The Calhoun Times.
THE CALHOUN TIMES.
OFficToVER A M. ARTHUR S, RAILROAD STREET
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NIGHT PASSENGER TRAIN —OUTWARD.
Leave Atlanta P ‘ M *
Arrive at Calhoun... 12.15 a. m.
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DAT PASSENGER TRAIN—OUTWARD.
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ACCOMOD TION TRAIN —OUTWARD.
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ACCOMODATION TRAIN INWARD.
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DAT PASSENGER TRAIN.
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DAY PASSENGER TRAIN.
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arrive at Rome 2.30 p m.
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The accommodation train runs from Rome to
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he through passenger train only will be lun
W 7 S. JOHNSON,
Attorney AL t Law,
rj Southeast corner of the
IAuY»I Au Y» i tr
1 c. fain. ~ ~ :
JOS. M CONNELL.
pain and McConnell,
VI lon H . Vs at Law,
Office in the Court House.
u g U 1 ts
CALHOUN. ; GEORGIA.
i n the Court Houge
Attorney i „
n * V 1 l
. Laliioun, Georgia.
W “\, P r»£ !" li* Ch "?k««» Circuit,
Ifict Os Georgiu ° Urt ’ Nort hern Dis-
"** Su '
a3 * t * R'kku,
lAl\' <nd standf tand °f Cantrell $ Kiker. I
m Cherokee circuit*! 11 5° Ur, ; s ° f the
w DHnVa''ila ieUuit0 ’ i S^te^DfstiS^oui-f
T>tt™ - *ugl 9 ’7oly
' S thornton;
fnANKpiifc-v- ‘ G ' 'iioi a.
A SUNSET MEMORY.
Once, as fell the shades of evening,
At the close of the long day ?
Sat we, in the lengthening shadows,
In the old time, far away—
Sat we, till the stars came gleaming
Through the twilight soft and gray.
We had watched the golden sunset
Fading in the crimson west,
While upon the glowing hill-tops
Clouds of amber seemed to rest,
Till the twilight closed around them,
In her hazy mantle dressed.
Then I listened to the story
That his lips so fondly told;
Words of passionate devotion,
Words of love that ne’er grow cold ;
Filling all my heart with lightness.
Threading all my life with gold.
Always, when the sunset glory
Trails above the western hills,
All the music of that story
Through my inmost being thrills—
Tunes my sad heart to rejoicing,
And with peace my spirit fills.
Since I first Love’s nectar tasted,
Years have swept to Time’s abyss—
All Life’s choicest hopes been wasted;
But my visions now of bliss
In that other Life are founded
On the one glad hour in this.
Years may roll and tempests gather,
Storms may cloud youth’s azure sky,
Brightest locks may blanch to silver,
Frosts of Time may dim the eye.
But a pure heart’s first devotion
Always lives—it cannot die.
I sing beneath your lattice, Love,
A song of great regard for you ;
The moon is getting rather high—
My voice is, too.
The lakelet in deep shadow lies,
Where frogs make much hullaballoo ;
I think they sing a trifle hoarse,
And love, me too.
The blossoms on the pumpkin vine
Are weeping diamond tears of dew;
’Tis warm; the flowers are wilting fast;
My linen, too.
All motionless the cedars stand,
AVitli silent moonbeams slanting through,
The very air is drowsy, love,
And I am, too.
Oh, could I soar on loving wrings,
And at your window gently woo!
But then your lattice you would bolt,
So I’ll bolt, too.
And now I’ve done my serenade,
Farewell! my best regards to you ;
I’ll close with one (French) word for all,
And that is tout.
God’s Law Perfect. —An eminent
lawyer, who had notread the Bible, and
was doubtful about its being God’s
word, asked a Christian friend to tell
him what books he should read to satis
fy his mind. His friend said, “Read
the Bible itself." The inquirer thought
his question had been misunderstood.—
He wanted some books that would say
something about the Bible. But his
friend said : No, I will not send you
to other books. Read the Bible for
yourself." The lawyer obtained a Bi
ble. “ W here shall I begin ?" said he.
