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The Calhoun Times. olume X. 111 ECA LHOUtf TIMES. OFFICE OVER J. H. ARTHURS, RAILROAD STREET. Tonus of Subscription. , T ; $2.00 One \ear . • • . i or. {six Months J • ltat< sos Advertising. Mos. 6 Mo». 1 year. ~ iiuxT $15.00 $25.00 Four “ 8.00 12.00 25.00 40.00 fcolumn 10.00 18.00 35.00 45.00 C T 18.00 30.00 60.00 75.00 \ u 80.00 50.00 75.00 140.00 All subscriptions arc payable strictly in advance; and at the expiration of the time for 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 Urevier, or its equivalent in space, make a B<l Terms cash, before or on demand after the first insertion. . Advertisements under the bead of “ Special Notices,” twenty cents per line for first in sertion, and ten cents each sebsequent inser tion. .. „ ... All communications on matters ot public interest will meet with prompt attention, and concise letters on general subjects are re spectfully solicited from all parts of the country. RAILiIIOAnS. Western A Atlantic. NIGHT PASSENGER TRAIN —OUTWARD. Leave Atlanta -7-00 p. m. Arrive at Calhoun A - M - Arrive at Chattanooga 3 80 a. m. DAT PABSENGRR TRAIN—OUTWARD. Leave Atlanta 8.15 a m Arrive at Calhoun 12.51 p m. Arrive at Chattanooga 4.20 p. m. ACCOMOD TION TRAIN —OUTWARD. T '.Hants 580 p. m. Arrive at Dalton 8.80 P m. NIGHT PASSENGER TRAIN—INWARD. I ;l v<- Chirtanooga 7.50 p. m. \; live at Calhoun 11.44 p. m. Art ive at Atlanta 414 A. M. DAY PASSENGER TRAIN—INWARD. Leave Chattanooga 7-00 a. m. Arrive at Calhoun 10 2!) A. m. Arrive at Atlanta 8.27 P. m. ACCOMODATION TRAIN - INWARD. Leave Dalton 200 p m Arrive at Atlanta 900 a m Georgia Railroad. DAY PAnSKNQER TRAIN l eave Augus a. 7.15 a. m. Leave Atlanta. 7 oO a. m. Aniveat Augusta. 5.45 p. m Arrive at Atlanta. 7 10 P. m. NIGHT PASSENGER AMD M AIL TRAIN. Leave Augusta. 9.50 p. m. Leave Atlanta 5.45 p. M. Arrive at Augusta. 4.00 A. m. Arrive at Atanta. 8.00 A. m. Macon & Western. DAY PASSENGER TRAIN. Leave Atlanta. 7.55 a. m Arrive at M>c n. 1.4< p m Leave Macon. 7.55 a. m Arrive at Atlanta. 2.20 p. m NIGHT EXPRESS PASSENGER TRAIN. Leave Atlanta 7.15 p.m. Arrive at Macon 3 28 a m Leave Macon 8.50 p. m. Arrive at Atlanta 4.46 a m. Rome Railroad. DAY TRAIN. Leave Rome 10.00 a m. Arm at Kingston 11.80 a.m. heave Kingston 1.00 p. m. Arrive at Rome 2.30 P. M. Connecting at Rome with accomoda’ion trains on Selma, Rome and Dalton Railroad, and at Kingston with up and dowu 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 °n Selma, Rome and Dalton R ilroad, and at Kingston with night trains on Western and Atlantic Railroad to Chattanooga and from 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 p m. ACCOMMODATtOM TRAIN. Leave Rome 4.45 P . M . Arrive at Rome 12.30 p.m. Lea\e Dalton 10.00 a.m. Tlie accommodation train runs from Rome to ' daily, Sundays excepted. "n Sund r ° P assen £ er Daio only will be run CARDS. Wr ST JOHNSON” Attorney _A.t Law, CALHOUN, GEORGIA. o * 1 dice in Southeast corner of the House. x ts L C. FAIN i * "JOS. M CONNELL. ■a;n and McConnell, ttorneys at Law, r -t l-lfuClf, GEORGIA. I,uce the Court House. j" 11 1 ts A HTTirTARVER, X^w, GEORGIA. aL n ffice in the Court Rouse. - -: 1 ts . ->• cactrellT •Vttoiney At Law. Calhoun, Georgia. I aJ' *'• Tvll^L«T' L ’asSßaSr"* Vf l* ** Siand of Oantrdl $ Kiker.\ «Wokoe Circuit 811 S he C ° Ur<S ° f the aud ,h e iT ni , , i <? uprem f Court of Atlanta, Ga u 1 ,!l tes District Court i, _ _ augl9’7oly {, “MUe W. & v h'r*" C “ orth of Besaca, OntotT 4 ’'? “WomeV°“' ai “ in * “ W “^Si?” ;i - nonh ' eagto,iie "•» >■ ma.i, if earl, ,p plira> . Hopt2’7o-R m **• H. BARNETT, Resaca, Ga. POETRY. Leave it to god. Re it a doubt? All doubts lie solves; Questions which thought in vain resolves, He settles with a nod. Be it a fear? He has the balm which every human fear will calm, Leave it to God. Leave it to God! Be it the weight of daily care? Bring him the burden ; He will bear alone The tiresome load. Be it the restless, anxious thought of future years ? By faith he taught— Leave it to God. Leave it to God! Be it the battle of His life? He fought it once and won the strife, Who earth’s raw ways has trod. Be it the foe who triumph vaunts? Jesus had foes, and bore their taunts; Leave it to God. Leave it to God! Be it the loss of worldly wealth, Or yet the sorer loss of health ? All losses He makes good. In every loss there is some gain, Some need of grace in every pain; Leave it to God. Leave it to God! Be it the heavy weight of guilt? The blood of Christ was freely spilt, And sin atoned by blood. Be it the littleness of faith ? Ask and be full the promise saith ; Leave it to God. Leave it to God ! Be it a dread to yield this breath, That life long bondage, fear of death, The pang, the worm the