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fthe CaUiomi (times.
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Railroad Schedule.
Western & Atlantic Railroad.
Atlanta., Ga,, Nov, 10, 1872.
On and after this date—
NIGHT PASSKNUKR TRAIN OUTWARD.
L»ave Atlanta 0:00 p. m.
Arrive at Calhoun 1:50 a.m.
“ Dalton 2:59 a. m.
Arrive at Ch*ttan6ogft 5:23 a. m.
NIGHT PASSINGRR TRAIN INWARD.
l.eave Chattanooga 5:25 p. m.
Arrives at Dalton 7.42 p. m.
“ Calhoun 8:50 p.m.
Arrive at Atlanta 1:18 a.m.
DAY PASSRNQIbR TRAIN OUTWARD.
Leaves Atlanta 8:30 a. m.
Arrive at Calhoun 12:53 a. m.
“ Dalton 2:01 r. m.
Arrive at Chattanooga 4:28 1* m.
DAY PASSENGER TRAIN INWARD.
T/oave Chattanooga ...1:00 a. m.
Arrives at Dalton.. ...8:05 a. m.
“ Calhoun 4:20 a.m.
Arrive at Atlanta 9:15 r. m.
FAST T.lN'li TO NEW YORK. OUTWARD.
Leave Atlanta..... 4:15 p. m.
Arrrive at Calhoun 8:43 p. M.
Arrive at Dalton 9:50 p. m.
ACCOMMODATION TRAIN, INWARD.
Leave Dalton 0:00 a. m.
Arrive at Calhoua 7:19 a. M.
Arrive at Atlanta 1:32 a. m.
JOHN T. GIIANT,
President, pro fern.
Miscellaneous Cards.
BEV. A. MARTIN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
hovlo'7o-ft Dahlonega, Georgia.
r 7 A. TERRELL,
Alt oi*ite yat Law,
CALHOUN, CA.
{)ROMFT attention will be given to tliecol
lec'ion of all notes and accounts placed
in my hands.
Office in (he Court House. "©3
oct2s-ly.
E. J. KIKER,
All <> i’ ii e y a t I nw,
cal no ux, Georgia.
[ < ttjirt Over Ho(iz <}• Barrett's Store. ]
WILL practice in all the Courts of the
Cherokee Circuit; Supreme Court of
Georgia, and the L’ uited States District Court
at Atlanta, Ga. nugl9’7.oly
O- iFVtlrn.,
ATTORNEY AT LAW ,
Calhoun, Go*
Ofnce Over Boaz <V Barrett's Store, Railroad St.
\\J\ I.L practice in all the Superior
VV Courts of Cherokee Georgia, tho Su
preme Court of the State, and the United
Mates District Court lit Atlanta.
jan23-ly.
Gkn. Wm. rmu.ups, Marietta, Ga.
W It. Rankin, Calhoun, Ga.
PHILLIPS & RANKIN,
Attorneys fit Late and
REAL ESTATE AGENTS,
Calhoun, Georgia.
Will practice in the courts of the Cherokee
Circuit. Office North aide Public
Square.
m J D7 TINSLEY,
WATCH-MAKER
’X O '\A7' O 1 © X*,
Calhoun, Ga.,
A'.L styles nf‘ Clocks, Watche# and Jewelry
neatly repaired and warranted.
a 9’7otf '
JAS H: MOOUE, with--
Jf. MEXKO <€ JUtO',
Wholesale and Retail Dealers in
CLOTHING, DRY GOODS
and Furnishing Goods,
No 28 Whitehall St.--2 Doors from Alabama,
ATLANTA, GA.
Liberal inducements offered.
MARTIN MENKO JOSEPH MEXICO.
jan23-3m.
JAMES R. WYLIE ,“
WHOLESALE GROCER AND
COMMISSION MERCHANT,
Peachtree Street,
ATLANTA, GA.