“Oh, begin at the beginning, and read
it through !" The Christian called upon
him and was delighted to find that he
continued to read. One day the friend
found the doubter walking up and down
his room full of thought. He inquired
what subject occupied his mind so com
pletely. I have been reading,” said he,
“ the moral law of the Book of Exodus."
“ Why what do you think of it ?”
*’ Y by, I have been trying whether I
can add anything to it, but I can’t and
I have considered whether there is any
thing that can be taken from it, so as to
make it better, and I cannot. It is
Making Newspaper s. —Every
column of a newspaper contains from
five to twenty-thousand distinct pieces
of metal according to the size of the
paper and type. The displacement of
a single one makes an error. Is it any
wonder that errors occur ? In large
offices professional proofreaders are kept,
whose practiced eyes passing twice over
every line of proof, detect most of the
errors; a boy kept for that purpose, at
the same time reading the copy aloud.
Still mistakes are frequently found after
coming through such hands, and pro
bably no newspaper or book nvus ever
published without errors that might be
discovered by the merest notice. In
book printing it is estimated that proof
reading costs one-quarter as much as the
composition. In country offices the edi
tor has to be his own foreman, job
printer, book-keeper and almost every
thing else, and. if the saum care had to
be exercised that is deemed indispens
able on books, the common country
newspaper could not be published at all.
because of the expense.
Oi jD Bill W— was dying. He was
an ignorant man, and a very wicked one,
Dr. D— —, an excellent physician and
a very pious man, was attending him.
The old fellow asked for bread. The
doctor approached the bedside, and in a
very solemn tone remarked, “My dear
fellow, man cannot live by bread alone.”
“No,” said the old fellow, slightly revi
ving, “he’s ’bleeged to have a few wege
The most laconic will on record, is
that of a man who died in 1780. It
runs thus: “I have nothing; I owe a
great deal; the rest I give to the poor."
CALHOTJN, GA, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 39, 1870.
The Unexpected Rival.
BY KATE CLAIR.
Brightly glowed the fire in the polish
ed grate and brilliant flashed the light
from a dozen glass jets, throwing
through crimsoned curtained windows
a rieh glow upon the snow covered
pavement without; speaking to the
weary-hearted, toilworn children of pov
erty passing by to their cheerless homes,
of warmth and comfort and blessings
which might never be theirs.
Within the curtained room, where
naught seemed wanting of beauty or
luxury, a young girl stood behind the
drapery, gazing out into the stormy
night, and tapping her little foot im
pa.tion.tly on the floor, wliilo an expres
sion of angry discontent shadowed a
face perfect in its outline and coloring,
marring sadly its otherwise exquisite
The snow fell thick and fast, and but
few pedestrians ventured abroad; none
but those who were compelled by ne
cessity to brave the chilling blast and
Suddenly with a gesture of vexation
and disappointment she dashed the folds
of crimson, and advanced to the fireside,
“ Its provoking, intolerably provoking.
Here I have been watching for that
girl one hour. What does she mean
by this delay ? I shall be raging ! I
am disappointed of my dress this even
ing of all others."
“ Why surely, Ella, you are not going
out in this tempest ?” said a noble look
ing silver-haired man who entered the
room, just in time to catch her words.
“Indeed, but 1 am, Guardy. Doctor
Hunter is coming for me to go to Mrs.
Eriston’s ball, and I would not miss it for
the world. I am determined to crown
me reigning belle of the season, by
bringing him to feet if possible be
fore another day dawns. He is the best
match in the city, and I mean to secure
him at once. The girls are crazy about
him, and I long to triumph over them."
“ You speak confidently," said Mr.
Revere, “so I shall expect to wake up
in the small hours of the morning with
tidings of success."
Turn we now to another home, the
abode of poverty, where Mary Gray, the
young seamstress, is bending over her
work, a richly embroidered dress, whose
silver lilies of the valley, with richly
tinted blue bells, are artistically wrought
to graceful patterns on a ground work
of white silk. It is the dress for which
the beautiful heiress is waiting—the
dress in which she expected to capture
the best match in the city.
