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The Calhoun Times.
Volume I.
THECALHOUN TIMES.
OFFICE OVER J. H. ARTHUR'S, RAILROAD STREET.
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country.
bailboads.
Western Jk Atlantic.
jriGUT TASSItNOtK TKVIN— OOTWARO.
lm" Plants. £OO r. «
Arrive «' U **
Arrite at Cbatiau. ojra o A M
OAT FABSBNCER TWAIN OUTWARD.
I,wve Atlanta,... M
Arrive at Calhoun 12 ’] p “*
Arrive at Chattanooga -4*o «* »•
accomod TION TRAIN —OCTWARO.
urn Atl.n.. l ;•
Arrive at Dalton 8 -' jU p “■
NIOUT IVsSSKNGBK THAIN—INWARD.
Leave Chattanooga. p<) p M
Arrive at Calhoun H-44 P M
Ariiveat Atlunt* 4 .4 a. m
DAT PAS-KNOKK TRAIN —INWARD.
Letve ('hattanoo a a. m
Arrive at Calhoun 1() 22 A M
Arrive at Atlanta 3 -‘- 7 “•
ACCOMODATION TRAIN - INWARD.
Leave Da'ton 2 p M
Arrive at Atlanta 0(1 A M
Georgia Railroad.
DAT PASSKNGKR TR/ON.
Leave Augusta. 7.15 A - M -
Leave A'lanta. 7 50 a. m
An ive at Augusta. 5.45 p. M
Arrive at Atlanta. 7 10 P. m
NIGUT PASSKNOKK AMD MAIL TRAIN.
Leave Augusta. 9 5> p m.
Leave Atlanta 545 p M.
Arrive at Augusta. 4 on a. m
Arrive at At anta. B.CO a. m.
Maooß & Western.
DAT PASSKNOKR TRAIN.
Leave Atlanta. 7.55 A. u
fcrrive at MhCOO. 14 P M
pifHve Macnn, 7 55 a. m
Arrive at Atlanta. 2.20 P. m.
NTUUT KXPKB99 PV9SKNGER TBUN.
Leave Atlanta 7.18 P. m.
Ariive at Macon 828 a m
Leave Macon 8.50 p. m
Arrive at Atlanta 4.0' a m
Koine Railroad.
DAT TRAIN,
Leave Rome TO 00 a m.
Ariive at Kingston 11.80 a. m
Leave Kitgston I.o<> P. M.
Ariiveat Home 2.3‘* p m.
Connecting at Rome with accomnda'ion train*
on Selma, Home and Dalton Ruilioad, and at
Kingston with up and down trains Western and
Allan.ic Railroad.
NIGHT TRAIN.
Leave Rome 9 80 p. m.
arrive at Kingston 10 45 p. m.
Leave Kingston 11. lop m.
Arrive at Rome 12 25 p m
Connecting at Rome with through nigh’ trains
on Selma, Rome and Dalton It it road, and at
Kingston with night trains on Wes e*n an t
Atlantic Kailro and >o Chattanooga and t o n and
to Ailao’a.
Selma, Koine & Dalton.
PASSKNUBR TRAIN.
Leave Selma 9 3Ft a. m.
Arrive at R 'me 8 55 p w
Arrive at Dalton U. 50 p m
ACCOM MO DATI M TR AIN
Leave R* me 4.45 p m
Arr veat K me lg. Sop, m
Leiiv Dalmn jo no a. m
Tie ceomm id ,iion 1 r»> »m>s fr m Rome t
JarUonv 1 at • Sr.. . vc*' t I
Ihe ihri.ugti p s *>uger ’ram onl will be ru;
on Sm dav.
PROFESSIONAL CARDS.
W. S. JOHNSON,
Attorney At Law,
CALUOLN, GEORGIA.
Kg' Office in Southeast corner of the !
House.
Aigll 1 t s
I- C. FAIN. JOS. M CONNELL.
fain and McConnell,
Attorneys at Law,
CA /, HORN, GEORGIA.
Office in the Court House.
Augll 1 ts
u. mTtarver,
Attorney txt Law,
CAIRO VX. GEORGIA.
&3T Office in the Court House.