W. H WHITE, CITY. G. S. PIU OR, MADISON.
WHITE & PRIOR,
Dealers in
Groceries & Country Produce,
Powell Building, 60 Peachtree St.,
ATLANTA, GA.
jan23-Sm.
J. M. SHEPARD, J. J. BALDWIN. A. G. HESTER.
SHEPARD, BALDWIN & 03.,
Wholesale Dealers in
FOKESCNAND DOMESTIC
WINES AND LIQUORS,
No. 11 Decatur St.,
ATLANTA, GA.
jan23 3m.
"T7V. XX. TOKTS-Zlfi
MOULTON & REEU,
WHOLESALE GROCERS,
liquor dealers,
Produce and Commission Merchants,
NOS & #57 COR. BROAD AND CHERRY,
AND 77 BROAD STREET,
Nashville, - - - Tennessee.
The Calhoun Times.
VOL. 111.
A Thrilling; Adventure.
[London Corraspondenca of the Home .Jour
nal.
The Royal Italian Opera, Convent
garden, closed on Saturday, the 20th
inst. with Meyerbeer’s great masterpiece,
“ L’Etoile du Nord.” Talking with a
friend about the principal features of
the season, I had, naturally, much to
say about Madame Pauline Lucca. Af
ter a time our conversation turned upon
her high qualities in private life; her
kind-heartedness, affection, generosity
and courage. For cool resolution, the
following incident, related to me by uiy
friend, cannot well be surpassed. Mad
ame Pauline Lucca usually resides in
the Victoria Strasse, Berlin. Last
spring, however, she occupied, tempora
rily, at some distance outside the city,
a gartenhuus, or country house, consist
ing of only a spacious, rambling base
ment story, surrounded by a verandah.
One night, about ten o’clock she was
sitting there in her bed room. ller
chair was placed before her toilet table,
which was lighted by a wax taper on
each side of thq glass. The two tapers
were not sufficient to illuminate the
room very brilliantly, and the further
end lay buried in a sort of obscurity.
Madame Lucca was busy reading some
letters concerning engagements when
suddenly she imagined she heard a noise.
.She lookei round, but
concluded she made a mistake, and re
sumed the perusal of the letters. She
had forgotten all about the noise when
she heard it again. This time, instead
of looking round, she happened, with
out moving her head, merely to raise
her eyes to the glass. She beheld re
flected in it the face of a man peering
cautiously from out a cupboard behind
her. At first, she fancied she was dream
ing. She quietly looked again. No, it
was no dream. There was the man,
whom she now recognized as having for
merly in her service, whence he had
been discharged for general bad behav
ior. She had also suspected him of
purloining several objects which she
had missed from time to time, but not
being certain on this point, she had kept
her suspicions to herself. Yes, there
was ; there could be no mistake about
the matter. Madame Lucca’s first im
pulse was to start up and give the alarm.
But there was not another habitation
within a mile or turn, and she recollected
that the only person beside herself in
the house was her maid, who, though a
very good girl and extremely attached
to her mistress, was by no means cele
brated for her nerve. The otuer ser
vants, including the gardener and coach
man, had been granted permission to at
tend » friend’s wedding some miles off.
and were not to return till the next day
It flashed across her mind that the man,
who, as she knew, had been loitering
about the neighborhood for two or three
days, had learned that she would be
alone, and meant to rob the house, or
perhaps murder her, if his project of
robbery could not be executed without
the perpetration of the greater crime
What was to be done ? Again she
"lanced toward the mirror. The eyes
was still there, glaring on her through
the gloom. All at once she remembered
that a revolver belonging to her husband,
the Baron Von lthaden, ought to be ty
ing on a shelf in the dining room, but
she was not quite sure. “ li' it is there,
and if 1 could only get it,” she thought,
“ 1 should not mind !” While she was
reflecting, a knock was heard on the
door of the room. She saw the man in
stantly draw back into the cupboard
and close it after him. She felt relieved
that those two horrible eyes were taker,
off her; they seemed to pierce her like
daggers.
“ Come in !” she said. Her maid
entered.
