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THE CHEROKEE GEORGIAN
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MRS. CAUDLE’S CURTAIN LECTURES.
MR. CAUDLE r HAVING COME HOME A LIT
TLE LATE, DECLARES THAT HENCE
FORTH “ HE WILL HAVE A KEY.”
“ Upon my word, Mr. Caudle, I
think it a waste of timeto come to bed
at all now! The cocks will be crow
ing in a minute. Why did I sit up then ?
Because I choose to sit up—but that’s
my thanks. No, it’s no use of you’re
talking, Caudle; I never will let the
girl sit up for you, and there’s an end.
What do yo.u say ? Why does she sit
s up with me, ihen ? That’s quite a dif
ferent matter; you don’t suppose I’m
going to sit up alone, do you ? -What
sitting up f That’s my business. “ No,
Caudle, it’s no such thing. I don't sit
up because I may have the pleasure of
talking about it; and you’re an un
grateful, unfeeling creature to say so.
I sit up because I choose it; and if
you don’t come home all the night
long—and t’will soon come to that,
I’ve no doubt—still, I’ll never go to
bed, so don’t think it.
“Oh yes! the time runs away very
pleasantly with you men at the clubs
—selfish creatures! Yoa can laugh
and sing, and tell stories, and never
think of the clock; never think of such
a person as a wife belonging to you.
Its nothing to you that a poor woman’s
setting up, and telling the minutes,
and seeing all sorts of things in the
fire—and sometimes thinking some
thing dreadful has happened to 3*ou !
—more fool she to care a straw about
you?—this is all nothing? Oh no !
When a woman’s once married she’s a
slave—worse than a slave—and must
bear it all
“And what you men can find to
talk about I can’t think! Instead of
a man sitting every night at home with
his wife, and going to bed at a Chris
tian hour—going to a club, to meet a
set of people who don’t care a button
for him, —it’s monstrous ! What do
you say ? You only go once a week ?—
That’s nothing at all to do with it;
you might as well go every night and
*1 dare say you will soon. But if you
do, you may get in as you can, 1 won’t
sit up for you, I can tell you once for
all.
“ My health’s being destroj-ed night
after night, and—oh, don’t say it’s on
ly once a week: I tell you that’s
nothing to do with it—if you had any
•eyes you would see how ill I am ; but
you’ve no eyes for anybody belonging
to you ; oh no! your eyes are for peo
ple.out of doors. It’s very well for
you to call me a foonsti, aggravating
woman ! I should like to see the wo
man who’d sit up for you as I do.—
You did'nt want me to sit up? Yes,
yes; that’s you, thanks—that’s your
gratitude; I’m to ruin my health, and
to be abused for it. Nice principles
you’ve got at the club, Mr. Caudle !
“ But there’s one coinfort —one great
•comfort; it can’t last long:—l’m sink- j
ing—l feel it, though I never say any j
thing about it—but I know my own j
feelings, and 1 say it can’t last Long, j
And then I should like to know who
will sit up for you ! Then I should ,
like to know how your second wife— j
what do 3 r ou say ? You'll never be
troubled xoith another . Troubled in- j
deed! I never troubled you, Caudle.
No ; it’s yon who’ve troubled me; and
you know it; though, like a foolish,
woman, I’ve borne if all, and never
said a word about it. But it can Mast
that’s one blessing!
“ Oh, if a woman could only know
what she’d have to suffer, before she
was married-—don’t tell me you want
to go to sleep! If you want to go to
sleep, you should come home at proper
hours ! It’s time to get up, for what I
know now. Should’nt wonder if j'ou
hear the milk-man in five minutes—
there’s the sparrows up already 5 yes, I
sayjthe sparrows; and,Caudle, you ought
to blush to hear-them. Youdon’x hear
’em ? Ha ! you won’t hear ’em, you
mean: /hear ’em. No, Mr. Caudle;
it isn't the wind whistling in the key
hole; I’m not quite foolish, though
you may think so. I hope I know wind
from a sparrow I
«Ha when I think what a man you
were before we were married! But
you’re now another person—quite an
altered creature. But I suppose you’re
all alike I daresay, every poor woman’s
troubled and put upon, though I should
hope not so much as i ,am. _l&d£StLl
should hope not/ Going and stay-
ing out and—•
“What! You'll have a key? Will j
you? Not while I’m alive, Mr. Cau-,
die I’m not going to bed with the j
door upon the latch for you or the best
man breathing. You won't have a
—you'll have a Chubb's lock ? Will,
you ? I’ll have no Chubb here, I can
tell you. What do you say ? You'll
have the lock put on to-morrow. Well, j
try it; that’s all I say, Caudle ; try it.
