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mWMi s j/<& j ly A l '•Vac, C¥ ¥ } By Jones & Lehman. THE ADVANCE. PUHUSHED EVERY FRIDAY S UB S CRIP TI OX HA TES. One copy, oue year,............... 50 One copy, six months,............ 75 One copy, three months,.......... 50 (strictly in advance.) AD VEH TI SINO BATES, .Space I t [ l a | 3 m | 6 m j 1 yr. sq’r 1.00 ”.50 5.00 8.00 13.00 -u 1.75 4.00 S.00 13.00 18.00 '<! 2.50 5.00 13.00 18.00 25.00 V* col 4.00 8.00 10.00 25.00 85.00 J 4 col 0.00 10.00 25.00 35.00 00.00 i col 10.00 15.CO 35.00 60.00 100.00 One inch constitutes a square, and there ■ are twenty squares in a column. Special notices in the local column, ten cents per line for each insertion. Professional cards inserted for §8 a year. The above rates will not be deviated from as they have not been made with a view to reduction. the of the Advertisements must take run paper, as we do not contract to keep them in any particular place. first insertion, and Bills are due after the the money will be called for when needed. Short communications on matters of pub¬ lic interest and items of news respectfully solicited from every source. & LEHMAN, JONES Prop’rs. Editors and Laws Relating to Newspapers. The following are laws passed for the protection of publishers: do not give express 1. Subscribers who notice to the contrary, are considered as wishing to continue their subscription. 2. If subscribers order the discontinu- ance of their periodicals, the publisher may continue to send them until all arrearages are paid. If subscribers neglect or refuse to take 3. office to which their periodicals from the they are directed, they are responsible ordered un¬ til they have settled their bills and them discontinued. places, 4. If subscribers move to other without informing th6 publisher and the papers are sent to the former address, they are held responsible. receives newspaper 5. Any person who a and makes use of it. whether he has or¬ dered it or not, is held in law to be a sub¬ scriber. advance, they 6. If subscribers pay in :■■ re bound to give notice to tbe publisher at the end of their time,if they do not wish to continue taking the paper, otherwise the publisher is authorized to send it on and the subscriber will be responsible until ex¬ press notice with payment of all arrears is sent to tbe publisher. DroW.T. MiircMson Tenders his professiona-1 services to the citizens of Arlington and vicinity. When not professionally absent, may be found at his residence or office in Dr. Ewell's Drug Store. .apr-ly — 4 A \Tf! g re r, V iu cvE 'A! Ll*■■ n s' c 0 :AS V “ °-'v v v!:h !.‘it 'lc 1 r a * .tillable lira nS uf{.bt. cad * n Cir cuiatt o «:et I j. |-4 cli - ah * h t E .-. I . r( t F.*TOtV r *S‘F' , TnV. OViopro, Ill* LANDRETHS 1 M Prices. mil 1881 logue and Tin s Growers in the United i ites. ra? i..PA. $75 FOR A POSTAL CARD ! ! AVe want, to employ new men In every State in the Union at §75 per month (pay¬ able monthly) for the oldest Photo-Copy¬ ing House in America. Apply at once py postal for particulars. Agents from town and country preferred. Address, D. HARRIS, Prop’r. . Tyrone Photo-Copying House, jUueL-ISm Box 424 7’yrori City, Pa. GILMORE & CO., LAW & COLLECTION HOUSE, 620 F«St., Washiagtaa, D, g. Make Collections, Negotiate Loans and attend to all business confided to them. Land Scripts, Soldier’s Additional Home¬ stead Bights, and Land TFarrants bought and sold. A. L. JONES. WATCH-MAKER and JE WELER, ARLINGTON, GA., Offers his services to the citizens of Arlington aud vicinity. All kinds of repairing on watches, clocks, jewelry, etc., doue on short notice and at a low price. Work done on time for responsible parties. apr30-tf SOLD Great chance to make , mon'- ey. AVe need a person in ■ every town to take subscrip- T!w.r f ated‘ e I mifr t, a a f a nnWk a uon m the world. Any one can become a successful agent. Six elegant works of art given free to subscribers. The price is so low that SSSSES’&SSSEi A lady making $200 agent reports days. All who over clear profit in ten engage make money fast. You can devote all your time to the business, or only your spare time. You need not be away from home over night. You can do it as well as others. YAill directions and terms Tree, dress at once it costs nothing to try the raake^reat^pa UeorIr C 0116 Zdrress CoTportland ^^ 68 t0 Stinson & Maine, The Brakeman’s Story. A rough-looking man ? Yes, perhaps lam. Wo ain’t allot' us responsible sor our outside husk, no more than a horse-chesnut or a hazel-nut is. The kind of life I lead can’t be lived in white kid gloves and dress coats. I wasn’t brought up with