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NATIONAL HOTEL,
pa
A To Right Union Depot,
QUA TTANOOGA , TENNESSEE
J. F. Eaves, Prop’r.
./. E. S' A . ./. Eaves, Clerks
TENNESSEE HOUSE
ROME , GEORGIA ,
J. A. STANSBURY, Prop’r.
rpilE above Hotel is located within Twenty
1 of the Hail road Platform. Baggage
bandied freo of Charge- ociC'TOtf
S A S SEE Sf" H OUB E~
(Formerly U. S. Hotel),
Cor. Alabama and Pryor Streets, Atlanta, Ga.
K. R.SASSEEN, Ag’t, Proprietor,
G. W. SASSEUN, dork.
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Single meal or lodging, 50 cents.
nov2-tf'.
“XXOIOSLO .AgFCIiIXI.. T 7
J. C. RAWLINS, Prop’r.
Choice Til ote 1,
BROAD ST., ROME, GAjj
PaLfci ngera taken to and from the Depot
jjhe of Charge. octlC’TO-tf
COLEMAN’S RESTAURANT.
Broad St M Rome, Georgia.
Kvorything furnished good to eat.
liesh Oysters received daily. Private
families furnished on stiort notice.
Call and see me.
tilaprG. J H. Coleman.
BRIDGES’ RESTAURANT,
MAIN STREET,
Vartersville , - - Georgia .
iIRST-CLASS FAKE!
OPEN AT ALL HOURS !!
FRESH Oyster* received daily. I also
l *«p constantly ®n hand a full stock of fine
Famiij Groceries and Confectioneries. Give
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*oy2—tf.
PROFESSIONAL CARDS.
S. JOHNSON,
Attorney at Law,
C * U#un Georgia.
' - ac * in Southeast corner of the Court House.
Aug 11’70-tf
. C - FAI - JOS. m'connkll.
pL\ & McConnell,
attorneys AT law,
Calkoun Georgia
Office in the Court House.
Aug 11 i t s
J. can in el
All orn eg at Law,
. Georgia.
\\ rLL Practice in the Cherokee Circuit,
aMt in U. S. District Court, Northern Dis
?3“ of Georgia, (at Atlanta); and in the Su-
Court of the State of Georgia.
. j? J. KIKEHr
A ttor neyAt Law,
CALHOUN, GEORGIA.
South-East Corner of Court House.]
\V !m ' 1 P ract ’ ce in all the Courts of the
Gso«-. erok j e l Cl . rcuit; Supreme Court of
&t tn U . aU l^e Suited States District Court
Yl” I*' 1 *' Ga. augl97oly
P, KV A MARTIN^
attorney at la w.
J> ah!ontna ... „
v y Georgia.
NeT 10 1 870 ts
Phillips a ran kin,
a 1 TO axE Y S A T L A W,
Calhoun L ES7ATE ACENTS - .
i,r m Georgia
jy 1 P in the courts of the Cherokee
Son, ‘‘ Cuit - 3CSL. Office North side Public
‘ J 4«are.
and Druggist,
C ‘H»oun... p .
Georgia.
J," TINSI.I'.V.
1 ' ’‘teh-Makcv <& Jeweler.
. . . . oeorgia.
,„.l Jewelry
VOL. 11.
Father Ryan’s Last Poem.
Gather the sacred dust
Os th* warriors tried and true,
Who bore the flag of our Nation’s trust
And fell in the cause, though Lost, etill Jusf,
And died for me and you.
Gather them on3 and all !
From Private to the Chief,
Gome they from hovel or princely hall,
Tffiey fell for us, and for thorn should’fall
The tears of a Nation’s grief.
Gather the corpses Btrewn
O'er ma*y a battle plain ;
From many a grave that lie* so lone,
Without a name and without a stone
Gather the Southern slain,
A e care not whence they came,
Dear is their lifcielss Gay!
Whether unknown, or known, to fame,
Their cause and country still the same
They died and wore the Gray ,
Wherever the brave have died,
They should rest apart ;
Living, they struggled side by side—
Why should the hand of Death divide
A single heart from heart?
Gather tlieir scattered clay,
Wherever it may rest ;
Just as they marched to the bloody fray.
