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JOHN H. HODGES, IPiibli^lieT-.
— ! — :
Devoted to Home Interests and Culture.
T W O DOLLARS A. Year ill AdvancSj
.... j —
VO LUME X.
PERRY, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 7, 1880.
NUMBER 39.’
advertising rates,
■xjil Kotlces ID cents per lino each insertion.
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l^Opcrinch.—each subsequent insertion 50cents
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ADVERTISING.
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lOO.uO
LEGAL advertising.
All advertisements eminating from public offices
Jt! be charged for in accord arce witb an act passed
k. tie late General Assembly of Georgia—75 cents
bandied words for each of tire first fourin-
Crtions. and 35 cents for each subsequent inscr-
' , Triorioual parts of 100 are considered as 100
words'each fig 0 ™ »“<* initial < with date and Big-
tlnrs’ i« counted as a word. The cash mast ac.
copv of each advertisement, unless dif-
feront arrangements have been made.
All snberirtion and advertising billB are payable
la Id ranee, nnlcBS by spocial contract.
Hom« Journal Platiorm-
\VE nre ••• same with onr
nabobs, nncl if the shore of prosperity
ia readied by them we will probably
land somewhere in the same neighbor
hood; hence, we shall work zealously to
advance the social and material interests
(,( Houston county, advocating every
inoremeDt that tends to',benefit her citi-
ieb» in common. We will take no stock
inpctsoual controversies, but will hold
mrcohimns open to any man, or his
'riemU, who will pay us for placing his
name before the people, whom we
icrve.
WE propose to give full value for
<reij dollar we receive, and ask no
rs.trn compensation save in the good
rill of the readers of
The Home Journal.
” Op JPKEMHM.
Every .farmer is interested in the wel-
re of his slock nmllsbould have on
ami for ready reference a book desci ib-
ing the ailments his stock is subject to
anil ilia remedies therefor. In consid
eration of this fact -ve linv procured for
the hern tit of onr faimcr subscribers a
huge number of copies of “Kendall’s
TrentiM* on the Horse,” one of which
we propose to give every horse owner
who pays for liis paper in advance. The
bonk, is one of great vnlue as it
ia au index of diseases which give the
mnotomfc, cause ainl tiie best treat
ment of ouch. I: contains a tol le giv
ing Hlt-the principal drugs used for the
Imrse with . the ordinary dose, cfficts,
ami antidote when poison; and also a
table with an engraving of the horse’s
teeth at different ages of the lioise; a
valuable collection of recipes, and much
more valuable information.
lipmember we give this valuable
work to all who pay tneir subscription
in hdriinee.
Sesides offering ibis valuable book as
* premium to all wbo pay for one year’s
subscription to The Home Journal in
tulYMice, we will sell it at a very low
price for cash. Call at once and secure
n copy as a premium or for a very small
amount of money.
THE CONQUERED BANNER.
Furl that banner, for ’tie weary,
Bound its staff ’tie drooying dreary;
Furl it, fold it, it is beat;
For there's nota man.to waTe it,
And there's not a sword to save it,
And there’s not one left to lave it
In the bloodswhich heroes gave it,
And its foes now scomand brave it—
Furl it, hide it, let it rest.
Take that banner down, 'tie tattered,
Broken ia the shaft and shattered.
And the valient h03ts are scattered,
Over whom it floated high.
O, ’tis hard for us to fold it,
Bard to think there’B none to hold it,
Hard that those who once unrolled it
Now must furl it with a sigh.
Fnrl that banner, fnrl sadly—
Once ten thousand hailed it gladly.
And ten thousand wildly, madly.
Swore it should forever wave;
Swore that focman's sword should never
Hearts like theirs entwined dissever,
’Till that flag should float forever
O’er their freedom or their grave.
Furl it, for the hands that grasped it,
And the hearts that fondly clasped it,
Cold and dead are lying low;
A ,d the banner, it is tracing,
While around it sounds the wailing
Of its people in their w«c.