A »g 11 1 t s
w. J.
Attorney At Law.
Calhoun, Georgia.
tITHiL 1 ractice in the Cherokee Circuit,
»!■ , 'rn' S ' DlS ! rict Court » Northern Dis
trict of Georgia, (at Atlanta); and in the Su
preme Court of the State of Georgia. •
E. J. KIKER,
Attorney ett
CALHOUN, GEORGIA,
at the Old Stand of Cantrell «$■ A'iA-rr.J
\UIL L practice in all the Courts of the
M Cherokee Circuit; Supreme Court of
George, and the United States District Court
at Atlanta, Ga. au g l97oly
RUFE WALDO THORNTON
eentist,
Calhoun, . _ _ q
so,icila
_ OBoe over B»a ? . i Co s.„ sepls
r ’fiotii7n7tl7e I< . cu i >) a here.
Calhoun Advertisements.
Management!
CALHOUNHOTEL.
E. R. SABSEEN,
[Formerly of Atlanta, Ga.']
RESPECTFULLY announces to the travel
ling public, that he has refurnished and
refitted the above hotel, and is now ready to
accommodate all who may stop with hi in
Kate S moderate; and table furnished with
the best the market affords.
Calhoun, Ga., August 19th, 1870 ts
J. and. tjnsley;
WATCH-MAKER
and
CA LJW U$?T 7 7 7 ....
o
ALL styles of Clocks, Watches and Jewelry
neatly repaired and warranted,
augl 9’7otf
OAXjHCOXTN
SALE AND
LIVERY STABLE!
• (i. R. BOAZ,
KEEPS FINE STOCK, and Vehicles to
correspond, and is at all times pre
pared to furnish any kind of
Conveyance,
AT VERY LOW RATES FOR CASH.
Stock bought and sold on reasonable
terms. aull,tf
J. H. ARTHUR,
DEALER IN
STAPLE AND FANCY DRY GOODS,
Cutlery, Notions &c,
Also keeps constantly on hand a choice
stock of
FAMILY GROCERIES,
In all of which purchasers are offered in
ducements to buy.
Aug 11 1 Cm
BALLEW & MARSHALL,
DEALERS IN
FAMILY GROCERIES,
LIQUORS, tfcc.
Always on hand a good supply of
BACON, LARD, ELOUR, MEAL,
SUGAR, COFFER, RICE,
CIGARS, TOBACCO,
CONFECTIONERIES,
And, in fact, a full and complete assortwen
of Staple and Fancy Groceries.
We also keep one of the best Stocks of
Wines and Liquors
in this part of the country.
If you want good, fresh Groceries, or Fine
Old Whiskies, Brandies, or Wines, give us a
cull. trull,3m
W. W. RLASINGAME,
Main Street, next floor to H. C. Hunt,
CALHOUN, GA.
Dealer in Foreign and Domestic
WINES & LIQUORS,
CIGARS, TOBACCO,
CONFECTIONERIES, &c.
VLWAYS on hand Superior old fashioned
CORN and RYE WHISKEY, Pure, Cognac
Brandy, Sherry, Madeira and Port WINES,
expressly for medicinal purposes.
Pure Old Peach, Apple and Blackberry
Brandies always on hand. .
Give me a call if you want Good Liquors,
fits?” One complete set of BAR FURNI
TURE for sale. null.3m
A. INUHRAM,
DEALER IN
DRY GOODS,
GROCERIES,
DBoots and Slioes
STATIONERY,
HARDWARE,
r i IN WARE,
CROCKERY,
SADDLES,
BRIDLES,
And many articles too numerous to men
tion. My stock is complete, my goods new
and Iresh, and 1 am determined not to be
undersold.
Give me a call, at Gordon’s old stand,
on Wall Street.
All k'nds of country produce received in
exchange for goods, rad highest market
prices given.
J. H. G AVAN,
WHOLESALE AND RETAIL DEALER IN
Fine Wines, Liquors & Cigars,
No. 11 Granite Block ,
Broad Street, - ATLANTA, GA.