sod? He conquered death who victory gives, He livetli and who in Him lives, Leaves it to God ! NIGHT-FALIL. BY H. W. LONGFELLOW. Slowly, slowly up the wall Steals the sunshine, steals the shade; Evening damps begin to fall, Evening shadows are displayed. Bound me, o’er me, everywhere, All the sky is grand with clouds, And athwart the evening air Wheel the swallows home in clouds. Shafts of sunshine from the west Paint the dusky windows red ; Darker shadows deeper rest, •Underneath and over head. Darker, darker and more wan In my breast the shadows fall; Upward steal the life of man, As the sunshine upon the wall. From the wall into the sky, From the roof along the spire ; Ah, the souls of those that die, Are but sunbeams lifted higher! The Lost Boy, A Paris letter tells the following sto ry of a fate in that city : A wealthy family in the aristocratic boulevarde Malesherbes were amusinsg in seeking the king’s portion, or ring in the festival cake, when a lady of the company said to the hostess, *‘l wish my portion to be given to the poorest little boy we can find in the street.” The servant was dispatched on the freezing night; not far from the house he found a ragged uschin, trembling with cold and hunger. lie brought him up. aud was ordered into the gay saloon, where a thousand lights glittered, and a spark ling fire gladdened and surprised him. He drew the portion which the benevo lent lady promised, and. as luck would have it. the little fellow found the “ring” (beans they use in Paris instead), and of course he was “king.” They all shouted out that being a king, he must choose a queen. lie was asked so to do, and looking round the company, he chose the very lady who had proposed to cede her portion of the cake. He was asked why he chose her. He said, “I don’t know, she looks the most like mother !” “Mother! whose mother?” “My mother! I never knew her, but I was stolen away from her. and here is her portrait!” With this he drew from out his ragged coat a likeness, which proved to be that of the lady herself, who, in Italy, had had her child stolen from her, and now he turns up a poor little ragged Savoyard, dragging along a miserable existence in Paris, while his mother, by an intuition, felt that in the air near to where she was, was one so dear to her. The Irishman and Fire-fly. —Two Irishmen, on a sultry night, took refuge underneath the bedclothes from a skir mishing party of mosquitoes. At last, one of them, gasping from heat, ventur ed to peep beyond the bulwarks, and espied a fire-fly which had strayed into the room. Arousing his companion with a punch he said : « Jamie, Jamie, it’s no use, ye might as well come out. Here’s one of the crayters sarchin’ for us wid a lantern.” The young man who determined to seize the first thing that turned up has been arrested for pulling another man’s nose. Someone, some time ago, seeing two or three eminent lawyers gathered to gether on a spot supposed likly to be chosen as the site of the new law courts, said that they had met there “to view the ground where they must shortly lie.’ The New Orleans Times says the French soldiers wept because the Prince Imperial’s tronquility was “all in their eye.” CAT.iIOUN, GA., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 2Q, 1870. MISCELLANY. The Fatal Glass. “Cousin Walter, won’t you drink my health ?” and Fanny Lacy turned from the merry group, and held the tempting glass of wine almost to his lips. Now, Walter Frazier was a man of strong, impetuous nature, and had inherited with it a fondness of dissipation. He had led a wild, reekless life, and had been regarded by many as a hopeless case; but he had astonished his friends, all at once, by his abrupt discontinuance of his old habits ; and a steady applica tion to his business. Yet, no one knew what a struggle it cost him to do so.— No one knows the mental agony he en dured in trying to cast off the tempta tion which constantly haunted him, and sought to cast him down from the po sition he had reached. It was, with him, a continual effort; for, in the society in which he moved, not a day passed that he did not experience a temptation to abandon his resolution, and indulge, “just once” in the dan gerous pleasure. His friends were by no means so strict in their habits, and they frequently urged him to take a glass, and he scarcely attended an en tertainment that he was not offered wine; all these offers were quietly re fused ; but sometimes he felt that the effort would snap his heart strings. He made the struggle bravely through. He firmly resolved never again, to taste intoxicating liquors; for he knew him self well enough to be assured that his first glass would lead to another, and his old thirst once aroused, he could not tell where it would end. But how could he refuse his little Cousin Fanny, the only one he had loved dearly from childhood ? And this was the night of her bridal; and, they, perhaps, would never meet again. Could he refuse her last re quest ? Again, her voice sounded in his ear: “ Please Walter, remember it is the last, last time I shall ever ask you.” And the bright blue eyes looked up at him through their dim mist of tears. The temptation was too great, and raising the glittering goblet to his lips, he drained it to the very bottom; but that’ was not all—five—six glasses was drain ed, during that evening, and when Walter Frazier left the house that night, he knew that lie was a ruined man.