The Calhoun Times.
THE CALHOUN TIMES.
OFFICE OVER j. H. ARTHUR'S, RAILROAO BTREET.
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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 ot the
Western & Atlantic.
MOIIT PASSKNGBU TRAIN —OUTWARD.
Leave Atlanta 7.00 i*. m.
Arrive at Calhoun 12.15 A. m.
Arrive at Chattanooga 3 SO a. m
DAT fASSENUKR TRAIN —OUTWABO.
Leave Atlanta 8 15 a m
Arrive at Calhoun 12.51 p m.
Arrive at Chattanooga 4.20 p. M.
ACCOMOD TION TRAIN—OUTWARD.
Leave Atlanta *3O p. m.
Arrive at Dalton 3.30 p. m.
MOBT PABBKNOKR TRAIN INW A KI).
Leave Chattanooga 7.50 P. m.
Arrive at Calhoun 11.44 p. m.
Arrive at Atlanta 4 14 a. m.
day PASSENGER TRAIN—INWARD.
Leave Chatlanooj'u 7-C0 A. m.
Arrive at Calhoun 10.29 a. m.
Arrive at Atlanta 3.27 p. m.
ACCOMODATION TRAIN— INWARD.
Leave Dalton 200 r m
Arrive at Atlanta 9 00 A. m.
DAT PASSENGER TRAIN.
Lcare Angus’a. 7.10 a. m.
Leave Atlanta. i 00 a. m.
Art ive at. Augusta. 5.45 p. m.
Arrive at Atlanta. 7 10 p. m.
NIGHT PASSENGER AMD M All, TRAIN.
Leave Augusta. 9 51 p. u.
Leave Atlanta 5 45 P. M.
Arrive at Augusta. 4.00 a. m.
Arrive at At anta. 8.00 A. m.
Macon & Western.
DAY PASSENGER TRAIN.
Leave Atlanta. 7.55 a. m
Arrive nt M»«nti. 1.4</ P M.
Leave Macon, I k x. m
Arrive at Atlanta, 2.20 p.m.
NIGHT EXPRESS PASSENGER TRAIN.
Leave Atlanta 7.18 p. m.
Arrive at Macon 3 23 a m.
Leave Macon 8.50 p. m.
Arrive at Atlanta 4.4 G a m.
Leave Rome 10.00 m.
Arrire at Kingston lI.SO a. m.
Leave Kingston 1.00 p. m.
Arrive at Rome 2.30 p. m.
Connecting at Rome with accomodation trains
on Selma, Rome and Dalton Railroad, and at
Kingston with up and down trains Western and
Leave Rome 9 30 p m.
Arrive at Kingstor. in 45 p. m.
Leave Kingston 11.10 p. m.
Arrive at Rome 12.25 p. m.
Connecting at Rome with through night trains
on Selma, Rome and Dalton R,.Broad, and at
Kingston with night trains on Western and
Atlantic Railroad to Chattanooga and from and
Selma, Rome & Dalton.
Leave Selma 9.30 a.m.
Arrive at Rome 8.55 r. m.
Arrive at Dalton 11.50 p m.
ACCOM MODATIOM TRAIN.
Leave Rome 4.45 p. m.
Arriveatß>me 12.30 p.m.
Leave Dalton 10.00 a. m.
The accommodation train runs from Rome to
Jacksonville daily, Sundays excepted.
The through passenger train only will be run
W. S. JOHNSON,
Attoi’ney At Law,
('A LHOITN, GEORGIA .
Office in Southeast corner of the
Aug 11 1 *f
j. (• rA iN. jos. m’connell.
fain and McConnell,
Attorneys sit Law,
Office in the Court House.
Aug 11 1 ts
CALHOUN ; GEORGIA.
(&}?“ Office in the Court House.
Aug 11 1 if
W. J. CANTRELL,
Attorney At Law.
\\HLL Practice in the Cherokee Circuit,
in U. S. District Court, Northern Dis
’fiet of Georgia, (at Atlanta); and in the Su-
P rp me Court of the State of Georgia.
E. J KIKE H ,
Attorney at Law,
CALHOUN ; GEORGIA,
at the Old Stand of Cantrell £ Kiker.]
