The Calhoun Times.
V olurrie I.
THE CALHOUN TIMES.
OFFICE OVER 7. H. ARTHUR S. RAILROAD STREET.
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SIGHT PASSKNGKR TRAIN —OUTWARD.
Leave Atlanta -7-00 r. m.
Arrive at t’alhoun A. m.
Arrive at Ohattanooga 8 30 a. m
DAT PASSKNGKR TRAIN —OUTWARD.
Lfftve Atlanta - 8 A M
Arrive at Calhoun p M -
Arrive at Chattanooga 4.20 P. M.
ACCOMOD TION TRAIN—OUTWARD.
Leave Atlanta 58° p M
Arrive at Dalton ..3.10 r m
NIGHT PaSSBNGKR TRAIN—INWA RD.
[,eave t'ha'tanooga 750 p m
Arrive at Calhoun 11.44 P M
Arrive at Atlanta 4 14 a. m
DAT PASSBNGKR TRAIN—IN WARD.
Leave Chatian o a 7.00 a. m.
Arrive at Calhoun.... 10 2D a. m
Arrive at Atlanta 3.27 P. m.
ACCOMODATION TRAIN - IN WARD.
Leave Dalton 200 p m
Arrive *• Atlanta 900 a. m
DAY PASSENGER TRAIN.
Leave Angus'a. 7.15 a. m.
Leave A'lanta. 7 00 a. m.
Aniveat Augusta. 5 45 p. m
Arrive at Atlanta. 7 10 P. M
NIGHT PASSENGKU AMD MAIL TRAIN.
Lruve Augusta. B 5 1 p m.
Leave Atlanta 545 P m.
Arrive at Augu-ta. 4 oo a. m
Arrive at A'anta. 8.00 a m
Macon & Western.
. DAY PASSKNGKR TRAIN.
J eive Atlanta. 7.'5 a m
Arrive at M c n. 1.4* P m.
L-'HVc Macon. 7.55 a. m
Anive at Atlanta. 2.20 p. m.
NIGHT EXPRESS P YSSBNGER TRAIN.
Leave Allan! i 7. IS p. m.
Aniveat Macon 323 a m
Leave Macon 8.50 p. m
Arrive at Atlanta 4.4 K a m.
Leave Rome 10.00 X M.
Anive at Kingston 11.30 a.m.
Leave Kingston l.On p. m
arrive at Rome 2.3't P m.
Connecting at Rome with aceomoda'inn trains
on Selma, Rome and Dillon Railroad, and at
Kinifst n with up and down trains Western and
Allan ic Railroad.
Leave Rome 9 30 p. m
Arrive hi Kin s'oe lq 45 p m.
l eave Kingston ll.lop m.
Arrive at Rome 12 25 p m
Connecting at It. ore • ith through night trains
■n St au, Kmiie ,i.d Dalton R ilroad, and at
King. tui with night train* on Wos'ern and
a tin tic Railroad o Chattanooga and and
Selma, Rome & Dalton.
le-ave Sebna 9.30 a. m.
Arrive at R ime 855 r m
a'rive at Dalton 11.50 p u
Leave Rome 4.45 p. m.
Arrive at It me IS.So p. m
Leave Dalton 10.00 a. m
The accommodation train runs from Rome to
Jacksonville daily, Sundays executed
The ihrougb passenger train only will be run
W. S. JOHNSON,
Attorney At Law,
( .4 LHOEX, GEORGIA.
Office, in Southeast corner of the
p e.nri House.
Ang 11 1 ts
• C. FAIN. JOS. M’CONNKLL.
fain and McConnell,
Attorneys at Law,
(Vi LIIO EX, aEORGI A.
Office in the Court House.
Aug 11 1 ts
K. M. TARVER,
Attorney at Law,
CA L1101 *a; GEORGIA.
feS* Office in the Court House.
Aug 11 j ts
W. J. CANTRELL
Attorney At Law-
\V'LL Practice in the Cherokee Circuit,
. 1,1 L- S. District Court, Northern Dis
r « i of Georgia, (at Atlanta); and in the Su-
Court of the State of Georgia.
