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The Calhoun Times. Volume T. Tin; CALHOUN TIMES. STREET. Terms of Subscription. . . • : : $2.00 One ear *. < . . 120 Six Months Rates of Advertising. t--^777rnrr~~3 Mo*. \tYSio*- I year. ! —hnro(7 _^^r _ $isxcr 825.00 J*° r .. 8.00 12.00 25.00 40.00 C '’ l, . , ."‘ n wrn 30.00 60.00 75.00 * „ 80.00 50.00 75.00 HOAX) 'All subscriptions are payable strictly in advance; and at the expiration of the time L which payment is made, unless pre viously renewed, the name of the subscriber will be stricken from our books. For each square of ten lines or less, for the first insertion, sl, and for each subsequent insertion, fifty cents. Ten lines of solid brevier, or its equivalent in space, make a u < y cash, before or on demand after the first insertion. Advertisements under the head of “ Special Notices ’’ twenty cents per line for first in sertion,’ and ten cents each sebaequent mscr ‘ioAil communications on matters of public interest will meet with prompt attention, and roncise letters on general subjects are re spectfully solicited from all parts ot the country. B A IT.BOADS.. i " Western A Atlantic. % JJJOHT PABSBXUBB TRAIN—OUTWARD. Leave Atlanta jo’ls a m Arrive at Calhoun A ’ “• Arrive at Chattanooga B A> M DAT PASSBNGtR TRAIN —OUTWARD. Leave Atlanta *l9 «;i t l Arrive at Chattanooga 4.20 p. m. ACCOMOD TION TRAIN OUTWARD. I.e.r. •“» Arrive at Dalton 8.30 p. u. NIGHT rASSENGBR TRAIN —INWARD. Leave Chattanooga -7-50 P. « Arrive at Calhoun P * **’ Arrive at Atlanta a. m. DAT PAS9INGBR TRAIN—INWARD. Leave Chattanooga 7.00 A - **• Arrive at Calhoun A * M ‘ Arrive at Atlanta 8.27 P. M. ACCOMODATION TRAIN—INWARD. Leave Dalton 200 p m Arrive at Atlanta h.OO a. m. Georgia Railroad. DAT PASSENGER TRAIN. Leave Augusta. 7,15 a. m. Leave Atlanta. 7.00 a. m. Anive at Augusta. 5.45 p. m. Arrive at Atlanta. 7.10 P. m. NIGHT PASSENGER AMD MAIL TRAIN. Leave Augusta. 9-50 p. m. Leave Atlanta 5.45 P. M. Arrive at Augusta. 4.00 a. m. Arrive at Atlanta. 8.00 A. m. Macon & Western. DAT PASSENGER TRAIN. Atlanta. 7.55 A. m , »rrive at Macon. 1.40 p. m »ave Macon. 7.55 A. m Arrive at Atlanta. 2.20 P. m NIGHT EXPRESS PASSENGER TRAIN. Leave Atlanta 7.18 p. m. Arrive at Macon 3.23 a. m. Leave Macon 8.50 p. m. Arrive at Atlanta 4.46 a m. Rome Railroad. DAT TRAIN. Leave Rome 10.00 A. m. Arrive at Kingston 11.30 A. m. Leave Kingstou 1.00 p, m. Arrive at Rome 2.30 p. m. Connecting at Rome with accomodation trains on Selma, Rome and Dalton Railroad, and at Kingston with up and down trains Western and Atlantic Railroad. NIGHT TRAIN. Leave Rome 9.30 p. m. Arrive at Kingston 10.45 p. m. Leave Kingston 11.10 P. m. Arrive at Rome 12.25 p. m. Connecting at Rome with through night trains on Selma, Rome and Dalton Railroad, and at Kingston with night trains on Western and Atlantic Railroad to Chattanooga and trom and to Atlanta. Selma, Rome & Dalton. PASSENGER TRAIN. Leave Selma 9.30 a. m. Arrive at Rome 8.55 p.m. Arrive at Dalton 11.50 r. m. ACCOMMODATION TRAIN. Leave Rome 4.45 p. m. Arrive at Rome 12.30 p, m. Leave Dalton 10.00 a! m. Hie accommodation train runs from Rome to Jacksonville daily, Sundays excepted. The through passenger traiu only will be run on Sunday. PROFESSIONAL CARDS: w. s. J OiINSON, ~~ Attorney A.t Law, CALIIOUX ; GLORGIA. I®* Office in Southeast corner of the jotirt House. Au 6 n 1 ts A C ‘ FAIN> JOS. m'connell. f fain and McConnell, • A t 4 . . v L c CALIIOUX. GEORGIA. asg* Office in the Court House. Au gH 1 ts 07 TARVER, Attorneyat Law, CALHOUN ; GEORGIA. tt®* Office in the Court House. Aug 11 1 ts WTJ. CANTRELL, Attorney At Law. Calhoun, Georgia. in the Ch «rokee Circuit, t in Sr' S ' Pi Btrict Court, Northern Dis premoV , (at Atlauta the Su- Peme Court of the State of Georgia. E. .1. KIKER, attorney TAm w, r „ A . CALHOUN, GEORGIA. Urjrf tke ° ld S(and o f Cantrell <j- Kikcr.\ \\ h r ; acti '« in all the Courts of the "at ~ i l6 United States District Court au g l9’7oly r s^,oe,Ua ke r s Wanted. 1 permanent^ Bß Shoemakers can secure by ea % ap p ii c S 0 f o —C and g °° a WageS ’ * u glO'7f)tf ELLIS & COLBURN, 1 Calhoun, Ga. POETRY. THE lifE BKYONd. 