\\ itL practice in all the Courts of the
f'herokee Circuit; Supreme Court of
and the United States District Court
'' Atlanta, Ga. augl9'7oly
RDFE WALDO THORNTON.
f ALHou N; . G'. 01GIA.
for former patronage, solicits
Continuance of the same.
.. Ce over IJoaz, Garrett & Co's. seplo
Printing neatly executed here.
Boots, Shoes, Hats, Groceries,
Hardware, Queensware, &.C.,
FACTORY YARNS, SHIRTINGS,
Railroad Street, - - CALHOUN, GA.
Nov. 10, 1870-ts
R. B. HACKNEY,
(At the Old Stand of M. H. Jackson,)
CO UR TllO USE ST., CALHO UN, GA.
KEEPS constantly on hand a good supply
Tobacco, Cigars, Wines, Liquors, &c.
All who wish to get bargains will do well
to call on him.
MY Bar, in the rear, is always supplied
with the very best and purest of
Give me a call.
novlo’7otf It. B. HACKNEY.
New Management !
E. R. SASSESN,
[ 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
J. D. TINSLEY.
CALIIOUN, : : : : GEORGIA.
A EE styles of Clocks, Watches and Jewelry
iY neatly repaired and warranted.
R. 150 AZ,
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.
Slock bought and sold on reasonable
J. H. ARTHUR,
STAPLE AND FANCY DRY GOODS,
Cutlery, Notions &c.
Also keeps constantly on hand a choice
In all of which purchasers are offered in-
I ducements to buy.
All g H 1 6m
WHEAT CI INK LB!
T PROPOSE to give $1.25 per bushel for
l White Wheat, and sl.lO for Red Wheat,
when taken in payment of any accounts due
on my books.
Eet those who owe me now, bring on their
M heat and get good prices for it.
M. H. JACKSON.
Calhoun. Ga., October 6,1870—ts
BETTERTON, FORD & Cos.,
WHOLESALE DEALERS IN
iiies, Tobaccos, Cigars, &c.,
No. 209. MARKET ST., No. 209.
octl 3,1870-1 y
J. H. CAVAN,
WHOLESALE AND RETAIL DEALER IN
Fine Wines, Liquors & Cigars,
No. 11 Granite Block,
Broad Street, - ATLANTA, GA.
AGENT rOR THE SALE OV THE
Celebrated Cincinnati LAGER BEER and ALE
sept 29 . For the State of Georgia. 3m
G. H. & A. w. FORCE,
SIGN OF THE
BIG IRON BOOT,
Whitehall Street, : : : Atlanta, Ga.
BOOTS, Shoes and Trunks, a complete Stock
and new Goods arriving daily! Genta
Boo's and Shoes, of the best makes. Ladies
Shoes of all kinds. Boys, Misses and Children s
Shoes of every grade and make.
rJSf We are prepared to offer inducements to
Wholesale Trade. sept2s, 70-lv
Railroad Boarding House,
By MRS. SKELLEY,
CALHOUN, - - GEORGIA.
Within ten steps of the Depot. ocllStf
CAXiHOTJISr, GA, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 24,1870.
TAKE THE PAPEKS.
DT N. P. WILLIS.
Why don’t you take the papers?
They’re the life of our delight,
Except about election time,
And then I read for spite,
Subscribe! you cannot lose a cent,
Why should you be afraid ?
For cash thus spent is money lent
At interest four-fold paid.
Go, then, and take the papers,
And pay to-day, nor pay delay,
And my word for it is inferred
You’ll live until you’re gray.
An old neighbor of mine,
While dying with a cough,
Desired to hear the latest news
While he was going off.
I took the paper, and I read
Os some new pills in force;
He bought a box—and he is dead ?
No—hearty as a horse.
I knew two men, as much alike
As e’er you saw two stumps,
And no phrenologist could find
A difference in their bumps.
One takes the paper, and his life
Is happier than a King’s,
His children can read and write,
And talk of men and things.
The other took no paper, and
While stroking through the wood,
A tree fell down and broke his crown,
And killed him-—“very good.”
Had he been raiding of the news,
At home, like neighbor Jim,
I'll bet a cent that accident
Would not have happened him.
Why don’t you take the papers ?
Nor from the printer’s sneak,
Because you borrow from his boy
A paper every week.
For he who takes the papers,
And pays his bill when due,
Can live in peace with God and man,
And with the printer too.