For though conquered, they adore it.
Love the cold, dead hands that bore it,
Weep for those that fell before it,
Pardon those who trailed and tore it.
And, O, wildly they deplore it.
Now to fu i and fold it so.
Furl that ’ anner, true ’tis gory,
Yet 'tis wreathed around,with glory,
And will live in song and story
Though its folds arc in the dust;
For its fame on brighter pages,
Penned by poets and by sages,
Shall go sounding down the ages—
Furl its folds though now we must,
Furl that banner, softly, slowly,
Treat it gently, it is holy,
For it droops above the dead;
Touch it not, unfurl it never.
Let it droop there furled forever.
For its people’s hopes are dead.
MV LITTLE! SWEETHEART.
o —
_ A STUDY FROM LIFE.
JOB WORK.
We arc prepared to execute nil kinds
of printer’s Job Work, short of printing
* book, and guarantee satisfaction in
prices and style of work. Give as a
rial. Cull on ns at this office.
Mortgages.
This is the season when all good cit
izens begin to mortgage their land,
•"hies, crops, etc. We have on hand
one thousand mortgages,—Homestead
waiv.r iron-clad,fire-proof, double and
t fisted hack action safety lock mort
Rage blanks for sale. Price, SI.50 per
100, or 25 cents per dozen. - Apply at
Oie Home Journal Office
DEN TISTBY.
S. B. BARFIELD, D. D. S.
- ~ ,
2*0.MULBERRY STREET, MACON, GA.
*3- hours. E jl. m. in A r». m. l*—
P A. JOBSON,
■*- * Artisan, .
Perry, Georgia.
Sewing Machines ^Jewelry, Guns, Locks, and ev
erything in his line repaired and fitted up in the
iaoft substantial manner.
AH work not called for in ten days after being
uaiBhed wifi bo sold to pay charges.
A. O. RILEY, ~
Attorney at Law,
FOKT VALLEY, GEOBGIA.
aefers by permission to
HON; SAMUEL HALL, Macon, Ga.
E- Brown, Banker, JAQUES & JOHNSON,
Port Valley, Ga. Macon, Ga.
Insurance-
I sm agent For three’ most 2 excellent
ore insurance companies . which have
made the deposits and complied wtli
. the laws of Georgia for the protection' of
°licy holders:
. e Georgia Home.
j Ierchants’ & Mechanics’.
ON AL BASK.
ACOKT, CFA,
linnge-
When I first knew her she was 15
years old; I was 24. She was a scholl-
master’s daughter; I a schoolmaster’s
son. We first met one September
evening. Her father was a struggling
updagogue, with a family of seven chil
dren to support and a fe .v pupils. I
had it in my head to become his part
nor, and went down to see how tilings
were looking. I arrived after a lengthy
journey, and thejfirst thing I saw when
ushered into the room was a little girl
seated in an old arm chair, with a big
book upon her knee. .She shook hands
with me, and ns she did so, I noticed
her eyes were blue, her hair was a gol
den brown, escaping from its bounds in
rippling wavelets, and that she had a
curiously winning smile, smiling not on
ly with her lips, but with her eyes and
face and all. Later on, I was stuck by
the way her little head was poised on
her shoulders. She was upright as a
dart, and when she moved, it was wjtU
with an infinite grace, as some tiny
queen.
Her name was Emily; to her friends
she was always Em.
She. and I struck a friendship. She
always did make friends with all male
creatures, whether five years old or fif
ty. I was a scribbler, even then; and I
fancy the pride of authorship, even in
so small a degree, had r certain chaim
for her, which set her up in my eyes.
She 'wrote her name in my birthday
books; and beueath it I wrote; “My
Little Sweetheart.” It lies before me
at this this moment.
She would fly through her work like a
bird flinging nnwecome showers from
its wing. She could not see that life
was real.