AGENT FOR THE SALE Os TIIE
Celebrated Cincinnati LAGER BEER and ALE
sept 29 For the State of Georgia. 3ra
G H. & A. W. FORCE,
SIGN OF THE
BIG IRON BOOT,
Whitehall Street, : : : Atlanta, Ga
BOOTS. Shoes a'sd Ti links, a cninpletp Sh e!
and new Goods arriving daily ! Oe 's’
Hi o'B and Shoes, of the be*t mafcis. I. and o-’
Shoe< of a’l kinds. Boys. Mieses and Children’s
Shoes of everv grade and make.
f-if We er. prepared to off*r inducements to
tA hotesale Trade. sep'2 ,’IO-ly
Two River Farms For Sale.
ONE, two anu a half miles north of Resaca,
on the W. & A, R. R.—containing about
500 acres—two settlements.
One, one and a half miles north-east of Re
saca—containing 100 acres.
Will be sold at a bargain if early applica
tion is made to J. H. BARNETT,
sept2’7o-3m Resaca, Ga.
Gordon County Farmers, whenever you
visit Rome don’t fail to call on DeJournett &
Son for Groceries.
3 AIH ° DN ' GA " THURSDAY,- OCTOBEB soT^a
POE TRY.
SPmiT-BROKJEN3 =
BY BARIT LYNDON.
Sad, spirit-broken, what have I
To do with fickle hopes or fears?
No dread have I of future years,
No hope, except to die.
Sad, spirit-broken, left alone,—
But first I will bedeck her tomb
V ith violets of sweet perfume,
While winds, in requiem, moan.
Sad, spirit-broken, whtt am I
Except a lowly, clu one?
Whose only work wdl soon be done,
B ith life a constant sigh.
Sad, spirit-broken, all is lost;
My feeble heart is cleft in twain:
Sad, spirit-broken, where go 1
When life has reached its final close ?
Oh ! shall I, like the faded rose,
Swept from the memory, die ?
Sad, spirit-broken, let it be,
For day will soon subdue the night,
And I shall wing, in happy flight,
My stolen love to see. [77te Folio.
Cling to Those who Cling to You.
There are many friends of Summer,
Who are kind while flowers bloom,
But when winter chills the blossoms,
They depart with the perfume.
On the broad highway of action
Friends of worth are far and few;
So when one has proved his friendship,
Cling to him who clings to you.
Do not harshly judge your neighbor,
Do not deem his life untrue,
If he make no great pretensions,
Deeds are great, though words are few.
Those who stand amid the tempest,
Firm as when the skies are blue,
Will be frisnds while life endureth,
Cling to those who cling to you.
When you see a worthy brother,
Buffeting the stormy main,
Lend a helping hand fraternal,
Till he reach the shore again.
Don’t, desert the old and tried friend,
When misfortune comes in view,
For he then needs friendship’s comforts,
Cling to those who cling to you.
THREE KISSES.
I’ve had three kisses in my life,
So s sveet and sacred unto me,
That now, till death-dews rest on them,
My lips shall kissless be.
One kiss was given in childhood’s hour,
By one who never gave another;
In life and death I still shall feel
That last kiss of my mother.
The second burned my lips for years,
For years my wild heart reeled in bliss
At every memory of the hour
When my lips felt young love’s first kiss
The last kiss of the sacred three,
Had all the woe which e’er can move
The heart of woman—it was pressed
Upon the death-lips of my love.
When lips have felt the dying kiss,
And felt the kiss of burning love,
And kissed the dead—then nevermore
In kissing should they think to move.
Translated from-German for Calhoun Times.
Death and Sleep.
Joined as brothers, the angel of sleep,
and the death-angel wandered over the
earth. It was eventide. They laid them
selves down on a hill, not far front the
habitations of men. A mournful silence
reigned round about, and the little even
ing bell ceased its chime in the far off
village. Still and silent, as their wonted
custom is, the two benevolent spirits of
humanity sat in affectionate embrace,
and day was shading deeper into night.
Then, the angel of sleep arose from his
moss-grown couch, and with soft hand,
scattered the invisible seeds of slumber.
The gentle breezes bore them to the
quiet home of the weary countryman.
