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GALLAHERS INDEPENDENT,
; TCBLISHED EVEIIT SATURDAY AT
QUITMAN, GA.,
• BY
i. C. GALLAHER.
%
TKRMW OF SIBSUUI’TIU* i
TWO DOLLARS per Annum in Atlmhcr.
- ■ ■■■ —:
UKIKIMI HACK.
I nifty lire lung, bat mime old ilftyft
Of dear, ilmju joy sdan to unis--
tot ftanft Unit nut on wowflftlid Wftyft
Will never tin for mo ftgftin;
ilv uliiniitK ftoft, o<l glad, green ftbore
Tbftt frolic Wftv rm.n homo to Itlftft,
Home work* 1 beard that MvenmUt
Will fill me with uivetic bti.
Oh, low! etUl throba your bring heart—
Ton hum not crossed death V nullvu lido—
A deeper deep hoida ue apart;
We wore more near if you bad died—
if yea bad died in thoee old dy
When light wi> an the fthmiag sea,
And all the fragrant woodland way*
Wore paUn of hope far you and me.
Sfoad leave* are in the woodland ways- -
Cold are the Up* that uaed to kiss;
Twore idle to recoil those day*.
Or nigh for all that vanished blin* I
Bo you still waar your old-time grace.
And charm aew love* with ancient wiloa T
Could I bat watch your ffttlhl.w* foe,
I'd know the uioatung of your mik-s.
MY ONLY LOVER.
Itman old maid. Do not start, dear
reader; lam worse than that—a decided
ly plain-looking old maid. I tell you this
frankly at the beginning, so that, if you
arc expecting to hear a succession of ro
mantic adveuturea, all about the lover* ar.d
Morrows of “one of the fairest of flowers of
earth," you can muko up your mind to bo
disappointed.
Neither have Ia '’certain ease and!
grace,” a “facility iu conversation, by
w hich one might be led to forget the plain
exterior. 1 have neither “sweetness” nor
“brilliancy" of manner. My poor plain j
face is quite passive and expressionless. I
hare always lived very retired, and have
Been accustomed, for want of society, to
solace myself with books and castle build-!
ing.
When I was first verging on young-lady
hood. I confess to lntveread.such a quan
tity of novels as passionately to desire |
beauty and a heroic lover. But the beauty
which I fondly dreamed that “sweet six
teen” or “lovely seventeen” would surely
bring came not. I did nut grow fairer, my
liair did not gradually become soft and
wavy, and my eyes were uo more of an j
azure tlian formerly; in short, I was pretty
much the same us ever, only more of me.
"Therefore, instead of the moonlight walks.
*he attentive admirers of my maidenly •
•dreams, I, plain, pale-faced, peak-nose
-Husnu Smith, remained quietly at home all
the long evenings, just because nobody
iasked me to do otherwise. And so I just!
gave up all the romantic notions I had !
ever indulged, and resolved, without oiie
agonizing death-struggle, calmly, firmly, !
rebolvcd to submit to a life of single bless 1
wdneas.
Thus situated, I betook myself mon
ition ever to reading. My uncle’s scanty 1
library was loug ago exhausted; so I rnado \
depredations nu neighboring ones, devour- ‘
ing everything which came in my way. I
had just become nicely settled in all this,
with a feeling of great contentment as to
mj lot, and had given up all ideas of ever
having a lover nnd being like other girls
and then came—but I am anticipating.
One day, when I was sitting with my
aunt in the parlor, hemming some hand
kerchiefs, and not dreaming that anything
remarkable was going to happen to me, an
invitatiou came for mo to a party ut Mrs.
Burton’s. Now this wame Mrs. Burton
Wo* a fashionable lady who, though usu
ally conforming to the round of conven
tional society, displayed, occasionally,
some strange sparks of eccentricity. It so
happened that she bad an extensive li
brary, to which, through the acquaintance
of my aunt, she had allowed me free ac
cess. Perceiving my fondueßs for books,
•ad perhaps something of my habitual
reserve, she strangely conceived the idea
that I, Busan Brnitb, TANARUS, the plain, nwk
ward, uninteresting, unuoticeable, little
nobody of a Susan Smith was “literary.”
And so rite invited me.
When I finally found myself in the
specious saloons of Mrs. Burton’s, sur
rounded by beauties and witching graces,
I admit feeling somewhat of a pang, I
gsn myself up to the dreaming that would
.come, amid the soft, vague ripple of beau
ty that surrounded me.
Gradually my philosophic spirit gained
the ascendency over the imaginative. The
vague clouds of ribbons, muslins and pret
ty faces, together with the darker and tal
ler forms in the background, became
more tangible. I became consicons that
J. was surrounded by hnman beings; that
Jf had an excellent opportunity for my fa
vorite pursuit—the study of human nature.