Yet had she good cause to see that it
was so. It was the hardest struggle in
the world for her father and mother to
biiug two ends together. Very little
money was ever hers. Her wardrobe
was of the scantiest. She knew noth
ing .of pleasure, as some people under
stand it; she had never been ten miles
out of the town where she was born-
Yet there must have been some fairy
present at her birth, for she was like a
summers day, always bright. Not that
she conld not be grave. That was one
of her rarest charm—her gift of sympa
thy. Only let some one whom she
knew and cared for be in sorrow, and
Em would not be far away. Dark in
deed would be that sorrow which did
not change to light when her sun was
shining. Iler voice, her eyes, her arms,
all joined to drive the shadows away,
and soothe the sufferer with the pres-,
ence of her love.
Time sped. I had now known her
more than two years. I was. going-on
a rambling expedition to foreign parts,
and though I knew I was a fool for my
pains, to me it was a bitter parting.
And so for the time, I think it was to
her; for in some way links had been
joined between us without our ever
knowing they were being forged.
“Weil,” said I to her the day before
I went, we being.alone together, * ‘Blue
Eyes, how long shall I be missed?”
‘; The' only.answer was ,to throw herself
opon -the hearth rug, to place her hands
upon my knees and turn her eyes up
towards my face.
“Ah, Blue Eyes,” said I, ti
her sunny hair, “you’ll have another
sweetheart within a week.”
‘Ju a week?” said she,
me for a moment Then she turned and | Childlike. It was familiar to my ears,
got upon her knees, kneeling in front of !And as I listened,its sound awoke within
me. “Perhaps so,” she said. “Bat.” j hie chords of forgotten music. Before
leaning forward, so that her breath j many seconds were gone I knew It was
mingled jrith m$re^‘‘he’Il pey.er be a j £m?syoic6 : TheaM. But I did not
move, nor did I turn to see. T lay as
in a tower of strength, and it was a
sweetheart like you.’
What could I do? J I knew her so
well! I knew that this was just what
she would say to any one by way of
comfort. I knew that her words were
\
as trifles hghtjas air.
“Make no vows,” said I, “only to be
broken. You and I have had happy
times, why should I begrudge the same
to another?”
She was silent; she was now nearly
18; but she was sn small that it never
occurred to me that she was anything
but a little girl. She put her hands
out and took mine, still in the same
quiet fashion. “Wonld you like me
to?” said she—“would you like me to
—to take another?”
Em;” said I, “what does it matter
what I like? Before the sun goes down
upon my going, another day will have
dawned upon you.”
I looked at her. It came to me that
this was very bitter, and however great,
a fool I might be, I could not entirely,
hide what was in my heart. “Li die
Sweetheart,” said I, “of one thing be
sure—I never shall forget you.”
She came to me and I kissed her.
She still kept her face near
mine. “Bertie,” said'sbe—it was the
first time she had ever called me Ber
tie; it had always been plain Mister be
fore, and the name raDg in my ears—
“Bertie, I shall not forget you in a
week.”
I almost pushed her from me. I
knew this dalliance was worse than fol
ly—I knew her so well—and lose to my
feet. And so we parted; for the fare
well on to-morrow was but a formal
one.
Two 3 ears passed by. Occasionally
I sent her litttle notes, pictures of noted
places, and foolish curiosities, But I
never gave her my address. I knew
letter writing was not her strong point,
and for some reason I did not like to
think that she would not write, al
though she conld. Through it all I
bore her memory with me, and wherev
er I might be, at times wonld come the
shadow of her sweet face. I would not
own it to myself, bus now and then I
hungered for a sight-of her, and be
cause I knew it was so, and that it was
such foolishness, I stopped away lon
ger than I had iuteuded. But at last I
came back. One of my first visits was'
to ]!——-; for, try how I would, I could
not deny the longing for another sight
of her. I found that the position of
the parents of Em bnd little improved;
and her mother told me that she Lou
gone into the worly as a governess.