“ I thought you had gone to bed, my
| good girl.” observed Madame Lucca, in
; a tone of unconcern.
“ I was going, please your ladyship
—but I—l—thought you might per
haps want something,” replied the maid.
“ I told you I would be my own fem
me, de chambre to night. No; the only
thing I want is to stretch my limbs a
little, for they are cramped from long
sitting.”
•Speaking thus. Madame Lucca arose
with an admirably acted indifference,
and took a turn or two across the room,
passing close to the cupboard as she .id
so. She Afterward declared she thought
she could hear* the man breathe in his
hiding place. Ife, on his part, might
have heard her heart beat, she said,
when, on looking at the key-hole, found
the key had been removed. She was
f :iled in her plan, which had heen to
lick him in. Still, her presence of
mind did not desert her.
“ Ah, dear me !" she said, gaping, “ I
feel very sleepy.”
“ Sleepy, your ladyship? I wish I
did,” replied her maid. “ I don’t feel
sleepy, I’m too frightened !”
“ Frightened ! W hat are you fright
ened of. you foolish goose ? Nonsense!”
replied Madame Lucca.
“Oh! begging your ladyship’s par
don, it is not nonsense, and that’s just
it! llow can you be sure that some
boscicient (villain) some taugmcht (good
for-nothing fellow.) hearing you arid 1
are alone in the house, may not murder
us in our beds ? But he shan’t murder
me in mine ; for, with your ladyship’s
permission, I will set up all night in
your ladyship’s easy chair.
Madame Pauline Lucca glanced at
the cupboard. Her blood ran cold ; she
thought she saw the handle turn.—
What course .vas she to adopt. She
dared not give her maid the slightest
hint of the real state of matters, she
felt the girl would go into a fit then and
there, and thus bring on a crisis.—
.« LET ALL TIIE ENTS THOU AIM ST AT, EE THY COUNTER’S, GOD’S AND TRUTH’S.” — Shakspeare.
CALHOUN, GA., THURSDAY. FEBRUARY 6, 1873.
Scarcely knowing what she was doing,
Madame Lucca replied at random :
. “ Murder us! What for?”
“What for, your ladyship? Why,
for your money —for your jewels, to be
sure; everybody knows you have plenty
of them I”
The girl might have been uncon
sciously sharpening, so to speak, the
knife by which she and her mistress
were doomed to perish.
“ What absurdity!” said Madame
Lucca, with a forced laugh. As she
spoke her eyo wandered from the key
hole of the dreaded cupboard to that of
an adjoining room. In the latter there
was a key. Her face flushed, and a
smile, as it were, of proud inspiration
lighted up, though only for a second.
“Jewels,” she replied “Why, ev
ery one with a grain of sense must
know that I should not bring them
about with me as a rule. They, of
course, are generally safe under lock and
key at Berlin. It is a strange thing,
though, Editha, that to-day is an ex
ception. I expected the Countess
von Wartenstein to call, and I brought
down all the jewels presented to me at
my last visit to St. Petersburg, to .how
her.”
“ Your ladyship did? Oh, but sup
posing a thief ”
“ Well, if a thief did know- it, he
might easily make his fortune !” she ob
served, interrupting her companion.
“ By murdering us, and running off
with the jewels!”
Madame Lucca glanced at the cup
board ; then raising her voice, she con
tinued :
“Oh ! there would be no necessity
for murder. The door which leads from
the room to the garden is unlocked ; I
forgot to lock it. A thief would merely
have to walk in from th© garden and
take my jewel case from the table near
the window. He might make his es
cape richer by 60,000 or 70,00 thalers,
and not be detected. That’s better than
murdering people, is it not?”
“Oh ! yes —your ladyship. And he
might get over to England or America.”
“Nothing easier,” replied Madame
Lucca. “ However, that reminds me.
I may as well lock the door leadiug into
the garden. Run into the dining room.
You’ll find the key on the table. Do
nut be long.”