The Departed Soul.— Heaven !
what a moment must be that when the
last flutter expires on our lips ! What
a change ! Tell me ye who are deepest
read in nature and in God, to what new
world are we borne ? Whither has that
spark—that unseen, incomprehensible
intelligence fled ? Look upon that cold,
livid, ghastly corpse that lies before you!
That was a shell, a gross, earthly cover
ing, which has held the immortal essence
which has now left; hut to range per
haps through illimitable space; to re
ceive new capacities of delight, new
powers of conception, new glories of
beautitude. Ten thousand fancies rush
upon the mind as it contemplates the
awful moment between life and death !
It is a moment big with imagination
that clears up all the mystery —solves
all doubts—removes all contradiction,
and destroys error. Great God! what a
flood of rapture may at once burst upon
the departed soul. The unclouded
brightness of the celestial region—the
solemn secrets of nature may be divulged,
the immediate unity of the past—forms
of imperishable beauty may then sud
denly disclose themselves, bursting on
them in immeasurable bliss.— Spurgeon.
Despair. —ls there is anything that
will kill a man, it is despair. It has
nerved the poor victim to steady the
knife on its way to his heart, to the core
of life. It has flung the proud woman
who stood in her beauty and loveliness,
where before life was worth living, into
the filthy throng to be trampled on, and
a filthy thing herself, an outcast from
human love, a poor wanderer from the
love of God. Men and women are
among us, on every side of us, who take
our hand and speak a passing word, but
they do not live life; they live instead,
an awful, ever-dying death. Hope is
gone, and they work as the clock works,
work as a machine. Turn not too cold
ly. proud fortune, from a fairer one who
has fallen at your feet—she was better
than you once—she stood up longer
than you could have done—she is your
sister—she is God’s.
Shun evil speakers. Deal tenderly
with the absent ; say nothing to inflict
a wound on their reputation. Thevmav
be wrong and wicked, yet your knowl
edge of it does not oblige you to disclose
their character, except to save others
from injury. Then do it in a way that
bespeaks a spirit of kindness to the ab
sent offender. Be not hasty to credit
evil reports. They are often the result
of misunderstanding, or of evil design,
or they proceed from an exaggerated or
partial disclosure of facts. Wait and
learn the whole history before you de
cide; then believe just what evidence
compels you to, and no more. But, even
this, take heed not to indulge the least
unkindness, less you dissipate all the
spirit of your prayer for them, and un
nerve yourself for doing them good.
ABeautipul Though t. —God
knows what keys in the human soul to
touch, in order to draw out its swe tost
and most perfect harmonies. They may
be iu the minor strains of sadness and
sorrow; they may be in the loftier notes
of joy and gladness. God knows where
the melodies of nature are, and what
discipline will call them forth. Some
with plaintive songs must walk in lowly
vales of life’s weary way ; others in lof
tier hymns, shall sing of nothing but joy
as they tread the mountain tops of life;
but thev all unite without a discord or a
jar, as the ascending anthem of loving
and believing hearts, finds its way into
the chorus of the redeemed iu heaven.
Running a Time Table.
A brakeman’s story.
I have been a “ railroad man ” for a
great many years—have, as the expres
sion goes, grown grey in the service.—
I am certain, however, in all my experi
ence, I never saw a road that was the
equal of the Valley Air Line, upon
which I was, at the time of the incident
about to be related, a brakeman.
The Valley Air Line was one of those
roads that spring up suddenly out of the
imaginations of a few men. One cannot
say that it sprung from their purses, for
if they had the seed in them to grow
anything, it was never put in the Valley.
There was, as nearly as I can now re
member, a capital stock, which was
never paid up, a little town and village
credit, and a large amount of preferred
stock, first and second mortgages, etc.
Asa result the road was built, in a
manner, grades were bad, road-bed was
poor, bridges and culverting were thrown
together in the worst possible manner,
because the worst was the cheapest.—
The iron was a light and frail mass,
manufactured in England especially for
the American market, while the rolling
stock had been worn out in services on
other roads and sold to the Valley Air
Line on credit and long time.