A. ttorney at Law,
CA LUO l >X, G KOR GIA .
k //7,Vr al thr Old Stand of Can rAI $ Kilter.}
vV!-V L P, Tactic « in •‘ill the Courts of the
* T Cherokee Circuit ; Supreme Court of
1, Ml‘°' , r ,U ° Sla "‘ Strict Court
RDFE WALDO THORNTON,
. . . g. UOFA.
T' ANKFUI, for'ormer patronage solicits
OfK ntinuance ,X tliC «ame.
_ cc over lloA *- Barrstt & Co's, seplo
Printing neatly executed here!
E. R. SASSEEN,
[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 him.
Rates moderate; and table furnished with
the best the market affords.
Calhoun. Ga., August 19th, 1870—ts
.1 I)! TINSLEY.
VALIIOUN, : : : : GEORGIA.
ALL styles of Clocks, Watches and Jewelry
neatly repaired and warranted.
G. R. BOAZ,
KEEPS FINE STOCK, and Vehicles to
correspond, and is at all times pre
pared to furnish any kind of
AT VERY LOW RATES FOR CASH.
Stock bought and sold on reasonable
J. H. ARTHUR,
STAPLE ANI) FANCY DRY GOODS,
Cutlery, Notions Ac.
Also keeps constantly on hand a choice
In all of which purchasers are offered in
ducements to buy.
Aug 11 1 6m
BALLEW & MARSHALL,
Always on hand a good supply of
BACON, LARI), ELOUR, MEAL,
SUGAR, COFFEE, RICE,
And, in fact, a full and complete assortmen
of Staple and Fancy Groceries.
We also keep on'- of the best Stocks of
Wines and Liquors
in this part of the country.
Ts you want good, fresh Groceries, or Fine
Old Whiskies, Brandies, or Wines, give us a
call. au 11,3 m
W. W. BLASINGAME,
Main Street, next door to If. C. Hunt,
Dealer in Foreign and Domestic
WINES & LIQUORS,
VLWAYS on hand Superior old fashioned
CORN and R\ E WHISKEY, Pure, Cognac
lirandy. 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.
One complete set of BAR FURNI
TURE for sale. aul 1,3 m
A. IMiIIK A >l,
Boots and Sir<3os
And many articles too numerous to men
tion. My stock is complete, my goods new
and fresh, and I am determined not to be
Give me a call, at Gordon’s old stand,
on Wall Street.
Ah kinds of country produce received in
exchange for goods, and highest market
J. H. CAVAN,
WHOLESALE AND RETAIL DEALER IX
Fine Wines, Liquors & Cigars,
No. 11 Granite Block,
Broad Street, - ATLANTA, G A.
AGENT EOR THE SALE OF THE
Celebrated Cincinnati LAGER BEER and ALE
sept 29 For the State of Georgia. 3m
G. 11. & A. W. FORCE,
SION OF TIIE
BIG IRON BOOT,
Whitehall Street, : : : Atlanta, Ga.
Boots sh nes aid T'unks, a complete SGwk
and new Goods arriving daily ! Gents’
o’s md Shoes, of ih** he*t niak>*s. L dies’
Shoe* of a I km»'s. Roy* Misses ar-d Children’s
Shoes of evei \ g ale and make.
We nr (ire pared to offer indureme'its to
" hole-ale Tr-de. sep'2
Two River Farms For Sale.
ONE, two and a half miles north of ltesaca.
on the W. & A, R. R.—containing about
| 500 acres—two settlements.
One, one and a half miles north-east of Re
saca—containing 160 acres.
Will be sold at a bargain if early applica
tion is made to J. 11. BARNETT.
scpt2’7o-3m Rfsaca, Ga.
Gordon County Farmers, whenever you
visit Rome don't fail to call on DeJournctt &
Sen for Grecerie*
CALHOUN, GA., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 1870.
POET R Y .