Just as they fell on the battle dav;
Bury them breast to breast.
The foemuu need not dread
This gathering of the brave ;
Without sword or flag, and with soundless
tread,
We muster once more our deathless dead—
Out of eaeh lonely grave.
The focman.need not frown,
They are powerless now—
We gather them here, and we lay them down,
And tears and prayers are the only crown
We bring to wreath each brow.
And the dead thus meet the dead,
While the living o’er them weep;
And the men whom Lee and Stonewall led
And the hearts that once together bled,
Together still shall sleep.
THE RAS-PiGKER’S SON.
A STORY FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS.
As the gray dawn of a November day
was breaking over the city of New York,
some twenty years ago, a light streamed
from the window of an old tenement
house in Manhattan street. The room
from which it came was the dwelling
place of ‘‘Old Meg,” the rag-picker,and
her little son Willie. For seven years
she had been an inmate of the same
room, and nearly every morning, at an
early hour, she went forth in sva.ch of
rags, and her little son went to his place
of employment, down town.
Willie was a bright-faced, curly-hair
ed little fellow, of some thirteen years,
and was the hope and pride of his gray
haired mother. “ Old Meg,” (Willie’s
mother) as the boys used to call her,
was about forty years oM, but her road
through life being rough, and her bur
dens heavy to bear, she looked much
older. Everybody in the neighborhood
knew her to be an honest, God-fearing
woman. She troubled nobody; and
since her husband's death, some ten
years before had worked bard to sup
port her little son, and let him receive
as much education as possible.
On the morning ia question, she was
up at the usual hour, and her scanty
meal was spread for herself and Willie.
The room in which th y were living was
not very large, nor was the furniture
extensive ; but everything had the ap
pearance of the most scrupulous neat
ness. After they had been seated at
the table a few moments, and W illie’s
mother had asked a blessing, Willie
said :
“Mother, you must let me go and
gather the rags to-day. -I have a holi
day', and you do not look well. I know
the rounds, for you know I used to go
with you often before I went to work
for Mr. Williams.”
“ My son,” said his- mother, “this is
the only holiday you have had for six
months, and I would not like to take it
from you.”
“Never mind, mother; I’m young
and don’t mind work. You won’t have
to go out many more mornings, for Mr.
Williams is going to raise my wages soon,
and then I shall make enough to keep
us without your working.”
And the little fellow’s eyes beamed
with pleasure at the thought of his
mother not working any more.
“ Well, Willio,” replied Mrs. Math
ews, “you may go out in my place to
day and I will rest.”
Willie soon finished bis breakfast,
and taking the bag and hook, kissed
his mother’s pale cheek, and with her
kind “ God bless you !” following him,
went down the rickety stairs and into
the chilly autumn twilight, to commence
his search for rags.
By noon Willie had nearly filled his
bag, and wa on his way homeward. As
he was passing a millinery store, he saw
some scraps lyiny by the side of the
curb, which had . been swept from the
hop, and-settitfg his bag down, he be
gan to gather them up. He had them
nearly all picked up and put in a cap
preparatory to putting them in his bag,
when something lying close to the side
walk attracted his attention. He stooped
down and picked it up. What was his
surprise to find it was a pocket-book,
and to all appearances, well filled. Wil
lie opened it, and one look at its con
tents eauead his heart to leap with joy.
' Sticking it quickly in his pocket, he
; shouldered the bag, and started as fast
ns he could toward home,
i As he trudged along with his b3g on
his back, he pictured his mother’s sur
prise when he should tell her what he
had found, and show her the pilo of
! money which he knew the pocket book
1 contained.
! He soon reached home, and setting
his bag down by the door, fairly flew up
the stairs, threw open the door, rushed
into his mother’s presence, and ex
claimed :
CALHOUN, GA., THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 22, 1872.
“O, mother, I’ve found a fortune f”
And without waiting for bis mother
to speak, he pulled out the pocket-book,
and commenced to count the money.
“Fourteen hundred dollars!” he ex
claimed, when he counted the roll of
bank bills. “Isn’t that a fortune, moth
er !”
“ Where did you get it, Willie ?”
r.sked his mother.