11Y GERALD MASSEY. Although its features fade in light of unira agined bliss, We have shadowy revealings of the Better World in this. A little glimpse, when Spring unveils her face and opens her eyes, Os the Sleeping Beauty in the soul that wakes in Paradise. A little drop of Heaven in each diamond of the shower, A breath of the Eternal in the fragrance of each flower! A little low vibration in the warble of Night's bird, Os the praises and the music that shall be hereafter heard! A little whisper .in the leaves that clasps their hands and try To glad the heart of man, and lift to Heaven his thankful eyes! A little semblance mirrored in old Ocean's smile or frown Os Ilis vast glory who doth bow the Heavens and come down! A little symbol shining through the worlds that move at rest On invisible foundations of the broad Al mighty breast! A little hint that stirs and thrills the wings wc fold within, And tells of that full heaven yonder which must here begin: A little springlet welling from the fountain bead above, That takes its earthly way to find the ocean of all love! A little silver shiver in the ripple of the river Caught from the light that knows no night forever and forever! A little hidden likeness, often faded and de filed, Os the great, the good All-father, in ITis poores human child! Although the best be lost in light of uniin agined bliss, We have shadowy revealings of the Better World in this. IF YOU WANT A KISS TAKE IT. There’s a jolly Saxon proverb That is pretty much like this That a man is half in heaven When lie has a w oman’s kiss. But there’s danger in delaying, And the sweetness may forsake it! So I tell you, bashful lover, If you want a kiss, why take it. Never let another fellow Steal a march on .you in this; Never let a laughing maiden See you spoiling for a kiss. There’s a royal way us kissing, And the jolly ones who make it Have a motto that is winning, If you want a kiss, why take it. Any fool may face a cannon— Anybody wear a crown— But a man must win a woman, If he’d have her for his own. Would you have the golden apple, You must find the tree and shake it; If a thing is worth the having, And you want a kiss, why take it. Who would burn upou a desert, With a forest smiling by ? Who would give liis sunny summer For a bleak and wintry sky? Oh! 1 tell you there is magic, And you cannot, cannot break it; For the sweetest, part of loving Is to want a kiss and—take it. Father, Why Don’t You Go? The Sunday School Times, 111 the fol low incident, presents one of the best ar guments in favor of Adult Bible Class ers:— ‘■Father, I don’t want to go to Sunday School any longer. Fred Jones and Harry Smith, who are in my class, have quit, and I want to quit, too.” “Why, my son ?” “Oh, because it is so dull to he con fined to Sunday school this warm weath er, and then I haven’t any time to get my lessons, and then —and then—” “Then what?” “Why, Fred and Harry say it is all nonsense for such big boys as me to he tied to a Sunday school. It does very well for our Charley, but I think I am too old to go to Sunday school. Don’t you think so, father ?”, t V \.. a— great and good institution. All our best men are in favor of it. It k eps boys out of mischief, Sundays. It is respect ed too. People think more of you if you are a Sunday school scholar. If you wanted to get a situation in a store, to be a regular member of a Sunday school would be a recommendation for you.— Then, you learn so' much that is good*.- It is right to study the Bible, and learn* these things. My son I think the Sun day school is a grand thing for you. I do not want you to stop. You are not too old to go.” “When shall I be, father ? How old were you when you stopped ?” “Oh, I don’t know, Thomas ? never mind that.” “But, father, if the Sunday school is such a great thing, and all that you have been telling me —if we were never too old to go, vrtiy, don’t you go? I’ll agree to it, if you go with me.” [Exit Tom.] “Well, he caught me this time; turned my own sermon upon myself. I don’t see but that I must agree to the bargain. I shall feel rather strange at Sunday school, for, to tell the truth. I have not been for twenty years. People will stare a little at first, but if it will keep Tom in school and out of mischief, I will go.” An evil conscience is a great plague. CALHOUN, GA., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 1870. MISCELLANY. A Race for A Bride. BY THOMAS A. POPE. It has been but a short time since Esquire Shelton, the man who has mar ied more people than any other person in the United States, gave up the pleas ant business of marrying people and watch trading, and retired from his sphere of usefulness on this planet for ever. Notices of the man which I have seen since his death recall to mind a bit of history, in the consummation of which lie played an important part. But let me tell the story from the first. Among the Federal officers stationed in Kentucky, in 1864, was a brigadier general who, for the present, we will call Ripley. This officer’s family con sisted of his wife and one child, a beau tiful girl of seventeen summers —and as in*i"y ttlntt/io likewise, I presume— — though from her joyous nature it did not seem as though she had ever seen anything but sunshine and flowers. 