I won’t let you put me in a passion ; |
but all I say is—try it.
“ A respectable thing, that, for a
married man to carry about him—a ,
street-door key ! I hat tells a tale, I
think. A nice thing for the father of
a family 1 A key ! What, to let your
self in and out when you please! To
come in, like a thief in the middle of
the night, instead of knocking at the
door like a decent person! Oh, don’t
tell me that you only want to prevent
me sitting up—if I choose to sit up
what’s that to you ? Some wives, in
deed, would make a noise about sitting
up, but you've no reason to complain
goodness knows!
“ Well, upon my word, I’ve lived to
hear something. Carry the street-door
key about with you! I’ve heard of
such things with young good-for-noth
jpg bachelors, nobody to care what be-
I' 1 __
BY J. A. E. HANKS & CO.
came of ’em; but for a married man
to leave his wife and children in a house
with the door upon the latch—don’t
talk to me about Chubb, it’s all the
same—a great deal you must care for
us. Yes, it’s very well for you to say
that you only want the key for peace
and quietness—what’s it to you, if I
'like to sit up ? You’ve no business to
complain; it can’t distress you. Now,
it’s no use your talking; all I say is
this, Caudle; if you send a man to
put on any lock h°re, I’ll call in a po
liceman : as I’m your married wife, I
will!
“No, I think when a man comes.to
have the street-door key, the sooner he
turns bachelor altogether the better.
I’m affirm, Caudle, I dotft want to be
any clog upon you. Now, it’s no use
your telling me to hold my tongue, for
I—What? I give you the headache ,
do I? No,ldon’t, Caudle; itsyourclub
that gives you the headache: it’s your
smoke, and your—well! if ever I knew
such a man in all my life! there's no
sajdng a word to you!. You go out
and treat yourself like an emperor—
and come home at twelve at night, or
any hoar, for what I know—and then
you threaten to have a key, and—and
—and”—
“I did get to«sleep at last,” says
Caudle, “ amidst the falling sentences
of “take children into a lodging’—sep
arate maintenance’—‘won’t be made
a slave of—and so forth.”
• _
MEN’S VANITY.
With regard to this very subject of
vanity, men’s notionsabout themselves
and women’s views on the same point,
are, according to our experience, con
siderably at variance. Women, prob
abty, vve may almost say certainly,
when their sex is accused of vanity,
will acknowledge the “soft impeach
ment.” They have heard it asserted
very often; and it may be that every
woman iu her heart knows that there
is something with regard to which she
cherishes a little vanity. But men, if
charged with being vain, will roundly
deny it. This does not, however, di
minish in women the conviction that
the vanity exists notwithstanding dis
claimers. Take the vanity of dress.
That all women should be careful to
dress as well as others is given as an
instance of their vanity. Are there no
men to whom the length and width of
a coat, the placing of the buttons, the
set of a shirt front, the width and shape
of a collar, the fashion of the neck tie
are objects o*‘ anxiety ? The
time which women spend in an ay in g
themselves has often been made mat
ter of reproach. But it is within our
knowledge that men will spend
than an hour in dressing for a dinner
party.
ll’ a woman spemjs much time in get
ting herself up we have at least work
of art as the undertaking ; but a man,
after all, is but a creature in nowise
distinguishable from all the others of
the sex at the social gathering, and
the vanity is more unpardonable, see
ing that the result is so ineffective.—■
Closely conne’cted with this is the van
ity of personal appearance. No wo
men consult their glass with more anx
iety than do many men. Wrinkles and
gray hairs are grievous to them, and
the restorative arts of the beautifiers
are not devoted exclusively to the fair
sex. Do not men grie o when they
begin to loose their good figur ? Do
they not subject themselves to tortures
in the matter of boots ? Are all those
beards mstaches cultivated and
kept in order without thought? And
is there no exultation when these ap
pendages are abundant and of the de
sired color and texture? What pains
must be taken that the line which di
vides men’s •“ back hair” may be very
straight ? Double glasses and pairs of
brushes, contortions of body and much
torture of mind must all be brought in
to requisition before the desired effeet
is accomplished. Then there is the
vanity of influence over the sex.