Sweet sleep descended upon the inmates
of the rural cottages, from the aged man
with his staff, to the infant in the cra
dle. The sufferer forgot his afflictions,
the mourner his sorrow, and poverty her
cares. All eyes were closed. His task
completed, the kind angel of slumber
reposed again with his more solemn
brother.
“When morning awakens,” cried he
in joyous innocence, “then will men
praise me as their friend and benefactor!
O, what delight, secretly and unseen to
do good! How happy are we, the invis
ible messengers of God. How beauti
ful, our quiet vocation.” Thus spake
the friendly angel of sleep. The death
angel looked upon him in silent sorrow,
and a tear, such as the immortals weep,
stood in his large, dark eye. “Alas,”
said he, “brother, I cannot rejoice as
you, in the gratitude of men. They
regard me as their enemy and peace
destroyer !” “0, my brother,” replied
the augel of sleep, “will not the good
man at his awakening recognize in thee
his friend and benefactor, and thankful
bless thee? Are we not brothers, and
the messengers of God ?” So he spoke;
then the eye of the death-angel bright
ened, and tenderly the brotherly spirits
embraced each other again.
Oarjileo.
miscellany.
[Written for the Calhoun Times.]
Rose Daisy : Or, the Bound
Girl’s Fortune.
BY JENNIE HOWK.
. , _ May 23d, ISG9.
10-night lam sixteen. Two more
Jong, weary years I must drag out in
tlDs hf e of drudgery, that I lead.—
Mother, Mother, would that the life you
P'ftVP mn . >.i J
gave me had went out with yours, or
thou could st have lived to protect thy
orphan child! But why do I repine*'
In two more years I shall be free. Ah' f
two long weary years. Why am Iso
much worse off than Lilly Rooker ! She
is but an ordinary looking girl, while I j
am very beautiful. My mirror tells*™,
wealthy young" tfirctm^ J w4fo l ’AuN'r&bKmvrj '•
heated in Mooresville, is to call; and
Lilly is afraid my beauty will captivate
him before her’s. Miss the bound
girl, she is jealous of me—of my beauty.
She shows it every day. She is singing
now.
“ Lilly is quite a passable singer, and
she is proud of it, but; hark; another
voice joins her’s. 0, what a rich voice;
how it thrills through every fibre of my
being! Can that be Dr. Stanley? it
must be; yet it is the same voice of the
stranger I met in the woods yesterday,
who spoke so kindly to me after fright
ening me so, shooting the poor bird so
near me. How frightened I was; and
he was frightened too. He thought he
had hit me. instead of the bird. How
little he thought those two heavy baskets
of chips, I was carrying were to cook
the dainty Miss Lilly's dinner. He
supposed me some poor person’s daugh
ter, obliged to pick up chips for a living,
and if I had told him I was Miss Root
er’s bound girl, sent out to pick up
chips because every cent of their limited
income that could be, must be saved to
dress Lilly, he would not have believed
me. But it is really so, and while 1 filly
sits in the parlor and receives company,
or lies on the Sofa and reads novels, I
must lug chips, scrub, wash and do all
her sewing, and even to-night I am ex
pected to work on a piece or embroidery
until eleven or twelve o’clock, and it is
not their fault th t I have thrown it a
side and taken the pen. But I must
take it up again, and bid good night tc
thee, my Journal.
May 24th.—We have met again, Dr.
Stanley and I, this morning in my usual
ramble for chips. I had gathered some
wild flowers to make a boquet for my
little broken pitcher in my room. My
baskets were both full of chips, and 1
had seated myself to rest and arrange
my flowers in a boquet, previous to
secreting them about me before I got
home, as I should get a scolding for
waisting my time if they were seen. I
had just got them arranged and was ad
miring them when a voice at my side
said, “ what a pretty bouquet!” Had a
thunderbolt dropped at my feet, I should
nut have sprung up sooner. I was
trembling, and I suppose very pale.
“ What; have I frightened youagain ?
lam very sorry indeed, if I have. You
were so busy you did not hear me come
up. I have been here some minutes,
though, S lid Dr Stanley, for lie it was.
i tried to smile as I answered, I did
not think an other human being was in
the woods, and I must say I was fright
ened when you spoke.”
“ I hope you will forgive me, then.”