Such had alway been the intention; but
wondered what sort of a governess
she would make. A staid fioaveroante?
with those blue eyes and fbat smile,
that everlasting spirit of mischief which
world he bubbling out? Fancy her a
sober preCop tress! - And who was her
sweetheart now? Was there a pupil
old enough to be made the recipient of
her favors? Or was there some one
who was not a pupil, still more capable?
Well, what did it matter to me? She
and I hnd each our way to go.
Her mother told me her situation was
in the neighborhood of Byde. Hap
pening to have friends in that town, I
made them an-excuse for a visit there.
Yet on my arrival, I was in no hurry to
find them out; taking up my quarters
at a quiet inn, I prepared to have a day
or two. alone. It was Saturday after
noon, lovely weather, and I set out for
a walk well known in years gone by;
through tho Lover’s Lane, past Quarr
Abbey, to Fishbouse, nestling by the
water’s side. If was so warm, ana the
country was so alive with beauty, that
I toon my time and lingered, noting
spots memory once held dear. Beach
ing Quarr Weods I wandered throngh
the brushwood to the water’s edge-—
Along the shore there runs or ran a
wall—an old moss grown wall; and
jrithiu this wall an ancient garden—so
ancient it deserved no better name than
wilderness. The weeds, grew rank and
thick, and no hand but nature’s had
much to answer for in it. There was
an old green gate at the bottom, which
moved on rusty hinges; under the trees
was a garden gate, much the worse for
the weather and wear, and on the left
was an old summer house, damp and
mildewy, with steps up to the top, and
seats upon it.
I entered ihe garden and climbed to
the old roof .seat. My pipe in sympa
thy with'the'weather was soothing to
my nerves. _ Gradually substance be-
eame shadow; the soft wind sang sweet
music to my languid ears, and a gentle
charm came over me. I fancy it' was
sleep. Utopian to lie there, the wave
lets rippling softly npon the shore; a
dim suspicion of unclouded'sides perva
ding mydreams!
Something woke me—a sound. I
opened my eyes, dreamily concions that
voices were somewhere near. I lay
til a sort of curiosity, and
to i
comfortable feeling to know that I had
but to turn on my elbow, and there be
fore me wonld be the lady who once
was “My Little Sweetheart,” But at
last I moved. I rose upon my elbow
quietly, so as^ to make no noise,
and looked over the side of the sum
mer house below. And there I saw
her. She was on the seat under the
trees. About her were four children;
two boys and two girls. They stood at
her knees, close together, watching her
make a chain of daisy flowers. She
had grown, but not much, she was still
alittle maiden,and it was plain that she
w.ould uever rank among big wemen. She
wus dressed in blue—a little blue cloth
cap perched daintily upon her dainty
head, still poised like a queen’s upon
her shoulders, and a blue serge dress
which fitted better, I noticed, than her
dresses used to do. Even from where I
was I could see her blue eyes flashing,
and that wonderful smile upon her face.
She was certainly prettier than of old,
and she still looked like a maiden step
ped down from fairydom.
I lay still and watched, content to be
near her. I knew I had but to open my
lips and she would be with me on the in
stant. But I did not choose. I prefer
red, like a child, to play with .pleasure,
spinning fit-out to its full lengih. It
was a summer ecstasy, and for a while
I would not Drcak the charm, But
then the thought came to me what
wonld she do if she knew I was there?
Wondering what the answer might bo.
softly, hardly above a whisper, I gent
ly called “Em!” But she, engaged
with the daisy chain and with her little
ones did not hear me, and pcid no
heed. *So, smiling as I watched her, a
second time I called her a little louder
—“Em!” But she did not hear. The
daisy chain and the little ones seemed
to engross all her thoughts, and my
voice blew past her with the wind. How
would it do, 1 thought, since she was so
obstinately deaf, *to rouse her by con
fronting,her? If she would not hear,
she could see, and her eyes, if not her'
ears, he opened. With some such fan
cy, I was just about to rise and intrude
myself upon her presence
when I noticed the figure of a man com
ing down the jjgitlt.