“I found it among some rags in front
of a millinery store,” answered Willie,
looking at the pocket book. “But here’s
a name mother,” he continued, as hs
raised the fly leaf. “It ia ‘Horace Car
penter, No Broadway.’ But he
must be rich and will not miss it, and
we neetfit so badly.”
“But, my sou, it would be stealing to
keep it. ‘ Honesty is the best policy,’
so you bad better take it to its owner,
and if he does not reward you, God
will.”
V» ithout a word of remonstrance,
Willie rose, saying:
“I will do as you say. mother, and if
he offers me a reward,! will not take it.”
“Go, then, my boy, and God prosper
you,” said his mother.
So off be. started for the store of Mr.
Carpenter. When he arrivea there he
asked if Mr. Carpenter was in. On be
ing told that he was, he said that he
wanted to see him. A clerk went to a
side door and called him, and in a few
moments he entered. Willie stepped up
to him and said :
“Are you Mr. Horace Carpenter?”
“Y C3, my little - fellow What can I
do for you ?”
“ Take this pocket-book and see if it
is yours,” said Willie, as he handed it
to him. Mr. Carpenter took it, and
without opening it, said :
“Yes, my boy, that’s mine. It was
lost by my daughter while out shopping
yesterday afternoon. I had just writ
ten an advertisement to insert in the
morning papers concerning it. But why
did you bring it to me ? You look us if
you needed money.”
. “ But mother bid me take it to its
owner, and I never disobey her.”
“ You shall be rewarded for your hon
esty, my little boy. But what is your
name, and where do you live ?”
“My name is William Mathews, and
I live in Manhattan street, near Hous
ton.”
“ I will go home with you,” said Mr.
Carpenter, “and see your mother, and
perhaps I may do something for you
and her.”
They went out together, the rich mer
chant and the rag picker’s son, and
were soon at Willie’s house.
After a short talk with Willie’s moth
er, it was arranged that he should go in
to Mr. Carpenter’s store the next week.
In the meantime a more comfortable place
was provided for him and his mother by
Mr. Carpenter.
Time passed on, and Willie was fast
winning the love and respect of all in
his new plaee.
When he reached his twenty-first year
he became a partner with Mr. Carpen
ter in his great dry goods house.
“ Old Meg,” the r&g-picker, is no
more, and the kind-hearted Mr. Carpen
ter sleeps in the old family burying
ground among the green hills of Ver
mont. But Willie remains, and you
would scarcely rccognita to-day, in the
handsome gentleman entering the great
dry goods store of “ Matthews & C 0.,”
the rag-picker’s son.
Idleness. —ldleness is the nurse of
all vices. It moves so slowly that they
all overtake it. The Germans and Ital
ians say, proverbially, “Idleness is the
Devil’s pillow.” Some affect to excuse
this bydra-headad habit by asking what
harm can a person do when he does noth
ing? The reply is ready and plain
He who is passive in allowing decay, in
himself a destroyer, While standing
still and refusing to help, he obstructs
the movement of others. We are told,
in holy writ: “By much slothfulness
the building deeayeth, and through the
Idleness of the hands, the house drop
petli through.” And again, it is said :
“ I went by the field of the slothful, and
by the man void of understanding; and
10, it was all grown over with thorns, and
nettles had covered the face thereof, and
the stone wall thereof was broken down.,’
The words of Cato, the elder, are, iu the
proverb, “ that,one who does nothing
learns to do evil.” Idleness has been
described to be a moral leprosy, which
soon eats its way iato the heart, and cor
rodes our happiness, while it undermines
our health
Dull Times. —When business is
dull, go to work and make business. It
is no way to sit down and complain of
hard times Keep stirring. If every
body sat down and waited for better
times they never would come till dooms
day. If a million of people make a lit
tle extra effort to realize their desire in
business, hard times give away to their
effort, like an ice dam before a flood and
currents of business set in fresh ouce
more. It is the same in a small way
with each single individual. Don’t help
to bl k k the wheel of business by keep
ing still.
Hard times is but another name for
stagnation of business.and there is no way
to make a stagnant pool fresh, except to
stir it. If you try to infuse life into your
business, your neighbor will follow your
example, and you will be surprised to see
howmuch you can do to keep business
going. Activity is life, stagnation is
death.
lle that is taught to live upon Kittle,
owes more to his father’s wisdom
he that lias Vi great deal left him dies
to Ids father’s care.