The reader will see from this truth
ful statement that the Valley was not
the safest road for travelers in the coun
try. It was not. Innumerable were
the accidents we had, and it is a won
der to me" that none of them were se
rious. While we had many narrow
escapes, we still managed through sheer
good luck, slow time, and great care, to
get on without breaking bones; but I
positively assure you that time did not
accustom us to the road, and we never
ran into the depot at night without feel
ing thankful that we were alive. When
I say we, I mean the conductor, engineer,
baggageman, fireman and myself. How
the passengers felt I do not know, but
I do know they ought to have felt as
thankful as the road men that their
bones were in good condition to allow
them to walk from the depot to their
homes. Ignorance may have been per
fect bliss to them, however.
The engineer of our train—the Light
ning Express—was one of the most
sober, careful, thoughtful and indus
trious men that ever handled a throttle.
He possessed more than the ordinary
share of thoughtful prudence, of his
class, and it was owing to this fact that
so great a degree of good fortune came
to us. V
A few moments before the train was
to start one morning, Gardiner, the
engineer, called me to his cab. He ap
peared unusually downcast that morn
ing, though at the best he was by no
means a “ gay ” fellow.
“Bob,” said Gardiner after a few
seconds talk about general matters,
“ Rob I want you to be very careful to
day. I know you’re a good fellow and
always do your duty well; but to-day I
want you to do more. I want you to
stand by your brake every second of the
trip —not to leave it for a moment, and
when I signal I want you to set them
up as you never did before, and prompt
ly too. I know you will do it for me,
won’t you, Bob ?”
I was too astonished to speak for a
second, and then I asked : “ Why, what
under the sun is the matter with you,
Gardiner ? You know the brakes are
so nearly worn out that it is impossible
to set them up, and you know too
“ I know it all, Bob, and that is the
reason why I want you to be careful.
[ am going to try and make the time
table to-day; if it is possible, I will do
so. I feel just as though something
was going to happen, and am more than
half sorry that I promised; but I’ll do
it though. Now promise me, Bob. and
off to your brakes.”
I promised and took my post, not a
little mystified at Gardiner’s words,
looks and actions.
V e left the depot and went rattling
on over the iron. Passengers looked at
each other in surprise and wondered
what under the sun was the matter with
the A alley if it had suddenly awaken
ed from its long sleep, and now proposed
to be a railroad in earnest.
When the conductor came through
the train and came along by me. I
“ What is the matter with Gardiner
“ Oh,” was the reply, “he and the
old man have had a blow out this morn
ing. You see our train never makes
connections—passengers always lay over
and, of course, they growl. This morn
ing the old man called us into the office
and the whole thing was out. Gardiner
talked like a father to them, and as he
grew excited, he said that it was crim
inal running the road in the condition
it was. He told them the time table as
made up was fast even for a first-class
road, and if we undertook to run it,
a frightful accident could not be avoid
ed. When Gardiner said it was crim
inal to run the road as it was, Supt.
Brown was very hot. He fairly boiled
over. He declared that there was no
better road in the country, and that
Gardiner was a coward who ought to go
on to a gravel train, and if he didn’t
make time he’d hive him there, too.
The road was losing its business and
there had got to be a change. Brown
also said that in Valley Creek, where he
lived, he had noticed that the train al
ways slowed and lost time enough there
to lose the connections. Gardiner re
plied to this, that at the Creek there
was a down grade, the bridge was un
safe, and he was obliged to slack up for
safety. More than this, the track pas-
sed through the play ground of the
Creek school, was not fenced in, and
they could not go through at a rapid
speed without danger to the children.
“ Then Brown burst out with an oath,
that if parents did not want their chil
dren run over, they must keep them off
the track. It would be a good thing to
run over one"or two of them, as it would
teach them a lesson. Os course, he
didn’t mean this, but he was “ hot ” you
sec, and did not know what he did say.
He added, that Gardiner’s family lived
near the track, and that Gardiner’s sole
reason for slowing, was to have a chance
to chat with them as he went through.
This set Gardiner’s anger on fire, and
he then and there declared that he
would make time, let the consequences
be what they might, and if disaster
happened, Brown must assume, the re
sponsibility. lou see he keeping his
word, but the old fellow feels bad
We dashed on over the frail iron at a
frightful speed. You could almost here
the bars crackle as we went. The cars
surged from East to West, forcing pas
sengers to fairly cling to their scats.
Not for a second did I leave my brake.
