments of the Constitution be practically 1 accepted by the people, and this Republic, j can no more be reformed into stability and ! ! health, political and commercial, than a ! tottering building can he securely propped by iron pillars under its first story, with the foundations of that building on quick sand. ‘ Negro suffrage" will undermine j this nation and topple it to chaotic ruin, j unless it is abrogated. No matter liow it ; is done, whether by tho States, as the su preme power, or by Congress, this negro ! suffrage must be revoked. But “White Supremacy” is making it | self hoard now, directly nil over tho South, and indirectly in certain localities in the North, AU resolutions condemning the | Civil Rights bill are declarations in favor |of the white raeo, and foretells the final revocation of tho negro suffrage clause in tho Constitution. It must come to this, and tho sooner it does tho sooner will a grave disturbing element in our body poli tic be removed. The white race of thirty I millions in the United States will never be | dragged into political aud social perdition by the negro raeo in its midst, if these ! two atrocious amendments were intcrpolat !ed into a thousand Constitutions. Men { are human, and humanity makes, and that | was as grave a mistake as the old fanatical i Puritans made when they hung the “witches” in Massachusetts. The ballot ] box power of tho negro must be taken from | him at the very earliest moment possible. : The people are moving in this matter. In | Maryland a large party are endorsing the white man’s platform of the Hon. Benja min G. Harris, who is a candidate for t Congress under the White Supremacy ban ' ner. Will any true patriot, any intelligent, j fair-minded man of Maryland, who has | looked upon the social horrors in the South : for the past eight years, tho fruits of “ne ■ gro equality,” hesitate to support Mr. Har ris ? We think not. J The New Orleans Bulletin oi last week says:— “By degrees tho negroes have invaded every department of tho State, the Execu tive, Legislative and Judicial, arid now they are clamorous for tho exercise of oth !er privileges, which if conceded w ill give ' them entire possession of all places of ! amusement, hotels and saloons. This once secured, and living in this city or j even in the State will bo unbearable. Ig- I norance and corruption will control the j government; prostration in business, per ! sonal bankruptcy and general destruction i will everywhere predominate. This is what we l ave to fear from the aggression of the negro and liis invasion of the high places of government. This is the danger to bo apprehended from the great strides ! taken by the negro, and unless they are checked, and that promptly, too, this country wd> bo uninhabitable for the j ■ white man. When wo find the African, ! from a condition of servitude, suddenly elevated to n political level w ith his former master; from the plow to tho pulpit; from the cotton field to tho Legislature; from the barber-shop to tho Bench, and from the kitchen to the Executive Chamber, it behooves us, as the part of wisdom, to look to it that we are not entirely swallowed up in the vortex of this revolution that has brought to this country such fearful chan ges, nnil threatens now to give the negro unlimited control of the fairest section of this once happy and prosperous country. Tho future rule of tho negro, then, must end, and the white people must again as sert their right of power and demonstrate their superiority of race, their higher claims to govern, and their entire ability to sustain their good name for industry, intelligence and honesty." The future rule of the negro will only end when tho “Fourteenth” and “Fif teenth" Amendments are repealed by Con gress, or, when tho rights of States are so far recognized that they alone are allow ed to decide who shall and who shall not vote within their precincts, Federal enactments to the contrary, notwithstanding. Here are mutterings of the fearful outbreak which the diabolism of the negroes is in viting. The Natchitochoes (Lit.) Vindicator says: Ou all sides we hear the cry and din of armed forces. This week that 300 stands of arms had been passing through Clou tierville for this day to equip tho negroes aud protect them in their rights, which are being seriously menaced by the just do main! of the whites for their privileges; and has it never occurred to our people how far severed are the rights of the white man and the black man ? Wo are totally opposite in our opinions of liberty, of jus tice, of privileges, and when the black man legislates, he does so actuated by his own ideas and for his own benefit. These are truths that are self-event, and tho course of tho negro legislators in our State for the past six years is proof ns strong as “Holy writ" of thoso statements. The white peo ple have become convinced that such is the true, condition of affairs. We have begged and entreated tho colored man to “go with us” in the redemption of the State; have pictured to him