“ 0, yes.”
“ Who are those flowers for ?”
“ No one but my self.”
“ Will you sell them ?”
“ Do you wish them ?”
“I do.”
“ Then I will give them to you freely.
And now I must go; I have loitered
too long.”
“ You will tell me your name, will
you not, little friend?”
“ Certainly. It is Rose Daisy.”
“ A pretty name truly. You are as
beautiful as the rose, and as meek as
the daisy.”
lie bent on me a look from those
dark eyes of his that sent the blood
rushing to my face, for I was timid.
Taking a card from his packet, he gave
it to me. saying.
“ Here is my card, I hope we will
meet again some time.”
I took the card and read, “Dr. Rupert
Stanley.”
“ Th_n you are Dr. Stanley,” said I,
as if I had just been made aware of the
fact.
“Then you have heard of me,” he said,
just as though any body living in
“ Mooresville ” had not heard of Dr.
Stanley. “ Then I must be quite popu
lar, hey ?”
“ O. no more than any other wealthy
young man would be,” I replied care
lessly, and taking up my baskets bade
him good morning and started home
with light feet and a strongly beating
heart. What care I for the scolding 1
received for staying away so long?—
What care I for the pain in my side and
head to-night. What care I, if I must
finish that of embroidery to n>gkt ?
I shall work on and on, not minding the
time, for I shall be thinking, thinking.
Ah! thinking.”
May 25th.—Again we have met: there
is a fatality in this, or has lie purposely
sought me this morning ? Ido not like
to believe he has. I am pretty, quite
young and friendless, he is handsome
and rich. 0 ! I wish I would never see
him again I must go every day to
gather chips, and if he wishes to seek
me. he can and will. But I will be so
cold after this, that he will wish to see
me no more. lie nm to gather
hiui wme flowers to-morrow moraine
and he would be there to receive then!.'
I rc used I am glad I did. He told
me Ue asked who lived here, hv the
? >is T- tad been answered
nobody bnt “Mrs. Hooker's bound
o n 50 “ e knows me now. How
man\ questions he asked about the
Rouker s. 1 did not tell him all. He
was so astonished that I should be pick-
Z"P chi l- Ido no, know Uat
T!k "u T , ch , ar,tabi «- I once though,
I should delight to tell hiu, all. 1 feel
very strange to-night. My head aches
so bad. and is so hot too. I must retire.
Good night Journal.
J am up again, for I cannot go to
sleep, and perhaps I may forget iny
pain> )j wntiug. hat a pretty night
fll/LLlu ? 00 ? shinc sso brightly Os
Weans through it. llow dizz) lam,
July 20th. —I am once ’more aWeTo
take my pen, and I will try to recall
some of the events that have happened
since I last saw T thee, my Journal. The
last I remember is of writing in thee,
then all is blank for six long weeks.—
They say when Mrs. Rooker went to
call me next morning, I was raring in a
fever. Mrs. Rooker was frightened,
and sent for Dr. Dudley immediately.
Dr. Dudley not being at home, the
messenger brought Dr. Stanley, who
pronounced my disease an over tasked
strength, and said, I might never get
well. Mrs. Rooker then denied me
being bound to her, as she had always
said 1 was her bound girl—she told Dr.
Stanley she took me, to keep me from
the poor house. She apprised the se
lectmen of my illness, and requested
them to remove me immediately. But
Dr. Stanley happened to call about the
time the waggon come for me, and he
sent them away, and had me removed,
the same diy to Mrs. Hayes. She and
her daughter Kate, cared for me all
through this long illness. Good, kind
Hrs. Hayes and noble Dr. Stanley, how
shall I ever pay them for their kindness ?
I am well now. and free, I can work,
get wages and pay them. Dr. Stanley
called this morning, brought my diary
to me. tie has had it ever since the first
morning of my illness.
Seeing it was on the stand at my bed
side, he looked into it, and seeing what
it was, put it in his pocket, carried it
away with him. I am glad he did. I
should not "have liked for Lilly and her
Mother to have read it.
July 29th.—I am well enough to go
to work again. I’ve engaged a place of
Mr. Compton, the Tailor.