TA KE IT EASY.
Take it easy—fretting, fuming
All the golden hours away.
Ghosts of fancied wrongs exhuming,
That had better buried st3y ;
Will not make the burden lighter,
That thro’ life you’re call'd to bear;
Will not make the eye grow brighter,
Nor the brow lee 9 free from care.
Take it easy—never greeting
Trouble till within the door,
Then by firmly, bravely meeting.
Half the anguish will be o’er.
Fainting ne’er will win the battle,
Tears will not its progress stay—
Thro’ the cannons roar and rattle
Brighter shines the victor’s day.
Take it easy—time is slipping,
Life is like the falling leaf,
That the wintry frosts are nipping,
And its troubles are but brief.
Somewhere fa r beyond the ether
Lies the promised land of rest; —
We shall take our journey thither
When our Father seeth best.
Here is the best tribute to woman, we
ever read :
Only let a woman be sure she is pre
ci: us to her husband —not useful, not
valuable, not convenient simply, but
lovely and beloved; let her be the re
cipient of his polite and hearty atten
tions, let her feel that her cares and
love are noticed, appreciated and return
ed, let her opinion be asked and her ap
proval sought j and her judgment be
respected in matters of which she is
cognizant; in short, let her only be
loved, honored and cherished, in fulfill
ment of the marriage vow, and she will
be to her husband, her children and so
ciety a well spring of happiness. She
will bear pain, and toil and anxiety, for
her husband’s love to her is a tower and
a fortress. Shielded and sheltered
there in, and adversity will have lost its
sting. She may suffer, but sympathy
will dull the edge of sorrow. A house
with love in it—and by love I mean
love expressed in words, and looks and
deed, for I have not one spark of faith
in love that never crops out —is to a
house without love, as a person to a ma
chine, one is life, the other is mechanis u.
lh > unloved woman may have bread just
as light, a house just as tidy as the oth
er; but the latter h s a spring of beau
ty about her. a joyousness, a penetrating
and pervading brightness to which the
former is an entire stranger. The deep
happiness of her heart shines out in her
face. The gleams over. It is airy and
graceful, and warm and welcoming with
her presence; she is full of devices and
plots, and sweet surprises for her hus
band and family. She has ffever done
with the romance and poetry of life
She herself is a lyric poem setting her
self to all pure and gracious melodies.
Humble household ways and duties have
for her a golden significance. The prize
makes her calling high; and the end
sanctifies the means. “Love is Heaven,
and Heaven is love.”
A Spring Morning.
What man is there over whose mind
a bright spring morning does not exer
cise a magic influence, carrying him
back to the days of his childish sports,
conjuring up before him the old green
field with its gentle waving trees, where
the birds sang as he has never heard
them since ; where the butterfly flutter
ed far more gaily than he ever sees him
now in all his rumblings ; where thesky
seemed bluer, and the sun shone more
brightly; where the air blew more fresh
over greener grass and sweeter smelling
flowers; where everything wore a rich
er and more brilliant hue than it is ever
dressed now ? Such are the deep feel
ings of childhood, and such are the im
pressions which every loved object
stamps upon its heart I The hardy trav
eler wanders through the maze of thick
and pathless woods, where the sun s
rays never shone, and heaven’s pure air
never played; he stands <m the brink of
the roaring waterfall, and, giddy and be
wildered, watches the foaming mass as
it leaps from stone to stone, and from
crag to crag; he lingers in the fertile
plains of a land of perpetual sunshine,
and revels in the luxury of their balmy
breath. But whar a e the deep forests
or the thundering waters, or the richest
landscapes, b unteous nature ever spread
to charm the eyes and captivate the seu
ses of men, compared with the recollec
tions of the old scenes of his early y< mth ?
Matric scenes indeed, —for the fancies
of childhood dressed them in colors
brighter than the rainbow, and almost
as fleeting.— Dickens.