Very lovely is Mary Gray, though no
rose bud tint blossoms on the pure white
of her complexion—very lovely, though
her glorious eyes, shaded by long silken
lashes, are dimmed with watching and
tears. Her fingers fly nimbly over her
task nearly completed the payment for
which is to bring supplies to those who
for two days have scarcely tasted food—
her invalid mother and little sister Lucy,
who is nestling at her feet, crying with
hunger. The work is completed at last,
and Mary, the child fondly to
her side, says soothingly :
“Hush, darling! hush! sister is go
ing to take home the dress and bring
you a nice little feast. Twenty-five
dollars we’ll have for this, won’t we be
rich, my pet?"
Tears filled her eyes, but she brushed
them hastily, away, as a well known rap
at the door was heard, followed by the
entrance of an elegant looking man;
who holding out his hand to Mary, said
“ I am earlier than usual this even
ing, but I am obliged to escort a fair
lady to a ball at 10 o’clock, and thought
I would look in on my patient before
making my toilet."
“Oh, Doctor, how can I thank you
for your kindness ?" said Mary, raising
her sparkling eyes to his face, but drop
ping them again instantly as she met
the warm gaze of admiration in his,
while crimson blushes brightened her
face into new beauty.
“ Mother is worse, I fear, doctor,"
said Mary. “ She seems quite exhaust
ed this evening."
“ Has she had proper nourishment
“ Mamma has had nothing to eat to
day. doctor," broke in Lucy, “ and sister
and I havn’t had anything either but
dry bread, but sister is going to get
some money to-night."
“ Hush! Lucy, said 3lary, while a
painful look of embarrassment fell upon
her before bright countenance. “ Doc
tor. excuse her. she talks too fast."
An anxious, inquiring gaze rested on
her, aud in a voice trembling with
emotion, the doctor exclaimed :
“ Mary, is it indeed so."
She bent her head in assent; but
after a moment of silence, found voice
“ I shall have money to-night."
Giving hut a glance at his patient,
whose pale face spoke of suffering and
want, even in sleep, he left hastily.—
And Mary, folding her work, and care
fully placing at her mother’s side the
medicine she might need on waking, at
the same time charging little Lucy to
stay by her in her absence, she started
out in the fierce storm to carry the
dress to the heiress, who sat chafing at
Mary’s father had once been rieh but
crushed by adversity, he died and left
his family poor, and his wife an invalid
Dr. Hunter had known them in their
days of prosperity, and on his return
from the continent a month previous to
our story, had sought them out and
offered his services gratuitously—an
offer gratefully accepted. He knew
they were poor, but never till Lucy’s
revelation had he dreamed of the extent
of that poverty. Her loveliness had
made a deep impression on his heart,
and when he left them that night, it
was in the resolve to shield them in the
future, under his protecting love, from
all life’s cares and sorrows.
It was indeed a fierce storm that
Mary was to encouuter on her way to
Mr. Revere’s splendid mansion, and her
progress was necessarily slow.
As chilled by the stinging blast, and
blinded by the snow, she staggered up
the steps of the handsome mansion and
rang the bell, a sleigh dashed up to the
door, and when it was opened to the
girl, a gentleman alighted and ran up
lightly, passing in eve it w,as closed, and
saying to the servant:
“ I will wait for Missf Ella in the
Mary started ; she knew the voice of
Dr. Hunter, and not wishing to be re
cognized, drew her hood closely around
“Poor girl, what a night for a woman
to be abroad," said the doctor.
He little dreamed who he was pity
Directed by the servant, Mary tapped
lightly at the door of the opposite room.
It was opened by Ella Raymond in a
towering rage, her face distorted by
“So you have come at last," she ex
claimed, angrily; “two hours behind
time. I did think, Mary Gray, you
were poor enough to have that one vir
tue of punctuality."
“ I am sorry I have disappointed you,
Miss Raymond. I have set up three
nights until day-break to complete it in
time, but my mother has been very ill
and needed care which must be my
Dr. Hunter, in the drawing-room,
caught the silvery accents, and—forgive
him, reader, listened.
“ What is your mother’s sickness to
me ? You promised the dress at seven
and now it is nine. Your excuse is a
“ Believe me, I regret it, but it was
impossible for me to be earlier. You
will oblige me, as I am in haste, if you
will now pay me for it and let me go."