1 have said Alice Ripley was beautiful— she was more —she was attractive. You could not know her without loving her. The fortunes of war had made me an inmate *of Gen. Ripley’s mansion, and thus I had every opportunity of meeting and admiring Alice, and, 1 might add, of loving her, though fortunately for myself I never had the audacity to de clare my love. Albeit under the same roof, our stations were apart. I was simply a soldier and special detective; she the daughter of a General, who was a proud, haughty, wealthy man. Alice had many suitors, and, though she treated all very kindly, she seemed to give preference to none. Rut at last her hero came, and, strange to say, he came from the ranks of those who were at war, if not with her, those most nearly related to her. He came in this wise: In September, 1864, a company of cavalry, which I was guiding across the country, encountered a small body of Confederate soldiers, twelve in number, and captured the entire party. They proved to be a scouting party command ed by Lieut. Scott. Capt. Burns, who cammanded our detachment of cavalry, concluded to take the Confederate sol diers on with him to Camp Nicholas, and send Lieut. Scott back to Gen. Rip ley. “ Pope,” said Burns to me, “ I have no men to spare; will you take the reb-to. Gen. Ripley. It is only 40 miles to bis headquarters, and .you know the way.” I announced my willingness to take charge of the prisoner. 111 a few minutes I was ready to start. They brought Lieut . Sfcott to Lie. He handcuffed and tied to his saddle. “As you are going by yourself. I thought it best to make your prisoner, who, I am told, is a desperate fellow, secure,” said Capt. Burns, as he rode away to join his departing company. I was now alone with Lieut. Scott. He was a fine look ing soldier, and I could see by bis countenance that ho felt keenly the in dignity with which Capt. Burns had treated him by putting him in irons. “ Well, Lieutenant,” said I, “ I am com missioned to take you to Gen. Ripley. I don’t like to see a man in irons, and if you will promise not to try to get away I will free you from your bonds.” “ I promise nothing, sir,” said the soldier, with all a haughty Southron’s pride. I looked for a moment at the man be fore me, and then determined to free him. lie had refused the promise I asked, and I was glad. X was satisfied he was above treachery. “Then you,” said Scott, “you are kinder than that brutal captain, who I hope to meet once more.” This was said with a quiet menace that boded no good for Capt. Burns. It was about ten o’clock when wc took the highway for Richmond, the headquarters of Gen. Ripley. Lieut. Scott soon lost his reserve, and we spent the long ride in pleasant converse. By the time we got to Richmond, p. m., we were on good terms, considering our different positions. 1 reported to Gen. Ripley, who im mediately ordered Lieut. Scott into close confinement. “ He is a spy,” said the General, “ we will have to deal promptly with these guerrillas.” 1 was sorry for the prisoner, but knew that anything: said in his favor w *4" no ;ao I delivered him to the Provost Marshal. I visited him often in his prison, and did what I could to make his confinement endurable. Confinement to a spirit like his was very irksome. Two weeks after enter ing the prison he made a desperate effort to escape. He knocked doivn the sentinel who guarded the door, and rushing out seiz ed an officor’s horse and, before a hand could be raised to cheek him. he was in the saddle and gone. r It was broad-day light, and a hundred soldiers witnessed the act of daring recklessness. A hun dred shots were fired at the fugitive, one of which struck his horse, though at first it did not seem to check his speed. Half a company of cavalry were soon in pursuit, and. after three of their numbers, succeeded in shooting