A Son Murders His Father.—
We are informed that a t< rrible aft air
occurred near Union Mills, in Fluvana
county, on Friday last, in which a s n
stabbed his father to the heart, killing
him instantly. Our informant did not
remember the names of the parties; but.
as usual, the fell demon, whiskey, was
the cause of the commission of the hor
rible deed. The father and son had
been drinking freely, and an altercation
arose between them which terminated
in the fatal manner above stated.
[Lynchburg A r trs.
A Moment of Thought.—Forty
years once seemed a long and weary pil
grimage to tread. It now seems but a
step. And yet along the way are bro
ken shrines where a thousand hopes
have wasted into ashes; footprints sa
cred under their drifting dust; green
mounds, the grass of which is fresh with
the watering of tears; shadows, even
which wc would not forget.
THE OLD MAN’S MISTAKE :
How Bob Starr Won his Wife.
BY JENNIE H.
In an elegantly furnished drawing
room, late one beautiful September ever
ing, when the Sun was sinking behind
the western hills, casting his slanting
rays of amber light through the deep
wood and over the sweet sented clover
fields, that encircled the elegant mansion
of Col. Mayson, sat Jessie Mayson, con
versing with her only parent. At in
tervals her lips were lightly compressed,
a spark of fire in her deep brown eyes,
while ever and anon she gave the gaudy
carpet a gentle top with her dainty foot.
“ Father, you don’t know Bob Starr.”
“ I have no desire to know him,” re
sponded Col. Mayson.
“But how can you judge him so
harshly, unless you knew him.”
“ The name is enough. I never knew
a Starr yet that was worth a snap, but
B ib’s father, and he died bamkrupt.”
“Why, father, there is something
grand and lofty about him. There is a
magic charm in his winning ways,
honesty and truthfulness stamped on
his noble br w.”
“Jessie, do n <t use such language to
me, Isay, yu will never wed Bob Starr,
if so, you will never get a cent of my
« Why, Father.”
“ You know, I have set my heart on
“ Gerald Hopetin ” for you. lam going
to make his acquaintance, and give him
a pressing invitation to come out, and
spend a few days with me.”
“Darling, you know, the Hopetin’s
are a rich, aristocratic city family, and
it is not every country girl that can get
hold of a rich city fellow like him.”
“ I dont care a copper for him or his
money,” snapped Jessie.
“ Well, well, pussy, have your beaux,
but don’t send B<»b Starr to me asking
questions. He will be sure to get no, for
“ Now, give me a kiss, and I will re
Jessie went directly to her own room,
and drew from her pocket a bit of paste
bo id. which b re the shod w of a
manly face, and sat beside her window,
holding it in her h ind, for a long while,
and once or twice something brighter
than moonlight sparkled upon Jessie’s
round red cheek, and fell upon the bit
of pasteboard in her lap.
More than three months have past.
Nothing of interest has occurred at the
mansion, since our last narration.
This morning Col. Mayson, proposed
to go to the city, and his manner of
conveyance became a question, as there
was a snow upon the ground. His own
buggy was too light, the carriage was
too heavy, besides he did not wish to
use it all to himself. He settled the
matter by taking an old buggy which
stood in the barn, and was seldom used.
It was a rusty-looking old concern. I
must confess, s<> he mounted into the
“old ragged thing” and rode away.
With his affairs in the city we h;ve
nothing to do. Suffice it to say. he ar
ranged them successfully, and late in
the evening ho started tor home again.
It had sn wed during the day, and the
roads were rather tedious, but Col. May
son and his good horse plodded bravely
on, until they were scarcely two miles
Suddenly, distant behind him, but
rapidly approaching, he heard the merry
Angle of sleigh bells, and the shouts of
gay voices. He turned his head, and
looked through the fan-light of his bug
gy. and saw a sleigh containing three
young men, drawn by a span of bays,
driving up with a speed that threatened
his old buggy with total demolition.—
Col. Mayson spoke to his horse, but be
fore he could turn out, the sleigh dash
ed by striking the old buggy, and car
rying off one wheel.