“ Pay you, indeed! Not I. I’ll
punish you for your tardiness. I’ll
teach you to make promises and break
them. Just as many hours as you have
kept me waiting for my dress so many
days will I keep you out of your money."
“Oh, Miss Raymond, you cannot be
so cruel! My mother is ill,and needs
nourishment, my little sister is starving;
and I depend on this twenty-five dollars
from you to supply their wants. I must
have the money."
“Not from me," said Ella, with a
taunting laugh, as she shut the door in
her face and turned into the room to
admire the exquisite garment.
Faint from want of food, and crushed
by her disappointment, Mary left the
abode of xvealth not knowing where to
look for help in her trouble. On the
pavement, still bright with the rich tint
from the crimson curtains she slipped
and fell insensible. Strong arms raised
her tenderly and lifted her into the fur
lined sleigh at the door, and swiftly it
sped homeward. Her fit of insensibility,
produced by exhaustion and distress,
was a long one, and when she awoke to
consciousness, warmth and light were
around her—while at the table, on
which was spread a comfortable meal,
sat famished little Lucy, eating to her
heart’s content—her head was pillowed
on the breast of Dr. Hunter, his arms
enfolding her. Blushing she sought to
withdraw from his embrace, but bending
over her he wffiispered :
“ No, darling, lie still close to my
heart sheltered by love. No more pov
erty, no more sorrow, if you will only
give me the right to shelter you from
it, dear one.”
Trembling with happiness unspeak
able, Mary hid her face against his
shoulder; gently turning it towards him,
he looked down into the depths of her
wonderful eyes and reading there how
fully his love was returned, pressed a
fervent kiss upon her lips, and rising
led her to her mother for her consent to,
and blessing on their union.
The clock struck ten, and the doctor
said, with a fond glance at Mary:
“ I must leave you now Hseep my
appointment with the heiress. She
must display my darlings work at the
ball to-night or die of vexation.”
The expectant fair one waited half an
hour for the tardy escort, but no look of
anger on her beautiful face, no discord
ant notes marred the harmony of the
soft sweet tones with which she chided
Dr. Hunter for his want of punctuality.
It was just one month since the night
of Mrs. Eriston’s ball. In that time
Dr. Hunter had bought and furnished
an elegant residence on Fifth Avenue.
He was weary of single life, he told his
friends, and was preparing a cage for
the bird of his choice. Invitations were
out for a grand house-warming, at which
the world would know the select bride
of the best match in the city.
Every one fixed their eyes on the
belle of the season, and were confident
that the charming heiress, to whom of
late he had been paying marked atten
tion. was the envied one.
“He will certainly propose to-night,
Guardy," she said to Mr. Revere, as she
stood before the glass arranging her
graceful ringlets. “ You will not have
me on your hands much longer."
“ Disappointed once, Ella," he an
swered.” you may he again. Still you
may wake me if you come home engag
ed to Dr. Hunter."
The rooms were crowded as Ella,
superbly dressed, swept into the splendid
hall, she expected won to call her own.
Many curious eyes were turned upon
her as she passed with queenly grace to
the reception room, and reached the
spot where the host stood with a lady
beside him in bridal attire, “lovely as a
She started and turned pale, but re
covering her self-possession advanced,
while he holding out his hand, greeted
her as friend, then leading her gently
forward he presented her to his bride.
Stupefied she gazed on the face of
Mary Gray, despised seamstress, uttered
an hysterical shriek, and fainted away.
She had indeed met an unexpected rival,
and the shock of seeing the child of
poverty elevated to a position her am
bitious hopes had led her to believe
would be her own; was too much, even
for pride to conceal.
Mary, ever considerate, came to her
“It is the heat," she said to the in
quisitive crowd. “Do take her to the
conservatory, and leave her with me."
Need I describe the recovery; the
shame and remorse on one side; the
charity, which thinketh no evil and for
giveth all things on the other.
The heiress returned home humbled
and saddened, having learned a lesson
that might never be forgotten.
She did not as may be imagined,
awake her guardian, nor did he wonder
when he read in the morning paper of
the surprise Dr. Hunter had prepared
for his friends.