“ No, your ladyship, I will not; trust
me for that,” said the girl.
“Editha! Editha!” cried Madame
Lucca, an instant afterward. “I have
made a mistake. The key is in the
Baron’s study. Pshaw! she does not
hear me,” she continued, speaking aloud.
“ 1 must go and fetch it myself.”
With these words she left the room.
No sooner had she done so than the door
of the cupboard cautiously opened. A
man put his head out and glanced around.
Perceiving no one he darted into the
adjoining chamber. Ihe next instant
tlie door was shut to and locked behind
him by Madame Luca. When she
left tho room, she did not proceed two
paces; she stood outside, listening. As
she was in darkness, she could, without
being visible herself, see all that was
passing in her bed chamber She be
held the stranger leave his hiding place
and dart into the adjoining room. She
glided after him with the steadiness of
a tigress, and the courage of a heroine.
The reader knows what f 1 lowed.
“ Attrapirt!” (“Caught!”) she
cried, rushing across the room with the
key in her hand.
“ I can’t find any ” began Editha,
entering the bed-chamber. But Mad
ame Lucca, pushing her one side, dis
appeared. Editha looked after her in a
mute astonishment, and remained as
though rooted to the spot, till her mis
tress re-entered with a revolver in her
hand.
“Oh ! your ladyship ; wha-a a-at’s
that?” inquired the maid, with a strong
presentiment that all was not right.
“The Baron’s revolver, thank good
ness !” replied Madauie Lucca
“ Why “ thank goodness,’ your lady
ship ?” inquired the maid.
Madame Lueca pointed to the door.
Someone on the other side was turning
the handle. Editha turned deadly pale,
and dropped the lamp she was carrying.
Presently there was a knocking, and a
voice exclaimed : “ Open this door di
rectly, or ”
The rest was inaudible. Editha’s
screams drowned aught else. Madame
Lucca waited until the girl s first stock
of breath was exhausted, and her sec
ond not yet arrived ; she then said with
comic severity, “Editha! if you are
rot quiet, 1 will begin by shooting
you !”
Editha thought, apparently, that her
mistress was in earnest, for the poor
gill immediately rammed a large por
tion of the nearest towel in her mouth,
and restricted herself to swaying to and
fro, and sobbing violently. The knock
ing grew more and more violent, but
the door was massive oak and immova
ble.
“My friend,' cried Madame Lucca,
in a loud voice, “ you arc caged The
garden door is as tightly fastened as
this one, and the window is secured.—
Do not attempt to open the latter, for I
am going into the garden, and the in
stant that I see you try to escape, you
are a dead man !”
Flinging open the door which led to
the veranda she went out, followed by
Editha, who in her despair had sue
cecded in pushing more of the towel in
her mouth. The noise of a bolt being
drawn was heard.
“ Stand aside, my friend !” said Mad
ame Lucca, “or you are a dead man !”
A sharp report followed, accompanied
by the sound of crashing wood and
splintered glass.
“ There, that is one barrel out of six ;
that is merely to show that I am armed.
You had better remain quiet.”
The visitor also was seemingly of
this opinion, for he did not ronew the
attempt. Wheu the servants returned
next morning, they found Madam# Luc
ca quietly reading under the veranda
before the window. They were rather
surprised, however, at perceiving she
had a six-barreled revolver in her hand,
and Editha what appeared to be the end
of a towel sticking out of her mouth.
A few words explained the whole affair,
and in about an hour afterward, the
would be tiiiety it was proved,
would be ready to turn assassin as well,
was safely lodged at the nearest Polizei
bureau.
“ Talk of generalship,” said my friend,
as he concluded his story, “ was not
the stratagem of the jewels, by which
Madame Lucca lured the thief into the
room destined to be his dungeon, a mag
nificent idea? Moltke himself never
did anything to beat it!”
-- ' ——< ►- —
A Beautiful Picture.
BY EDWARD EVERETT.