% soon became edified and amused in
-matching the course divers little flirtations
mA manoeuvres on the part of parties of
Mth sexes. Yonder was a tall, dark-eyed,
risadooking young -gentleman, whom I
soon pereeived was quite a lion among the
fair ones. All the artillery of dimples,
blushes and pink ribbons was skillfully
employed by the respective proprietors
thereof, to storm the fortress. And he
wM smiling, affable, gallant, and by no
means deficient in the use of weapons of
Us own. Yes, he was decidedly the een
tra-pieoe of the picture, the reigning beau
of the season. As for belles, there were
two or three struggling for the ascendency,
•ad whether the one or the other triumph
u* the attentions of the superb Mr.
Bonderiand.
The blue eyes of the fair Miss Ella French
gleamed more tenderly, or the sparkling
bisok ones, of her rival flashed more bril
liantly from beneath the long, dark lashes,
as Mr. Sunderland’s low tones were ad
dressed to the first or the last. Indeed,
the divers feats of diplomacy among both
lha brighter constellations of the evening
•fid Ike lesser lights were not unlike those
iSaUahcr's 3mVuciuVnt.
VOL. IT.
of the political world. So I amused my
self in wathing the course of things still
my eyes fairly ached with the dazzle, and
I betook myself to a few gilded vol imes
which graced a table, to catch breath a lit
tle in my natural element
I turned over a few leaves, read a few
verses of Tennyson, and raised my head to
enoounter—was I waking ? had 1 not slip
ped into dreamland, amid the bright
whirl around me ? No; awake, iu the
full possession of my senses, I encountered
the gaze of those large, dark eyes of Mr.
Sunderland fixed admiringly upon me.
Thank fortnne, I had always had strong
nerves, so I did not faint, but kept ou the
even tenor of my way. I beheld the gen
tleman turn, seek out and address Mrs.
Burton. That lady replied, glanced at me,
and iu another moment the two had ad
vanced toward the corner where I sat, and
“Mr. Sunderland” was introduced to
“Miss Smith."
Had the earth opened and swallowed us
up ; I could not have been moro astounded.
However, I hail little time for conjectures,
as the geuteman seemed desirous of en
tering into immediate conversation.
"An excellent party I Mrs. Burton was
a very interesting lady, a superb lady !
quite intellectual, too ! I was an old ac
quaintance of her's, was I not ? Wus I
fond of attending soirees ?”
“Was not much iu the habit of attend
ing soirees."
“Ah !ho suspected—l was fond of iu
tcllectual pursuits 1 He honored my
choiee ! He did not himself find satisfac
tion iu these light, frivolous amusements.
He was most happy to find sympathy iu a
higher grade of enjoyment, etc.”
Strange enough, the gentleman persisted
in remaining by my side during the rist
of the evening, as much to the astonish
ment of the fair rivals as my own, and not
a little to their chagrin.
And so, when I had ut last established
myself in my chamber for the night, it
wus only to puzzle my brain with vague
Conjectures ns to whether the conduct of
my sudden admirer was due to some sud
den pique of his own; to a disgust for tho
vanities of tho world, or to my own charms.
It was only a few days after tho soiree,
when, as I sat iu our parlor, reading the
newspaper to my uncle and uuut, wo were
startled by a loud double-knock ut the
door. Iu a few moments our maidservant
announced “Mr. Sunderland."
“Ah !my dear Miss Smith do excuse
me. Have I too much iinsurance in hop
' ing that you still retain the faintest re
membrance of your cavalier of Wednesday
evening ?”
Now I was suro I did not know wlnit to j
say to all thin. So I only assured him to
the beat of my abilities that I recollected
him, and invited him to sit down. .1 fan- j
ciod he looked somewhat astonished on
being ushered into our plain little parlor,
and I am quite sure niv uncle and aunt did,
as I introduced them.
Mr. Sunderland was exceedingly polite
and affable, and conversed in quite a
charming manner. Nevertheless I thought
I could see his eye take iu the homely de
tails of the room and of my ow n tout ensem
ble, and a half-scornful look play about his
mouth. However, I didn't care in the
least, since I hud long ago made up my
mind that the fates did not intend I should
have a beau, and I had become submissive
thereto; so that, if I ever did have uny, it
was so much clear gaiu, and if they left,
no loss 1 My uncle and aunt were appar
ently, no little amazed, as they seemed
slowly to comprehend the idea that the
handsome visitor was my owii !
Mr. Bunderlund wus literary. "Tennyson
was his favorite, and, he suspected, mine
also. Did lie not discover me looking
over a volume of that poet, at Mrs. Bur
ton’s ?”
“I had looked into it somewhat. Still I
could not any that Tennyson was my fa
vorite of favorites. I was not particularly
fond of that class of writers. I liked those
nl the Coleridge and Wordsworth stamp
better.”
Mr. Sunderland bowed. "He admired
my taste. Coleridge and Wordsworth
were also favorites with him. How did I
like Byron ?”
“I confessed to little admiration for
him.”
Mr. Sunderland “was not pleased with
him.”