When a woman possesses influence
over men she is always conscious of it,
and uses it or not, as she likes, without
making much fuss. If she does not
possess it, however, she does not go
about under the delusion that she has
the power if she only chooses to exert
it. But with men, the case is totally
different.— Aa Mm-da of creation ’ they
7m they ought to have dhimence ;dmtr
we never yet met a man, however in
significant and mean, who was not
firmly impressed with the notion that
if he so willed it, all the women of his
acquaintance would ‘be at his feet.’ Os
course men do not go about saying thk
in so many words. They would only
■ get ridiculed for their pains, if the no
tion found vent in outward expression."
But the idea is there and women are
! aware of it, and they, perhaps, laugh a
; little at the notion and vanity of it.—
j There is also the vanity of opinion—
perhaps we ought to say of infallibility
of opinion. Occasionally women dog
'matise; but they are, inmost cases,
ready to admit that there are subjects |
about which they do jfbt know every
thing. But when men utter an opin
ion they seem to consider it final; and
that any one who disagrees with them
is either a knave or a fool. They may
not say so but it is evident they think
it. We need hardly draw attention to
the vanity of sex iu which men indulge.
That they are men, and therefore, su
perior, is a fact which they not only
feel, but are.so constantly bringing up,
that ohe begins half to suspect that a
thing which needs such a perpetual re
iteration is not, after all, so sure a
ground for self-laudation as it appears
to be.— N. Y. Sun,
% Jfamilg Journal:—gtlioiil) to politics, (Stttcnl Jntflli|cmr, fiferatnre mib Jhmtjmai Interests.
LOOK AT THE BRIGHTEST SIDE.
Where’er your lot fs cast
In the family of man,
Whether esteemed the first or last,
Do the best you can.
Though most obscure and poor,
Maintain an honest pride,
And, laboring to increase your store,
Look at the brightest side.
Strive, strive with might and soul,
To win the good you crave,
And if you cannot reach the goal,
Show your spirit brave.
Far bette r aim too high,
And fail, if fall yon must,
Than to remain as life goes by,
Groveling in the dust.
If friends should recreant prove
Vyhen,nwa*fe:their aid you need,
Trust in Heaven—-poor human love
Is but a feeble-reed.
But pause, before you take
Revenge for human pride;
Perchance there may by some mistake—
Look at the brightest side.
When midnight gloom enshrouds
The valley and the hill,
Far up beyond the envious clouds
The stars are shining still.
So present troubles may
A smiling future hide;
Waiting till they oass away,
Look at the brightest side.
Lend not a listening ear
To slander’s whispered tale ;
To make a neighbor’s faults appear
Can be of no avail.
If he has done a wrong
'That cannot be denied,
He may have had temptation strong —
Look at the brightest side.
As nature has not dealt
Equality between,
You cannot fe<T as lie ha? felt,
Nor see as he has seen.
Some mote piay dim your sight,
Or intercept your view
T ill what to him appeared but right
Seems only wrong to you.
Judge not another’s sin
Ti I you have scanned your own,
And when your heart is pure within
Cast at him a stone.
Perchance your nckless tracks
Did ais frail feet mi guide;
Then, if you disapprove his acts,
Look at the br.ghtest sida.
THE THIRD DECREE.
Many of our readers will appreciate
the following legend of the Third—or
Master Mason's Degree—which vve
take from a Masonic paper. “The -
legend, as it is called, of the Master
Mason, is one of the most touching
and beautiful in the great drama of
life. Founded, as it is, up m the mys- !
ter.es and ceremonies of the ancient
Egyptians, it has come down to us as
the very embodiment and substance
of Masonry. It is the exemplification j
of the birth, the lifa, the duties, the j
death and the resurrection of man. It
( stamps upon the intelligent Mason the
sublime doctrine of the immortality of
the soul; and.it was a wise provision
I of all Grand Lodges that that degree
should never be given in part only, but
should be completed at every under
taking;
“ To omit this legend is to omit the
degree itself, and fgr its omission the
ordinary excuse, uot even the ignor
ance of tlie master, who may not have
.the talent or industry to learn it, is
not sufficient. This legend is the
grand landmark, the unfailing beacon
of Masonic centuries. It is never
changed;* it will admit of no removal,
for it is the true point of the univer
sal Brotherhood. It conveys thought,
ajid furnishes food for the reflective
mind down to the grave, and as a sim
ple drama, stands unequalled beside
any of the productions of genius.—
No Mason ever participated in and
forgot it;.he felt its moral upon his
soul, as though it .were a touch of Di
vinity, and when properly understood
it inspires a solemnity only to the scene
of death.”