* Ab a work of art, I know few things
more pleasing to th 1 eye, or more capa
ble of affording scope and gratification
to a taste for the beautiful, than a well
situated, well cultivated farm. The man
of refinement will hang with never wea
ried gaze on a landscape by Claud or
Salvator; the price of a section of the
most fertile Imd in the West would not
purchase a few square feet of the canvas
on which these great artists have depic
ted a rural sceno.. But nature has forms
and proportions beyond the painter’s
skill; her divine pencil touches the land
scape with living lights and shadows,
never mingled on his pallet. What is
there on earth which can more entirely
charm the eye, or gratify the taste, than
a noble farm ? It stands upon the south
ern slope, gradually rising with variega
ted ascent from the plain, sheltered from
the north-western winds by woody height
broken here and there with moss-covered
boulders, which impart variety and
strength to the outline.
The native forest has been cleared
from the greater part of the farm, but a
suitable portion, carefully tended, re
mains in wood for economical purposes,
and to give a picturesque effect to the
landscape. The eye ranges round three
. fourths,-of the horiAon a fertile ex
panse —bright with cheerful waters, of
a rippling stream, a generous river,or a
gleaming lake—dotted with hamlets,
each with its modest spire—and, if
the farm lies in the vicinity of the coast,
a distant glimpse from the high grounds,
of the mysterious, everlasting sea, com.
pletes the prospect. It is situated off
the high road, but near enough to the
village to be easily accessible to tho
church, the school house, the post office,
the railroad, a social neighbor, or a trav
elling friend. It consists in due propor
tion of pasture and tillage, meadow and
woodland, field and garden. A substan
tial dwelling, with everything for con
venience and nothing for ambition, with
the fitting appendages of stable and
barn, and corn-barn, and other farm
buildings, not forgetting a spring-house
with a living fountain of water, occupies
upon a gravelly knoll a position well
chosen to command the whole estate. —
A few acres on the front, and on the
sides of the dwelling, set apart to grati
fy the eye with the choicer firms of ru
ral beauty, are adorned with a stately
avenue, with noble solitary trees, with
graceful clumps, shady walks, a velvet
lawn, a brook murmuring ovt a pebbly
bed. here and there a grand rock, whose
cool shadow at sunset streams across the
field; all displaying in the real loveli
ness of nature, the original of those
landscapes of which art in the perfec
tion strive to give us the counterfeit
presentment.
Animals of select breed such as Paul
Potter, and Moreland, and Landseer,
and Rosa Bonheur, never painted, roam
the pastures, or fill the hurdles and the
stalls; the plough walks in rustic ma
jesty across the plain, and opens the ge
nial bosom of the earth to the sun and
air; nature’s holy sacrament of seed
time is solemnized beneath the vaulted
cathedral skv ; silent dews, gentle show
ers, and kindly sunshine, shed their
sweet influence on the teeming soil ;
springing verdure clothes the plain;
golden wavelets driven by the west wind,
run over the joyous wheat field ; the
tall maize flaunts in her crispy leaves
and nodding tassels; while we labor and
while we rest, while we wake and while
we sleep—God’s chemistry, which we
cannot see, goes on beneath the clods;
myriads and myriads of vital cells fer
ment with elemental life; germ and
stalk, and leaf and flower, and silk and
tassel, and grain and fruit, grow up
from the common earth ; the mowing j
machine and the reaper —inute rivals of
human industry, perform their gladsome
task ; the well filled wagon brings home
the ripened treasures of the year; the
bow of promise fulfilled spans the fore
ground of the picture, and the gracious
covenant is redeemed : that while the
earth remaineth, summer and winter,
heat and cold, and day and night, and
seedtime and harvest, shall not fail
— •
A Tough Case —Ane« Haven re
vivalist the other night painted tho fu
ture state of the wicked in gloomy col
ors , and saying that his father died a
very wieked man and had gone to hell,
was proceeding, when a young man got
up to go out. The preacher at once an
nounced that there was a young man go
ing straight to the same burning region
when the succccder stopped and coolly
asked : “ We'l elder, dou’t you want to
send some word to your father ?”