him down. It was the only wjy they could capture him, as every time they asked him to surrender he answered with the revolver he had taken with the horse. He was carried back to Riedmoud and. while insensible, was again thrown into prison. I now went to Gen. Ripley and asked, and after some difficulty obtained, permission to take him from the prison to a building used as a hospital for the officers of the Federal army. The “ Yankee ” ladies in the town often vis ited this hospital* bringing delicacies to the sick. One day, while I was sitting by the bed-side of Scott, Alice Ripley, in company with another lady, entered the room. Not having seen Lieut. Scott before, they of course must know all about him. I told them of his gal lant defence when first surprised, and of his subsequent daring attempt to escape. Ladies always like brave men, and the sympathies of Alice and her young friend were quickly aroused in favor of the wounded man. They gave me liber ally of the fruits and cakes they had with them. When Scott awoke I pre sented him what they had left, and told him who left them. “ Many thanks to them,” said he; “ they have more gene rosity than I gave the Yankees credit for.” “Alice Ripley is an angel,” I re plied. Two days afterward the same ladies made another visit to the hospital. The first call they made was in the ward where Lt. Scott lay. I happened to be with him again. I introduced fwTadjes to him. They conversed a few minutes wliK Lim, uiitl tken presented liim a basket of wine and cakes. Their story was brief, and their conversation a mere nothing; but when the ladies were gone, I noticed that the Lieutenant seemed much better than.; be, was before their visit. “ That Miss Ripley is a beautiful girl,” said lie to me. “ l T es, and as good as she is beautiful,” I replied, and then I began to give him a catalogue of her many good qualities. The Lieutenant looked at me with a smile, and said ; “ Stop, Pope, or I shall think that these presents were for my nurse instead of me.” I stopped con fused, for I thought he saw that I loved the lady that had pleased him so much. In the afternoon of that same day I re ceived orders to start at once to New Orleans on some business of Gen. Rip ley’s. I hastily made my preparations to start, and, while the clerks were pre paring papers for me, I visited Lieut. Scott and told him I was going to his home. He lived in New Orleans. He was highly elated that he could send home, and hear so direclty from there. So he gave me a half a dozen commis sions to execute among his friends. I was absent from Richmond four weeks. Upon my arrival, I reported at Gen. Ripley’s office, and was informed that he was not in town, but would be in next day. I then went down to his residence, and entering the house went direct to the library, where all the letters that came for me during my absence were always placed. The door which T open ed made no noise and. without closing it, I started across the room, but soon stopped in astonishment—for there be fore me, seated side by side, were Alice Ripley and Lieut. Harry, Scott, C. S. A. ! •" ,lv 1 , fciUqi conversation that they did not notice my entrance. “In the name of won ders !” I thought to myself, “ How is this ? A rebel officer in this stern old puritanical General’s library with his daughter.” I turned to leave the room, when Miss Ripley noticed my presence, and sprung to her feet with a cry of surprise. She evidently did not expect any one to see her here, I thought. She was reassured when she saw who the intruder was. In a few minutes I went up town, accompanied by Scott. “ How is it, Scott,” said I, “ that you are free, and at Gen. Ripley’s?” “ Well, in answer to your first ques tion, I am on parole; as to your second question, I may say I visit Gen. Ripley’s because —well, because I like his daugh ter.” “ I neet not ask if Miss Ripley re ciprocates the dike’; but about the General.” “I have not taken the trouble to as certain Gen. Ripley’s mind upon the subject,” replied the Lieutenant. During the next two weeks the two lovers, Alice and Harry, had met often. I did all I could to bring them together. My reason was this: Capt. Burns was a suitor of Miss Alice, and the one which Gen. Ripley had decided she must mar ry, whether she wanted to or not. This Capt. Burns I cordially despised, and I determined that if I could prevent it he should never marry Alice. One day