The well trained h *rse stopped at a
w a*d. and in in nsto.nt Col. Mayson
was upon lus t among the ruins.—
The sleigh st pp i too. but instead of
springing to the old man’s aid, the half
tipsey set burst into shouts of laughter
at the smartness of the feat they had
performed, and the young fellow who
held the reins, called out.
“ I am s >rry we have spoiled your
fine turn rut. old fellow, but really, we
couM not stop for fcriffles, suppose you
can f t it h »me to your “ Patsey ” in
time to get yuur mush, before the cl c
strikes nine. Heigh, up here, cantics !
<ret along !” And with that he gave his
horse a cut with his whip, and dashed
along leaving the old man alone amid
the gathering darkness, the snow and
his useless carriage.
While he stood considering what to
do. the jimrle of sleigh-bells sounded
again, and a light sleigh, driven by a
solitary v ting i an. came up from the
same directi m is the preceding one.
The moment the stranger drew near,
he st pped his h?rse. sprang from his
sleigh, and touching his hat. said, re
“ Good evening, sir, you seem to be in
some trouble, sir.”
“ Trouble sir. yes sir. I call it trouble.
A lot of scamps half drunk. I have no
doubt, dashed by in a big sleigh, drawn
i>y bay horses, and took oft’ my buggy
“ But, surely they stopped to assist
“Surely they did not; they paused
| long enough for a young chap on the
front seat to call out some insulting
words, then off with full speed.”
“ What a cowardly trick !” cried the
young fellow, his manly face flushing
■ indignantly. O! yes, I know who they
“ Well, I should like to know who
they are, I don’t think I shall forget
| them soon.”
j “ A large sleigh with bay horses, was
it ?” asked the stranger.
“ Yes sir, and a young rascal in gray
j fur over-coat on the front seat.”
“ Yes, yes, the same; they passed me
about a half mile above here. That was
j Gerald Hopetin driving and the others
| are fellow-clerks of mine, who won’t
profit any by his society. They are
going to A on a spree.”
“ I knew they were half d—k.”
“ But, here it is getting dark while
we are loosing time,” said the young
stranger, your buggy is useless sir. Do
you live near f 1
“ Two miles up this road.”
“Ah ! then we are all right. If you
will take a seat with me and lead your
horse behind, I will drive you there
Col. Mayson thanked the young man
for his kindness, and gladly availed
himself of it by taking the offered seat.
After they had started Col. Mayson
turned to the stranger and asked.
“ Did I understand you to say that
was Gerald Ilopetin, on the front seat,
in the fur over coat.”
“ Yes sir, I said so.”
“ Son of old Wiley Hopeton, on
“ Yes sir, the same, do you know
“As well as I wish to now.” You
said you knew the other two. Did
either of them happen to be a fellow
named Bob Starr ?”
“No sir, their names were Johnson
and Powers. But I happen to bear the
name of Bob Starr.”
“ You; It can’t be that you are Bob
Starr, of the Howard establishment.”
“ I am the same, and 1 hope I have
never done any thing to disgrace the
“ I dnnt think you have, sir. Your
face don’t tell that tale on you.” No, I
don’t think you have done any thing
to disgrace the name
I suppose you don’t know who I am.”
“ No sir, 1 do not.”
“My name sir, is Mayson,” I am
Jessie Mayson’s father,” said the old
man extending his hand.
The young man grasped it eagerly.
“ Indeed ! he cried. lam very glad
to have met you, and he added a little
more slowly,” with your permission. I
am going to your house now.”
“ A T ou have it sir, and a hearty wel
come to my board, f«>r you have shown
your self to be a true man.”
“ Thank you,” said the young man
“No sir; no sir, don’t thank me for
I owe you some reparation.”
“ I do not know how, Col. Mayson.”
“ I do; not long since, Jessie told me
you were coming to see her, that, I told
her, I did not like you, and you should
not be fooling around there. In fact, I
told her to give you the go by and take
up Gerald Hopetin.”
“ Gerald Ilopetin cannot love her
better than I do.”