We were nearly down to Valley Creek
on time. As we approached the long
stretch of down grade, I felt by the
shaking that Gardiuer had slackened up,
as if the danger were really too great;
and then, as if his promise had came
full upon his mind, had again carefully
opened his throttle. Down the Valley
we went, our rapid speed startling the
birds, the cattle, and even the staid old
forest trees into new and strange ideas.
I grasped the brake firmly; the engine
whistled and screamed, warning all to
keep clear of it. I held my breath, well
knowing that if we left the track it
would be to go to destruction. Sudden
ly the whistle ceased, and then there
came three unearthly yells from it; they
pierced my ears and made them ache.
How I set up the brake, for I felt there
was danger ahead. I knew this when
Gardiner suddenly reversed his engine.
The shutting off, the reversing, aud the
brakes set up so tight that I feared the
chains w'ould break, did not seem to
have the slightest effect upon the train.
On, on it went, at its dangerously rapid
speed. I stretched my neck out as far
as possible, clinging nervously to the
railing. I could see that Brown was at
his post, looking out as I did. and mov
ing his hand energetically, while whistle
and bell were uniting their protest.
What was the matter, I could not
conjecture, but was anxious to know.
Springing upon the rail, I made my way
to the top of the car, and the mystery
was revealed. There on the track was
a sight that sent a thrill of horrow
+ hrongh me. Only a few feet ahead of
us on the track, stood a mere child—
unconscious of its danger—paralized so
that it could not move. Just clear of
the track lay a woman, evidently help
less. I looked for Gardiner, to see
what he was doing ere I closed my eyes
to shut out the horrible sight. The
poor fellow had not been idle. Plainly
seeing that he could not drive the child
from the track and that its companion
was helpless, he left his cab and climbed
forward on the engine, on to the ex
treme end of the cow-cateher, leaned
over, and while clinging with one hand,
reached out with the other. There did
not seem one chance in a million to save
the child—not one—but anxiety over
came horror, and I looked, aud shudder
ed as I looked.
How my heart leaped into my very
throat as I saw the train dash on, but
saw that as it did so, Gardiner, with al
most superhuman effort, raised the child
by its arm from the track and clasped
it to his bosom. Then he sank down
upon the cow-catcher, faint and power
less. His fireman clambered out to his
side, and you may rest assured I was
not long in getting to their assistance.
The unusual noise of the steam had
brought every person in the village out
to witness the sight, and as they realiz
ed it they shouted their joy until their
throats must have been hoarse. The
fireman and I clung to Gardiner; there
was no need to hold the child, for though
rigid and helpless Gardiner held the
little one to his breast with an iron
grasp. Very soon we crossed the bridge
and struck the up grade, where the train
slowed and finally came to a full stop,
nearly in front of Gardiner’s house.—
With the help of some of the villagers
we took by force the child from Gardi
ner’s arms and carried the engineer into
the house and laid him on the bed. As
he sank down the little life in him
seemed to come back, and he whispered:
“ Whose child is it ?”
“ Superintendent Brown s, said a
neighbor, to my astonishment.
“ Is it alive ?” gasped Gardiner.
“ It is alive and well —thanks to your
bravery,” I answered, and Gardiner
sank back upon his pillow.
The child which Gardiner had so
miraculously saved was a son and only
child of our Superintendent. It seem
ed singular that the morning talk of the
two men should have so singular an en
ding, but so it was. The wife of the
Superintendent with their only child
had been out for a week. The little one
running on ahead had strayed upon the
track. Hearing the whistle, the mother
called the child to her, but the child,
happy in its freedom, ran on laughing
aud shouting, child-like, into the jaws
of danger. It was too much for the
mother; she made an effort to save her
darling, but before she could overtake
the little one, her strength failed her
and she fell.
Our engine was injured so that it was
impossible to go on, and another was
telegraphed for. We tried all we could
to bring Gardiner back, bat the phys
ieiau said that the excitement under
j which the noble fellow had labored had
prostrated him, and it would require
the greatest care and a long time to
bring him back to life. He had that
care, you may rest assured.
I was in Gardiner’s house when Supt.
Brown came in that night. The “ old
man,” as we called him. had lost all sign
of his anger, and he wept like a child as
he looked upon the strong man thus
prostrate before him. He visited the
patient daily, and his very life seemed
to hang upon Gardiner's recovery, and
when the danger was passed, the lons
fever which ensued was broken, and the
engineer began to recover, the Supt.
was a5 happy as a child.