I had no objection to children wit
nessing onr meeting, though I conld
Lave spared even them, but a third par
ty and he a stranger, I did not want.
Sol waited until he should have gone.
He was a young man, a,gentleman be
yond donb‘, good looking, dressed in a
gav suit of Scotch tweed and bright red
necktie. His was a fair young face.
He had a promising mustache which be
tended with one hand, and ho was
smoking a mighty meerschaum. In
stead of passing, as I expected, when
he reached the wall he paused and look
ed at the group within. There was I,
peeping over the outer edge of the
summer house, wondering what kept
him there. There was ho, leaning with
one hand on the moss-green wall. There'
w-»s she with her daisy chain, and chil
dren at her knees. 'Just as I thought
he would be moving on, to my surprise
ha vaulted lightly over the wall, hiding
behind the very summer house on
which I sat. Then quicklv and quietly
he passed from tree to tree, as though
be wished to do so unobserved, until at
last he was behind where the unsuspect
ing maiden sat.
While I watched with angry eyes, he
darted from his hiding place, ran to
her from behind, drew her head back to
him and kissed her twice or thrice on
her lips. The blood boiled within my
veins. I did not- doubt that this was a
dastardly outrage, and that my darling
needed a defender. In a minute ven
geance would have been done, and be
or I would have lain low. But her an
swer showed that I was mistaken.
“Charlie!” cried she, with that sweet
smile I knew so well, “how conld you
kiss me before the children?”
“Why not?” said he, “dont I kiss
them before you?” And to prove his
words, he snatched up a little girl and
kissed her again and again, she laugh
ing at the fun. Then he sat down by
her side, and putting his arms about her
drew her to him. The daisy chain drop
ped to her lap, and. she 1 ooked at him
as though. he was all the world to her.
“Darling,” said he, not loudly, but lond
enough for me to hear, I have spoken
to my mother about you and me to
day, and she thinks I am very foolish;
but since I always have been and al
ways will be so, ahe t thinks I may as
welll take yon to be my little wife—
though you will be very foolish for let
ting me.” -
Her answer"ivas fo lay her head upon
his shoulder and' flash her blue eyes with
a still softer blue upon her face. “Char
lie!” said she “are yon sure yon love
me?”
“Love you?” be returned, and he
voices j meant it—“my darling inore than I cau
“Angry!” said he, closing her lips
with kisses, “who in the world could be
angry with My'tattle Sweetheart?”
And so on. The children looked on
at what was a new experience to them.
-What mattered. They would haverto
learn themselves some day, though per
haps they were learning early. And I
—I had to listen to it all. Who would
have shown himself, placed as I was, at
such a time? They cooed and cooed,
and made love as love so c-ft has been
made, until tbp afternoon was spent,
and then they went. And I was free to
go as well. Was I dissolntioned?
though the fault was all my own. Once
I knew her well. The knowledge which
wrts for a time lost-, was only found
agaiu.
I have not seen her since. For
some cause her happinsss stuck iu my
throat, and I left Byde that evening.- I
may uever see her again. Ere this
doubtless, she is another’s wife. But
when I think of her, even to this hour,
it is as My Little Sweetheart.
f-O-4
U. S. - SENATORS WHOSE TEKHIS
EXPIRE IN MARCH.
REN RICTTJRES.
Midnight ill the City Of the Read.
PECTUAB.
The following is a list of rhe United
States Senators whose terms will ex
pire on the third of next March:
Newton Booth, of California, rep. •
William W. Eaton, of Connecticut,
dem.
Thomas Francis Bayard, of Delaware,
dem.
Charles W. Jones, of Florida, dem.
. J. E McDonald, of Indiana, dem.
Hannibal Hamlin, of Maine, rep.
W. Pinkney Whyte, of Maryland,
dem.
Henry L: Dawes, of Massachusettr,
iep.
Henry P. Baldwin,of Michigan,rep.
Samuel J. B. McMillan, of Minneso
ta, rep. s# _
Blanche K. Brnce, of Mississippi,rep.