The Pockets of North Georgia.
[From Appleton’s Journal.
Whirling over the track of the Wes
tern and Atlantic Railroad, from Chat
tanooga to Atlanta, one may have some
striking glimpses of a region scarcely
surpassed in America for picturesque
features. Not content with the ordi
nary chaos of cliffs and caverns, canons
and gulches, abrupt mountain spurs and
rocky foot-hills, common to what in the
South are called hill-countries, Nature
had here indulged in a variety of’ gro
tesque freaks, by which miniature val
leys have been caught in the grecn
elad arms of the counter ridges, flung
out from one to another of the distinct
and almost parallel lines of general up
heaval that traverse the Cherokee por
tion of Georgia, trending southward of
a due westerly direction at a considera
ble angle. These small, usually rough
elliptical enclosures, are called “ pockets”
by the North Georgians, and the came
seems to me a fitting and rather poeti
cal one, expressive of the pretty idea
that Dame Nature has furnished the
robe here worn with certain snug re
ceptacles, into which she has very care
fully let fall a great variety of her
choicest things. While elsewhere, ex
cepLeg certain alluvial tracts known'as
river and creek “bottoms,” the soil of
the country is generally thin and slaty,
here iu these pockets it is exceedingly
strong, producing remarkably rank
masses of varied vegetation.
The areas of these singularly beauti
ful vallleys vary greatly, ranging from
one to two hundred acres, up to a thou
sand or more acres, and consequently,
the inhabitants of each pocket number
from one family to twenty families and
upward.
Standing out sharply in fine weather,
against the background of a sky as
purely blue as that of Italy, the moun
tain peaks, fringed with a very uneven
growth of pines, hickory trees, and a
variety of oaks, viewed from the low
est parts cf the valleys, present to the
eye a pleasing, billowy wall of nicely
shaded green falling into purple ;\ while
if the observer is stationed on <*ne of
the higher points, the'pocket below him
a gently rounded Basin, holding within
its circumference a surface beautifully
undulating, flecked with contrasting
patches ot alternating field and wood
land, enclosed by wo m fences built in
primitive style. Peeping out from the
depths of luxuriant peach-orchards the
humble ugly dwelling of the land-own
ers give to the scene an air of out-of
the-way simplicity rarely met with else
where. Indeed, these houses arc unique
in their structure, being neither “log
cabins,” such as the Western pioneers
built in Ohio and Indiana, nor “ hewed
log houses,” after the early Kentucky
and Tennessee styles; but split-log
dwellings made of semicylindrical slabs,
procured by opening the straight stems
of the pine trees longitudinally. These
houses are covered with pine-boards, and
the apertures between the logs, after
the are built, are covered with
long strips of the same timber split
“ with the grain.”
One beautiful feature of the pockets
is formed by the clear, never-failing
•treamlets of cool, pure water generally
found meandering through them, bor
dered with hazel, sassafras, and persim
mon thickets. On tracing these brooks
to their fountains, one finds most re
markable springs, generally flowing from
beneath huge cl ills of primitive reck,
though sometimes bubbling up through
little coues of sand almost as white as
snow. A clump of small, white-barked
trees, a species of maple, is generally
found growing in the moist ground near
these springs, and not unfrequently a
rude mill for grinding Indian corn is
built somewhere on the stream, and, far
too often for the sobriety of the moun
taineers, one sometimes sees attached to
the mill a small distillery.
I know of no spots where wild flow
ers grow in greater variety or to such
perfection of form and color as in these
warm, rich mountain-locked nooks.—
Often, as early as the latter days of
February, the hardier kinds of blooms
appear in the more sheltered places, and
by the middle or last of March the
woods are glittering and glowing w«th
as pleasing a show of colors, and as wild
a luxuriance of leaves, as is usually
found in tho semi tropical forests cf
Florida.