The Head of a Dead Man Tkies
to Speak. —A poor fellow was guillo
tined here a few days after our arrival.
According to the custom, his head and
body were given to the surgeons for
the “ advancement of science.” An
experiment was tried with the head,
with a very interesting result. They
injected into its arteries fresh arterial
’blood taken from a dogjNwfi shortly
afterward the head gave unmistakable
signs of life. The color returned to
the cheeks and lips, the eyes opened
brightly and gazed upon those around,
the lips moved as if attempting vainly
to speak, and the entire face bore the
semblance to active life. So soon as
Ahe operator ceased to inject the life
blbbarn CTTC'tTUg— CTre~ appearance--or~
death rapidly succeeded. It was ear
nestly held by the eminent surgical
gentlemen in attendance that during
the operation the brain was in full and
'matural action, and that the lips tried
utter the last thought which found
/esting-place in the mind of the con
demned.—Paris Correspondence of
the Pittsburg Gazette.
The Man Without an Enemy.—
Heaven help the man who imagines he
can dodge enemies by trying to please
everybody! "If such an individual
even succeeded we should be glad of
it—not that we believe in a than going
through the world trying to find beams
to knojik his head against; disputing
every man’s opinion, fighting and el
bowing and crowding all who differ
with him. That again, is another ex
treme. Other people have a right to
their opinion, so have you; don’t fall
into the error Os supposing they will
respect you less for maintaining it, or
respect you more for turning your coat
every' day to match the color of theirs.
Wear your own colors, in spite of
wind and weather, storm or sunshine.
It costs the vascillating and irresolute
ten times the trouble to wind and shuf
fle and twist, that it does honest, man
ly independence to stand its ground.
DALTON, GEORGIi, MAI 24, 1867.
THE LADY AND Tlfe ROBBER.
In a large, lone hou&e, situated in
the south of England, pei’e once liv
ed a lady and her two jmaid-servants.
They were far away from any human
habitation, but thej’ stqmed to have
felt no fear, and to haje dwelt there
peacefully and happily: j It was the
lady’s custom to go rot|nd the house
with her maids every evening, to see
that all the windows anjl doors were
properly secured. Jr J
One night, she had (accompanied
them as usual, and ascertained that all
was safe. hlr in the pas
sage, close to, jio* then went
other side of the house. As the lady
opened her door, she distintly saw a
man underneath her bed. What could
she do ? Her servants sere far aivay,
and could not hear her if she screamed
for help; and even if they had come
to her assistance, tho.<(e three weak
women were no match fbr a desperate
housebreaker. How then did she act?
She trusted in God. Quietly she clos
ed the door, and locked it on the inside,
which she was always in the habit of
doing. She then leisurely brushed
her hair, and putting on her dressing
gown, she took her Bible and sat down
to read. She read aloud, and chose a
chapter which had especial reference
to God’s watchfulness Over us, and
constant care of us by night and by
day. When it was finished, she knelt
and prayed at great length, still utter
ing her words aloud, particularly coni
mending herself and servants to God’s
protection, and dwelling upon their
utter helplessness and dependence up
on him to preserve them from all dan
gers.
At last she arose from her knees,
put out her candle, and lay down in
bed; but she did not sleep. After a
few minutes had elasped, she was con
scious the man was standing by her
bed side. He addressed her, and told
her not to be alarmed.
“ I came here,” said he, “ to rob you,
but after the words you have read, and
the prayer you have uttered, no power
on earth could induce me to hurt you
or to touch a thing in your house.—
But you must remain perfectly quiet,
and not to attempt to interfere with
me. I shall now give a signal to my
companions, which they will under
stand, and then they will go away, and
you may sleep in peace, for I give you
my solemn word that no one shall harm
you, and not the smallest thing belong
ing to yon shall be disturbed.”
He then went to the window, opened
H, uua >. liiacre-a- to
Die lady’s side, who s*ot spoken or
moved, he said:
“Now I am going. Your prayer
has been heard, and no disaster will
befall you.”
He left the room, and soon all was
quiet, and the lady fell asleep, still up
held by that calm and beautiful faith
and trust.
When the morning dawned, and she
awoke, we may feel sure that she pour
ed out her thanksgivings and praise
to Him who had “defended ” her un
der “ His wings,” and “kept” her
“safe under His feathers,” so that she
was not afraid of any terror by night.