— The demon of intemperance was now aroused, and he rushed to the nearest saloon, to allay his burning thirst— drank more, drank deeply, and then reeled home, and lay all night in drunk en stupor. Bay after day the same was repeated, night after night found him in the same condition. “ There is a man at the door that won’t be sent away, Ma’am,” said Bridg et, thrusting her head into Fanny Lacy’s, or rather Mrs. Morton’ pleasant sitting room. “ Nonsense, Bridget; what is the use of coming to me with such stuff? Os course he will go away if you tell him to go!” “ But he says he is an old, old friend, and must see you.” “ Well, show him in,” and Mrs. M. threw her book down petulantly, and awaited his coming. “ Walter Frazier!” she exclaimed, as a man with bloated face and blood-shot eyes staggered into the room. “Yes, I am Walter Frazier. Ah! you may well clasp your hands, you beautiful temptress, who wrought my woes! But for you, I, to day might be a noble, upright man, filling the station God creaetd me for. Five years ago, you tempted me with a glass of wine, and 1 loved you so dearly I could not refuse , but from that hour I was ruined. And now, Fannie Morton, look well on the wreck before you. Raise your hands to heaven, and thank God this is your work!” Ere. she could reply, he was gone. — She threw herself down on the floor, and lay there all night sobbing in her wretchedness; and when the morning came with its freshness and light.— Bridget rushed in her room, saying: “ Oh, Ma’am! please come to the front door for a minute.” She did so; and there on the marble step, stiff and cold, lay the last of the once noble, generous Walter Frazier, the victim of intemper ance. And now, my readers, by this true, yet simple story take warning. Never offer to another, this hateful poison, or it may, like Mrs. Morton, embitter your life forever after.— Ruby Mortimere. In the Army. —On the move from Swift Run Gap, at the beginning of Stonewall Jackson’s celebrated A" alley campaign, his army marched until late the first night, and through a terrible rain. About midnight Col. Baylor, of the sth Virginia, heard one of his men a dutchman. grumbling and swearing to an Irish comrade. He wound up by saying “ I vish all de Yankees vas in the bot tomless pit. enny how.” “Well I don’t thin, 5 said Pat. “Ter tiffle you ton’t; and vat ish de • OJ) reezin . “Begorra and wouldn’t ould Jackson be afther having us up afore day, wid three days coaked rashins, pursuin’ iv ’um.” A gentleman was seated with oth er persons in a room where a country girl sat bold upright and utterly silent. Silence, indeed fell upon the entire par ty, and the gentleman first alluded to sa : 1, in what he supposed to be an al most inaudible voice: “Awful pause?” “I guess, Mister,” exclaimed the indig nant country lass, jumping up, “you’d have awful paws, too, if you had to do the scrubbing that I docs.” Is he Fat? Or a Cure for Rheumatism ? One of the most remarkable cases of sudden cure of disease, was that of a rheumatic individual, with which is con nected an amusing ghost story. There was a couple of men in some old settled part of the country, who were in the habit of stealing sheep, and robbing church-yards of the burial clothes of the dead. There was a public road leading by a meeting-house where there was a grave yard, and not far off a tavern. Early one moonlight night, while one of the miscreants was busy robbing a grave, the other went off to steal a sheep. The first one having accomplished his business, wrapped a shroud around him and took a seat in the meeting-house door, to wait for his companion. A man on foot passing along the road towards the tavern, took him to be a ghost, and alarmed almost to death, ran as fast as his feet could carry him to the tavern, which he reached out of breath. As soon as he could speak, he declar ed that he had seen a ghost, robed in white, sitting in the church door. But nobody would believe his story. He then declared that if any one of them would go back with him they might be convinced. But incredulous as they