I may s.iy, in conclusion, that the
incident was not without its result, for
at once the Valley Road was thoroughly
rebuilt in the beat possible manner, new
ly stocked, and is to-day one of the best
roads In the country, running its trains
on time and giving great delight to the
traveling public, thanks to the energy
and enterprise of Superintendent. Gar
diner, a kind-hearted, grey-headed gen
tleman, who is ranked among the best
railroad men in the country. Igo down
to see him twice a year, and we always
talk about the day when he undertook
to run his time table and the results
Signs of the Hands.
The person who will carefully study
the wrinkles, furrows, lines and hollows
on the hands, will be able to tell fortunes
as well as any modern Gipsey.
If the palm of the hand be long, and
the fingers well proportioned, not soft,
but rather hard, it denotes the person to
be ingenious, changeable, and given to
theft and vice.
If the hands be hollow, solid and well
knit in the joints, it predicts long life;
but if oyerthwarted, a short life.
Observe the finger of Mercury—that
is, the little finger; if the end of it ex
ceeds the joint ot the right finger, such
a man will rule his own house; and his
wife will be pleasing and obedient to
him; but if it should be short, and does
not reach the joint, he will have a
shrewd, and she will be the boss.
Round nails show the person to be
bashful, fearful, but of gentle nature.
Narrow nails denote tho person to be
inclined to mischief, and to do injury to
Long nails'show a person to be good
natured. but distrustful, and loving re
conciliation rather than differences.
Oblique nails signify deceit and want
Little, round nails denote obstinacy,
and aptness to anger and hatred.
If they are crooked at the extremity,
they show pride and fierceness.
Round nails show a choleric person,
yet reconcilable, honest, and a lover of
Fleshy nails denote the 'person to be
mild in temper, idle and lazy.
Pale and dark, purpleisli nails, having
semi-circles of a blue tinge near the end,
where the nail is connected with the
quick, show the person to be dissipated,
subject to disease, and deceitful.
Red and marked nails signify choler
ic and cruel nature, and as many discol
orings as they are. bespeak so many evil
habits and desires.
Not long ago. the Independent con
tained a sensible article on “Getting
Married.” The substance of it is Uhj
true— that while young men say they
cannot marry because the girls of this
generation are too extravagant, the fault
by no means is altogether with the girls.
In the first place, young men, as a gen
eral thing admire the elegant costumes
in which many ladies appear, and do
not hesitate to express their admiration
to those who are more plainly dressed.
And what is the natural effect of this?
In the second place, mauy young men
are too proud themselves to commence
their married life in a quiet, economical
way. They are not willing to marry
until they have money enough to con
tinue all their own private luxuries, and
also support a wife in style. The diffi
culty is not altogether on either side;
but if both men and women would be
true to the best feelings of their hearts,
and careless about what the world would
say. pare and happy and noble homes
would be more abundant.
Riches. The man with good firm
health is rich. So is the man with a
clear conscience. So is the parent of
vigorous, happy children. So is the
clergyman whose coat the little children
of his parish pluck, as he passes them at
their play. So is that wife who has the
whole heart of a good husband. So is
the maiden whose horizon is not bound
ed by the “coming man,” but who has a
purpose in life, whether she ever met
him or not. So is the young man who.
laying his hand on his heart, can say!
“I have treated every woman I saw as I
should wish my sister treated by other
men.’* So is the little child who goes
to sleep with a kiss on its lips, and for
whose waking a kind blessing waits.
Ovid finely compares a man of broken
fortune to a falling column ; the lower
it sinks the greater weight it is obliged
to sustain. Thus, when a man has no
occasion to borrow, he finds numbers
willing to lend him. Should he ask his
friend to lend him a hundred dollars, it
is possible, from the largeness of his de
mand, he may find credit for twenty;
and should he humbly only sue for a
trifle it is two to one whether lie might
b* trusted for two cents.
Wk mast, in this world, gain a relish
for truth and virtue, if we would be able
to taste that knowledge and perfection
which arc to make u? happy in the
- - ,u VARIETY.
People who are behind the time#
should be fed on ketchup.”
Mrs. Partington there most
be some sort of kin between poets snd
j pallets, for they are always chanting
j their lays.