Ts he did he could not get her. He
will do well to keep away from my
house in future. As for you, Ms. Starr,
I know you better now, and if well,
its rather soon to answer questions be
fore they are asked, but really— .”
“ But really,” said Mr. Starr, his
voice trembling a little as the old man
hesitated, “if I venture to ask Jessie a
question, have I her Father’s consent?”
“ Yes sir, if you can show me that
you are able to take care of her you
shall have it.”
They had a few minutes to discuss
the matter before reaching home and in
that time Bob demonstrated pretty
clearly to Col. M , that he could
support a wife, and received the old
man's free consent to woo and win Jes
sie. it' he eonld. Therefore it was with
a light face that Bob sprang from his
sleigh and followed Col. Mayson in the
house. Jessie came out to meet them.
“Why Father, % Mr. Starr,” she cried
“ Yes, father and Mr. Starr, but you
need not look so seared over it pet,
nothing has happened, only I have made
the acquaintance of your too friends,
Mr. Ilopetin and Mr. Starr, and now I
recall what I have said about Bob, and
tell you he is ever welcome under this
roof whenever he may come.”
“ Tell her the rest Colonel. Tell her
all/ cried excited Bob.
“Oh 1 I thought you would prefer to
do that, yourself,” said Col. Mayson.
“I think y u had better. Daughter.
Bob has a question or two to ask you.
and if you want to say yes, you can do
s . tor y ur old father has said it already
for you. There, go off' into the parlor
and settle your affairs.”
Bob and Jessie went into the parlor,
and I suppose obeyed Col. Mayson. for
when he entered the room an hour later.
Jessie’s head at least was reclining on
Bob’s shoulder, and they both looked
very happy indeed.
A correspondent of Hearth and
Home recommends the following simple,
and as he says, eft’cetual plan of scaring
birds from grain or fruit. Suspend a
piece of looking-glass by a string, so
that it may swing in ever}’ direction,
which gives the appearance of some
thing coming, and scares off the birds.
Not even the most foolhardy of birds
will remain in the neighborhood of the
A Flirt. —lt is common to speak of
those whom a flirt ha 9 jilted as her vic
tims. This is a grave error. Her real
victim is the man whom she accepts. —
This reminds us of a happy simile : “ A
coquette is a rose from whom every lov
er plucks a leaf—a thorn remains for
her future husband.”
A Murdering Old Miser—He
Cuts out the Tongue of a
It has been known for some time that
a dirty, wretched old mau lived outside
the city, about a mile or so, in a filthv
! little cabin, entirely alone, and that he
! was a hermit. No one ever went near
j him, for it was said that he was a magi
cian. His only companion was a skele
ton-looking dog. He came into the city
sometimes to beg. and would piteously
implore for mercy, stating that he was
starving. Sometimes he would gather
rags or scraps of paper and sell them.
Every one supposed him to be wretched
ly poor. He had an evil look and moth
ers would remove their children when
they saw him coming.
One day last tveek. however, a child,
the sou of Mr. Abrahaui Skinner, went
out alone to fish in the stream, and hap
pened to wander on until, before he knew
it, he came up to hovel of the old man.
At first he was frightened, but seeing
no one around, he plucked up courage
and went nearer. Everything was si
lent. He went and peeped through a
crack in the side of the hut. He almost
screamed at what he saw. for he beheld
the old man bending over a bag of mon
ey that he was counting. There were
other bags beside him containing large
quantities of money. Mr. Skinner’s son
was so terrified that, when he attempted
to move, ho stumbled. Like lightning,
the old man rushed out and seized him.
“Ha!” he screamed, “I’ve caught you.
have I ? You saw me, did you? Well,
now you’ll pay for it.”
And before Mr. Skinner’s son could
say a word, the old monster, with an aw
ful laugh, drew out a knife and (oh.
horror !) cut the child’s tongue out.—
Then he chopped off his fingers. “Now,”
he said, “now you can go, for you can’t
tell.” The poor boy ran off overcome
with agony, and ran to his father’s house,
only to fill them with consternation.—
What was the matter with their child?