were, no* One could be found that had courage enough to go. At length a man who was so afflicted with rheumatism that he could scarcely walk, declared he would go if the man would carry him there. He at once agreed, took him on his back, and off they went. When they got in sight, sure enough it was as he said ! Wishing to satisfy themselves well, and get as near a view as possiblo of his ghostship, in the dim light, they kept venturing nearer and nearer. The man with the shroud around him took them to be his companion with a sheep on his back, and asked in a low tone of voice: “Is he fat?” Meeting with no reply, he repeated the question, raising his voice higher: “ Is he fat ?” Still no reply. Then, in a vehement tone, he called : “ Is he fat ?” This was enough. The man with the other on his back replied : “ Fat or lean, you may have him !” And dropping the invalid, he travel- W to the tavern as fast as his feet would carry him. But he had scarcely arrived there, when along Came the in valid on foot too! The sudden fright had cured him of rheumatism; and from that time for ward he was a well man. Jersey Lightning. BY JOSH BILLINGS. Who it waz that invented alchohol, I am unable tew tell, without being, but it would have bin a fust klass blessing, for the rest ov us, if he and liker, had both ov them been spilt on the ground, and never bin sopped up since. The Devil himself with all hiz genius for a ten strike could not have rolled a ball, more serviceable for hiz bizziness on earth; one more more certain tew quar ter on the head pin, and sweep the alley every time. Rum iz the devil’s stool pigeon, hiz right bower, hiz high, low, Jack, and the game. A grate menny, with dispcpstick morals, argy, that lick er iz indispensible for manufaktring and doktor purposes, and also for mekanical uses, and they hold that yu kouldn’t raize a barn, that would stand, without enny good old jamaka rum, and sum say, that pudding sas, without any spirits in it, iz no healthier than common grease gooze. But awl ov these argys are fur nished free ov cost, by the devil himself, and enny man who advancies them, iz telling (without knowing it perhaps) lies, that will weigh, at a ruff estimate, at least a pound pece. But mi objekt in these fu preliminus remarks, iz tew r git a good chance to tell what I know about “Jersey lightning,” one ov alchohol’s imps, az a manufactring and metaphysi kal agent. Jersey lightning is cider brandy, three hours’ old, still born, and quicker than a flash This juice iz drunk raw at all sports, and makes a premoditory and hissing noise az it winds down the thrut, like an old she goose sitting on eggs, or a hot iron stuck into ice-water. Three horns a day of this linker will tan a man’s interior in six months, so that he kan swollo a live, six-footed krab, feet fust, and not waste a wink. It don’t fat a man (cider don’t) like whiskee duz, but puckers him up like fried potatoze. If a man kan survive the fust three years of Jersey lightning, he iz safe then for the next 75 years to come, and keeps looking every day more like a three year old peperpod, hotter and hotter. An old cider-brandy-drink er will steam, in a sudden shower ov rain, like a pile of stable manure, and his breth smell like the bung-hole of a rum cask, lately empted. When Jersey lightning iz fust born it tastes like bile ing turpentine and cayene, half and half, and will rise a blood blister on a pair ov* old cowhide brokans in 15 minutes, and applied eternally will kure the rumatism and kill the patient, I forgot which.— The fust horn a man takes of this licker will make him think he haz swallowed a gas light, and he will go out behind the barn, and try tew die, but kant.— The eyes of old ciderbrandist look like deep gashes cut into a ripe tomato, hiz nose iz the complexshun of a half-biled lobster, and the grizzle in his gullet sticks out like an elbo in a tin leader.— The more villainous the drink the more inveterate are those who drink it. I kan t toll yer whether eider brandee will shorten an old sucker’s days or not, for they generally outlive ail the rest ov the nabers, and die just as soon as the old tavern stand changes hands, and is open ed on temperance principles. One bot tle ov sassaparilla or ginger popp iz az fatal tew theze old fellers az a rifle ball iz tew a bed bugg. The Battle of Sedan. The following is a continuation of tlie account of the battle of Sedan, as given by a French officer in McMahon’s army: The next morning (Thursday) I re turned as soon as the gates of the town were opened, to my post of observation on the elevated ground, where a battery was still placed. The French positions did not seem to me much altered, but the right was now on the other side of Se dan. At seven o’clock cannonading