many advan tages, an*. I’m only a brakeman on the Rensselaer and Saratoga line. Old Jones was telling yon about me, was he, sir? He’d better bold his tongue- There’s more profitable subjects of conversation than 1 am. But old Jones means well enough, and if he told you to ask me how that stripe of white hair came on my black mane, I ain’t the man to go back on him. Oh, you needn’t beg my pardon, sir 1 I don’t mine! talkiug about it now, though the time was when I couldn’t speak of it without a big lump coming in my jhioat. We hadn’t been married long, Polly and me, when it happened. Polly vvas a trim, bright-eyed slip of a girl as ever you d wish to see. She was one of the waitresses in the Albany lunch room; and the first tune I ever set eyes upon her ! made np my m j U “ j iZnSbev sheWould t heart if have ,. era wi l me, ’ *> ° '•DoVoVreally meal it, Jake?’said she, looking me full in the face, with those dark blue eyes of hers, that are like the skies at nigh*. ‘I do really mean it, Polly,’ said I. ‘Then ’ said she, putting both her hands in mine, Til trust you. I’ve no living relation to advise me, sol can only take counsel with my own heart.’ So we were married. I rented a lit- tie one-story house, under the lull on the a height oozy place that overlooked 8 (he^Hudsoo " " ‘ pile at the rear, loi wiute- meant win- ter in those parts, and the snow used to be drifted up even with our door- yard fence many and many a cold gray mauling, 'tad everything went smooth until Polly began to object to my mates at the White Blackbird, and the Saturday evenings I spent with the boys, after my train was safely run ou- to the side track at the junction. ‘Why, Polly, girl,’ said I where’s the harm ? I man can't live by himself, like an oyster in its shell, and a social glass never yet harmed any one. ’ ‘No,’ said Polly, ‘not a social glass, Jake, but the habit. And if you would only put every five-cent peicethat you spend for liquor into little Bertie’s tiny savings bank—’ ‘Pshaw !’ said I. ‘I’m not a drnuk- ard, and I never mean to become oue. And no oue likes to be preached to by his wife, Polly. Remember that my girl, and you’ll save yourself a deal of trouble.’ I kissed her and went away. But that was the beginning of the little, grave shadow that grew on my Polly’s face, like a creeping fog over the hills, and that she has never got rid of since. It was a sore point between ns— what the politicians called a vexed question. I felt that Polly was al¬ ways Avatching me; and I did’t choose lo be put in leading-strings by a wom¬ an . So—I shame to say it—I went to the White Blackbird oftener than ever and I didn’t always count the glasses of beer that I drank, aud once or twice of a partieu larly cold night I let myself be persuaded into drinking something stronger than beer; and my brain wasn’t the kind that could stand liquid fire with impunity. And Polly cried and I lost ray temper, and—well I don’t like to think of all these things now. Thank goodness they’re over aIK j gone i rri, 1 licit - aicercoon, ft as 1 T stood l i on tno .. back B i., t{r)rm ‘ of mv y rar _ ith mv / 1 I , f . '4 * ° e 1 s noug h i which the . iron track seemed to ex- tend itself like an endless black ser- llfei-the face. I made up my mind that I had been hehav j ng j ike a brute. “What are those senseless fellows at the White Blackbird to me,” mut- tered I, “as compared with one of Pol- <"*“ '■>■><“’ e‘» the whole tiling up. I’ll draw the ^ Ue ^ 6re n ° W ' duty early to-night. I’ll go home and ARLINGTON, GA., FRIDAY, APRIL 22, astonish Polly!’ But, as night fell, the blinding drift. of a great storm came with it. We were belated by the snow whicll tod on the rails, and when we reached Earldale there was a little girl, who bad been sent on in the care of the conductor who must either wait three or four hours for a way train in the cold and cheerless station or be taken home across n snowy field by some oue who knew the way. I thought of my own little children, “][’ll take Her,’ said I—and lifting her up I gathered my coat about her, a p d j Parted for the Jong, cold w alk un der the whispering pines along the edge of the river, I honestly believe s be would have frozen to death if sho had been left in the cold station until tbe way train could calLfor her. Aud when I had left her safe in charge of heraunt| x saw by the old kitchen time-piece that it was ton o’clock. “Roily will think I have slipped back into the Slough of Despond,” I sai(i to myself, With half a smile; -but X’ll give her an agreeable sur- prise!” piowin „ (]own amid tll0 snow-driit, throilgh a groveof pine trees that edged