Miss Ripley was at {he house of one of her friends, and Lieut. Scott happened to be there too. Thinking themselves secure from interruption, they indulged in that sweet nonsense so interesting to lovers, so foolish to any one else. But, very unfortunately for their future peace, their loving glances were seen and their loving over heard by one who from that ifoTment be came tlieir bitter foe—that was Capt. Burns. lie did not disturb the lovers, but reported to Gen. Bipley, and the result was that when Alice came home she was met by a torrent of reproaches from her father and a strict conmand — “ Never to speak to that vfle* rebel again.” He was also kind chough to inform her that in one month she would become the wife of Capt. Burns, a weal thy officer, and Gen. Ripley’s Aery dear friend. Time passed away rapidly. The pre parations for Alice’s wedding lad been going on for some time, and nofr it only lacked three days of the time appointed. Meanwhile the lovers had not leen idle, as on the 22d of December Liint. Scott came to me with n request thatfastonish ed me. “I am going to run sway with that old Puritan’s girl, and J want you to help me.” Assisting a rebel officer to elope with my commanders daughter was a serious piece of business, so I did not readily comply. Rut my hatred of Capt. Burns, and my desire to baffle bis plans, and thereby save the beautiful Alice from a life of misery, decided me. I therefore told the anxious lover that I would do what I could to aid him in his plans of love and revenge. He lovt and Miss Ripley, and he owed Capt. Bums no good will. The programme of departure was quickly made. I was to secure a pass for a gentleman and his sister to leave Richmond and cross the Ohio river.— Then I was to assist Miss Ripley out of her father’s house, where she was almost a prisoner, and escort her to a carriage which Scott would have in readiness near by. The first part of my mission I easily executed. The time of depart ing was set for midnight, December 23d. On the morning of that day I received an order to go at once to a town twenty five miles distant, and was not expected back before next morning. I was back in Richmond, however, by 10 p. m., 23d, as I told Scott I would be. I went at once to Gen. Ripley’s house, and for tunately gained admission unobserved. I managed to notify Miss Ripley of my presence, and v also that at midnight I would escort her from the house. I then secreted myself to await that time. Alice S luum tejronoxl mio ike rmm o hall which the library did. At the end ot this hall was a door opening- into the garden. At the oppointed time Alice came into the hall, and we started to the door; just as w r e reached it, the library door opened and Gen. Ripley came di rectly toward us. There was no light in the ball except what came from the open door of the library. As the G en eral approached us, we crouched in the corner behind some coats which hung there. Gen. Ripley paused a moment at the door within three feet of us—then opened the door and passed out, locking the door on the outside. Escape from that door was now impossible, neither could we go out at the front door, for a sentinel stood there. The only way left us was to go into my room, and thence into the street through a window. We passed back by the library door, and saw Capt. Burns there, smoking a cigar, and no doubt thinking of the happiness that awaited him on to-morrow. AVe did not disturb his meditations, and in fifteen minutes Alice was beside her lover and leaving Richmond. AVhcn passing through the hall, Miss Ripley dropped a letter which she had received from Scott. An hour after her depart ure, Gen. Ripley picked up this letter and read it. Enraged at its contents, he sought his daughter’s room, to find that she was gone. Immediately the house was aroused. The General at once came to the conclusion she had left with Lieut. Scott. I was near the house, and seeing that A1 iss Ripley’s departure had been dis covered, I rode up to the house and de livered my dispatches to Gen. Ripley. Without looking at them he demanded if I had met his daughter. I, greatly astonished, of course., told him I had not. He then told me what he suspeetd, and I informed him that I had met a close carriage going toward Richmond. As I hoped, Capt. Burns declared that lie would follow that carriage which I had seen leave Richmond an hour be fore, containing a couple of