be gan in earnest, some slight firing having taken place earlier. The Prussian bat teries facing us, appeared to me much more numerous; indeed, it seemed there were batteries everywhere. They roared from every point of the Prussian line, which then stretched nearly parallel in in front of the French. I could follow the falling of their shells, which exploded as they touched the ground, and fell with wonderful pre cision. I noticed also how quickly they changed and corrected their fire. As soon as a French corps took up a posi tion it was instantly assailed by shells; the first would perhaps fall a few feet short or beyond; but the third was most sure to find its way to the troops and do its awful work among them. The French shells, on the contrary, exploded generally before they reached the ground, and the smoke of the explo sion formed innumerable little clouds at different heights, some so high they could do no harm to the enemy. I no ticed some inexplicable movements. A few squadrons of Prussian cavalry made as if they would charge the French force, which was toward the left. Im mediately two regiments of French cav alry charged in turn upon the Prussian squadrons, which fell back and fled, but at the same moment a Prussian corps of infantry opened a murderous fire upon those too eager French cavalry, and they 'came back badly shattered from their rash pursuit. About 9 o’clock I could not help fan cying that the Prussians were seeming to extend further to the left, for on ask ing whether certain new batteries were French, I was told that they were Prus sians. The Prussian line was evidently curling round us. I have learned since that the Crown Prince had crossed the Meuse during the night, about five leagues below Sedan, and this had not been known to McMahon. A large force of Bavarians must have arrived after the commencement of the battle, for it w r as the Bavarian troops who began pounding us from the left. At about half past 10 the advance of the Prussians was perceptible on both wings. At the same time some French infantry, which was close to the town on the east side, gave way, it seemed to me, rather quickly. Soon after the shells were coming from behind my left, and it became evident that the French position had been turned, and that a French- German corps had taken a position in our rear. The reserves were now obliged to be directed against those points. The bat tery near where I stood was already in action, and I thought it quite time to beat a retreat. The place was becoming as dangerous as any in the field. Among the guns close to me the Prussian shells began falling w ith their usual beautiful precision, so I got on the other side of the slope, and made my way toward town. As the road to Bouillon, which crossed the field of battle, was wholly closed to me, now, also, I perceived that I should be shut in that circle which the Prussians had been drawing about the army and the town, and w T as at last com plete. I made my way as fast as I could by the safest paths. When I reached the suburbs before Porte de Balou, I found it encumbered with soldiers of all corps. It was a defeat, evidently, yet it was not 11 o’clock, and the battle was des tined to continue at different points for some time longer, though continuing without any real hope of victory. There was no longer any battle to describe. It first a retreat and too soon a rout. I thought myself lucky to get away from the field, as I did an hour afterward. The rout of those forces near by was complete. Already the soldiers wore crushing against each other in the strug gle to get inside the tow n. Dismounted cavalry were trying to make way even by the ramparts, leaping down from the counter scraps; others were forcing their way in by postern gates froriPa nook of the ramparts. As I rested a moment, I saw also cuirassers jumping horses and all into the moat, the horses breaking their legs and ribs. Men were scrambling over each other; officers of all ranks, Colo nels, and even Generals in uniforms it was impossible to mistake, mixed in the shameful melee. Behind all. came the guns, with their heavy carriages and powerful horses, forcing their way into the throng, maiming and crushing fugi tives on foot. To add to the confusion and horror, the Prussian batteries had by this time advanced within range, and Prussian shells began falling into the midst of the O C struggle masses. On the ramparts were the National Guard, manning the guns of the town, and replying with more or less effect to the nearest Prussian bat teries. It was a scene horrible enough to have pleased the fancy of Gustave Pore himself. I could form but oue idea of our unhappy army, that it was at the bottom of a seething cauldron. I hurried back as best 