The man proved trie to his word,
and not a thing in her house was ta
ken. 0, shall we not hope that his
heart was changed from that day forth,
and that he forsook his evil courses,
and cried to that Savbur, “ who came
to seek and to save that which was
lost,” and even on the cross, did not
reject the penitenLthief!
’From this true story let us learn to
put our whole trust and confidence in
God. This lady’s courage was indeed
wonderful, but “the Lord was her
defence upon her rjgiit hand,” and with
Him all things are possible..— Monthly
Packet for October. \ %
We have receivedAn extract from a
letter fully corroborating the remarka
ble anecdote of “ The Lady and the
Robber,” in our October number, and
adding some facts t*at enhanced the
wonder and mercy o ’ her escape. We
quote the words of he letter:
“ In the first plao, the robber told
her if she had the slightest
alarm and token of .resistance, he was
fully determined to murder her; so
that it was really Gijf’s good guidance
that told her to follow the course she
did. Then, before he went away, he
rvaaer Inward speh words before:
I mUStJlajeAhe >l r.eaU out of;
and carrier off her|Bible, willingly'
enough given, you yrfjfy be sure. This
happened many yejns ago, and only
•comparatively recently did the lady
hear any more of Lifn. She was at
tending a religious;meeting in York
shire, where, after several noted cler
gymen and others bad spoken, a man
arose, stating he was employed as one
of the book hawkeife jof the soeiety,
and told the story of ;Uie midnight ad
venture, as a testimony to the wonder
ful power of the word of God. He
concluded with: ‘I am that man. The
lady arose from her seat in the hall,
and said quietly. Htis all quite true;
I am the lady,’ and sat down again.”
—Monthly Packet ftf December.
jPspTH am an oil fellow, says Cow
per, in one of his letters to Hurdis,
but I had once my dancing days as
you have now; yetjnever could find
that I could learn 1 ijf so much of a
woman’s character by dancing with
her as conversing x ith her at home,
when I could observe her behavior at
the table, at the firj Bide, and in all the
trying circumstancedof domestic life.
We are all good when we are pleased;
but she is the good lonian who wants
not the fiddle to swffeb hor.
MARRIAGE.
• Marriage meant something in old
times. It was no holiday affair, don
ned like a garment, to be regarded as
worthless when the fashion changed.
It grew out of no sickly sentiment
that has its existence in the yellow fe
ver of a wretched romance, as unlike
true life as a cabbage is to a rose or
the sear of Autumn—a more fitting
smile—to the vernal Spring. A healthy,
hearty, happy old institution was mat
rimony in those days, and people jog
ged along together in the harness of
its duties as harmoniously as the right
hand and the left, that help each other
and yet don’t seem to know it, so nat
ural is the service rendered, as if they
were born to it. As the right hand or
the right eye sympathises with the
left, so did the twain thus united sym
pathize. Duty and affection leaned
upon each other, and inseparably strove
to make the home hearth cheerful. It
became pleasure to carry the sweet
drink to the thirsty man in the field
a-mowing; or to bear the basket of
luncheon to the woods where the red
browed man was chopping wood for
winter; or to patiently hold the light
in the long winter evenings when the
yoke was to be mended or the harness
repaired. And it became pleasure
when the good man went to town to
stow his pockets with something nice
for the wife at home—a new dress, or
anew apron—the remembrance of
whose face would come to him when
away and hasten his departure back.
It was that remembrance which
prompted the mare into an urgent trot
on the last mile home, though she
couldn’t see the necessity for it. And
his e3 T e looked brighter when he saw
•the cheerful face at the window, look
ing down the road, and shook his whip
at it as it smiled at him as much as to
say, let me get near you, and —and
what ? Ask the walls, and the bureau
in the corner, and the buffet where the
china was on, the milk pans upon the
dresser, what. No jars occurred in a
home that owned such a pair. Can
the left C3 r e cast severe glances upon
the right ? Can the right hand quar
rel with the left ?
The home where a true marriage ex
ists, is blest, and the man who finds
his domesticit\ r cast in a mould such
as above described, may be called hap-
P3 r in fullest sense of the blissful word.
I.YFEIIE3TIAG INCIDENT.