1 acknowledged iu the main more inter
est in prose thnn in poetic writers. In
fact, that "Iloved history.”
Mr. Sunderland was immediately pas
sionate fond of history. He declared
“Gibbon’s History of Englamd" to be a
most masterly production—worthy of com
parison even with “Ciesar’s Decline and
Fall of the Roman Empire.” Oh, how I
screwed up my lips to suppress a smile I
I confess of feeling decidedly wicked,
and determined to lead him into deeper
waters. But you would grow weaiy, dear
reader, and perhaps your heart would ache
with pity, were I to relate all the perambu
lations of my nnfortunate literary admirer.
And how he finely rose, with an air of sat
isfaction, and took his leave, delighted
with the assurance of my company the
following eveuing to visit the opera.
I like mysteries. I like fun, too, as
well as pretty girls, notwithstanding my
plain appearance. Moreover, I was quite
sure I had not spent a more edifying af
ternoon for a long time; also, I was
naughty enough to rejoice in the chagrin
of the fair belles. So, all things consid
ered, I was bound to keep it up as long as
I could.
Matters now progressed at an astonish-
QUITMAN, GA., SATURDAY, AUGUST 15,1874.
j ing rate. I attended operas, concerts,
lectures, and what not, with the, attentive
and gallant Mr. Sunderland, Anew world
was opened before me. Coutact with real,
active, outward life invigorated me. I
saw with my own eyes, heard with my
own ears, what before I had only read and
imagined. Auiid all this, had my gallant
been a noble, whole-souled man, with
thoughts and feelings of his own, I don't
know what accident might have befallen
my heart. I wouldn’t have been answera
ble for tho consequences.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, [which
shall I say, dear reader ?] he was a mere
cypher; so Kept equilibrium, while tho
devotion of my admirer nnd tho mystery
of tho whole affair continued to increase.
| The uow decidedly literary and profound
Mr. Sunderland nearly every day honored
tho little parlor with Ilia presence. He
“admired niv simple, unostentatious mode
of life. My plain meriuo was more beau
tiful to him than all the gaudy trappings
of the guy butterflies of fashion ?"
At length all this reached its culminat
ing point, and tho glorious Mr. Sunder
land, iu the most approved, romantic,
chivalrio maimer, knelt at my feet and
told me that his everlasting happiness or
misery depended on a word from my lips.
Well, well. I really had no notion of
coming to all this. So I insisted as best
i I could, in my practical way, on his taking
j a more rational view of the matter, and
finally sent him away iu the most inelan
j choly and inconsolable frame of niiinl.
i This, however, was no end to tho matter.
The fortress of my heart wus uow imrnodi
| iitely besieged, or rather stormed, with
; numerous beseeching, sentimental, pas
sionate, pink-paper missives. All my
j philosophy was put to the rout. He seem
' ed to bo iu earnest, really, desperately in
1 earnest.
But at last- -at lust a change came over
tho spirit of tho dream. The missives
coased. Mr. Sunderland came not—sent
uo message ! I met him in tho street, and
he knew me not! Would there ever be
an end of mysteries ? Tho transition was
quite like a calm following a storm. Still
1 wondered, and might have wondered iu
vain to the present day, had not a circum
stance occurred by which tho whole mys
tery was unravelled.
One day young Mr. Frank Butler called
to settle some business transaction with i
my uncle. It so happened that this gen
tleman was out, and consequently Frank
condescended to iiinuso himself with me
until his return. Ho inquired how
I enjoyed the Soiree, and final
ly, with a mischievous look, “how I liked
Mr. Sunderland ?” I suspected some
thing from his manner and immediately
begged him to solve the strungo riddle.
Mr. Frank burst into an uncontrollable
fit of laughter, which he seemed to enjoy
| exceedingly. IVhen ho had recovered
j sufficiently to bo nblo to speak, “Mies
j Smith,” lie said, “I could describe a little
! scene of the evening, which you might be
j at liberty to interpret as you please.”
Of course I insisted upon hearing it.
“Well, then, Mi. Sunderland and his
i friend Edward Kyder were standing a mo
ment together. You wore looking over a
book ut the table, and another young lady
at the opposite side was toying with an
exquisite little volume. Edward whisper
ed, [looking at the hitter fair one,] Sun
derland, I tell you she would Vie a fine
bird to catch—that one over there at the
table—an only child, and her father was
worth forty thousand pounds, they say.
They separated, and I saw Mr. Sunder
land’s eye fixed admiringly on—yourself 1
Is that satisfactory ?”
It ought to have been; nnd of course I
j laughed heartily, though Ifdiil feel at first
a little nettled. However, I found Iliad
| gained some experience, beside the fun.
I So I have relapsed again into nn old maid,
| feeling doubly content with my lot, uow
I that I have had a "lover.”
HEAL. ROMANCE.
The Story of on Kl<>l>einent Dlarrltil to a
Convict. Aboard, Urarrted, and
then l)ixcovei'rd In Male
Attire by (hr Fa
thejr.