The pockets are mostly so situated,
from the nature of their construction,
that railways can never reach them, and
even a practicable wagon road i3 made
with great difficulty over the abrupt,
rocky hills which so jealously enclose
them. It is therefore necessary, in
order to visit these basins, to leave the
lines of highway aud thread the zigzag
length of a narrow, rugged path that
leads you past the foot-hills and up the
rocky sides of a chain of wild, unshorn
mountains, until you may look from the
summit into the most secret recesses of
the pocket. In the summer of 1860 I.
visited several of these isolated garden
spots, and found them not much changed
from what they were when I saw them
ten years before. r i he band of war had
only touched them light’-y, in the way
of a few mules and horses put under
government brand, and a few pigs killed
to furnish an occasional roast for small
predatory bands of cavalry.
Descending Into the pocket, you often
find your path winding round the edges
of considerable precipices, up whose
weathern-woru escapement* the‘‘rock,
ivy ” and “ poison-oak ” vines clamor it;
tangled mats of vari colored leaves and
tendrils, while so near you are the thick,
dark tops of the pines growing below,
that a hand might almost touch the
highest tuft. 1 frequently noticed be
side these paths considerable heaps of
small fragments of stone, and niy guide
informed me that they were made by
Cherokee Indians, in pursuance of a
! singular custom.
“ Every Injin ’at walked this trail
ud put a donick on the pile as he pass
ed, said he, in his peculiar mountain
dialect; “ can’t ye see’ 'at all the little
rocks hev been took away from close to
the trail for a considerable ways on both
sides o’ the heap ?”
I examined and found it true, that
along the path in each direction the
surface of the ground had been pretty
well cleared of loose fragments, else
where so plentiful.
The lowest parts of the pockets, when
in their natural state, are very heavily
timbered. The pine trees grow to a
great height, often showing a trunk
from fifty to eighty feet long, smooth,
straight and limbless, crowned and com
paratively a mere frondous tuft of fra
grant foliage. The hickory trees are
generally small, straight sapfings, send
ing forth enormous leaves and bearing
a thick-shelled, exceedingly refractory
nut, which none but the Georgia moun
tain swine can crack. Many kinds of
oak anuunlly pour down copious show
ers of acorns, and the leaves of these
trees, being verv slow to decay, accumu-
late on the ground, often to the depth
of a foot, causing in the dry season ex
tensive fires, that, seen by night, pre
sent a grand spectacle as they slowly
climb the mountain side», lapping with
their red tongues of flame the grim,
beetling ledges of granite.
The inhabitants of the pockets are
mostly quiet, honest, uncultured per
sons, living in a simple, almost primitive
way, knowing but little of the outside
world; never venturing farther from
home than the nearest village, and even
thither only two or three times a year.
Although not very industrious, they
generally manage to live comfortably,
and rear extensive broods of children.
Ihe women card, spin, and weave cotton,
and sometimes woollen goods for cloth
ing, and the men divide their time
between hunting in the mountains and
laboring in their patches of corn, oats,
cotton, tobacco, and wheat. The fire-arms
are long rifles and single-barrelled shot
guns, almost invariably of the old flint
lock pattern. Deer and turkeys are
found in considerable numbers, and
quails in abundance, with occasional
woodcocks. Small birds of almost ev-
Clj kmj make tin. nooJs a jjaiivlcumnium
rather than a temple of music, by their
commingled songs, calls, cries of affright
and auger, and the whir and rustle of
their wings, particularly at about that
time iu the spring when the tress put
on the full splendor of leaf and tassel.
The air of the pockets is singularly
pure and sweet, often perfumed with
the exhalations of the wild-rose, the
woodbine, the violet, and the peculiarly
fragrant sassafras flowers. I could not
hear of a gingie cage of consumption,
bronchitis, or asthma, ever having ex
isted in any of tj*e pockets I visited.
I should think it next to impossible for
such diseases to be generated there.—
The air has, too, a powerfuly tonic ef
fect on the digestiv* organs, and (though
their principal article of diet is salt fat
pork) the inhabitants are entirely free
from diseases of the stomach and liver,
at lsast in the chronic forms.