the happiness that would engender to him and his should lie assist ns to pass and enforce good and wholesome laws, to provide for and foster public works of great utility to all, to sup press crime and courage honest toil; and with what answer have our appeals been met? Few, but, very few, have even con descended to listen tons; the mass of them have regarded us with suspicion, and from their conduct have led us to believe that anything which tends to prosperity, law or order will he considered as depriving them of some vested right. Wo have appealed j to the Congress an i President of tlie Uni ted .States for succor from the effects of your ruinous legislation; we have supplica ted t'.ie Northern people to interfere and protect ns from your rash and headstrong conduct. All these supplications and ap peals have been unheeded. Wo have nothing left but to submit and bo destroy ed, or to appeal to that inherent right the | God of nature has implanted in every! breast. Despair has raised tho lion in our j nature, and that race, the Caucasian, which has eotaquoWd slnco tho foundation of the world, which be the power with which you will meet your destruction. Another Louisiana journal says:— Tlie negroes are not only organized se cretly but they form the bulk of tlie Kel logg militia, having under their control nearly all tho improved arms which bo long to the State. These arms they can obtain possession of at any moment, und, if they see no counter organization on the part of tho whites, they may, for any fan cied grievance, or in time of any great po litical excitement, conclude to use them against us. The Democratic Central Committoo of that State declared last week that tho Uni ted States Government belonged only to the white race. A New Orleans journal says:— The platform it puts forth is broad anil i comprehensive enough for all the parties opposed to Radicalism to stand upon. It recognizes the superior claim of the white man, favors the doctrine of repudiating the fraudulent State debt, and proposes to redeem Louisiana from tho condition of ruin, desolation and distress to which it has been brought by the corrupt, imbe cile and maladministration of the govern ment by ignorant negroes and debased carpet-baggers. Under this broad and catholic creed the White League, tho Bees, the Grangers and Democrats can all combine to meet tho cohorts of the Repub lican party iu the approaching contest. A late meeting of tho Democracy at In dianapolis, Indiana, (an account of which will be found ou oiir second page,) pro nounced upon the infamy of tho Civil Rights bill, and announced open war upon negro equality in any and every shape. Thus it is seen that the doctrine The. Day- Book has ever uphold, when it had not tho support of a single journal in tho entire North, is now, by tho logic of events, be coming the dominant political truth of tlie Democratic campaign. Now, let every whiteman lend his individual,aid to its growth and strength. Find, each and all of you, new ground for The Day-Book. Get up clubs of eight, and thus spread the true sentiments which alone will save the j country, by making a public opinion for j the Presidential canvass of 187(1, which will insure a victory for the Deniocratlif ticket, and tiring the nation back to the glorious states ol 1800. A WHITE MAN'S GOVERNMENT THE ORDER OF NATURE, AND THEREFORE THE WILL OF GOD. W hen will the Northern people awake to tho fearful crimes they are so bliudly committing at tho South—crimes that, in their recoil, from necessity, must involve themselves in bankruptcy and chons, sooner or later ? This horrible state of things has gone on for uino years, and not only utterly running tho negro as a laborer but so corrupting vast masses of these child-people that any hour thesoeues of San Domingo may lio repeated on a scale that will shock the world for centur ries to come. The worst men in tho coun try have seized upon tho "Republican” organization, most of the present leaders being men like Butler, Logan, Grant, ie., who, in the days of Southern prosperity, were tho “sound men," and the most clamorous for “Southern rights” in the North, and now, when the South lies pros trate’ bleeding and dying, these ancient “dough-faces,” with au army in their hands, transform the negro into a voting machine, and use him not only to plunder the Southern people, but to hold on to their ill-gotten power and rule the north ! Aud thus it must go on until tho finances break down aud tho whole land is plung ed into choas, unless tho Northern peo ple come to their senses, and rising up rn masse, take out of the hands of these dangeioils men the horrible instrument through which they nro able, under the mockery of the ballot-box, to do such un speakable evil. Negro suffrage—partner ship with negroes—in a word, the attemp ted amalgamation of races—is a sin against God and crime against nature that is beyond expression. Think of it—left to liis own volition, the negro necessarily returns to his own original Africanism, while the white man