a ravine at the back of my house, 1 “ praD « ligb f y 0,1 tbe ,lo " rste P’ th ® door was shut ( . and locked. I went around to the front. Here I effected «m entrance, but the fire was dying on the hearth, and httle Bertie tucked np in hie crib, called out. “P«pa, k that you?” “Where is mamma, my son?’’ said I Poking eagerly around at the desolate room. “Gone out with the baby in her arms to look for you,” be said, “Didn’t you meet her papa?’ f stood a minute in silence. o Lie Btill) Bertie,” said I, in a voice that sounded strange and husky even ^ my8el{ ..j wil! gQ and briug ber buc ^ >? And I thought with dismay of the blinding snow storm outside the treach- erous gorges whicll lay between here and tjie White Blackbird, the trackless woods through which it was difficult enough to find one’s way even in the sunshine of noonday, and—worst of all —the lonely track, across which an “express” shot like a meteor at a few minutes before midnight. Oh, heav¬ en! what possible doom might I not have brought upon myself by the wretched passion in which I had gone away that morning. The town clock, sounding dim and muffled through the storm, struck ele¬ ven as I hurried down the hill! Elev- en—and who knew what a length of time might elapse before I could find her? And like a fiery phantasmagoria before my mind’s eye, I beheld the wild rush of tho midnight express, and dreaded—I knew not what. For all (hat I could realize was that the storm was growing fiercer with every moment, and Polly and the baby were out in its fury! As steadily as I could I worked my way down toward the track but more than once I became bewildered and bad to stop and reflect, before I could resume my quest. And when, at length, I came out close to a ruined wood and water station on the edge of the track I knew that I was full a half mile below the White Blackbird. And in the distance I heard the long shrill shriek of the midnight train! Some one else had heard it, too, for as I stood thus, I taw faintly visible through tho blinding snow, a shadowy figure issue from the ruined shed and come out upon the track, looking with a bewildered, uncertain air U P and down—the form of Polly, my wlfe with thR Iittle bab y in ber a - ms! I hurried down to her as fast as ^li 0 rapidly ,T‘ i!!?! increasing ® snow ! drifts aims would wouia let me, b it I was only , just in time to dr “ 8 fr « m the place_of peril, and stand ireat ilesslv holding her back, while the fiery eyed monster of steam swept by with a rush and rattle that „ea, Iy fook our breath a*,.,! “Poily!” I cried, “Polly 1 speak to m „n> She turned her wandering gaze to¬ ward me, with her vague eyes seemed scarcely to recognize me. “Have you seen my husband?” said she. “One Jacob Dotterel, brakeman on lo^l express?” “Polly! little woman! don’t you know me? I gasped. “And I thought perhaps,’ sho ad- ded vainnily, “you might havo met him, It’S Very cold here, and—and—” And then she fainted in my arms. The long, long brain fever that fol- lowed was a sort of death. There a time wlu u they told nm she would know me again, but, thank ,God| And Anco she did. that night She recovered I never at have last tasted a drop of liquor, and heav. n, I never will again. The baby bless its dear little heart, wasn’t harm- afc a "- It lay snug and w arm on its mother’s breast all the while. f hadn’t happened to bo close by them at that instant the night ex- P ,,osS would have ground them into powder! And the white stripe camo into ray hair npoa the night of that fearful snow storm. That’s how it happen- od > ob • _ ^ _ The Foolish Hen—A Fable. ^ * TIrnwn Hen known thmimh her ueig i lborhood as a m 0 dest, liardBOratching , patient biddy. She never complained of the cold or found fiU 1 i t with the beat, and no one ever heard h , r express an envious wish, Great was the surprise therefore, when she appeared among the barnyard fowls one day, and began: “I’m tired of being alien. It is nothing but scratch for worms and lay eggs for the family, Let a pea- cock pass by and all praise it, but what member of the family ever have a word of praise for me? I’m going be a peacock 1 ’’ “That you cannot be,” replied a veteran old rooster. fl ; s 1,0 shook the dirt off his back. “Lou lack in size alld slla P Cl Naturc lntended you ' V Wj’’[WJress' hke\Veacock’’ persisted the hen. “I’m sick and tired of these brown colors. I see no reason why I shouldn’t dress as well as any other fowl. Arguments and reasons were of no avail, and Mrs. Brown Hen walked away to carry out her progvame. In , ia hour she appeared among the pea- cocks with a red ribbon around her neck, a gay feather