Comfort and happiness soon restored
the invalid mother to health, and found
ed the form of little Lucy, who never
complained of hunger.
To Mary, life flows on like a fairy
dream, brighter far by contrast with the
past; and we need hardly add, that Dr.
Hunter has never ceased to bless the
night of storm in which he opened his
arms and heart to take into their warm
shelter the poor unpaid seamstress,
A Veritable Ghost Story.
Many of our readers remember the
daring exploits of Jerome Clarke, alias
Sue Mundy, the notorious guerilla and
robber during the war, and his subse
quent execution in Louisville by the
military authorities. The story of his
life and crimes has been revived iu a
very singular manner. For some weeks
past the people living near Eighteenth
and Broadway, the place of his execu
tion, have been startled by strange
sights and sounds. The ghost of Sue
Mundy has been flitting across the com
mons, in the vicinity of the fatal tree,
at all hours of the night. Sometimes
alone, and with his hands pinioned be
hind him and the fatal cap drawn over
his eyes; again dangling in the air with
a rope around his neck, struggling as if
in the agonies of death. At other times
he was accompanied by the girl, who
so fondly and truly loved him, all steep
ed in crime so he was, and to whom he
wrote as affectionately with his man
acled hands a few hours before his
death. Many of the people were skepti
cal on the subject, and attempted to
solve the mystery. The strange couple
were seen by hundreds of people, but
always when closely approached mys
teriously disappeared—vanished into
thin air. Every attempt to solve the
mystery only tended to deepen it, and
many of the people of the vicinity finally
believed that the objects that they saw
were Sue Mundy and his phantom bride.
The ghost got to be a real terror, aud
the nervous maidens and children were
afraid to venture out after dark. The
ghosts finally got to be such an annoy
ance that the police were appealed to,
and on Sunday night last Lieut. J.
Shelly was informed that the ghosts
were in full view. He went to the spot
sure enough, and saw the tall form of a
man. with a female all dressed in white
hanging on his arm, walking slowly in
the direction of the fatal tree and finally
take a seat. He went up to them rapid
ly, when the female in white suddenly
disappeared, or at least seemed to do so.
The Lieutenant hastened on and seized
hold of the man, and the ghost story
was at an end. The man was real flesh
and blood and the female in white had
not disappeared. She had only thrown
a long black cloak over her white dress,
thus concealing her from view except
upon a close inspection. They were a
couple of lovers, who, for lack of a bet
ter place, had chosen the fatal tree as a
trusting place, not knowing its history.
As there is no law prohibiting courting,
the Lieutenant released them and ex
plained the matter to the terrified peo
ple.—Louisville Courier Journal.
Arithmetical Questions. Per
haps it may add to the interest of the
following question to state that it is sev
eral centuries old: “The Three Graces,
bearing each the same number of apples,
met the Nine Muses. Each one of the
Graces gave to each Muse an equal num
ber ; when they all, Graces and Muses,
had each the same number of apples.
How many did each of the Graces have
at first, and how many did each one give
A prodigal returned to the home of
his brother and sister in Pontiac, Mich
igan, the other day, was received with
open arms, ate the fatted calf and all
that sort of thing, and in two days after,
built a nice fire with kerosene oil under
the bed chamber in order to burn them
to death and secure the property.
“With a sewing machine one woman
can do as much sewing now as a hun
dred could a century ago," said a politi
cal economist. “Yes, and one woman
now requires as much clothing as a hun
dred women did a century ago. and that
makes it just even," said the wife of the
A Heart-Rending Calamity
in Roane County West Va.
A gentleman just from Roane county
gives the particulars of a most heart
rending calamity that happened last
week on Spring creek in that county,
by which one family was bereft of four
children :in less than an hour.
A lady whose name our informant
had forgotten, residing upon the above
named creek, had went down to it in
the morning for the purpose of doing
“the week’s washing," taking with her
the youngest child, an infant about a
year old, leaving her other three at the
house. While engaged at her work she
heard suppressed screams at the house;
taking up her little child from the soiled
cloths upon which it was sitting, she
placed it in an epipty wash tub to keep
it from crawling into the creek during
her absence, and hastened to the house,
where she met her eldest child with its
head frightfully disfigured and swollen.