Federal Officers, the gallant captain hurried away to find his missing bride. Mean while Gen. Ripley sent messengers in all directions to find the fugitives. At three o’clock one reported that they passed the pickets on the Marysville road about midnight. Ascertaining be yond a doubt that they had taken that direction, the General sprang into his buggy, and, calling me to join him, we were soon traveling at a rapid rate over the road which I knew ‘the fugitive lovers had just passed over. By 10 o’clock we had traveled forty miles, and we learned from a soldier we met that we were near the objects of our pursuit. AVe stopped a few moments to give our horses some water and repair our car riage wheel. While the General was at the house near by, a darkey, riding a splendid horse, came along. I halted him and found out his destination; then I wrote on a piece of paper : “ Scott, hurry up. Gen. Ripley and myself are in close pursuit.” This I gave to the darkey, and told him to ride swiftly and deliver it, and I made my command important by ad ding a ten dollar greenback. The dar key came up to them in five miles, where they had stopped to get dinner, not imag ining such close pursuit. They imme diately, of course, pressed forward.— Scarcely had they gone "when we came to where they had stopped. The road was quite level and straight, and not far ahead we saw the runaway carriage. Then commenced an exciting race.— Both parties had splendid teams, but Scott had the heaviest carriage. At the end of five miles we were within a hun dred yards of the lovers, and were rap idly filling lip that space, when I took a piece of paper, and putting some lead in it, threw it in front of the horses. The General did not notice the act. The horses sprang aside from the paper, and as the}* did so they broke the tongue from the carriage and sped away, leav ing Gen. Ripley and myself in the car riage. The only resort was to walk to a village, two miels ahead, and there get other horses. Just before we reached the village. Capt. Burns overtook us. Hearing what had transpired he press ed on without waiting for us. AA’e got fresh horses in the village, and mounting them pursued our way toward Marysville. Seven miles from the Ohio river we found Capt. Burnc3 lying by the road side, almost senseless. AVe soon revived him, and he told us that he had overta ken Scott while he was fixing something | about his carriage, and fearing to shoot, i had rushed up and grappled with him. , The tebel officer proved himself the best ! in the struggle, and had left the gallant Captain senseless by the wayside, and . went on his way rejoicing. Assisting the Captain oh his horcs > which was near by, we continued the pursuit. AVe arrived on the banks of the Ohio in time to hear the splash of the oars of the boat which conveyed Harry and Alice across the river; we could not soe them in the dark. I rushed down to the water’s edge ahead of my companions, and found a boat there. I took the oars and drop ped them into the water, and reported a boat without oars. After an half hour’s delay, we found some more oars and crossing the river we found ourselves in the “Gretna Green” of America, and en quiring of a late pedestrian, were direc ted to the residence of Esquire Shelton. Reaching the house designated, the Gen eral rapped furiously on the door aud demanded admittance. He was answer ed by a lady who looked out of an upper window and inquired what was wanted. “ I want my daughter, who has eloped with a villian and come here to he mar ried/’ “ Oh, you are at the wrong place. You will find Mr. Shelton’s by going down thissrteet three blocks, then turn ing ouo block to the right—a large white house,” replied the lady. Without ques tioning the information, Gen. Riply hur ried away to the house designated. Burns and myself following. Wv, house and soou roused Air. Shelton, who came to the door. “ AVlmt is wanted gentlemen,” he inquired. Gen. Ripley repeated the demand he had made at the other house. “ You are mistaken in the place, gen tleman,” said Air. Shelton. “Aly name is Shelton, but not Esquire James Shel ton ;” and he proceeded to direct us back to the same house from which, ten min utes before, we had been dismissed. Fo raged beyond measure, the father and baffled suitor rushed back to Esquire Shelton’s. This time that gentleman answered the summons himself. ‘ Where is my daughter and that rebel villain ?” imperiously demanded the General. “I do not know who you mean,” said Air. Shelton. “ Miss Ripley and Harry Scott,” I suggested. “They are gone,” replied Air Shelton. “Did you marry them? demanded Gen. Ripley. “ When the North and South are as firmly united as the couple you seek, there will be everlasting pc&ce and un ion,” replied Air. Shelton. Burns drew a pistol, and would have shot the old man if I had not snatched it from his hand. AATth a glance of scorn at the would-be-assassin, Air. Sliel tou bade us good night, and closed the door. AVe next went to the hotel, where we learned that Harry Scott and his wife, in company with a few others, had gone to the landing to meet the steamer passing down. It was useless to try to catch them before they got to Louisville. It was imperatively necessary that Gen. Ripley and Captain Ruins should return to Richmond, so 1 reeieved orders to fol low and arrest Scott. Three days after wards, I found him in Louisville. His mother, just from New Orleans, was with him. I told him of my orders, and he said all right. His wife went with his moth er to New Orleans to remain until the war was over. AA’hen I arrived in Rich mond I found that Gen. Ripley had gone to AA r ashington. He never met his son in-law. Lieut. Scott was exchanged, and was with Gen. Lee in the closing campaign of the war. In some of the last battles, Gen. Ripley was killed. After the surrender, Lieut. Scott hur ried to the Crescent City to meet his wife and the host of friends who welcom ed him. Not long afterwards, Alice’s mother came to live with her, and then, as now, Alice Scott was, and is, the hap piest wife in New Orleans, by no means regretting the fact that the day she was to marry a Federal Captain saw her uni ted forever with a brave Confederate. — To Young llouskeepers.—Be satis fied to commence on a small scale. It is too common for young housekeepers to begin where their mothers ended.— Buy all that is necessary to work with; adorn your house with all that will ren der it comfortable. Do not look at the richer homes, and covet their costly furniture. If secret dissatisfaction is ready to spring up, go a step farther, and visit the homes of the suffering poor; behold dark, cheerless apartments, insufficient clothing and absence of all comforts and refinements of social life, and then return to your own with a joy ful spirit. You will then be prepared to meet your husband with a grateful heart, and be ready to appreciate the toil of self-denial which he has endured in the business world to surround you with iho Jolighte of home; and you will co-operate cheerfully with him in so arranging your expenses, that his mind will not be constantly harassed lest his family expenditures may en croach upon public payments. Be independent; a young housekeeper never needed greater moral courage than she does now, to resist the arm- j gance of fashion. Do not let A/s and B.’s decide what you shall have, neither iet them hold the strings of your purse. You know best what you can and ought to afford. It matters but little what people think, provided you are true to yourself, to right and duty, and keep your expenses within your means. — A Gentle Hint. —AVe know a min ister who was generally able to keep his congregation wide; aivake. but who on one occasion—it was a sultry summer day observed numbers of them asleep. He resolved to nip the evil practice in the bud. So taking a good survey of the scenes before and around him, he exclaimed, “1 saw an advertisement last week for five hundred sleepers fora rail road. I think I could supply it with fifty, and recommend them as good and sound.” It is perhaps, needless to add, j that supply in fantiy vanished. jJs’iiniliex* 5. Startling Effect of a Hymn in a Gambling Hell. A Hung Kong correspondent of tho Boston News tells an interesting inci dent. He had been intrusted with packages for a young man from hi* friends in the United States, and, after inquiry, learned that he might probably be found in a gambling house. 11a went thither, but not seeing him, deter mined to wait, in the expectation that he might come in. The place was *» bedlam of noises—men getting angry over their curds and frequently coming to blows. Near him sat two men—one young, the other forty years of age.— They were hotting and drinking in 2 terriway, the elder one giving utterances continually to the foulest profanity.