1 could to my hotel, following the narrow streets, where shells Were least likely to reach the ground. Whenever there was n square or open space, I came upon bodies of horses and men, quite deader still quiv ering. mown to pieces by bursting shells. Reaching my hotel, I found the street choked like the rest, with wagons, guns, horses and men. Most luckily, the Prussian fire did not, at this moment, enfilade this street, for a train of cais sons, filled with powder, blocked the whole waj*, itself unable to move back ward or forward. There was every chance these caissons would explode, the town being then on fire in two places, and I began to think Sedan was a place more uncomfortable than even the battle-field over which the victorious enemy was swiftly advancing. When, after a time, it became clear that there was no sign of Bazaine, the hopes of the French again departed.— A sullen sort of a fight still went on ; the guns of the town answered the Prus sians. An aid-de-camp of the Emperor w T ent by on foot, and l heard him ask the officers near by to help him in put ting an end to the fire, such being the Emperor’s wish. At length the white flag was hoisted on the citadel. The cannonade ceased suddenly at about half past four. The Hindoo Sacrifice. The following anecdote was related by the captain of a British regiment: “ When in India with my regiment, we were at one time quartered at a place where there was a missionary station. Some of the officers (as was frequently the case) having much leisure, and being so disposed, gave lay assistance to the clergyman in his endeavors to in struct the native population. Upon one occasion I attended a special service which had been appointed to precede the Lord’s Supper, of which three ad vanced proselytes desired to partake.— Upon this occasion the missionary preached a short sermon upon faith, the foundation of Christianity, taking his text from Homans iv. 3—“ Abraham believed God, and it was counted unto him for righteousness.” He treated the subject in a plain way, suitable to the capacity of his hearers, and expounded the narrative of Genesis xxii. A native Hindoo had been observed at the service who, although he had not previously attended the instruction of the mission ary, was extremely attentive to the sermon. On the evening of the same day, I and a brother-officer rode some six or seven miles toward a native vil lage, w r henee most of the converts came. Nearing it, our attention was attracted to a crowd of natives, in the midst of w T hich a large pile of wood was blazing; and the monotonous tum-tum of the In dian drum and a low croning wail was audible. But few words are necessary to describe the difficulty of teaching Christianity to a race of ignorant people whose minds are so governed by external impressions, and w T ho are matter of fact in practice; and still fewer words to de scribe the horror we felt when wo found that the strange and attentive native had returned home and literally carried out the command given to Abraham ! He had slaughtered his son, and was now offering him to the “ big God ” as a sacrifice!” *4 A Plea for Young America. A war correspondent of the New York Times , writing from Nancy, thinks he has discovered the secret of French reverses. He discourses in this sort: “ When Charles V. retired from the siege of Metz in 1853, after ten months of fruitless effort to overthrow the de fense of the Duke de Guise, he exclaim ed : “ Fortune is a woman, she favors the young.” Guise was at this time thirty years of age. It might bo well for the French people if they would ex claim the same about their own Generals, who are, despite their great military ex perience, a drag, rather than a directing force of the French army. Bazainc is fifty-nine; Leboeuf. just toppled over, is sixty-one; Canrobert, who struck for fortune and glory by the side of Louis Napoleon, at Bay >nne, is sixty-one; Montauban is seventy-four—bis Duke dom Palikao comes from his 00,000,000 francs plundered from the Orientals. Bnd paid into the French Treasury; Frossard is sixty-three; McMahon sixty two ; Failly sixty, and Felix Douay fifty two years of age. You must agree with me that most all this material is too old to keep peace with French demands for activity in such a war as this. It is little to predict that if the war lasts six months but few of them will be foremost in the eyes of the military world. I may make an ex ception of Felix Douay, who was Ba zaine’s right-hand man in Mexico, and who is of great ability, and a noble, fine soldier, commanding much admiration.’’ Old Co-Partnerships. Whiskey and Ignorance. Whiskey and Poverty. Whiskey and Sensuality. Whiskey and Crime. Whiskey and Degradation. Whiskey and Disease. Whiskey and Destruction. •What made you tell the gentleman you had three or four sisters and broth ers. Mary, when yon have dodo ?” “Why. mother. 