The Lynchburg Virginian states
that a gentleman who was on his way
.Smulav o.vwuin'jf last to visit the <£vaye
of a younger brother who died m the
Confederate service, discovered just as
he had reached the gate of the ceme
tery, three former servants Os the fam
ily approaching the grave with flowers*
and evergreens in their hands. Keep
ing out of their view, he watched them
until they reached the grave, when one
of them climbed over the iron railing,
took the flowers and evergreens from
his companions and laid them tenderly
on the grave of his former young mas
ter. The gentleman then approached
and added his floral offering of affec
tion to that which had already been
placed upon the grave. Such an inci
dent as this portrays more eloquently
than words can the tender relations
which existed under the old dispensa
tion between the two races—a relation
so fixed and firm in this case, as in
hundreds of others, that the exciting
and disturbing causes during and since
the war have not been able to unsettle
it. The fact is, a strong affection has
always existed between the whites
and blacks of the South, and there is
no reason why that feeling.should not
continue in the future as in the past.
Agitators and fanatics are doing much
to weaken it and create animosities,
but we believe that the good sense and
naturally good feeling of the negroes
will finally prevail, and that they will
see only mischief and malice in these
efforts. They will be apt to discover
who are their real friends, and where
are their true interests, and to act ac
cordingly. ■
A Parallel. — The Macon Tele
graph puts in this rib-roaster :
“ A few broken down, fifth-rate po
liticians, combined with about an equal
number of Yankee capitalists, have met
in Atlanta and denounced Gov. Jen
kins as lacking in good sense and states
manship.
“ A party of ragged London news
boys, it is related, "being deprived of
the privilege of hawking their wares in
the street to the public annoyance, met
in solemn council and unanimously a
dopted the following resolution: ‘ Re
solved, That the Lord Mayor is an
ignoramus and a nuisance !’
“ The Lord Mayor is supposed to
have been dreadfully hurt in spirit and
damaged in reputation by this fulmi
nation from Shin Bone Alley. GoA'er
nor Jenkins, of Georgia, is doubtless
equally disconsolate!”
The Temptations of Power.—
“ There are few men who can resist
the temptations of power. Some of
the greatest characters in history have
been men whose career began in the
defense of popular liberty, and ended
in tyranny worse than that of the ty
rants they overthrow. Napoleou be
gan a republican and ended a despot.
Cromwell set out to defend the Eng
lish constitution and ended by tram p
lingit under his feet. These are but
prominent examples of a thousand in
stances which every age and almost
every year of the world’s history have
furnished. The career of the dom
inant politcal faction in this country
is one of the latest and most remarka
ble.
YOL. II—NO. 20.
MORE PRECIOUS THAN GOLD.
JL
The ancient philosopher whp hunted
in vain for an honest man would prob
ably have had no better success if his
search had been for a contented man.
Discontent seems to be inherent in hu
man nature. It is natural for a man
no matter what his circumstances or
condition in life, to strive for some
thing which he sees ahead and which
is beyond his immediate reach. He is
never satisfied with his lot. There is
always something ahead to draw him
forward, and he follows the magnet,
reaching his apparent goal only to find
that, in some shape or other, it is still
ahead. Thus, the man who stands up
on the lower round of the Tadd#‘ bf
fortune, who has nothing that he can
call his own with the exception of his
family, looks forward with eager ex
pectation to the day when he shall own
a simple home. ITe thinks if that
point were reached he would be con
tented and happy. But give that man
his cottage, and he will soon move his
aspirations a peg higher, and sigh for
something a little better. The same
feeling of restlessness pervades every
grade of society—the millionaire as
well as the laborer who owns nothing
in the world.
Here in New York are men who
count their wealth by millions. Are
the}' satisfied or contented? No.—
They see the same ignis fatuus ahead
which flits before the mental vision of
the laborer. It is a fact, although few
people appreciate it, that wealth brings
neither contentment nor happiness.—
The more a man gets the more he
wants. It is well of course, that na
ture has endowed man with the quali
ty of acquisitiveness, for it is that,
chiefly, which stimulates his energies
and makes him industrious and ambi
tious. Tt is well, too, that every man
should strive to accumulate the means
of enjoyment, for the physical organ
ism is such that it needs work in or
der to prevent a loss of vitality. But
while laboring and striving in a rea
sonable degree to secure additional
comforts, it is the greatest of folly for
any man to grieve about the lowness
of his station or the emptiness of his
purse. And it is worse than lolly to
envy those who are more fortunate, or
who by any mean§ enjoy a greater de
gree of prosperity. Asa rule, the
man who carries the hod in assisting
to build the costly residence is quite
as happy as he who will occupy that
residence. In fact, we believe that
there is less happiness and more dis
content among the wealthy than among
the poor. Man’s desire for enjoyments
increase quite as fast as Ills means for
gratifying them, and hence there is al
ways a void to fill. Every man,whether
rich or poor should school himself to be
content with his lot, Happiness dwells
in cabins as well as in palaces and he
who would be happy must learn that
it is something which gold cannot buy.