He gives me more than enough to
pay my board while I’m learning, and
I think sewing will agree with me more
than house work, until I get stronger.
There comes the Doctor. I must go
down and tell him my plan. I went
dow r n found Mrs. Hayes and the Doctor
in the sitting room.
Mrs. Hayes arose as soon as I went
in. saying, “I will leave Rose to enter
tain you. as l have some household affairs
to attend to,” and left the apartment.
We were alone, and I related to him
the news I had to tell, and told how
anxious 1 was to get to work, and how
kind Mr. Compton was to pay me two
dollars a week for my work.
All the time he sat drumming on the
table with his fingers and never replied
to a word. When I paused, he said.
“ Is that all.”
Y T es.” said 1.
He left his chair, and took a seat on
the sofa by my side, saying. ‘‘Well
you are in luck—going to work for two
dollars a week, before you are hardly
strong enough to leave your bed. But
I should like to know' what is to become
of me.”
“ Os you,” I asked, astonished.
“ Yes, of me; you belong to me, and
I shall have a word to say about it. I
say you shall not go.”
“ I cannot be a burden any longer;
I must go to work, sir.”
‘•And you shali, if you will promise
it shall be on your wedding “ trousseau.’'
“ I do not understand you.”
I felt his arm about my waist as he
drew me towards him, saying “Be
mine little Bose, my own little wife.—
Hush you need not say no; you love
me. 1 know it—l read your “ J ournul.”
you know. You loved me then but did
not know it. You love me now. I
have seen it every day in those brown
eyes of yours, and as for me, I have
loved you since the first time I met you.
O, yes, you are the little star of my 1 fe;
don’t say no Rose; say \oj3, and make
me the happiest man alive.
I really do not know whether I said
yes or not. It is all arranged, and to
morrow Kate Hayes and i are going to
M to select the bridal u trousseau."
Sept, 2d.—l have been so busy I
have not had time to write a word for
more than a month.
Every thing is ready at last. The
wedding robe lies on the bed bet re me.
It is a plain white alpaca. 1 vv. uld h ive
it so, although Rupert had seiected a
white moireuntique. In those trunks,
ready p icked, are dresses “ Lilly Hook
er ” never dreamed of.
Lilly has not called on me. and I am
not sorry. Last night, May Stanley
(Rupert s sister) and I met her. but she
never spoke, or seemed to notice us.—
May is a dear good girl, how 1 love her
already, she only came on Saturday, to
be present at our wedding.
We shall be married to-morrow morn
ing at nine o’clock, and start on the 11
o’clock train for Rupert’s home —where
we shall spend the h<>ney-moon. After
ward we will return to Mooresville, and
board with Mrs. Hayes until the now
bouse, now building, is finished.
for to-momw
1 msy will have another name and
Science vs. Luck.
BY MARK TWAIN.
At that time, in Kentucky, (said the
I on. Mr. Knott. M. C„) tile law wa!
very against what is termed
• games of chance.” About a dozen oi
he boys were detected playing “seven
p, or old sledge for money, and
he grand jury found a true bill »g*i llst
. Stur F is *•*» rained to do-
i* j . i , "“f*" 3 "•«» retained to de
lend them when the case came up, 0 f
course. The more he -tudied ov/r the
matter and looked into the evidence, the
£uu!7 r u&u WJ &few’An* Ww.v,j t
chance. Even public sympathy was
• nf St.nrins. People
successful career with a big prominent
case like this, which must go against
him.
But after several restless nights an
inspired idea flashed upon Stnrgis, and
he sprang out of bed and lighted. He
thought he saw his way through. The
next dty he whispered around a little
among his clients and a few friends, and
then when the case came up in court he
acknowledged the seven up and the
betting, and, as his sole defense, had the
astounding effrontery to put in the plea
that old sledge was not a game oi
chance! There w T as the broadest sort
of a smile all over the faces of that
sophisticated audience. The Judge
smiled with the rest. But Sturgis main
tained a countenance whose earnestness
was even severe. The opposite counsel
tried to ridicule him out of his position,
and did not succeed. The Judge jested
in a ponderous judicial way about the
thing, but did not move him. The
matter was becoming grave. Ihe Judge
lost a little of h is patience, aud said the
joke had gone far enough. But Sturgis
said he knew of no joke in the matter—
his clients could not be punished for
indulging in what some people choose
to consider a game of chance, uutil it
was proven that it was a game of chance
Judge and counsel said that would b
an easy matter, and forthwith called
-UeuC-iiis Job, Peters, Burke and John
sou, and Dominies, Wirt and Miggles
to testify, and they unanimously and
with strong feeling put down the legal
quibble of* Sturgis, by pronouncing that
old sledge wits a game of chance.