marches forward to indefinite perfection, and therefore, sooner or later, they must, of necessity, exterminate each other. Wlmt a fearful sin, therefore, for the man of tho North to thus force this awful doom on his brother of tho South -a doom that com pells him to massacre tho poor negro to save himself ! Meanwhile this awful col lision is daily warded off by a standing army under the shadow of which the most vicious and debased white men tho world ever saw—Northern carpet-bag gers and Southern scalawags—use the debased aud miserable negro as nn instrument for plundering and poverish iug tlie people ! A great many wollmean ing but ignorant people suppose that, because there is still a largo cotton crop the negro labors. Of course ho labors but there is no profit in it, and probably two thirds of the crop is raised by the white people, tender women aud little children, going into tho fields though it shortens their lives, and iu the end, still more impoverishes tho South. But leaving the South out of view, think, oh think of the the near future of the work ing people of tho North, and tho proba bility that, iu tlie coming winter, a million J of them out of employment must noeds I be on tlie verge of starvation. And tho remedy for all there impending horrors is I simple disbandment of tho army in the South and restoration of the rule of the 1 white man, as God anil nature, and com- j mon sense have eternally decreed ! Shall we not, then, men and brethren, rise up like true Americans and stop ibis enor mous devilment at the South, and savo ourselves our wives and little ones from the recoil of such a mad afid monstrous crime ? Shall we not form clubs, nssoeia lions or leagues evi rywhere in the North, and especially iu New York, with this one simple supreme, God-imposed duty of a white government, leaving each State to deal with the subordinate negro element in its midst as its own well-being and hu mane feeling Warrrant ? A million of true men thus organized th is pledged to this sacred and imposing duty can soon place everything right in our great country, and fulfill a mission for humanity aud civiliza tion grander than ever before witnessed in human annals save that of 177 G. It only needs a few bravo and earnest men to load off in tlrs glorious work and millions w.ll respond to a cause so grand and yet so simple and so benificent to all mank’ud to tho poor subord unite negro as to our selves. Child Etkamno.—A Philadelphia cor respondent of the World writes: The theory that the abduction of Mr. Ross’ child was the work of an organized gang bunded together for theprosi cution of this nefarious business may not be very far wrong after all. There have been sev eral attempted cases of kidnapping re ported, but none of them seemed to be genuine. To-day, however, an actual at tempt was made in West Philadelphia. Two little children were plnyiug near the residence of their parents on Bridge street when a strange man came along, picked up the younger child, a bright, pleasing little girl between three and four years of age, and started to istike off with her. II r little brother wept bitterly and soon attracted a crowd of youngsters, whocried, and yelled and hooted while they pursureil i the kidnapper. Finding that it was im possible to get away with tho child and cover up his trucks ho put tho little oue down und took to his heels. The locality chosen for this attempt was in all essential respects similar to that chosen for the Ross case—a quiet noigborhood in a suburban section of the city. 4* A greenhorn sat along time vciy atten tive, musing upon a cane-bottom chair At length he said; “I wonder what fellow took the trouble to find all Hie in ur holes and put straws around 'em ?" MISCELLANEOUS ITEMS. Injustice is very hard to hear. Yrt, wtf must all learn to uxpeet it, and Ur suffer it as calmly us we can. Wo ihoflld live wit ii iur means, # i)ii if we nave to boriow motley to do it with. Home persons nro capable of making great sacrifices, but few are capable of concealing how much the effort has cost them, and it is this concealment that con stitutes their value. If you desire to enjoy life, avoid un punctual persons. They impede business mill poison pleasure. Make it your own rnlu not only to ho punctual, but a Jiitlo before hand. Every one owes obedience to tho laws, but a still higher obligation is due Ur mor tality; and if it so happen that both cmittot he complied with, it is better Ur do an |hf gal net than au immoral one. Misery lias many bitter moments; but the first iiwtikonilfg alter any great sorrow is the ono of its most utter agony. Admiration profits not so much the ob ject as the subject of it. While lvjoiein.. that a man is great, we have also reason to rejoice that we are able to appreciate his worth. A Kalamazoo widow, who is not one of of tho despairing kind, has the photo graphs of her throe departed lords in a group, with a vignette of herself in the con ire, and underneath is the inscription, “The Lord will provide. NO. 14. A California