—New York Sun.
THE PRICE OF A WORTHLESS WOMAN.
The recent trial and decision of an
aristocratic divorce case in London
strikingly illustrates how differently
these matters are managed in England
and in this country :
“ The parties, plaintiff and defen
dant, were men of the highest social
position and officers of her Majesty’s
Oxford Blues. Captain Westcar took
possession of the pretty wife of Mayor
Maxwell. Mayor Maxwell, placing,
we think, too high a valuation upon a
worthless wife, sued for a divorce and
claimed damages for the wrong which
he had sustained to the amount of
SIOO,OOO. The defendant took matters
coolly, telling his counsel that ‘he was
used to that sort of thing and did not
mind it.’ The jury found a verdict
for the plaintiff and gave him $50,000,
with costs. As the income of the de
fendant was $35,000 per annum he
trenched somewhat upon his property,
paid the amount, and retains the May
or’s wife. There were no pistols, no
bowie-knives, and no guns heavily
charged with buckshot, and the wile
and $50,000 changed hands, and thus
it all ended. The English are a com
mercial and practical people—very.—
But the price of unfaithful wives in
that highly civilized and favored land
is unreasonably high. The market
‘rules’ higher than in New Lork and
Boston.”
Dreadful Burlesque on Marriage
Ceremony.— George Francis Train in,
a recent speech in New York, said:
“ Our modern marriage service should
read thus : Clergyman—Will you take
this brown stone front, this carriage
and span, and these diamonds for thy
wedded husband ? Yes.—[Laughter.]
Will you take this unpaid milliner’s
bill, this high waterfall of foreign hair,
these affectations, accomplishments
and feeble constitution for thy wedded
wife? [Loud laughter.]—Yes. Then,
what mammon has joined together let
the next best man run away with, so
that the first divorce court may tear
them asunder.
The Delectable Cuss.— On his re
turn from Petersburg to Richmond, af
ter making his incendiary speech, Hun
nicutt took a seat in the car assigued
to colored people. When the conduc
tor demanded his fare lie ollered him
a dollar and a quarter, the amount
charged colored passengers. The con
ductor informed him that the fare tor
white persons was a dollar and fitly
cents. ITe remonstrated, saj ing that
as he rode in the colored car he ought
only to pay colored faro. A colored
man who heard the controversy, put
a stop to the matter by paying the
quarter in dispute.
ADVERTISING RATES t
One Dollar and Fifty Cents per square (of
ten tines, or less,) for the first insertion, and
Seventy-Five Cents for each subsequent inser
tion. Contract advertising as follows:
For 12 months.'For 6 months.}For S months.
1 sqr..s 12 OOjl sqr.. .$ 900 1 sqr,.. $6 00
2 sqrs... 22 00j2 sqrs... 15 00;2 sqrs.,.. 10 00
S sqrs... 30 00 3 sqrs.. .20 00j3 sqrs.,.. 18 00
1 col., . .40 <>o!i c 01.,. .30 00 i c 01.,. . .20 00
X “ . .70 00 £ “ ..60 001* “ ...80 00
1 “ .110 0011 “ ..|5 001 1 “ ...60 00
Rates of Legal Advertising!
Citations on letter? of Ailin’r., £3 00
Citations on letters dis. Irotn'AUtnY., Ac., 0 00
For leave to sell 1and,.,.. 6 GO
Notice to debtors and creditors, 4 00
Sales of personal property, 10 dais, 1 sqr, 2 00
Sale of. land by Executors, 1 squnra, 0 00
SI eriff’a Sales, per square, each insertion, 1 5
MORE OF THE UNDERWOOD CHARGE.