He could not speak to tell them. He
could not write, for his fingers were cut.
Still the poor boy, after efforts of the
most horrible pain, managed to fix a pen
cil between his bloody thumbs or fingers
and wrote the awful tale. A party was
immediately organized and hastened to
the miser’s den. He was at the door as
they approached, and fired a revolver
six times at them, wounding two of the
party seriously. Mr. Skinner returned
the fire and the aged villain fell with a
piercing yell, mortally wounded. “My
money—my money!” he moaned, “my
beautiful money,” and he crawled to his
bags of gold and sank upon them—a
corpse! Over 810,000 was discovered,
which was presented to the poor-houses
and other charitable institutions. The
event will never be forgotten by our cit
izens. The child is slowly recovering.
The miser was buried the day after, and
the hut was torn down. —Saginaw
A Vast Grog Shop,
Bear mo witness if I exaggerate when
I say that the country is rapidly becom
ing one vast grog shop, to which half a
million of its youths are yearly introduc
ed, and over whose threshold sixty
thousand are annually carted to a drunk
ard’s grave. The streets of our cities
echo to the shouts and oaths of drunken
revelers from whom society seeks pro
tection through police regulations; and
within hovel and mansion alike, not en
tirely smothered either by physical fear
or social pride, is heard the sound of
wailing. What river is there along our
coasts, what harbor upon whose shores
a city stands, whose waters have not
closed over the bodies of those who,
victims to this traffic, were flung by
violent hands from pier or bridge, or
madly sought beneath the silent surface,
forgetfulness of woes or wretchedness
too pregnant to be borne? Within the
darkuess of dungeons, and along our
highways may be seen wrecks of former
beauty and manhood wrought by this
traffic, and now and then one, as by a
miracle, after long years of misery and
debasement, rescued therefrom, lifts up
his voice in public, and makes men
aghast with the recital of his woes and
degredation.— W. H. Murray.
Romance in Real Life Fifteen
vears ago, William Clarkinson, a young
man who lived with his wife Annie on
a farm in Portage township, Ohio, sold j
his farm, sent his wife to live with her
parents, and started for C-lifornia to
seek his fortune. After a month’s ab
sence, Mrs. Clarkinson ceased to hear
from him. and finally news came that
the train with which he had been jour
neying had been attacked by Indians. ,
and all killed and scalped, excepting the
usual one left to tell the tale in such
cases. After three years mourning.
Mrs. Clarkinson married and moved in
to another county, where she lived iu
happiness for twelve years, till on the
Ist ult.. she was called to follow the re
mains of her second husband to its long
resting place. As she turned away fi m
the grave, she met a pair of eyes fixed
intently upon her first husband, who, it
seems, had been captured by the lu
dians v but not killed, had been a prison
er with them for long years, had finally
escaped, discovered a rich gold deposit
in his flight, made himself r:ch. and was
returning to his old home to learn what
had become of his wife, repeated letters
having elicited no answer, when a i
strange impulse l<sd him to follow this
funeral procession to find his own wife
burying her husband. The scene was
beyond description, and the wid »w of
ten minutes before was now a happy wife.
'Which side of a horse to take in
From the Saa Jose (CaUforni*) lnJepehWpn!.
Three Men Killed by a Griz
Three men. whose name* are un
known, but who had been keeping a
dairy on the San Benito ranch, came to
their death iu a m«wrt horrible lnanner.
On Thursday, one of their cows strayed
away and was lost. On the next morn*
ing, before breakfast, two of them start
ed out to take a look for the missing
animal. After traveling up the ravine
for some distance, they discovered the
cow lying among the brush. Thinking
she was asleep, they went up to start
her home ; but it appears that the cow
had been killed by a grizzly, who was
at this time lying at her side. As the
men approached, the bear leaped upon
the foremast one, and throwing him to
the ground, tore out his entrails, and
then seizing the second, caught his
head iu his mouth end bit it entirely
off, mangling it fearfully. The bear
then resumed his position by the body
of the dead cow. The man who was
first ajf.#lked did not die immediately,
but had strength enough left to drag
himself a short distance from the spot.