Francis Marion Cockrell, of Missou
ri, dem.
Algernon S. Paddock, of Nebraska,
rep.
William Sharon, of Nevada, rep.
Theodore F. Bandolph, of New Jer
sey, dem.
Francis Kernan, of New York,dem.
Allen G. Thurman, of Ohio, dem.
William A. Wallace, of Pennsylvania,
item.
Ambrose E. Burnside, of Bbode Is
land, rep.
James E. Bailey, of Tennessee, dem.
Samuel Bell Maxey, of Texas,dem,
George F. Edmunds, of Vermont-,-rep.
Bubert E. Withe.is, ol Virginia, dem.
Frank Hereford, of West Virginia,
dem.
A. Cameron, of Wisconsin", rep.
The Boy Who was Left,
At a late hour Friday night tile po
lice found a boy 10 years old sifting on
the steps, of the City Hall, and when he
he had been stirred tip he explained.
“My name’s Johnny Stewart, and I
live near Grass Lake. The folks went
home last night and left me on tbo fair
grounds without a cent That’s just
the sort of man dad is. If we don’t
keep tight to his heels all the time; heUl
leave ns i» a strauge town dead broke.
“And now what will'yon do?” -
‘ ‘I’ll make the old man sick,”
“How?”
-‘.Never you mmd. I’ve got a plan
laid to fix him for going bock on me.’
He walked down to the Central Sta
tion and slept in an arm-ebair tbe rest
of the night, At an early Lour in tbe
morning he walked into the American
Express office and asked
“D» you inn to Grass Lake?’*- '
“Yes.” •*
“Then ship me there C. O. D.
After a few inquiries ho was accepted
and duly tagged, and when the wagons
went down he was among the parcels to
be carefully bandied, To an inquirer
at tbe depot he answered:
“Dad is counted tLe sharpest man in
onr county on a horse trade,but I gness
hs isn’t a great ways ahead of me in this
transaction!”
The Prospect in Indiana.
The vote of Indiana, which is now the
great battle ground of the Presidential
contest, in 1876 was: Tildeu 213,526,
Hays 208,011; Cooper 9,533. This made
Tilden’s plurality 5,515. In 18^8 the
vote for Secretary was: Shanklin(dem)
164,491; Moore (rep.) 180,755; James
(national) 39,448. Showing a democrat
ic plurality of 13,736. In this contest
the Philadelphia Times says the entire
vote of 1878 was over 17,000 short of
that of 1876, and that the democracy
lost bat 17,000 and odd votes, while
tbe republicans sustained a loss of oyer
28,000. This fact, together with the.
setback in Maine, must tell upon the
present contest. Both parties, however,
are exerting themselves to the utmost,
and to eloquence and money the repub
licans are adding heavy importations of
colored voters from the South. Still
the Democrats are confident of winning
a splendid victory.
HI ; -4
One of our exchanges says:,
Ver nont; 111.,. Record,advertises f»;a
j relieve ^tlieF 1 -.
That was a
yonng society
. Harry Edwards In Macon Telegraph.
It was late in the night when in com
pany with a cbmpanion, like ourselves
moved by curiosity, we arrived in front
of Boge Hill Cemetery nfid passed in
silence under the arch, which, itself,
stands like a monument across the path
way of the living. Not a sound from
all that vast resting place of the dead „
arose to break upon the breathless air.'
save the monotonous cruuchmg of the
gravel as we strode along down the
right, past the white monuments, to the
lowly beds of the Confederate dead.—
What a sight 1 Line upon line, rank
upon rank, column upon column, as
though a regiment wearied and worn,
had lain down beneath' those trees to
rest. We fancied ouce we heard in the
distance the faint echo of a bugle call,
but as we listened, tbe repeated hoot
ing of an owl explained the sound.—
Neyer ngain will the ranks nprise, nor
stir. Never again will thoso solemn
lines be broken by death, sickness or
fnrlouglis. There in the sound of the
river they rest. Empires may rise and
fall, republics strengthen, break and
die, and ^Liberty become immortal, bnt
the changes will be rung no more in the
hollow circle of thtir lives. Their la
bors are ended, and iu the hearts of
Southern people their nnme and their
glory is preserved. We stoop and read
npon the nearest head-boavd, “Un
known.” It seemed the very irony of
fate.