• SOME RICH HUMOR*
How Mark Twain Escaped Fight
ing; a Duel.
The only merit I claim for the follow
ing narrative is that it is a true story.
It has a moral at the end of it, but I
claim nothing on that, as it is merely
thrown in to curry favor with the reli
gious element:
After I had reported a couple of years
on the Virginia City (Nevada) Daily
Enterprise, they promoted me to be
editor-iu-chief —and I lasted just a
week by the watch. But I made an
uncommonly live newspaper while I did
last, and when I retired I had 8 duel
on my hands and three horse-whippings
promised me. The latter I made no at
tempt to collect; however, this history
concerns the former. It was the old
“flusli” of the silver excitement, when
the population was wonderfully wild and
mixed; everybody went armed to the
teeth, and all slights and insults had to
be atoned for with the best article of
blood your system could furnish. In
the course of my editing I made trouble
with a Mr. Lord, editor of a rival pa
per. He flew up about some little tri
fle or other that I said about him—l
do not remember what it was. I sup
pose I called him a thief or a body
snatcher, or an idiot, or something like
that. I was obliged to make the paper
readable, and I could not fail in my
duty to a whole community of subscrib
ers merely to save the exaggerated sen
sitiveness of an individual. Mr. Lord
was offeuded, and replied vigorously in
his paper. Vigorously means a great
deal when it refers to a personal editorial
in a former newspaper. Duelling was
all the fashion among the upper classes
in that country, and very few gentle
men would throw away an oppertunity
of fighting one. To kill a person in a
duel caused a man to be even more
looked up to than to kill two men in the
ordinary way. Well, out there, if *ou
abuse a man, and that man did not like
it, you had to call him out and kill him,
otherwise you would be disgraced. So
I chalienged Mr. Lord, and I did hope
he would not except; but I knew per
fectly well that he did not want to fight
so I challenged him in the ipost violent
and implacable manner. All our boys
—the editors—were in the office “ help
ing” mein the dismal business, and
telling about duels, and "iscussing the
evade with a lot of aged ruffians who had
had experience in such things, and al -
together there was a loving interest
taken in that matter, which made me
unspeakably uncomfortable. The an
swer came —Mr. Lord declined. Our
boys were furious, nd so was I —on the
surface.
I sent him another challenge, and
another, and another; and the more he
did not want to fight, the blood-thirs’ier
1 became. But at last the man’s tooe
changed He appeared to be waking up.
It was becoming apparent that he was
going to fight me, after all. I ought
to have known how it would be- he was a
man who never could be depended upon.
Our boys were exultant. I Was not
though 1 tride to be.
It was now time to go out and prac
tice. It was the custom there to tight
duels with navy six-shooters at fifteen
paces —load and empty till the game
for the funeral was secured. We went
to a little ravine just outside of town,
and borrowed a barn-door for a target —
borrowed it of a gentleman who was
absent— and we stood this barn-door up,
and stood a rail on end against the mid
dle of it, to represent Lord, and put a
squash on top of the rail to represent
his head, lie was a very tall, lean
creature, the poorest sort of material
for a duel—nothing but a line shot
could 11 fetch” him, and even then he
might split your bullet. Exaggeratiou
aside, the rail was, of course, a little too
thin to represent his body accurately, but
the squash was all right. If# there was
any intellectual difference between the
squash and his head, it was in favor of
the squash.
Well 1 practiced and practiced at the
barn-door and could not hit it; and 1
practiced at the rail, and could not hit
that; and I tried hard for the squash,
and could not hit the squash. I would
have been entirely disheartened, but
that occasionally I crippled one of the
boys, and that encouraged me to hope.