1 did not like him to think you were so poor you could afford to buy none.” Boasters arc cousins to liars. Number T. VARIETY. Murmurs of the tied—The grumblings of a married couple. Men bom blind* can’t be carpenters be cause the never saw. Tuerc’s one thing can always be found, and that’s fault. When arc some comic papers the sharpest ? When they are filed. Confession of faults makes half amends. A poor way to gel a thing—waiting for it to turn up.- Speak little, speak truth; spend lit tle. pay each'. Net er stand aside for trifles.—lie! them do that honor to you. Whatever you dislike in another, tako care to correct in yourself. Give your son a trade and you do* more for him than by giving him a for tune. So said Franklin.- Augusta, Ga , has established a reg ular line of steamers between that city and Savannah, making ten trips a week. There is nothiug so calculated to call out the deep earnestness of a true wo man and enlist her most fliithful devo tion as the doing up of her back hair. Wiiat verb is that, in the language of flowers which few can conjugate ? The ‘Vetb-ena. It was woman who first prompted man to eat, but he took to drink on his own account afterward. It is not a very good definition of a coffin to call it the house that a man lives in when he is dead. The difference between a bride and a bridegroom is this—One is given awuy f and the other sold. An old man is easier robbed than a young one, for his locks are few and hi* gait is generally broken. What’s the difference between a chil ly man and a hot dog ? One wears a great coat, and the other pants, A person, one hot night lately, when asked if he would like to venture on an ice, said he was afraid he might brake through. A book-keeper in a leading mercan tile house has been discharged an ac count of short-sightedness. He rubbed out with his nose what be wrote with his pen. A gentleman in Indiana says, in a note accompanying a letter for publica tion in the Louisville Courirr-.Lmrnal: “I sumtimes misspell a word, and its pos sible I have sicafant rong.” Punch says two things are uppermost in every body’s thoughts just now, when the war is commencing, and the money marked in a state of agitation—the Rhine and the Rhino. No man, whether rich or poor, can make or retain a good, useful position in life, without the two valuable habits of punctuality and temperence. “Yoitno man do you believe in a fu ture state ?” “In coorse I duz and what’s more, I mean to enter it as soon as Betsy gets her things ready.” “Bub, is your sister at home?” “Yes. but she won’t see you to-night.” “Why?” “Because she said she was going to have one more mess of onions, if she nev er got another beau. A talented young African, of the boot-black persuasion, observed a neigh bor poring wisely over a newspaper, where upon he addressed him thus : “Julius, what you looking at dat paper for ? You can’t read.” “Go away fel lah,” cried the other indignantly ; “gues I can read. I’s enuf for dat.” “Big nuff.” retorted the other scornfully; “dat ain’t nuffin. A cow’s big nuff to ketch amice, but sh a can’t.” A Puzzled Irishman.— Mr. O’Fla herty undertook to tell how many were at the party :—“The two Crogans Was one, meself was two, Mike Finn Was three, and—and— who in the divil was the four ? Let me see (counting his fin gers) —The two Crogans was one, Mike Finn was two, meself was three—and— bedad ! there was four of us, but Saint Patrick couldn’t tell the name of the other. Now it’s meself that has it: Mike Finn was one, the two Crogans was two, meself was three—and—and by me sowl—l think there was but three of us, after all.” Damage to Strasbourg. —A special correspondent telegraphs from Frankfort Monday night: “Great damage has been done to Strasbourg; the principal streets are in ruins; shells fell on the roof of a Catholic girls’ school and killed seven and wounded four. After the offer of an armistice was rejected, and the Ger man flag of truee was fired on, the bom bardment was renewed with increased vigor. The fall of the city is imminent.’* The same correspondent telegraphs from Carlsruhe on Tuesday night: “The inhabitants who have just escaped from Strasbourg, report dreadful suffering.’’ M» st of the people spend the nights in the cellars. Potatoes are twenty francs per pound, arid other things in proportion. Horse flesh is the only meat. General Ulrich declares that he will not surrender until the city is a heap of ashes. The inhabitants beseech him to make terms. A YOUNG man charged with being la zy was asked if he took it from his fath er. “I think not.” was the reply, “fath er’s got all the laziness he ever had.