Recently the San Jose (Cal.) Patriot was
furnished with the following facts of one
of the most romantic stories ever chroni
cled in California. A year or more ago
there resided in the town of Bennington,
Yt., a widower named James Ward, and
his daughter Josephine, aged seventeen
years. Ward, was somewhat noted for his
bravery during the rebellion, and having
lost nil arm during the first battle in the
Wilderness, was considered a hero of more
than ordinary merit. Josephine was then
a lovely creature, innocent and guileless,
and was considered the belle of the town.
In June, 1873 there appeared in Benning
ton a book agent, who called himself Oscar
Penn. He was about twenty-five years of
age, well-educated, good looking, and as
suming. He remained in town several
weeks, and during his peregrinations be
came acquainted witli the fair Josephine.
An intimacy followed which soon ripened
into an offer of marriage. The young lady
consented, conditionally, referring her
suitor for a final answer to her father.
I’enn went to Ward, and in a few words
stated the case to him. Ward took the
matter very cooJJy, and told the young
man that if his references were all right he
had no objections to intrusting his daugh
ter’s happiness in his hands. He would,
however, give a definite answer within one
week. The next morning Ward announc
ed to his daughter that he intended to
depart in the afternoon for Boston, to be
absent four or five days. Not until
Ward’s departure did Penn speak to Jose
phine upon the subject of their marriage
and his interview with her father' He in
formed her that Ward had absolutely re
fused to give bis consent to their nuptials
without assigning a single reason therefor.
jAn elopement was consequently agreed
upon, and the pair Were united iu the
i holy bonds of weiUock.
PENN TURNS OUT TO 11E A NOTED CONFIDENCE
MAN.
In the meantime Ward visited the chief
of polico at New York, and learned that
Penn was none other than a notorious con
fideuco operator, who had served out one
term in Bing Sing, and who was uow want
ed on soveral charges. Ward, in company
with an officer, at once retraced his stops
toward Bennington, to learn that his
daughter had eloped with a convict.
Ward hastily settled his business and alone
started iu not pursuit. Ue traced the
fugitives to Oliicngo, but, there lost track
of them. He continued his search, how
ever, with indefatigable zeal, but hoard
nothing of his lost daughter until Feb
ruary, 1874, when he was informed by an
old friend living near Watsonville, Califor
nia, that the daughter hud been seen some
weeks before on the Southern Pacific rail
way ears going to Hollister.
WARD ARRIVES IN SAN FRANCISCO.
Two weeks after the receipt of the letter
Ward arrived in San Francisco. Ho lost
no time in hunting up his Watsonville
friend, and the two started out after tidings
of the missing one. Below Hollister, ou
the Ties Pinos, they learned that a man
and woman answering tho description of
Penn and Josephine lmd passod through
that county some weeks before. Where
they were going was a mystery. Ward
continued his search in vain, travelingf by
night and by day, until, suffering from
misery and exhaustion, lie two weeks since
returned to his friend’s home. While
there he incidentally learned that a woman
had been discovered four miles north of
Salinas City dressed in men’s clothes, and
had been taken iu by a Spanish rtuichero
until such time as would enable her to
depart arrayed iu the proper habiliments
of her sex. Ward instantly set out for the
rancho, where the girl was temporarily
sojourning. He found the place, entered
the house, and there, stretched out upon
the bed iu a high fever, was bis own
daughter. He sprang forward with a w ild
cry, and clasped her in his arms. She
recognized the author of her being, and
smiled faintly through her tears. The fair
Josephene had changed greatly. Her
form had lost its former perfect symme
try, and the hollow cheeks and dark rims
about her eyes told too plainly of want and
suffering.
HER ADVENTURES SINCE LEAVING HOME.
Josephine soon related to her father the
following remarkable account of her mar
ried experience; After leaving homo, she j
and Penu departed for the great West.
They stopped two days in Chicago, and !
.then left for Kansas. There her husband i
got into some difficulty, the nature of'
which she never learned, and they were
induced to leave at a moment’s warning.
In January, 1874, they arrived in Califor
nia, ami for a short time settled Han Fran
cisco. Penn grew restless, and, in com
pany with his wife, set out for the lower
country. At Hollister he obtained two
horses, and -on horseback she rode two
hundred miles, until they arrived at 'Vi
salia. Here Penu pitched his tent, nnd
here her real sqfferings commenced. He j
seemed to have no visible means of sup
port, yet always had money. Almost
nightly he came home under the influence
i of liquor, and without the slightest provo
cation would shamefully maltreat her.
| In March she gave birth to a child, which
| fortunately, lived but three days. For
' several days she was near death, and all
; this time there was no kindly hand to
minister to her wants, or to cheer her in
the hour of darkness and peril. Her hus
bands manner did not change during this
time, and when she became well enough
to walk, he inaugurated a reign of terror
by assaulting tier witli a boot-jack, which
culminated in laying her senseless upon
the floor. The sight of several persons
coming toward the house, one of whom
had been a witness to bis cowardice and
brutality, induced Penn to leave in a sum
mary manner. He never returned. She
slowly recovered and being without money
or friends donned an extra suit of her hus
band’s clothes, Git her hair short, and
left on foot in the night for King’s river.