She hastily gleaned from this one that
the three children had crawled under
the house in search of eggs; that while
under something hurt them, aud that
the other two were still uuder the house.
The mother, upon looking under the
house, found them dead, with several
mocasin snakes (a very poisonous and
deadly species) crawliug around their
bodies. The neighbors were alarmed,
and by their assistance the snakes were
killed, and the unfortunate children
taken out, their bodies presenting a
frightful and sickening appearance. By
this time the elder oue was a corpse.
The mother iu her despair and agony
had forgotten until now her little one at
the creek, aud upon going down to the
creek for it, it was only to find it also a
corpse iu the creek. It is supposed the
little child climbed up in the tub, aud
was holding on to the lower edge of it
when the tub upset, rolling the child
into the water below and drowuing it.
It is said the mother’s grief was so great
that at last accounts she was a raving
maniac. —Point Pleasant Journal.
The following from the Liverpool
Mail, discloses an important fact, and no
person can deny that this new test of
willingness iu debtors to pay, is based
upon common sense:
We were not aware until recently, that
many newspaper publishers are consult
ed, to a large extent, by people in order
to ascertain the peculiar standing of per
sons. Debts for newspapers become due
once a year, and persons who pay up
regularly once a year, for their papers,
are considered prompt men and worthy
of confidence. We had a person come
into our office the other day; and say:
‘Do you send your paper to Mr. W V
We replied that we did.
‘Well,’ said the man, he owes me £5.
and I can’t get it ; I don’t think he’s
We looked secretly at his account, and
found him paid up. We then replied to
the enquirer, ‘That man is good. Your
debt is safe. He may have forgotten it.
or something else may have prevented
his paying, but he is good.’
The man’s eyes brightened. Said he,
‘I have written to several printers, and
could not find where he took a paper. I
thought of you and said I would come
here.’ Said he again after a pause, ‘This
is the way to find out whether people
are good. Wc ascertain what papers
they take, and, contrive some way to
peep into their accounts. Men who are
good are very sure to pay for their news
papers ; and if they do not pay for these,
we don’t think them good. We were
forcibly struck by the idea.
‘Well,’ said he, ‘I will send my bill
by the post.’
In a few days the person came in again.
Said he, ‘I sent my bill.’
Well, did he pay you?’
‘Yes, sir,’ and opening his hand he
showed us the draft. ‘There,’ said he,
‘give me a printer’s book after all, to tell
whether a man’s good, there’s a complete
thermoneter; we always knowed a man
to be bad if he don’t pay the printer.’
Betting Extraordinary. — Th e
New York “Star," in an article on bet
ting, relates the following:
A distinguished physician was called
to attend an inveterate better, who was
attacked with a sudden and dangerous
illness. After a careful diagnosis, the
doctor assured him that his eoudition
was extremely critical, aud his chances
of recovery very doubtful. Thereat the
patient rallied somewhat, and the follow
ing colloquy ensued:
“I’ll bet you a hundred dollars. Doc
tor, that I don’t die."
“My dear sir, you may not; hut I
think it proper to advise you that, in my
opinion, you will.”
“Well, Doctor, if I die, will I go to
“I hope so, sir."
“Will I be an angel ?"
“Will I have wings?”
“I presume so, sir."
“Well, now Doctor, when you die will
you go to heaven and be an angel ?’’
“I trust so, sir."
“And will you hare wings too ?"
“Yes, I suppose I will.”
“Well then. Doctor, I’ll bet you a hun
dred dollars I will out-fly you."
The man died, but the Doctor, who
has not yet taken the bet, still lives.
The blooming young lady who has
not been taught to make bread, wash
dishes, and do general house work, is the
complefcest thing we know of—to make
a young man miserable—in case he mar
ries her, which he noir no one else should
do. The girl who has not energy suffi
cient to learn those first lessons, is not
worthy of a husband.
Ns umber S.
An Albany girl suicided because an
other girl wouldn't marry her brother*.
There are two reasons why some peo
ple don’t mind their own business. One
is that they hnvn*t any business, and
the second that they have no mind.