At last we began to hear pistol-shots
near by, in the next ravine. We knew
what that meant! The other party were
out practicing too. Then I was in the
last degree distressed, for of course, j
those people would hear our shots, and
they would send spies over the ridge,
aud they would find ui}' barn door with
out a wound or a scratch, and that would
simply be the end of me- —for of course
that other man would become immedi
ately as blood-thirsty as I was. Just at
this moment a litle bird, no larger than a
sparrow, flew by, and lit on a sage-bush
about 30 paces away; and my little
seeond. Steve Gillis, who was a match
less marksman with a pistol —much bet
ter than I was-yiatched out his revolver
and shot the birds head off! Y\ e all
ran to pick up the game, and sure enough
just at this moment some of the other
duelists came reconnoitering over the
little riige. They ran to our group to
see #?hat the matter was; and when
they saw the bird Lord’s secon<L»said,
“ That was a splendid shot. llow far
off was it?”
Steve said, with some indifference :
0!». no great distance, about 30 spaces.”
“ Thirty paces! Heavens alive, who
did it?”
"My man —Twain.”
“ The mischief he did ! Can he do
that often ?”
Well —ye3. He can do it about
—well—about four times out of five.”
I knew the little rascal was lying, but
I never said anything. I never told him
■o. He was not of a disposition to in
vite confidence of that kind, so I let
the matter rest. But it was a comfort
to see those people look sick and see
their nnder-jaws drop, when Steve made
these statments. They went off and
got Lord and took him home; and
when wo got home, half an hour later,
there was a note saying that Mr. Lord
peremptorily doclined to fight.
It was a narrow escape. We found
out afterwards that Lord hit his mark
13 times ia IS afcot*. If he had put
those thirteeu bullets through me, it
would Inve narrowed my sphere of use
fulness h good deal —would have well
nigh closed it in fact. True, they could
have put pegs in the holes, atid used
me for a hat rack, but what is a hat
rack to a man who feels he has intel
lectual powers ? 1 would scorn such a
position.
1 have written this true incident of
my personal history for one purpose,
and one purpose only—to warn the
youth of the day against the pernicious
habit of duelling, and t** plead with
them to war against it. if the rcina rks
and suggestions I am making can be of
any service to Sunday school teacheri,
and newspapers interested in the moral
progress of society, they are at liberty
to use them, and I shall even be grateful
to have them widely disseminated so
that they may do as much good as pos
sible. I was young and foolish when I
challenged that gentleman, and I
thought it was very fine and very grand
to be a duelist and ataud upon the
“ field of honor.” But lam oldei HDd
more experienced now, and aui inflexibly
opposed to the dreadful custom. I am
glad, indeed, to be enabled to lift up
my voice against it. I think it is a
bad, manorial thing. I think it ia
every man’s duty to do everything he
cau to discourage duelling. I always
do now; I discourage it upon every
occasion.
If a man were to challenge me now
—now that I can fully appreciate tha
iniquity of that practice—l would go
to that man, aud take him by the hand,
and lead him to a quiet, room—and kill
him.
A Yankee Trick. —A Kentuckian
and a Yankee were riding through the
woods, the former on au inferior animal.
The latter wanted to make a *• swap,”
but he did not see how he was to do it.
At last he thought of a pim. His horse
had been taught to sit down like a dog
whenever he was touched with the spurs.
Seeing a wild turkey, the Yankee made
his horse perform this trick, ami assert
ed that h« was poiuting game, as was
his custom. The K*utuckian rode in
the direction indicated by the horse’s
nose, and up rose a turkey. This set
tled the matter 3 the trade was made,
and saddles and horses were exchanged.
After a time they came to a deep rapid
stream, over which the black horse
carried his rider with ease. But the
Kentuckian, w ith the Yankee’s old beast,
found great difficulty in getting over,
and when he reached the middle of the
stream he was afraid the horse would
allow himself to be carried away, aud
endeavored to spur him up to a more
vigorous action. Down sat the old horse
on his haunches.
“ Look here !” shouted the efiraged
Kentuckian to the Yankee, on the other
side of the stream, “ what docs all this
mean ?”
“I want you to know, stranger,”
cried the Yankee, preparing to ride
away, that horse will pint fish jist as
well as he will fowl.”