“ What do you call it now ?” said the
Judge.
“ 1 call it a game of science !” retort
ed Sturgis; “and I’ll prove it, too.”
They saw his little game.
He brought in a crowd of witnesses,
and produced an overwhelming mass of
testimony, to show that old sledge was
not a game of chance, but a game of
science.
Instead of being the simplest case in
the world, it had somehow turned out to
be an excessively knotty one. The
Judge scratched his head over it awhile,
and said there was no way of coming to
a determination, because just as many
men could be brought into court who
would testify on one side as could be
found to testify on the other. But he
said he was witling to do the fair thing
by all parties, and would act upon any
suggestion Mr, Sturgis would make for
the solution of the difficulty.
Mr. Sturgis was on his feet in a
second:
Impannel a jury of six of each,
Luck vs. Science—give them candles
and a couple of decks of cards, send
them into the jury room, and just abide
by the result!"
I here was no disputing the fairness
of the proposition. The lour deacons
and two dominies were sworn in as the
“chance” jurymen, and six inveterate
old seven-up professors were chosen to
represent the “ science ” side of the
issue. They retired to the jury room.
In about two hours. Beacon Peters
s nt into the court room to borrow three
dollars from a friend. [Sensation.] In
about tw r o hours more, Dominie Higgles
sent into the court room to borrow a
“ stake ” from a friend. [Sensation.]
During the next three or f >ur hours the
other Dominie and the other Deacons
sent into court for small waul. And
still the packed audience waited, for it
wis a prodigeous occasi n in Bull’s
C rner's, and one in which every father
of a family was necessarily interested.
The rest of the story can he told
About daylight the jury came
in, and Deacon Job. the foreman, read
the following.
VERDICT.
We, the jury in the case of the Cor. -
monwealth of Kentucky vs. John Wheel
er et. al.. have carefully considered the
points of the case, and tested the merits
of the theories advanced, and do hereby
unanimously decide that the game corn
ea uly known as old -ledge, or sev* n up,
is eminently a game of science ; ud n t
of chance. In demonstration whereof,
it is hereby and herein sided, iterated,
reiterated, set forth and made manifest,
that, during the entire night, the
“ chance ” men never won a game or
turned a jack, although b th feats were
common and frequent to the opposition ;
rnd furthermore, in support of this, < ur
verdict, we call attention to the tignifi
ctmt fact that the “ chance ” men are
all busted, and the “ science ” men have
got the money. It is the deliberate
opinion of this jury that the “chance”
theory concerning seven-up, is a per
nicious doctrine, and calculated to in
flict untold sufferings and p.cun a-y 1 sa
upon any community that takes stock
in it.
“ That is the way that seven up catnr
Umbel? H.
I® |k sot apnrt and particulariied tl,»
i sU,uu ' l>uol ‘ s of Kentucky as bcine a
gaiue not of ehancc but of accat ld
there ,Te not pumshahle under the iA”
«.d Mr. Knott. That verdict £ 'f
record, and holds good to this day ••
' *
How much Milk and Butter
Will a Cow give ?
D.p Farming. io
a f l ir°ro der 720 BalK ’ ns (2-880 quart.)