Leading away toward the river was an
avenue, above which the trees clasped
hands and caught the glistening dews
drops as they feiL Beneath we passed
until the flashing light upon the river
shown upward throngh the tangled
brakes. Witliiu this ailse which fol
lows the river’s course through the cem
etery the shadows are eternal, and the
foot falls upon a soundless pavement of
dead leaves. Stretching away among
tbe tress right and left, the ivy carpets
the ground from view. In one place
stood a gian t tree entirely covered by it.
The vine had climbed to the highest
bough, swayed back in streamers, and
wove itself a banner that swung nearly
to the ground. Through this dark robe
the -broken light found a passage.—
Scarcely hearing each other’s footsteps,
we were traversing this avenue, when
there fell upon the ear, the low gur
gling warble of a mocking bird just
breaking into song. Away above us ho
had hid himself. The song, broken
into snatches at first, grew in power as
the singer became onthused. Wonder
fully clear and musical it floated down.
The narrow aisle was filled with a pres
ence, as though the very iDcarna'ion of
music had swept by upon trembling
wings, and awoke a thousand fairy
bells.
We could but listen. Thoughts, for
which Beither reason nor training are
responsible, at times flash over 'the
mind, and so as wc stood there with all
the night tremulous with this strange
rapture, there came a dteam, that this
weird-melody; born out of tlle’silerice
of death,‘was chastened grief-turned to ,. e .
joy, and made immortal in melody. It ; ! - In
came and,passed, casting a fleeting shad
ow, on Belief, as the shadow.of a bird
falls upon the upturned face of an in
fant that watches, and-leaves its mark
ouly upon memory.
Just out of the line of these aisles our
companion pointed to a group of Dines,
whose tranks and branches wove them
selves into the semblance of a ruined
cathedral. The'columns were standing
and the rotting roof,across whose open
ing the white moon was swiftly gliding,
seemed just Teady to pitch downward.
A low; mvrmnrous breeze shook the
foliage, and like the far, faint chauring
of a hyinu, we heard its whispers. This
low-voiced breeze, this ol' sound
which reaches us from eternity (De
Quincy), heard throngh this temple of
the pines above the graves of many
thousandiSpoke its message not in vain.
On we pass, up the river, turning
once to look into the hollow aisie we
have fossakeu. The steep, transparent
shadows, lie within. It is the back
ground Correggio loved, the shades
Bembrandt learned so well. It ouly
needed a fair face beside the _ scarred
beech, to make the picture perfect, and
who can doubt but there have beeu
wanderers there, who, turning from a
flower-decked tomb, have paused to look
upon tbe perfect picture, wrought by
Memory's potent touch;
And so,-lingering no more.we confin-
ue the journey. White robed forms
stand back among the trees pointing to
heaven; a child sleeps upon a marble
bed with upturned face at rest; a boy
kneels forever with bands clasped in
prayer, and silent crosses keep watch.
Into the light, into tlie-shadow, we pass
back BU#forth, as these sinmberera had
passed through joys and sorrows. Ttu
river is far away behind ns, the broad
entrance before. As we pas? onV >e
think- if all the^” ; ° f,w ”-« sobbed
beneath' that a-. ”
voice,.-. tl>
wont- 1
A man who has any decided charac
teristics is pretty sure to be dubbed
“peculiar’’ by his frie
to say, that the one descr
rouses vague doubts as to moral worth!'
of the man to whom it is applied. That;
of coarse, is absurd. No two persons'
are the same throughout, exactly, e
sponding in physical, mental a
features. Idiosyncrasies will be de
tected in one, which are not noticeable'
in the other. Of the^ thousand millions'
that inhabit this globe, every one differs”
from the other one. Consequently to’
say of a person that ho is peculiar, is a
very commonplace, statement, challeng-
giug no controversy. The point is cob-
ceded. How good a thing it is that we'
are not molded after the same pattern 1-
Life would become exceedingly tame to
people mingling with the counterpart
of themselves at every turn. This wonld
be intolerable. The condition would
beget an intense longing for the inti
mate society of peculiar people. They
would become very winning, if only
they were of pure and noble character.