In the meantime, the man left at the
camp, having prepared breakfast, went
out to call the companions. Finding
their trail, he followed it until he saw
the cow lying in the bushes, and think
ing he would drive her home, he ap
proached the spot, when the bear,
springing upon him. instantly killed
him, mangling him in the most horrible
manner. The surviving victim, who
was lying in the bush at a short distance
from the scene, witnessed his approach
and death, but was so terribly wounded
that he was unable to give any warning.
The bodies were found a short time
afterward and conveyed to the camp,
where the survivor died during the en
suing night, after relating the affair as
we have stated above. The bear is the
same one which has been in that vicinity
for the last ten years, its being known
from its peculiar track, having lost
three toes from one of its feet.
Tyranny of Fashion.
One is almost ashamed to Bpeak of
fashion. It is one of those obstinate
things that will not budge. It is the
only thing that a bad name will not kill.
Like the hydra, it always has two heads
for the one cut off. a vitality that the
highest and holiest things have never
yet stood up against. I can conceive
that fashion might become not the min
ister of high art alone, but of morals
and virtue; that in the hands of the
noble and pure, and the broad and true,
it might become a real boon to man.—
Herbert Spencer says: *
“As those who take orders arc not
those having a special fitness for the
priestly office; as legislators and public
functionaries do not become such by vir
tue of their political insight and power
to rule, so the self-election clique who
set the fashion, gain this prerogative,
not by force of nature, their intellect,
their higher worth or better taste, but
solely by their unchecked assumption.
“Instead of a continual progress to
wards greater elegance and convenience,
which might be expected to occur, did
people copy the ways of the really best,
or follow their own ideas of propriety,
we have a reign of mere whim, of unrea
son, of change for the sake of change, of
wanton oscillations from either extreme
to the other—a reign of usages without
meaning, time without fitness, dress with
out taste. And thus life ala mode, in
stead of being life conducted in the
most rational manner, is life regulated
by spendthrifts and idh rs. milliners and
tailors, dandies and silly women!”
Oh, that we should so stoop —we who
call ourselves, in churches, children of
God, and claim that the Almighty hath
given us understanding—that wc should
stoop to become puppets that will res
pond to any pull that vulgar men or wo
men choose f
Thought It was Heh Husband.—
One dark night not long ago. a bur
glar entered a private residence in sixth
avenue. On ascending one flight of
stairs he observed a light in a chamber,
and while hesitating what to do, a large
woman suddenly descended upon him,
seized hitn by the throat, forced him
down through the hall, and pushed him
into the street before he had time to
tfcink. Heroic Repulse of a Burglar
b} - a Woman." was the way the story
appeared in the newspapers next day.
But when friends called and congratula
ted her upon her courage, she exclaim
ed, “Good gracious ! 1 didn’t know it
was a burglar. If I bad I- uvuid Irr.
been frightened to death. I thought it
was my husband come home drunk
again, and I was determined heshonldn’t
stay in the house in that condition."—
“If T put money in the savings batik,
when can I get it oat again ?" a -ked wo
of the newly-arrived. “Och. said hi**
friend, -sure an’ if y- | U in t -day. yi"i
can draw it out again to-morrow by giv
ing a fortnight's notice.”
•Dick/’ said a cert in lawyer to a
country man who was considered more
so- 1 than knave, “what sh »ukl y- u call
the two greatest curiosities iu the
world?” “Why,” replied Dick, “an
honest lawyer an a river on fire.”
A COUNTRY fellow went courting his
girl, and wishing to be conversational,
observed: “The then.onkron is twenty
degrees below zelen this evening.”
“Yes,” innocently replied the maiden,
“such kinds of birds do fly higher some
seasons of the year than others.”
There is a poor fellow at Bangor who
says “it’s working between meals that’s