over her ear, aud a red woolen rag tied around her leg. She strutted about and tried to make herself at home, but one of the pea¬ cocks stepped forward and said. “You are simply deceiving yourself We all know you for a lien. While you were acting the part of a lien we all respected you, Now that you are crowding in where you don’t belong, arid where neither nature nor educa¬ tion have fitted you, you deserve only contempt .’1 The hen persisted in trying to be a peacock, and as she strutted around in her borrowed finery the cook obser¬ ved her and said: “No hen with her means could have come by those tilings honestly. She was the best hen in the coop as long as she remained in her place, but now that she is out of it sho will he gossiped about and made misera¬ ble, and I will therefore wring her neck and eat her .”—Bdwoit Free Press. A Field of Skeletons. During tho recent freshet of the Coosa river it inundated tho farm of Mr. Frank Terry, near Rome, Ga. As the waters receded the current became very swift, and when they reached tb( , ir norma ] channel tho soil of the farm bad been swept away and the c j a y carn0 j 0 the surface. In one of thcBe wash . onte a buried Indian battle- field came to view. Skeletons and parts of skeletons lay strewn upon the field, washed from their resting places by the raging flood, aud bones of eve- iy poi-tion of tho hucuau frame whiten- ed the sand _ ■» many yards c from the oa g p 0 £_ Iu addition to the bones, every vadety of Indi an beads was unoarth- ( d a large Indian pipe, carved into the likeness of a human face, was al* so strewn with implements of war used by the aborigines and here and there could be seen remnants of fortification Many curious sight seers and arebseo- logisls have visited the spot—Ex. Broil steak without salting. Salt draws the juices in cooking; it is de- Arable to keep these in if possible, Cook over a hot fire turning frequently searing on both sides. A man With a Telescope Eye. A correspondent of the Boston Her■ relates the following remarkable story: j,, q uq j ^ Q j. ^ lCe | c Mich j ms a vcmarkable eye which en- flowed with far-seeing powers as the le^n 0 f an fl00 ident 7 /e is now tbir- two years of age ,’,,, ‘‘When fifteen 0 , d ’ 0JJ( . ,,..^ 5 »• b o says , enrtdenlv wisT^MawSSSto imm« Winn struck mo f ()rce across my nose and ij<* ° lit oyo lipor severu | days t]jllt eyo wa g hiinbed entity and I feared that I had lost its 1 CO uld distinguish jjght ]j from darkness, but could see no ol ect •■Qne fl ;v y .while in the field the bandage became loosened which was worn over yie ey© and on looking up } ^heM thj strange j y mixe d Tho houS3) whicll was ;v considerable distance away appeared much nearer. I shut one eye and found that while 0, 'jects and "distances appeared the “ as befol ° to tl)0 Icft V*’ wbe, ‘ viewed throu * h ,n y ri 8 bt alone Uie >' St ' cmed ,mich nearur aild 001,1,1 be secn with « reator distinctneS3 than before when near to them. “In fact ns we have sinoo found out the lens of the right eye was so com¬ pressed by the accideht as to make it far-seeing and a sort of telescope eye, as I will show you;” and taking up a sheet of paper he rolled it up in a small cylinder, then going to the window he placed it to his right eye lo exclude tho side rays of light, and pointing to a bouse in process of erec¬ tion over a mile from whore we were he discribed the man who was work¬ ing on the roof and told the motions ho was making. Anxious to verify his wonderful visionary powers, I borrowed a field- glass from a jeweler, and upon getting it focused found that ho could seo better with his natural eye-telescope than I could with a glass, I expressed my surprise to him and congratulated him on possessing such strong sight, but he Interrupted ine by saying: “Don’t praise that eye for I had much rather have it as it was before the accident, as I can see noth¬ ing near to mo with it; and nearly all the use it is put to is making experi¬ ments with it for opticians, who hav¬ ing heard of me, come to see about the truth of it and satisfy their curi¬ osity. I had much rather have my former good sight but I fear L never shah, although I’ve been doctoring it for many years.’’ A Cruel Jcke. There is an old joke—an old joke which we have all heard—that was the means of getting a boy into trouble. Yesterday evening young Bolivar went home and entering tho room where his mother was, exclaimed: “Say, ma, have you heard about Mr. Braley?” “Why, no assured Mrs. Bolivar, with an air of surprise; “what about him.?” “This morning he got up early.” “Y r es; go on.’ “Wait till I tell you. He got up early and remarked that he felt very well.” “Go on,’’ exclaimed Mrs. Bolivar, after a short pause. “Just wait. He said he felt un¬ usually well. While Mrs. Braley was getting breakfast ho went out and shelled a lot of corn for the pigs. lie came back to the house, still saying that he felt well.” “Why don’t you go on?” “Wait till I get my breath. I’ve run all the way from down town. He sat downtothe tabic and atethehearti- est breakfast you ever saw. When be got up from the tabic he remarked , ■. again that he felt well. Thenlieturn- ed around, and just as he got half way between the table and the water bucket lie—’’ “Dropped dead!” exclaimed Mrs. Bolivar. “Oh, no—turned around and told his wife that he felt much better.” “ You impudent scoundrel!” yelled Mrs. Bolivar, and, seizing a broom, she knocked the boy down. No one knows where the joke originated, and the boy doesn’t care .—Arkansas Siute Gazette. Vol. II. No. 25. FACTS AND FANCIES. A correspondent asks ns what is the relation of a university to im ordinary college. It is a step farther. It is being whispered around that Adam was an “Ohio man,” and there, by tho whole race is tainted. “You never saw my hands as dirty as that,” said a petulant mother to her little girl. “No but your madid,” was the reply. “Hands wanted on boys’ pants,” is tile daily advertisement in tho news¬ papers. “Twas always thus from childhood’s hour.” ‘I havo been present at many relig¬ ious awakenings,’said the fly, as ho passed from ono bald spot to auother in a neighboring pew. A Missouri man with an ingrowing nail chopped his toe off. The remedy niavi'i 1 fails. For sale by all druggists. Beware of imitations. It is said if you sit down when as- si.ih d by a ferocious dog, the beast will not touch you. But a judicious man will select as high a seat as possi- hie. Tlio farmer understands human na¬ ture who said: “If you want your boy to stay nt home, don't bear too hard on the griudstoue when he turns the crank.” Finger stains may often bo remov¬ ed by rubbing tho paper thus soiled with crumbs of stale bread, or with a fine bit of muslin with a dust of white¬ ning on it, pr with an India rubber eraser. Our little four year-old being for¬ bidden by bis mother to eat any more pickled beets because they might inj uro him, asked: “Mamma, if they make mo sick and I die, will I turn into a dead-beat?’ They had been at the masquerade, where she had recognized him at once. “Was it the loud boating of my heart, my darling,that told yon I was near ?’ murmured he. “Oh, no,’’ she replied “I recognized your crooked legs.” A l\dy sent her maid to buy some fiesh-ccXjored stockings. The’servant returned with stockings jet black.— the auger of t o mistress, soon gave way to laughter when she remembered that her maid was a lady of color. A man who was sentenced to bo hung was visited by his wife, who said: ‘My dear, would you like the children to see you executed ?’ No replied he.— ‘That’s just like you,’said she; ‘you never wan’t the children to have any enjoyment.’ “Father did you ever have another wife besides mother?’ “No, my boy; what possessed you to ask such a ques¬ tion?” “Because I saw in tho old family Bible, that you married Anni Domini, in 1836, and that is not moth¬ er, for her name is Mary Brown.” A base ball boy tripped and fell and tore bis clotfies, while chasing a stray chicken in a neighbor’s lot. He told bis mother he hud been sent to tho grass by a foul. She reached for home base, and tho youth went out on strikes, hollowing for the old man to act as reference. ‘I call you, my friends, to bo witness if this is Christianity,’ is what the ministerjwas going to say; ‘but he got only as far as ‘I call you,’ when a half slumbering brother in a near pew yell¬ ed out,, ‘Two pair—aces andj deuces;’ but be was promptly suppressed, and snaked out by the sexton. A young man with an umbrella ov¬ ertook an unprotected lady acquaint¬ in a raia storm; extending his um¬ brella over her he requested the pleasure of acting as her rain-beau. ‘Oh,’ex¬ the young lady, taking his -you wish me to be your rain- Two souls with but a single umbrella, two forms that step as one. A poor memory is a very inconven¬ ient thing. So a man found it who lately called on a friend, and in the course of the conversation asked him how his good father was. ‘He is dead; did you not'know it?’ answered the friend. ‘Indeed! I am distressed to hear it said the visitor. ‘I had no idea of it;’ and he gravely proceeded to express his sympathy. A year after he called again, and forgetfully aske. “And how is your good father V Tbe clever reply was, ‘Still dead.’