Calhoun weekly times. (Calhoun, GA.) 1873-1875, November 03, 1870, Image 1

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The Calhoun Times. V olurrie I. THE CALHOUN TIMES. OFFICE OVER 7. H. ARTHUR S. RAILROAD STREET. Terms of Subscription. One Year : : •* : : 5 ~00 Fix Months 1.40 Rates of Advertising. i a mobT~"o m L y ear - piw IbTob $15.00 $25.00 Four “ 800 12.00 25.00 40.00 column 10.00 18.00 85,00 45.00 .. | 18.00 80.00 50.00 <5.00 i 4« 1 30.00 50.00 75.00 140.00 All subscriptions are payable strictly in advance, and at the expiration of the time for which payment is made, unless pre viously renewed, the name of the subscriber will be stricken from our books. For each square of ten lines or less, for the first insertion. sl, and for each subsequent insertion, fifty cents. Ten lines of solid Brevier, or its equivalent in space, make a square. Terms cash, before or on demand after the first insertion. Advertisements under the head of “ Special Notices,” twenty cents per line for first in sertion, and ten cents each sebtfequent inser tion. . ... All communications on matters of public interest will meet with prompt attention, and concise letters on general subjects are re spectfully solicited from all parts of the country. railroads. Writ & Atlantic. 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 Georgia Railroad. 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. Home Railroad. DAY TRAIN. 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. NIGHT TRAIN. 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 to Atlanta. Selma, Rome & Dalton. PASsBNUKK TRAIN. le-ave Sebna 9.30 a. m. Arrive at R ime 855 r m a'rive at Dalton 11.50 p u ACCOMMODATION TRAIN. 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 on Sunday. PROFESSIONAL CARDS. 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- Calhoun, Geoegia. \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. -I- KIKEII, 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 «„gl9-70)y RDFE WALDO THORNTON, DENTIST, . . . g. UOFA. T' ANKFUI, for'ormer patronage solicits OfK ntinuance ,X tliC «ame. _ cc over lloA *- Barrstt & Co's, seplo Printing neatly executed here! Calhoun Advertisements. New Management! CALHOUNIOTEL. 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. WATCH-MAKER AND JEWELER, VALIIOUN, : : : : GEORGIA. o ALL styles of Clocks, Watches and Jewelry neatly repaired and warranted. augl9’7otf CALHOUN SALE AND LIVERY STABLE! o G. 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 ANI) FANCY DRY GOODS, Cutlery, Notions Ac. 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 6m BALLEW & MARSHALL, DEALERS IN FAMILY GROCERIES, LIQUORS, cfcc. Always on hand a good supply of BACON, LARI), ELOUR, MEAL, SUGAR, COFFEE, RICE, CIGARS. TOBACCO, CONFECTIONERIES, 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, CALHOUN, GA. Dealer in Foreign and Domestic WINES & LIQUORS, CIGARS, TOBACCO, CONFECTIONERIES, &c. 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, DEALER IN DRY GOODS, GROCERIES, Boots and Sir<3os STATIONERY, HARDWARE, TINWARE, CROCKERY, SADDLES, BRIDLES, And many articles too numerous to men tion. My stock is complete, my goods new and fresh, and I am determined not to be undersold. 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 prices given. 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. The Wife, 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. MISCELLANY. THE OLD MAN’S MISTAKE : —OR,— 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 property.” « 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 an answer.” “ Now, give me a kiss, and I will re tire.” 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 from home. 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 spectfully. “ 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 wheel.” “ But, surely they stopped to assist you.” “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 are.” “ 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 with pleasure. 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 broad street,” “ Yes sir, the same, do you know him ? “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 name.” “ 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 warmly.” “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 in surprise. “ 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 scare-crow. 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 Child—Swift Retribution. 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 (Mich.) Republican. 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 mounting—the outside. aSTumber 18. From the Saa Jose (CaUforni*) lnJepehWpn!. Three Men Killed by a Griz zly Bear. 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."— Louisville Sun. “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 killing him.”