Wealth without friends, is like life
I without health ; the one is an uncom
fortable fortune, the other a miserable
Little opportunities of doing p*»d
are neglected by many who are waiting
for an occasion to perform great acts of
Ne\ kr eat while yon speak, as a man's
throat is too narrow a channel tor words
to pass up. and good meat to pass down
at the same time.
1 is a sad thing when men have nei
ther art enough to speak well, nor judg
ment enough to hold their tongues ; this
is the foundation ot all impertinence.
There are certain g«»ssips in society
who resemble long and twisted trumpets
—what they reeieve as a faint whisper,
they give out in a long, connected blast’
ll* a man blends his angry passions
with his search after truth, become his
superior by suppressing yours, and at
tend only to the justness and force of
his reason inir.
A woman went to a circus in Terre
Haute, accompanied by eleven children,
and. when a neighbor asked her where
the old man was, she said he was at
home taking care of the children. *
The last thing in head-dresses is a
coronet of gin as Qeissler tubes filled with
colored rays, emanating from a small
galvanic battery set in the chignon.
£uch extravagance is ‘‘shocking.”
Dr. Dorimus says if he was challeng
ed to fight a duel he would suggest to
his opponent that both should take
poison, and then sit down and play po
ker for the exclusive use of the stomach
The Chinese are a queer people to go
to market. A triend at San Francisco
writes that a neighbor of his had just
laid in his winter’s provisions—a hind
quarter of a horse and two barrels of
He who thinks no man above him but
for his virtue, none below him but for
his vice, can never be obsequious or as
suming in the wrong place, but will fre
quently emulate men in stations below
him. and pity those nominally over his
John wap thought to be very stupid.
He was sent to a mill one day, and the
miller said; “John, some people say
you are a fool! Now. tell me what you
do know, and what you don’t know.”—
“Well.” replied John. “I know that the
miller’s hogs are fat.” “Yes. that’a
well, John ! Now. what don’t you
know ?” “I don’t know whose corn
“My dear Amelia.” said a dandy, “I
have long wished for this opportunity,
but hardly dare speak now, for fear you
will reject me , but I love you, say you
will be mine! Your smiles would shed,”
and then he came to a pause; “Your
smiles would shed,” and then he paused
again. “Never mind the wood-shed,”
replied Amelia, “go on with the pretty
A boy is very miscellaneous in his
habits. We emptied Marter Smith's
pockets the other day. and found the
contents to consist of the following arti
cles : Sixteen marbles, one top. an oyster
shell, two peiees of brick, one doughnut,
a piece of curry comb, a paint brush,
three wax ends, a handful of corks, a
chisel, two knives, both broken, a skate
strap, three bucklcss. and a dog eared
A bright little fellow was traveling
in a crowded stage-coach, and had been
taken on the lap of a fellow-passenger.
The conversation turned on pickpockets,
and their great skill. -Ah ! iny fine fel
low,” said the gentleman who had the
little one on his knee, how easily I could
pick your pocket,” as it lay open near
his hand. “No you couldn’t, neither,”
answered the boy. with a sharp twinkle
in his eyes, “’cause I've been looking
out for you all the way,”
Milk as a Pkevkxti ve of Leah
Poisoning.—M. Pidierjean. a red lead
manufacturer in France, states that he
tried every possible way to keep his
workmen in good health, but did not
w holly succeed in preventing lead colics
until by mere accident he found that two
of his men were never affected in that
way. Inquiry brought out the fact that
these men regularly took milk as a drink
with their meals. lie was thus lead to
try the experiment of making the use of
milk (a litre a day.) compulsory with
the workmen, and he succeeded by this
means in keeping all of them free from
any symtom of lead disease for the past
eighteen months. The absolute correct
ness of this statement is confirmed by
good authority. The remedy is a sim
ple one, surely, and it ought to be thor
oughly tested by every one exposed to
the danger of lead poisoning.
The following i« vouched for as a
toy’s composition: The Horse.—The
horse is the most useful animal in tha
M rrld. So is the cow. I once had
thirteen Ducks and two was drakes and
a Poll eat killed One. he smelt Orful.
I knew a boy whic h had I chickens but
his father would not let him rais Them
and so begot mad and so he boared a
Hole in his mother’s Wash tub. Our
saviour r«.»de ou a ass. I wish I had a
horse: a horse way* lOOn pound*.