Here she hired out as a shepherd. She
was green in the business, unused to out
door work, agd at the end of two months
was compelled to give up the job. She
then left, still iu male attire, for the coast
counties, find after many vicissitudes
reached Salinas City, without a cent iu
her possession. Here she gavo vent to
HER DESPAIR.
Alone, friendless, and unprotected, she
concluded that death or that shameful!
life which leads to death were the only
alternatives left. She was afraid to die,
she said, and so without a recourse, she
started out on foot, not caring whither
she went or what fortune or misfortune
befell her. She fainted on the wayside
and was taken into the house where her
father found her. It is needless to say
that her father forgave all, and Thursday's
train carried Jam,es Ward and his daughter
Josephine, bound for Bennington, Vt.
Girls. — Girls do not always know their
power. It is far greater than they think;
and were they true and brave enough to
exert it, they might almost, in a genera
tion, revolutionize society about them.
Exert your power for good upon the young
men who are privileged to enjoy your
society. Gentle and good, be also brave
and true. Try to exhibit the ideal of a
woman—a pure and good woman—whose
life is mighty as well as beautiful iu its
maidenly dignity and attractive loveliness.
Do not let it even seem that dross and
frivolity constitutes your only thoughts;
but let the elevation of your character
and the usefulness of your life lift up the
man that walks by your side. Some of
yon are iu intimate association which,
under exchanged promises, look forward
to nearer and more enduring relation. In
these hours do nothing to lower, but
everything to refine uud enoble each
other’s character.
The Massachusetts Democrats.—Bos
ton, Aug. 1,1874. —At a meeting of the
Democratic State Central Committee here
to-day it was decided to hold the State
! Convention at Mechanics’ Hall, Worcester,
September 9. It was voted to issue a cull
j to Democratic voters of tho State and all
j others opposed to misrule in the State and
j national governments.
THE POLICY OF THU PARTY
l on the subject of liquor was left to be do
j termined by the committee ou resolutions,
I but it is intimated that tho plan of tho
! campaign will embrace the advocacy of a
1 stringent license law in the interest of tem
| pe ranee.
Hon. William (hifcsou will probably bo
, nominated for Governor,
THE CANDIDATE FOR MATRI
MONY
A pleasant social essayist discourses thus
upon the embarrassments of the matrimo
nial suitor iu modern society. “It is,"
writes he, "a strange condition, that of
courtship. You ure us removed from
passionate pursuit as from peaceful pos
session. You have your privileges, lmt
you are very jealously watched. Your
position in your future wife’s family in
fact is not very agreeable. You are to
some extent ou object of suspicion, for
there is always a chance that you will
not turn out so well as was expected.
But you would get over a certain number
of failings if you happened to be partic
ularly liked; your really weak position is
iu not being intrinsically nn object of
interest to the family; you ore nn inipor- j
taut person among its members, us a limn
must be who is preparing to take lip your
assigned position. Papa is probably
profoundly greatful to you from a practi
cal point of view; mnnumi may even take
a more tender interest iu the study of your
character, aud'eonsider your love for her
daughter as a certain tribute to herself.
[ But sisters never fell flattered at the pref
erence you have shown, and brothers are
apt in tile beginning to evince a kind of
surly resentment at your claims. At best
there is a general feeling among the mem
bers of the family that yon are not seek- j
ing them , and you are handed over to the j
object of your offections sometimes with
out much ceremony. If you are very
particular iu paying your attentions to the
one, you may indeed become a bore to the
others, aud this is a position which a pre
tender to a particular young lady may
easily assume with suecosss.”
4*-
SOUR WORDS.
1. They indicate a sour origin, show
that tho heart is in an acid state. The
hearer of such words cannot but have his
own aud not, very complimentary opin
ion of the speaker.
2. They make the speaker himself more
sour. Words react upon those who utter
them. As kind words beget kindness, and
increase the power of it iu the soul, so
sour words increase bad temper of him
who uses them. They add fuel to the fire
and augment the heat.
3. Hour words dangerously tend to make
the hearer sour. They create an atmosp
here which he breathes, and the virus is
likely to penetrate his soul and make him
sour too. Vinegar gives its own character
to any thing it can reach. Ho it is not the
fault of the sour in the boat and speech,
that they do not spoil all the sweetness
there is about them.
4. Hour words ure all lmt, certain to give
sourness to the countenance; the face is
a telltale of the heart, and the
ness, rising to the lips in hitter words;
lias wonderful power over all the features.
Look on the countenance, words. Do you
see a bmiiling June or a scowling Novem
ber ?
5. Sour words are not soon forgotten.
Sharp and piercing, they enter, like iron,
into the sonl. As with nooks of seel, they
hung on to memory. All that you can
recollect of some people ure the sour words
you have heard them use.