An old bachelor says women are like
parrots; they are willing to be caged up
it* they only have a ring to play wish.
A widower was recently rejected by
a damsel who didn't want affections that
had been ‘ warmed over."
Tiie Sultan of Turkey is a game-cock.
Surrender or no surrender, he says lie'
will stand by Napoleon.
A YOU no lady, about to be married,
says she will not promiso to “love, hon
or and obey/’ but iustead, "love, honor
aud be gay."
A young man recently married it
Beloit helped his wife, while courting, to
sew together rags enough to make 60
yards of carpet.
A widow recentley married a Wis
consin farmer, and, alter living with
him three days, disappeared, leaving him
three children to “raise."
Giiils sometimes put their lips out
poutingly because they arc angry, and
sometimes because t they are disposed to
meet you half way.
A VERY domestic and devoted wife
says she cares more for her eccentric
husband’s income than she does for his
An Indiana man had a fainting tit
while being married, the other evening,
and died soon enough to avert the com
pletion of the ceremony.
“What would you be, dearest," said
Walter to his sweetheart, “if I were to
press the seal o f love upou those sealing
wax lips ?" “I should be stationary."
A GENTLE widow in Martin county,
Indiana, piously watches over the graves
of six husbands, aud patiently prays
for the seventh.
“The Prussians attacked Nancy, yes
terday," said a young man to his grand
mother. “Well, well," said the old la
dy, wiping her spectacles. “ I didn’t
think they’d be mean enough to strike
A tiresome talker once said to a
public man he had incontinently bored :
“An oyster is pleasant to eat. though re
pulsive to look at." “Yes, but then he
knows when to shut up," was the reply.
The following lines were found on a
lawyer’s table in the Rochester court
house after the adjournment of court the
other day :
Fair woman was made to bewitch ;
A companion, a nurse,
A blessing, a curse.
Fair womau was made to bewitch 1
A carpenter, working on the top of
a house, happened to fall down through
the rafters. “Oh !" said a bystander,
“I like such a fellow mightily, for he is
a man that goes through his work !"
“Willyer honor take a cab" said a
London cab-driver to a gentleman.—
“No, thank you, I am able to walk,"
said the gentleman. “May yer long be
able, but seldom williu’ I" was the witty
“Why were you not up with the lark
this morning, as I last night told you to
be, sir ?" said an irate father to his
sluggard son. “The reason that I was
not up with the lark this morning was
because I was “on a lark" last night,
Hungry Dinner—“ Trouble you for
some more bread, landlord. I always
eat a good deal of bread with my meat."
Laudlord—“So I see, sir! And a
good deal of meat with your bread."
A Missouri “grass widow" recently
married, on condition that her husband
should consent to resign his position in
case No. 1 should at any time make his
A Landlord went to a tenant with l
a view of increasing his rent, and said to
him. “Neighbor, I'm going to raise your
rent." “Thank you sir." was the reply,
“for I am utterly unable to raise it my
A Ouit MAN shoemaker having made
a pair of boots for a gentleman of whose
financial integrity he had considerable
doubt, made the following reply when
he called for the article. “Der pools
are not quite done, but der beel ish made
A Milwaukee sausuage maker has
the following placard over his counter ;
“Oh, the pup, the beautiful pup ?
Drinking his milk from a china cup:
Oaiuboliug around no frir-ky and free.
First gnawiug a bone, tlicu biting a flea :
After the pony ;
Beautiful pup. you w ill soon be bologna ‘
The pleasant story of an organized
band of pirates, operating on the Hud
son ltiver, is the last blood-curdling
sensation served up to the dwellers on
that beautiful stream by the New York
papers. It is asserted that the combin
ed efforts of the Newburg police, the
Cold Spring Vigilance Committee and
special detectives, in connection with
the recent Cold Spring robbery and
murder, have led to the discovery of an
extensive confederation oi outlaws ex
tending all along the river, whose at>
complices are probably residents at vari
ous towns; that they go from place fc>
place on pleasure yachts and other crafts,
committing depredations of all kinds. —
It is certain that burglaries have beea
very numerous all along the river this