Even the New York Herald is dis
gusted with Underwood’s indecent,
« charge.” Os that remarkable docu
ment, it says:
“The charge of Judge Underwood
to the Grand Jury in Richmond on
Monday is without a parallel. With
its whining cant of martyrdom, its
bitter curses of the foul-mouthed abuse
of Richmond, with its ‘pagan and my
thological ideas of Bacchus, Mammon
and Mars;’ its allusions to‘the awful
and atheistic past’ of Richmond, and
one ‘building of everlasting granite’
that stood unharmed amid the great
conflagration; with its splutteringpoet
f6M qxrcmtioiiß-f- , vvMr''ft»' "ewAatio ap
plause of ‘the leader and father of suc
cessive Congress,’ acknowledged to be
so with ‘a deference which neither
Clay, Fox, the Pitts, nor even Cicero
had ever known ;’ with all it3 angry
and ridiculous rhetoric, this charge is
the strangest mixture of drivel and
furious nonsense which ever disgraced
the bench. In getting himself up am
bitiously to ‘act well his part,’ Judge
Underwood must have had a confused
notion of taking for models Jeffreys,
Parson Brownlow and Robert Shal
low, Esquire, Justice of the Peace, and
Coram and Custalorum, and Rnto-
Corum, too. None but some of Shak
speare’s queerest original characters,
if revived to-day', could utter such a
farrago of rant and fustian as this un
precedented charge.”
HEAVY OX THE DISTRICT COMMANDERS.
Even the Radical papers have de
nounced the petty tyranny of the mili
tary commanders at the South. Scho
field o,t Richmond, playing the role of
Louis Napoleon, in threatening to muz
zle the pres?s. Sickles repeating the
trick of Gesler at Charleston. Pope
at Atlanta in menacing Governor Jen
kins with removal •, and Sheridan at
New Orleans in removing Mayor Mon
roe, are all condemned for exceeding
their instructions in performing vari
ous acts of tryauny. The N. Y. Her
ald, especially, is severe upon the role
of these valiant commanders who are
now lording it over a poor and down
trodden people. It say's# “In assum
ing the right to make people take off
their hats to a pair of trowsers, a hoop
skirt, or even to the Stars and Stripes,
these military' commanders are assum
ing too much. We would submit to
the President, the Secretary of War
and General Grant, the propriety of a
general order embracing certain speci
fic instructions to the five military dis
trict commanders in the South and
their subordinates, to' the encl that a
uniform, liberal and conciliatory'course
of action on their part may' prevail
from Virginia to Texas. The rigors
of martial law are out of place in the
midst of peace, and upon a people who
arc not only disarmed, submissive, and
unable to help themselves, but who are
anxious and doing all they' can to 1 til
fill the conditions of Congress.”
A GLIMPSE BElliM) THE MASX.
A colored Baptist minister at Beau
fort, S. C., writing to the Christian Re
cord among other things sa3's : “ Some
of our white ministerial friends do
more in the way of procuring farms
and keeping our poor race in ignorance
than anything else. They pretend,
when they are North, that they would
come down and do anything for our
race in the way of enlightening them ;
but instead of this, when they see the
cotton gag, they forget all about Christ
and Him crucified, and the saving of
souls.” Os certain Northern mer
chants, lie says: “ All they wish to do,
Is teach what President Lincoln has
done, pat the colored man on the
shoulder with the left hand, while with
the right hand they catch hold of his
pocket-book. And when they have got
the last cent from him, their friendship
suddenly ceases. Then ‘he.is only a
nigger.” We suspect that the “color
ed" brother” in this instance reveals
more truth than poetry in reference to
the practices of reverend politicians.—
They are Satan’s vice-gerents on earth,
and go about like roaring lions, seek
ing to devour somebody. “ Pet*lambs”
and cotton bales had better be kept
under key while they are about.
REGISTRATION.
We are pleased to learn by a spe
cial dispatch from Washington to the
Cincinnati Commercial, that a delega
tion from New Orleans recently had an
interview with the Attorney General,
and were informed that the Adminis
stration intended to give the disfran
chising clause of the Reconstruction
Bill a liberal construction, so as to al
low a full registration. The Attorney
General declared that the registers un
der General Sheridan had done wrong
in refusing to register city, county,
and township officers, of the State.—
He is also of the opinion that Con
gress did not intend to exclude a man
from voting who had happened to take
an oath to support the Constitution,
and then participated in the rebellion,
unless he had held an office which re
quired an oath of fidelity to the Na
tional Government.
JCgr’Tkree bummers were arranged
for drunkenness in the Chicago Police
Court a day or two since, who said
their business was helping ladies to
husbands by contract. One of the firm
would go to a young lady and otter to
get her married for a certain sum.—
He would then pretend to be engaged
to her, while another of the firm would
encourage some spooney to cut the first
named out and secure a large stake by
marrying the girl himself. The game .
worked to a oh arm. • - .