Some years ago, the pride of the
mountain forests of Georgia was the
chestnut tree. In those days, the men,
women, and children of the pockets
turned out in a body during the nutting
season, to gather chestnuts lor the
market. But this pleasant and at cue
time quiet remunerative pastime is nearly
broken up by the terrible destruction
of the trees made by an insect. Every
where in the woods you may see the
giant skeietoas of these once flourishing
monarch* of the groves, dry, white and
ghost-like. But the warm, rich soil is
sending up young trees, which, if not
in turn attacked-by the insect, will soon
more than replace the old ones.
The small dimensions and isolated
situation of the pockets render schools
almost unknown to their inhabitants,
who are rarely found to have any knowl
edge of books, and such a thing as a
newspaper is very seldom seen about the
houses. A life paled in and almost
absolutely bounded by the circle of
hills j a freedom of existence that feels
few necessities, and finds them all but
spontaneously furnished ; a narrow,
contented range of thought; a blank
ignorance of what the world may be,
and with, no desire to be enlightened;
easy-going, peaceable, dull, effortless —
such is the spirit of the pockets. But
to the tourist no places are more replete
with genuine interest. The scientific
man, the poet, and the searcher after
health, may each find his particular de
sires as nearly fulfilled as anywhere iu
America. The ornithologist will, on
entering one of these secluded retreats,
be charmed with the variety and tare
beauty of the birds ; especially will he
note the numbers of that otherwise fast
disappearmg feathered king, the great
black American woodpecker, whose
brilliant scarlet tuft, and loud, merry
cackle, are forever gone from our Y» es
teru woods. Tiie geologist and miner
alogist will discover many interesting
things in the out-croppings of various
deposits of stone and ore; and the poet
and the painter can nowhere find Na
ture in a finer mood.
The people of the pockets were rareiy
slave owners, and perhaps en this ac
count it happened that not a few of
them were quite averse to taking up
amis for tire Confederacy, and, to r.void
the conscription, fled to the fastness of
the mountain?. 1 hey thus earned the
name of ' hog bac^s ; given to them
|by the Confederate soldiers. In many
' instances, the men of an entire pocket
have, or are thought to have, a joint
interest in a small, carefully concealed.
( Elicit distillery, very difficult of diseor
ery by a revenue officer, and to which
they take their peaches, aud a consider
able portion of their corn and rye to be
made into brandy and whisky.
Tho wagon roads leading into the
pockets are generally long, winding,
rough, miserably tiresome ways, to which
I prefer the trails or foot paths said to
hare been made by the Indians. Armed
with a stout staff, the tourist will find
nothing more delightful than the ascent
and descent of the mountains, afoot,
with no companion but his garrulous
old guide, whose chief boast is that he
“ come ycre a for* the Injins left.” Os
one thing, however, it behooves yen to
be very careful. Your guije is always
“ jist out’n tobacker,” and, if* you should
happen to not have any, not a word of
information can you extraet from him; !
but an occasional chew of his favorite
weed will make his tongue exceedingly I
active. In choosing your guide, tnke j
an old hunter ; he will be full of hi#
tory and legend. Perhaps, if your to
bacco is good, he will tell you one of!
his very longest stories, like the cne i
with which I must now close this p*per. '
“I knowed a q!g Irjia/' said my!
guide, as we sat on the highest peak of j
Taylor’s Ridge, i! I knotted a old Injin \
named Crane-eater, when he lived down
yonder in the pocket, lie was the
outdaciousest felier I ever seed.”
“Ah ! why so ?” I asked, pricking
my ears for a story.
The old guide ground his tobacco
very complacently for a while; then,
rising from the stone on which he had
been sitting, and taking up his loug
staff preparatory to resuming the journey,
he said:
“ Ccs he wug.”
And that was ail I ever heard con
coming the queer old Indian named
Crane-eater!
James Maurice Thompson.
How Woman’s Rights Work.
In Wyoming, where the woman’s
rights are in active operation, the thing
is reported to be all right. The women
rote intelligently, and defeated the whis
ky candidate. As jurymen, they es
caped challenge on account of the gal
lantry of the lawyers. This has become
court etiquette since. A-murder case
was tried. One wofann got sick, after
three (lays, and anew jmut mini siccieu,
and three more days lost in retaking the
proof for his benefit at the expense to
the county of over SI,OOO. The priso
ner gave up and plead guilty, tired out.