Variety of gifts, tastes, employment,'
differences in nationalities, education,-
accomplishments,. amusements, are till 1
charming peculiarities. The world would*
be dreary without them. To call a man'
peculiar, then, is to make no acousation’
against him.
PRESIDENT MATES,
The validity of Mr. Hayes’ title, may’
always be questioned, and his adminis
tration criticised, but the payment of
one dollar gives a valid title to one bot-"
tie of Dr. Pierce’s Golden Medical Dis
covery, and its administration can uev-‘
er be criticised iu cases of coughs,colds, -
incipient consumption, and general de-'
bilifcy, for leading physicians of all*
schools endorse the Discovery and pre-
sribe it in their practice. Sold by*
drugaists.
A Hebrew mother rushed Up to a He-'
brew father and exclaimed, “Abraham,
little Isaac has swallowed a half dollar.”'
The father’s financial feelings may bo'
better understood than described when,’
he responded:' “Nevermind, Bochael,-
iny tear, it vosh only von of dem poor '
counterfeits ve could not get rid of:’’
9 ^
brilliant speech of a K
man who was “making
conversation” with - a yonng lady last 5,
week. “How fortunate it is,” said he,
“that before people goto the lunatic^
asylum they always lose their mind.”
— —o*-*. ——. 1
Grace held a rope which William at-'
tempted to climb to her window. But r
she heard her father’s footsteps Ob’
the stairs and let go of the rope, then *
it was that her lover fell from Grace.-
A gentleman who was
out do the horticulturists who
chickens from egg-plants, has i
ed in produsinsr a colt from a horser '
chestnut and a calf from a cow-ard.
Pious old lady: “Just to'think. Kose, •
only five missionaries - to twenty thou- :
sand cabiiibals ?■ Enid hearted niece? :
t'Gooduessl The poor cannibals wiHL
attha'I-Tafe,'” ..
~ ( .
A -well-cooked breakfast will do moire-
towards preserving peace-in the family -'
than seventeen mottoes on the wall, •
though they be framed in the elaborate-
of'gilt.mouldings. '. ^
A western journal heads an article,*-
“A lunatic escapes and marries a-
widow?” Escaped eh? We should say
he got caught.—Biiigliamion JB^publi^
can. ' "*■
Hemy Godnose Bailey is the na
a boy in Springfied, Ohio. If we ■
your parent Henry, Godnose we'tfc
knock your middle name oat of yon.
>t <
Four Baptist ministers have been re-",
cently elected to office in Dekalb Conn~-
ty, Ala., senator, representative, pro
bate judge and tax assessor. • < ■
■ *■ • «
A Maine editor has made a martyr'
of_ himself for the Greenback canie—-
resigned his position rather than re-'
notmee liis financial faith.
“lye” in that soap.
A Boston man says he has a soap tbat r
will wash a politician’s character
as snow, There must be a good <
m
jfe.
A prize of forty acres of land is of
fered to the couple who willjbe married
in fronttof the grand stand at the Mich--
igan State Fair.
A yellow jacket’s rest does not
up so much room as a bird’s nest, bnt
it is easier to And when yon are no# -
looking for it.
rt a
One of the most effectual ways oi ■
pleasing and making one’s "- T * 1 — 3
to he cheerful; joy softer*
than tears.
There are two dlstiuci .
in tliis world—tho human boy
boy wbo exists in Sunday School 1