man tied one end of a rope around his wai t, and lassoed a cow iv.:b the other. He thought he had the cow, but i t the first half n i'e he began to sus pect that tho cow had him. rieasnnt faced people are generally the most welcome, but tho auctioneer is always pleasant to si e a min wl o e countenance is for bidding. ’1 he Sioux City Journal describes one of t! e bel'oi of a b ill room as • u graceful I t tle toad. ” She mu t shown particularly in the hop. Nothing so tyrnnizes over one ns the habit of ji sting and contempt, real or as sumed. Success iu the use of sarcasm anil ridicule rarely fails to make its practice more frequent and its application inure wide than is either justifiable in itself nr agreeable to listeners. ‘Mn, lnm aunty got bees in her month?” No; why do you ask me such a qiustionF "Cause that loetle man, with a heap u, lc.ir on his face, cotchedhold of her iinilsniil he was going to take the honey from her lips, and she said, “Well make haste!” Not many years ago n Hartford man was drowned, and friends brought home the dead body to his afflicted wife As they came to the front door with the corpse, the new made widow appeared and sadly remarked: I guess you lmd better take him round to tlie back door, so ho won’t drip on the carpets. The fashion of wearing the wedding ring ou the finger next to the little linger origi nated in an ancient superstition that there was a mysterious connection between that finger and the human heart. Beautiful souls have benttiful thoughts, anil beautiful thoughts make beautiful fai oi. Our looks are governed almost en tirely by our thoughts aud actions. An Irishman found a Government blank et recentlv, and rolling it up put it under his arm an 1 walked off, saying: “Y ~ that's muine—U for IhitinicK, anil S for Mol arty; bt me sowl, but this Joamiu’ is a foine thin , as the fuythes would say; for if I hadn't an cdic ition I wind In’t have been afther Ai din' mo blanket.” The Saratoga Rowing Association is largely in debt on aeoonnt of the late re gatta, and a resolution has been adopted by the members declaring tluit henceforth no efforts will he undertaken to secure and cai.y on any enterprise of this sort until tlie moil ‘j* to meet the necessary expenses is raised. They have also resolved to em ploy counsel to prosecute the extortionate Imi kmen who broke their agreement in r. - Intiim to the price to 1m charged for trans portation to hike and buck. A young lady in Council Bluffs, who informed by her supposed layer that la wns going to cease his suit, eowhiiled him U n'ouml tho room, and, as ho disappear ed from tlm window, declared that sh i would teach him to be careful how he tr. - tied with u gentle and loviug heart in fu ti-e, Afar-sighted fellow at Bristol, Eng., wrote to his fiancee: “I wish, my dailiug, that you would not write mu such long let ters. If you were to bring an action for breach of promise against mo the lawyers j would copy the correspondence between ns i and ohargo fonrpeuce for every folio of seventy-two words. Tho shorter )h ) letters, the more wo save from the lawyers.” It is related that nn old English primer was printed, and the whole of the first edition sent out, in which, by theomissinii of the letter cin a single place, a solemn stanza was made to rend as follows: when the last trumpet simndetli we tlinll not all die but we shall all be “hanged” in the twinkling of an eye. The Cameo and the Milt.eh On night a miller was waked up by his camel trying to get his nose into the tent. “II ’ i very cold out here,” said the camel, “r only want to put in my noso.” Tlie mill r made on objection. After a while the camel asked leave to have his neck in, then his fore feet; and so little by little, crowded in its whole body. This, as yon may well think, was very disagreeable to the miller, and he bitterly complained to the forth-putting beast. ' “If yon don't like it you may go,” answered tho camel. “As forme, I,vo got possession aud 1 shall stay. You can’t get rid of mo now. ” l)o you know what that camel is like ? Bad hubits: little sins. Guard against tlm first approaches, tho most plausible e.i discs, only the nose of sin. If you do net you uru overpowered before you kuow it. No two members oi tlie human family excel in “logical illustration” as do tl colored race and tho Irish. Here are veil table instances: RATHER HOT. A negro preacher in Virginia was lately trying to impress upon his bearers a eorreoi idea of tho general uneomfortnbkness of tho lower regions. “Brtiderin,” said he, “yon’s quainted will Mass Carpenter!afurnace ain’t you ?” A general chorus of “Yon's right 1” “Ob corse wo is 1” convinced him that they “were not anything else.” “Well,” continued ho, “You know ilat ilc iron runs out ob dut same as water, doesn’t you ?” The “ayes had it,” again, so he conclud ed with— “ Now L's toil you brudciin, dat if a sinner was took out oi> Hull and put in de middle of Massa Carpenter’s furnace, he's dun a wine to hah aolull anil a shakin’ agy right 'li —dais shu os j.in's norm '