9. Now, if sour words, indicate a sour
heart, and make the speaker more sour,
and make hearers sour countenance, aud
make one’s sourness long and painfully
remembered, there are five reasons why
such words should never be found upon
our lips. Let the last one you have used
be the lust.
A Boy’s Idea of Heads. —Heads are of
i different shapes and sizes. They are full
iof notions. Large heads do not all wavs
hold the moHt. Home persons can tell
just what a man is by the shape of bis
head. High heads are the best kind.
Very knowing people are called long bead
ed. A fellow that won’t stop for anything
or anybody is called hot beaded. If he is
not quite so bright they call him soft
headed; if he will not be coaxed not
turned they call him bigheaded. Animals
have small heads. The heads of fools
slant back. When your head is cut off
you are beheaded. Our heads ale all
covered with hair except bald beads.
There are other kind of heads besides our
! heads. There are barrel beads beads
! of sermons—and some ministers used to
| have fifteen heads to ono sermon; pin
I heads of cattle, as the farmer calls his
cows and oxen; head winds, drum heads;
cabbage heads; at loggerheads; come to a
head; heads of chapters; head him off;
head of the family, and go a head—but
first lie sure you are right.— Youny Amer
ican RoyersviUe.
A man writing home from the Adiron
dacks for additional supplies says: Four
pounds of salt anil a small cask of whisky,
one pound of ground black pepper and a
dozen bottles of whiskey, four pounds of
lard and a large jug of whisky, three good
stout fishing lines and a quarter of a hun
dred weight of biscuit, same weight Ches
hire cheese and two large quart pocket
flasks of whiskey; one paper of large Lime
rick hooks and a gallon of whisky in an
old vessel you don’t use; also send one
pound of white sugar and a small Jug of
whisky. I’. H. As we shall be gone sever
al days, and as we may get wet fishing,
my doctor, who has just stepped in, sug
gested that we had better take a little
whisky. Semi it and enter it ou your
books with other items above.
The following testimony to the virtues
of a patent manure was received by its
owner: “Dear Sir-- the land composing
| my farm bad hitherto been so poor that a
j Scotsman could riot get a living off it, and
i so stony that we bad to slice our potatoes |
j and plant them edgeways; but hearing of i
I ypur manure I put some on a ten-acre
I field, surrounded by a rail fence, and in
I the morning I found that the rock hail
entirely disappeared, a neat stone wall
I encircled the field, and the rails were split i
j into firewood and piled up systematically
! in my back yard.” —Thu Garden.
Suicide Because She Couldn't Go to
J a Ball. A young girl named Larima
I Cosgrove, aged 14 years, and residing at
Moulton, in Burlington county, N. J.,
committed suicide a few days ago by tak
ing laudanum because her mother would
| not permit her to go to a dance in tiro
I neighborhood.
j I suppose,"said a quack, while feeling
the pulse of his patient, “that you think
|me a humbug V” “Sir,” replied the man,
: “I perceived that you can discover a man’s
i thoughts by your touch.”
DIFFERENCE IN EYES.
No branch of science has been more
throughly mastered than optics. The
principle of visiou must bo essentially the
same m all eyes, but they differ remark
ably, according to the habit of the animal.
Birds of lofty flight, as tho condor, eagles,
vultures, and the eurrionsoekiug prowlers
of the feathered race, have telescopic
visions, and thus they ore enabled to look
down and discover their unsuspecting
victims. As they approach noiselessly
from above, the axis of vision changes—
shortening, so that they can see as distinct
yl one foot from the ground ns when at an
elevation of one mile ill the air. This fact
! explains the balancing of a fisli-hnwk on
its pinions half a mile above a still pond
I watching for fish. When one is selected,
j down the savage hunter plunges, tho focal
axis varying always to the square view of
his intended prey. As they ascend, the
axis is elongated by a curious muscular
arrangement, so as to see far off again.
Hands have their keen eyes ut the extremity
of flexible horns, which they cun produce
or draw in at pleasure. By winding the
instrument round a leaf or stalk, they can
see how matters stand on tho opposite
j side. The hammer-headed shark has its
wicked-looking eyes nearly two feet upart.
By will effort they bend tho thin edges of
the head, ou which tho organs are located,
so as to examine the two sides of an ob
ject the size of a full-grown cod-fish. Flies
have immovable eyes. They stand out i
from tho head like half uu apple, exceed- j
inglv prominent. Instead of smooth j
hemispheres, they have an immense uum- j
her of facets, resembling old-fasliioued
glass with seals, each one directing the
light directly to the optieretina. That
explains why they cun not be approached
in any direction without seeing what is
coining.
-
RATHER GREEN.