It turned out that one of the woman
jurors was not a. citizen, the prosecuting
attorney being too sheepish to ask her
any questions. The court ordered a nfirsr
trial, but the accused plead guilty again,
rather than go before another chignon
jury.
The way the husbands suffer; and is thus
depicted:
“As to the husbands and children of
these ambitious jurors, their case was
truly heartrending. During the entire
week, they could neither apeak nor com
municate with their loved and loat. At
morning the doorways of the courtroom
were crowded with disconsolate husbands
and children waiting to catch a glimpse
of their wive* and mother* a« the Sher
iff brought the jury into court. At night
they would linger to gaze at the retiring
forms that once gladdened their home*
and their hearts, as they were marched
off by the Sheriff to the public hotel,
to eat and spend the night together.—
One husband b«came uncontrollable,
and asked the Judge to permit his wife
to go home and see her children and
spend the night once more. But the
Judge was inexorable, and the poor bus
band returned alone to his desolate fire
side to indiet a withering review of the
baneful results of "Woman's Bights,
which appeared in an evening paper on
the following day. II is argument was
based upon the domestic impracticabili
ty of the system, and upon the divine
announcement that it is not good k.r
man to be alone. During the entire
week the ladies and gentleman of the
jury ate, drank and slept under the
guard of the Sheriff, the ladies all in
one room and the gentleman in another
room communicating. 3he day on
which the court dismissed the jury was
one of rejoicing on the part of the af
flicted. But home had lost its charms
for their wives ard mothers,whose hearts
had been turned by the flattery of coun
sel, and their heads filled with vain am
bitions. The following week was spent
by these exemplary women upon the
streets and in public places, telling what
happened in the jury rod what they
knew' about criminal law and the
rule* of evidence. They reminded one
of a rchcol boy, with his first pair of
red topped boots, or Young -America
with his first cigar.
Some trouble occurred threogh the
inconvenience of young jurors wanting
lacteal rations.
One woman run - for office, end some
of her political sßtcrs let their preju
dices override their party fealty and
elected a man. She was foolish enough
to outdress them, and they couldn’t
stand that.
Altogether, woman’s rights i? very
serene. It.shows the “ human nature’
of the dear pet'ieoats conspicuously,and
makes so clever a topsy lurry of soc.al
matters that we are • agin’’ it.
A conceited parson once srid:
“This morning I preached to a con
gregation of asses I”
“I thought of that.” retorted the
lady, “when you called them your be
loved brethren 1”
NO. 29.
THIS Collage holds three rewios* aaok
year. Iha first aeation eornmc»a«K()at®btr
Sd, aud continues uutil the sod *fDe«erab«r;
; the second session camtueneca January 2d,
18.2. aud eontinues until the end of Vlarak •
the third seasioa 4prU lat, *a4
continue* until the a«d of June.
It has an able eorpac es twelve Prefeaaora,
and every Department es Medicine and 8*»-
gerv is thoroughly taught.
Kvery facility in the way of illustrations,
morbid specimens, herbarium, chemical and
philosophical apparatus, microscopes.instru
meuts of the latest invention for physical
examination and diagnosis will be provided.
Splendid Hospital and Clinical Instruction
arc afforded ; free tickets I© all our city hos
pitals arc provided ; dissecting material
abundant at a nominal cost.
Perpetual scholarships are sold for S6O,
which pays for all the Professors’ Tickets
until graduation. Matriculation Fee $5 ;
Demonstrator’s Ticket. $5 ; Diploma Fee,
For .ircular and additional particulars,'
address
Prof. JOHN BUCHANAN, M. D. Deau,
614 Tine Street, Philadelphia, Pa
*ugl7’7l -ly
sciioolnotice!
The Trustees of Calhoun Academy hav
ing employed
Mil. 1). S. HAYNES,
As Teacher for the present year, respect
fully announce to tho patrons and frie&ds
of the Institute, that the exercises will open
Monday, January the 22d.
Mr. Haynes comes among us an experi
enced and eminently qualified Teacher, oom
meuded alike for liis Scholarship, purs
morals and eminent experience.