A Child Skized by a Panther
and Saved by a Dog. —A panther
recently attempted to carry off a child
in Neruda. Thecbild, which wasa little
girl three years old, was playing before
the open door, while its mother Was
sweeping. The panther which crept
near, suddenly leaped upon the child*
seized her by the shoulders, and turned
to flee with her, when a powerful and
ferocious mastiff that was sitting in the
house, near the open door, dashed out
and seized the panther by the throat
The wild beast dropped the child, which
was not hurt, and then a furious fight
cnßued between the panther and the
mastiff. The dog tor* open the panther’s
throat with his teeth, and the panther
tore the flesh from the dog's sides with
its claws. The mother of the child
rushed out and re*cued her darling from
beneath the feet of the maddened com
batants, carried her into the house, then
seized the rifle that was standing in a
corner, and hastened to the help of the
mastiff. She fired at random, but the
bullet struck the panther in the shoulder 1
and passed clear through his body. He
fell to the ground, and the dog. now ut
terly furious with the rage of the com
bat, soon finished him.
Victoria Woodiivll says that
as soon as she gets her present affairs
somewhat settled, she will commence
“si mderous stories to their sources 3”
and, furthermore, that she lias nicely
primed her counsel, who is ready to be
gin any number of libel suits against
journals and individuals.
The young ladies of Buffalo invite
young gentleman callers to leave their
autographs and the date of their visit
ip a small book kept for the purpose
This book is posted once a month, and
any young man who has failed to r<w
cord his name in that time is dropped
from the lady’s acquaintance.
— m -*- ►—
Example is the softest and least in
vidious way of commanding.
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Address j. ft. KSTftX,
Savannhh, Gftt
Manhood: How Lost,How Restored
jeafmtwi Just published, a uaw edition of
K. CULVER WELL’S CELA
BRATED ESSAY on the radical
cure (without medicine) of Spermatorrhoea
Seminal Weakness, Involufitart Seminal
Losses, Impotency, Mental and Physical In
capacity, Impediments to Marriage, etc. ;
aLso, Consumption,Epilepsy and Fits.induced
by self indulgence or sexual extravagance.
Price, in a sealed envelope, only 6
cents.
The celebrated author; in this admirable
essay, clearly demonstrates from a thirty
years’successful practice, that the alarming
consequences of self-abuse maybe radically
cured without the dangerous tJse of internal
medicine or the application of the knife;point
ing out a mode of cure at ohee simple, cer
tain and effectual, by means of which every
sufferer, no matter what his condition may
be. may cure himself cheaply, privately,
and radie.-iliy.
aRBL This Lecture should be in the hand*
of every youth and every man in the land.
Sent,- under seal, in a plain envelope, to
any address, post paid on receipt of G cents,
or two jK)<t stamps.
Also I)r. CulverwelPs “ Marriage Guide,
price 60 cents. Address the publishers,
CHAS. J. C. KLINE &. CO.,
127 Bowery, New York, P. 0. Box 4,686.
jan2s-ly
SONORA
MASONIC INSTITUTE
MALE AND FEMALE.
rnilE next session of this Institution will
X commence on the
First Monday in January, 187 J.
Tuition varies from one dollai and fifty
cents to four dollars per m«*nth.
Music. Four dollars per monih
Board, including washing and fuel, can be
had in tqe vicinity at from Eight to Ten
Dollars per month.
.Students desiring to board themselves ara
furnished rooms free of rent, and cun con
sequently go to aclidbl at this place almost
as cheap a- they can go from home.
An incidental fee of aeveuty-five cents per
| session is charged.
Boarding students, or students from a dis
tance are received only fioin the time of
; entering till the close of the session.
T. M. FULTON. Principal.
Sonora, Gordon Cos., Ga., Dec. 3, 18<2.-St
JOB PRINTING of all kind* neatly and
cheaply execute! at the Tihei Oflita.-
1 Seed in your orders.