A verdant Irish gilrl, just arrived, was
sent te an Intelligence Office by the
Commissioners of Emigration, to find a
place of service. She was sent to a res
taurant, where stout help was wanted, ami j
while in conversation with the proprietor, j
he took occasion to light his segar, by j
igniting a locofoco match oil the sole of!
of his hoot. As soon as the girl saw Ibis,
she ran away lialf-frightened to death,
and when she reached the Intelligence
Office, she was almost breathless.
‘Why what’s the matter with you ? said
tho proprietor, seeing her rush in, iu such
confusion.
‘Och ! sure, sor, but ye's sent me to the
old devil himself, iu human form.’
‘Wluit do you mean? has he dared to
insult a help from luy office?’ inquired
the mail.
‘Yes, sure,’ returned the girl —.lie’s the
devil.'
‘What din ho do to you?’tell me, and
I’ll fix him for it, ’ said lie, quite exasper
ated.
‘Why, snr, whilst I was talkin’ to him
about the wages, he turned up the bottom
of his fut, and will a splinter in his finger, ■
sur, he jist gave one strike, and the fire
flew out of his fnt, and burned the stick,
and ho lighted his segar wid it, right
afore my own face, lie’s the devil, sure,
sur.'
‘* WANTED-A N HONEST, IND US TRI
OUS HOY.”
That is tho advertisement I saw the oth
er day. An ‘honest, industrious boy’ is
always wanted. He will be sought for:
bis servieee will be in demand. He will
be respected ami loved. He will always
have u home. He will grow up a man of
worth and character.
He will be wanted. The merchant will j
want him for salesman or clerk. The mas
ter mechanic will want him for an appren
tice or journeyman. Clients will want
him for a lawyer, patients for a physician,
parents for a teneher for their children,
and tho people for a public officer.
“An honest, iudustious boy. ” Do you
answer to tliin inscription, my love? Can
you apply for this situation ? You may
be smart and active; but that does not fill
the want. Are you honest ? You may be
capable. Are you industrious. You may
be well dressed, nnd make good impress
ion at first; but are you honest and indus
trious ?
Only a Blush. —What is there more
mysterious than a blush that a single
word, or look, or thought should send
that inimitable carnation over tho human
cheek, like the soft tints of the summer’s
sunset? Htrange it is, also, that the face
only, and that the hand or foot does not
turn red with modesty or shame any more
than does the glove or sock that covers
them It is the face that hears the angel’s
impress, it, is the face that is heaven. The
blush or modesty that tinted woman’s face
when sh.i awoke in Eden’s sunny laud still
lingers with her fair daughters. They
caught it from the rose—for all roses first
white; liut when Eve plucked one, the bud,
seeing her own face—-more fair than the
flowers—-blushed, and cast its reflex on its
velvet cheek. The face is the tablet of the
soul, whereon if writes its actions. There
may he traced all the intellectual pheno
rueana with a confidence amounting to
moral certainly. If innocence and purity
look outward from within, none the less do
vice, intemperance and debauchery make
thcirindelible impression upon it. Idiocy,
rage, cowardice and passions leave deeper
even than the virtures of modesty, truth,
chastity, and hope. Even beauty grows
mere beautiful than pure thoughts that
arise within it.
4*4-
While a lecturer was describing the. na
ture of gas, a lady inquired of a gentleman
near her, what was the difference between
oxygen and hydrogen ? “Very little, mad
am,” he said; “by oxygin wo mean pure
gin; and by hydrogiu, gin and water.”
Jones, his wife’s maiden name was Eliza,
confided to his destined biographer the
fact that he once and hut once after wed
lock, indulged himself in an allusion to
the devil as the “father of ’line.” Since,
that ho lias found it more oondneivo to
mutual confidoneo to call people by their
right names.
At u hotel table one boarder remarked
to his neighbor, “This must lie a healthy
place for chickens,” “Why?” asked the
other. “Because I never sqe any iliniil
ones hereabouts,”
—— -♦ ♦-
The Liverpool authorities have ordered
ihe taking up of all street car tracks in
; hat city.
Mil CELLANEOUd ITEMS,
It Is n mistake to stipiioso that the anil
is snported by its beams.
A French actress was lately poisoned by
a silk dress dyed green.
Never tell yon s,-ereta in a corn-field,
for it lias a thousand cam.
To remove dandruff (let out on tho
plains and insult an Indian.
Bliudow are like false friends. The/
follow you only iu suushiuo.
A metal root is un absolute protection
to houses iu thunderstorms.
How to meet a man f doubtful urodit—
Take nu note of him.
Prejudice squirts when it looks and lies
when it talks.
“Phiz Porpetuntorb” is what Chicago
calls photographers.
Mother Eve's britb is mentioned ns tin)
first lmny-Cain.
A lady in S|H-ingfleld lately died froul
ail iu-growing toe-nail.
The best method of constructing a dam i
without an "n.”
Tho tondcrest heart loves best the bold
ami courageous one.
'l'be Worcester /Vesjr speaks of a contem
porary who hires a small boy to come lit
at intervals with a step-ladder and (hut
off the top of his ears..
NO. 15.