A liberal patronage is solicited,
RATES OF TUITION ;
Ist Class, Orthography, Reading,
Writing and Primary Arithmetic,
per iruyith .-. $1 50
2d Glass, English Grammar, Geogra
phy and Arithmetic, per month,... 2 00
3d Class, Higher English Branehesand
Elementary Algebra, per month, 2 60
4th Class, Ancient and Modern
guages and Mathematics, per
month *
Incidental Expenses per session of five
nurams, 60
Students will be charged from date of en
trance to close of term, except in oases ®f
sickness
TUITION REQUIRED MONTHLY.
Good Board can be obtained in Calhoun
at from Eight to l'cn Dollars per month,
T. A. FOSTER, A
J. I. PRINTUP,
W. D. FRANKLIN,
A. W. REEVES, > Board of Trustees,
Z. T. GRAY,
JS\ J. BOAZ,
J. D. TINSLEY, J
jau2s-tf
gpp, MANHOOD:
fcdSaslbjr How Lost, How Restored.
Just published, anew edition by DR. OUL
VERWELL’S CELEBRATED ESSAY on the
radieal cure es certain weaknesee*, the ef
fects of Error* and Abuses in early lift.
The celebrated author, in this admirable
essay, elearly demonstraets from a thirty
years’ successful practice, that th« alarming
consequences of such errors and abuses esay
bo radically curad without the dangerous
1 use of internal medicine or the application
of the knife ; pointing out a mods of euro at
once simple, certain, ane effectual, by means
of which every sufferer, no matter what his
condit ion may be, may euro himself cheaply,
privately and radically.
g&Y'This Lecture should be in the hands
o# every youth and every man in the land.
Seat, under seal, in plain envelope, to any
address , postpaid on receipt of 6ix cents, or
two post stamp-.
Also, Dr. Culver well* * “ Marriage Guide,”
price 25 cents.
Address the Publishers,
CKAS. J. C. KLINE A CO.,
127 Bowery, New York, P. 0. Box 4,686.
jan‘2s-ly
CkxoroU.©©
MANUFACTURER!* COMPANY.
D ALT OX, OA.
Manufactures all Kindt of
FURtffXTXmH,
Os the best material this eouatry affords,
and very superior in style and workmanship
which they offer to the public and the gea
al trade, as low as can be afforded.
Ciiairs & Bedsteads a Speciality.
Blinds, Door*. Sash and Jcb Work, to or
der, on short notice.
Dr. D. G. Hunt is our Agoat at Calhoun,
Ga., and keeps a good supply of Furnituro
on hsn-i. J. W. WALKER. Sup’t.
D. I’ai.Mac. RccretAry. [a«g®l’Tl-tf.
JS-. FAIN,
—WITH—
Stewart. & Cos.
Wholesale Grocers and
Commission Merchants,
No. 13 North Howard Street. Baltimore M<f.
Coesignmsßta of ootton it produso
solicited. [»ayli-6'7ly
C£iliioun Motel.
fTAYING returned and taken ebargo o
ithis Hotv lit «ha!i bo my endeavor to keep
it up to ll:t standard of
A First-class Hotel,
In all its arrangements. The table will
supplied with the
BevSt the Market a fiords.
Every attention shown guests. Give mo a
trial. ' Jrosx Tbbashhb.
sept 1371-1 w
{£")*-’ A MONTH! Horse furnished. Ex
o4 wD - f »id. 11. I>. Bkaw, Alfred,
Main?.
on hand.
rates of Advertising.
Nb.Sq’rs | 1
Two suoo I i.fT.CJ* *l(tbd
Four “ (TOO 10.00 | lß.fto S$0()
| column 9.00 15.00 25.00 40 oft
1 “ ] 16.00 26.00 40.00 ft 5.00
]_ “ 1 25.00 40 u ) 55.00 ll&GO
Cr;7’' lev each square of ten lines or less,
for the first iifeettion, sl, *ml for each aub
•equont insertion, fifty eeida
fetW Ten hires qf solid brevier, or it*
equivalent in apace, make a square.
fSff' Terms cash before or on demand af
ter tho first insertion.
under the head of‘‘Buaioe*
Notices,’’ 20 cents a line for first rfr*srti»*.
and 10 cents for each subsequent in**rti6i>,
MISCELLANEOUS.
iicfliim
of Philadelphia.
Medical Department !