— Two games had been finished, the young man losing each time. Tho third game, with fresh bottles of braudy. had just begun, and tho young man sat lazily back in his chair, while the elder shuf fled the cards. The man was a long time dealing the cards; and the young mau looking carelessly about the room, began to hum a tune. He began to sins* the bountiful lln/va of Plinphi' Gnrv • “One sweetly solemn thought Comes to me o’er and o'er, I'm nearer to my father’s house, Than I've ever been before. “ Nearer the bound of life, Where we lny our burdens down, Nearer leaving my cross, Nearer wearing my crown.” At first, says the writer, these words in such a vile place made me shudder. A Sabbath school hymn in a gambling den 1 But while the young man sang, the elder stopped dealing the cards, stared at the singer a moment, and throwing the cards on the floor, exclaim ed: “ Harry, where did you learn that tune ?” *• What tune ?” “ Why, the one you have been sins;- • V 0 mg. The young man said he did not know what he had been singing, when the elder repeated the words, with tears in his eyes, nnd the young man said he had learned them in a Sunday school in America. “Come/’ said the elder, getting up: ‘ come, Harry here’s wlmt I’ve won from you; go and use it for some good purpose. As for me, as God sees me, I have played my last game and drank my last bottle. I have missed you, Harry, and lam sorry. Give me your hand, my boy and say that for old America’s sake, if for 110 other, you will quit this infernal business." The writer says these two men leave the gambling house together, and walk away arm-in-arm. 3,000 Confederates oo'Dry Tortugas, The Abingdon A irginian a letter from Saltville, Virginia ■* vfhleh contains a surprising statement, imsJv’on the authority of Edward Parker, repre senting himself as a Lieutenant in Cap tain Kelly's company, K.,4oth North Carolina Regiment. Parker says he was taken prisoner at Ckickamauga, 12th June, 1862—sent from thence to Camp Chase, and from there shipped to Dry Tortugas. The correspondent says : His tale is a strange one, but I am forced to believe every worcl of it—and so would you if you could see the man— and it may be of some interest to some of your readers. lie says there are still about three thousand men on the Island, who have no means to pay their passage, and no way to make money enough to do so. Among those still there, whose names he remembers are: James Grady, Thos. W. Stinson, William Stinson and Geo. Taylor, of Washington county; Thomas Carter and Jesse Carter, of Russell; Jno: Black and William Black, of Scott; Jas. Higginbotham, Thos. W. May, Jesse T. May and William A. May. of Tazewell county. Parker says that the prisoners were all released at the close of the war, but they had no means of communication with their friends, and they are still there iii a most wretched condition, their only means of support being derived from labor at the levees at fifty cents per month, and by begging He worked over five years at fitly cents per month and saved thirty dollars and 30 cents, with which he paid his tare to New Orleans, from which place he has walked since the 7th of June, and begged his way. He is in a most pitiable condition, being entirely blind in one eye and very near so in the other—caused by exposure—and very lame and crippled up from long walk. He is on his way toTiis home in Hopkins county. North Carolina, having walked up the Mississippi to the mouth of the Ohio, up the Ohio, and through Ken tucky. several hundred miles out of his way, owing, he says, to his ignorance of the country, and the ignorance of those who gave him directions. He says the poor fellows on the Island are praying for relief fr.»m their friends, but he does uot know how that relief can be afforded, as he seems to be entirely ignorant of the means of communication with the Island, and only knows that vessels go there for coffee. Definition of faith. —A little girl five years of age, on being asked what is faith, artlessly replied; “It is doing just what God wants us to do. and ask no questions about it.” This covers the whole field : perfect trust combined with implicit obedience. An old farmer said to his sons:— “Boys, don’t yoo ever speckerlate, or . wait for sunthin, to turn up. Yoo mite jist as well go an’ set down on a stone in the middle of a medder, with a pail atwixt your legs, an’ wait for a cow to back up to you to be milked.”