There nro only two men in the country
who can make or repair hand-organs,,
ami they ought to be sent to New York
before the dogs nro all killed.
The chancellor of the New York law
school told the graduating lawyers to mar'
ry as soon hk they could. Bas U> develop>
their argumentative'powers I
The editor of a country paper, having re
ceived a bank-note detector, returns l
thanks, and modestly asks for some bank
notes upon which to test its accuracy..
If yon wapt to find out a man's real®*
disposition, take him when he is wet and'
hungry. If he is amiable then, dry him'
aud fill him up, and you have un angel.
“I’m not in mourning,” said a young
lady frankly toa querist, “but as die wid
ows are getting all the offers nowadays wu
poor gills have to resort to artifice.”
It is considered a pretty well-settled fact,
that death has no terrors fur tile man wire
marries a woman after u thirty years’ court
ship.
Down in Kentucky the traveler hears l
fond husbands say, “Come, darling, ooiim
iu and get dinner, or I’ll smash your oldi
red head with a olubi
A Wisconsin woman wlin> recently bur
ied her eighth husband, has received an
offer of fivo hundred dollars to remove
into some other State.
“My dear, do you know- if your ninnumr
is engaged?” Little girl of the period
“Engaged? Bless you, why, slie s murn
od 1”
“Oh, George, your sister is a niee gii
but she does dress her bead up so.” “Yes.”
said George; “but it is the fashion; there s
nothing in it yon know.”
Mr. Hrzbylowicz is the name of nil ho
tel-keeper in our neighborhood, shvs a
contemporary. It, requires two men anil
a boy to pronounce it.
An observing person says, “Willi ton
many men flounces count more than brains
iu a woman.” Most fashionable women,
have more flounces to count than they have
bruins.
A judge says that marrying revokes a-,
man’s will. This is no news. When will
tho bench give us something original? 1
Precious few men ever star married long
without finding out that they have no mil
of their own.
That was a bright little child who inquired,.
“Mu, when cows die, do they go to tho
‘niilky-way ?’ ”
Young lady (at the post-officp}. “If I
don’t get a letter by this mail, I want tn.
know what hu was doing Sunday, thut’s!
all.”
It is shrowdly observed that sawdust
pills would cure a great many diseases if
the patient would only make his own
saw-ilust.
The difference botwoon persoveranoo
and obstinacy, is that one often comes.
from a strong will, and the other from u
strong won’t.
Prario grass Ims become the next thing
to intellectual food. It is being exported
from Illinois to Liverpool, to bo made
into paper.
A New York company will insnre poodle
dogs, but won’t take a cent’s risk on bn-,
hies. They know which receives the most
care.
A chap who spent 5i,400 to graduate
from Harvard is postmaster in lowa at $24
per year. Where would he have been but
for his Latin and Greek.
A Breach of marriage, in which the dam
ages were laid at $20,000, has been com
j promised with a presentof five dollars and a.
; new chignon. It wus iu Kentucky.
“O, Lord,” prayedo minister, "keep me
humble and poor 1" “O, Lord, if Thou
wilt keep him humble,” said the deacon
who uextprnyed, “we will keep him poor.”'
A Louisiana man puts a two-ounce cnn (
of nitro-glycerine inside of n chicken, toss-.
,es the chicken to an alligator, and that
alligator does not trouble tho bayou any
more.
Mrs. Woodlmll wants to go before the,
Plymouth church investigating committee.
! She predicts that she could “raise the
j roof” of that interesting building.
Those 'Texans are bad men to bo trifled;
with. One of them wanted a foundry at,
Galveston to east, him ft glass bottle, nnd
when they laughed at him he peppered
three men with buckshot.
Tt is said th.it the mosquitoes nre un
usually largo this season. The only sat
isfaction that people who nre obliged to re
main in the city can get from this is the
hope that the old bull mosquitoes will lon'
around the hack-yards at night and eat up,
the tom-cats.
In the new university at Newhnryport
all the students acquiring any special foe
gue arc to be domiciled as boarders witli
a family speakiug that as their native lan
guage; and all foreign professors are to bo
natives of the countries to which their
particular languages belong.
A walking stick with tar on the end got.
a brace of suspicious-looking men into a
difficulty in St. Louis, aiul caused their
, being conveyed as prisoners to the police-,
station. The police seemed to have an ide i
that the tar on the end of the stick was,
there for financial purposes, iiqd was meant
to facilitate the hauling in of a portion of
loose change generally to be found on tbit,
shelf behind the counter iri beer halls when,
the iiar-ki eper s hack was turned,
New Yorkers announce births in tho.
I family by cards ala wedding,
i A Brooklyn young woman, who til an
j tloned her old liasbaml, rays; “He wan
too soft. T couldn’t lie hugging mid kissing;
' him all the while it isn’t- my disposumr
1 1 couldn't hear to lie oblige,! hi .it on her
hip mid cuddle him every t-uuo I wauled;
a cent.”