. t * urii 1,1 * year fora cow and
quant.,, Os milk, if the W n t
contain more than eiehtv r
moisture, will produce two hundred a ud
pftfiVd' tn buu*. no mao
five gallons or twenty quarts, was the
highest vield of one eow. He was evi
eight cows, lie states that 48 cows ac
tually gave throughout the year an aver
age of 84 gallons daily, or 30,660 gal
lons, or 11:2,640 quarts in one year.—
Again, in the farmers Almanac , I find
it stated that a Ilolderncss cow gave 29
quarts daily, yielding one pound of but
ter from each twelve quarts. An Ayr
shire cow gave 20 quarts daily, yielding
one. pound of butter from nine and one
hall quarts; an Alderney cow gave 19
quarts, yielding one pound of butter
from twelve quarts; and a Devon cow
gave seventeen quarts, yielding one
pound of butter from nine and three
fourth quarts. Os course these last are
exceptional cases, but your own corres
pondent gave his actual experience of
one year ol a dairy of 48 cows. Now
I reckoned on 3,000 quarts, but 1 al
lowed twelve quarts to produce one
pound ot butter, which gave two hun
dred and fifty pounds in a year, instead
ol two hundred and sixty-one pounds.
■■ Burning \Y ells.” —A correspon
dent ol the \ icksburg Herald , writing
from fckipwith’s Landing, lssaqmna
c >ui.ty, September 4, furnishes the f al
lowing particulars of the remarkable dis
covery of burning wells’ in the county:
‘ About a week ago Mr. Shanks, a
gentleman engaged in sinking “Kam
sey s driven wells in this county, re
ceived an order to sink a well upon the
Walnut Ilidge plantation, owned by
Gen. Hampton, lie proceeded with
the process of driving until he had ob
tained a depth of sixty-eight feet with
out procuring water. At that distance
some hard substance was unexpectedly
encountered, which obstructed the fur
ther progress of the well.
“ Instantly, from the top of the pipe,
a volume ot gas was seen to issue, re
sembling somewhat the rise of heat from
the surlace of a stove. A match being
applied, the gas instantly ignited, burn
ing wLh a clear and brilliant flame,
forming a column of fire several feet
high. Ihe search after water being
thus far arrested, three other pipes were
sunk afterward in the near neighbor
hood of the first, lut in all the same
phenomenon was the result. These
wells burn with an undiminisbed lustre,
aud a strong effort is required with a
hat or a fan to extinguish them. A
light, however, being applied at any
time to the end of the pipe, the flame
will burst fourth as before.”
European Wars of the Past.
The numbers enlisted in the present
war, by the way, are curiously sugges
tive ol the fact that the world is getting
no better fast when compared with the
numbers engaged in former European
wars.
At Marengo (1800) there were 28,-
000 French and 30,000 Austrians; 13,-
000 killed or wounded.
At Austerlitz. 90,000 French, 80,000
Austrians and Russians; 23,000 killed
or wounded.
At Jena, 100,000 French, 100,000
Prussians; 34,000 killed or wounded.
At Wigram, 150,000 French, 130,-
Austrians: 24,000 killed or wounded.
At Botodino, 125,000 French, 125,-
000 Russians; 80,000 killed or wound
ed.
At Leipziz, 200,000 French, 280,000
allies ; 50.000, killed or wounded.
At Waterloo, 70.000 French, 00,000
English ; 15,000 killed or wounded.
At Solferiuo, 135.000 French, and
Sardinians, 130,000 Aistrians; 27.000
killed or wounded.
At Konigsratz, 200.000 Prussians
200.000 Austrians and Saxons ; 28,000
killed or wounded.
In the present war there are already
engaged 800,000, of which the majority
by 50,000 or more are on the Prussian
Side. At this moment Prassia has near
ly a million available (armed) men, in
cluding garrisons, Ac., and no doubt
France can. under stress, got nearly the
same number. But unquestionably the
late Prussian conquests have made Prus
sia a more round forty millions of popu
lation than France.—A". Y. World.
A little girl of fout, the daught
er of one c f the brave Colonels of the
r rmy of the Rhine, was saying her pray
e s on her mother’s kneeD'Cod preserve
my diar papa, and let him kill a good
many ] rutsiai s ” Mamina reminded
the chi and that perhaps some little Ger
man girl w?is praying that God would
help h?r father to kill a good many
French. “Oh, that doesn’t amount to
anything," she replied. “Why not?"
“Becai s: God doesn't understand Ger
man.”
There are eighty eight agricultural
societies in Georgia.
Illinois raises the most wheat, and
lowa comes next,