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CALHOUN WEEKLY TIMM.
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gitUumft
JSTERM & ATLANTIC RAILROAD.
DAY PASSENGER TRAIN —OUTWARD.
k ea vc Atlanta 9: SA. M
rive Calhoun 1:1” P. M.
i* Chattanooga 4.25 r. m
T)AY PASSENGER TRAIN —INWARD.
r p;i ve Chattanooga 4:45 p. m.
\ r rive Calhoun 9:09 a. m.
.( Atlanta 1:15 p. M.
UIQIIT -PASSENGER TR VIN —OUTWARD.
i , ve Atlanta 5:55 p. M.
Arrive Calhoun 9:38 p. m.
Chattanooga 12:30 a. m.
night passenger train - inward.
~,a Te Chattanooga 3:20 r. m.
\rrive Calhoun 0:01 p. m.
' ,i. Atlanta 9:50 r. m.
accommodation train —outward.
Leave Atlanta 3:50 p. y.
\rrivc Calhoun 10:28 p. m.
.. Dalton 11:55 r. M.
accommodation train —inward.
Leave Dalton 1:00 A. M.
Arrive Calhoun 3:00 a. m.
.< Atlanta 10:08 a. m
i’roftsstonnt & Iwsfow Cants.
-m J. KIKER & SON,
" ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
frill practice in all the Courts of the Cher-
A Circuit; Supreme Court ol Georgia, and
the United States District Court at Atlanta,
(j a Office: Sutlieast corner of the Court
House, Calhoun, Ga.
TIAIN & MILNER,
attorneys at law,
CALHOUN, GA.
Will practice in all the Superior Courts of
of Cherokee Georgia, the Supreme Court of
the State and the United States District and
Circuit Courts, at Atlanta.
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
CALHOUN, GA.
Office: Court House Street.
r D. TINSLEY,
♦J •
Watch-Maker & Jeweler,
CAL OUR, GA.
All styles of Clocks, Watches and Jewelry
heady repaired and warranted.
JjMJFE WALDO THORNTON, D. D. S..
DENTIST.
ffice over Geo. W. Wells & Co.’s Agricul
il Warehouse.
W M BOSWELL,
PHOTOGRAPHER,
Calhoun, Ga.
I respectfully call the attention of those
ill siring good pictures to tlie tact that they
*a<l be supplied at my gallery.
C. A. HUDGINS,
Milliner & Maiitua-Mnker,
Court House St., Calhoun, Ga.
Patterns of the latest styles and fashion
for ladies just received. Gutting and
Making done to order.
J 11. ARTHUR,
DEALER IN
GENERAL MERCHANDISE,
RAILROAD STREET,
Calhoun, Ga.
Y J. MIDDLETON.
Dealer in
FAMILY GROCERIES,
CALHOUN, GEO.
A superior stock always on hand. For
fash everything will be sold at amazingly
low figures. Give me a call.
\rusici MUSIC!
91 V large variety of new and select music
/•wet from Philadelphia, kept constantly on
; 1 and for sale b.y Mrs. J. E. Parrott. —
s ‘ic also gives notice that she will instruct
■omusic at her residence. Terms, per month,
'4.00 ; use of instrument, 50 ennts. Recep
tion days, Tuesdays and Thursdays.
I NEW GROCERY STORE.
tf. W. Mai’sliall,
Ra,LROA a D . w7ballew. TAND OF
FRESH GOODS, SOUGHT FOR
CASH, AND WILL BE SOLD
FOR CASH AT THE VERY
LOWEST PRICES.
Would . respectfully ask liis numerous
friends in Gordon county to come in and
Se e him before making purchases elsewhere.
t all .and Winter Goods !
MRS. ANNIE HALL
das now in store her fall and winter stock
l, ‘ iashionable Millinery and Straw' Goods,
consisting in part of Bonnets, Ladies’ and
hildren’s Hats, White Goods, Ladies’ Un
gear, Ribbons, Laces, Flowers, &c , with
an endless variety of
TRIMMINGS of all kinds.
' utling, fitting and making dresses a spe
if.' work done with care, neatness
,l 1 dispatch. Prices reasonable. Give me
MRS. ANNIE HALL.
j CALHOUN, GA„
Bn 'r J’ re P are and to furnish the public with
... Sgjes and Wagons, bran new and warrant
a 1- l(: pairing of all kinds done at short
rat * . c ' ( y°uhl call attention to the cele
nidif 'fl 1 * sr °thers’ NVagon which he fur
elsew her * an( * exaTn ' ne before buying
S II:AM ENGIN ES& BOILEus!
Got + 2, 4 *’ 6 Horse Power.
- the Cheapest and the Best
' lreßß -> M. L. GUMP & CO.,
Room 4, Sun Building, N* Y.
VOL. V.
ONLY A Gil AYE.
Only a little lonely grave,
Out on the lonely hillside drear,
Only u childish voice hushed,
That once made music here.
Only a Mother’s sad, sad face,
Pressed close to the window pane,
That she might see that lonely grave,
Where her darling long had lain
Her darling still, tho’ years have passed,
Since she laid her away to rest :
And others have come but failed to fill
That void in her aching breast.
But idle patiently waits her summons home,
With a smile that is tender and fond,
As she dreams of the bliss so surely hers
When she enters the “Bright Beyond.”
How Tennyson Looks and Lives.
I remember distinctly the first time
I saw Tennyson—he was about fifty
seven then. Having been pointed out
to me in a drawing room,l could not be
lieve him to be the laureate. Ilis height
was hidden by a stoop ; his once luxu
riant locks were scant ; his face was
thin ; his eyes inflamed, and partially
concealed by blue glasses. Ilis manner
was nervous, uneasy, awkward in the
extreme ; his voice querulous and disa
greeable in spite of its depths. He was
almost a burlesque of the bard I had
imagined. If his nose had been paint
ed Vermillion, and he had a cotton um
brella under his arm, he might have
appeared in opera bouffe as a satire up
on what he had been. I believe he was
then suffering from ill health as well as
from one of the unamiable moods to
which he is at times subject. I have
met him since under more favorable cir-
but I shall never forget
my first impression of him. The thin
hair, the bent form, the querulous tone
will stick to my memory like importu
nity to a book agent.
The author of “Locksley Hall” has
always been more than a worker ; he has
been a tireless toiler over his manu
script, spending hours, smetimes days,
it is said,upon single lines. Many of
his poems, and parts of his poems, have
been entirely rewritten ; his first copy
being entirely unlike that which he
sent to the printer. His apparently
easy, natural flow of language has been
purchased with the utmost pains. He
has confessed sometimes that it is an
agony to write, and yet he takes pleas*
ure in the agony which gives him ad
ded fame. He never surrenders any
intellectual task until he has satisfied
th 3 last degree of his fastidiousness. He
occasionally makes his first draft
with facility, afterward changing, pru
ning, filling lino after lino, word after
word.
Like all the "irritable kind, he is va
riable and moody, especially in composi
tion. One day he will do five times as
much as he will another ; sometimes he
finds it impossible to write. Generally,
however, he works steadily and regular
ly while he is at Farritigford ; leaving
liis literary labors behind him when, as
they say here, he comes up to London.
Ilis habit is to shut himself up in his
library ; never permitting himself to be
disturbed under any circumstances. —
Nevertheless, he is interrupted, and he
grows wild with nervous irritability.
The slightest interruption is sufficient
to expel the demon of inspiration for the
day, and so introduce the demon of dis
cord in his stead.
The poet’s general mode of writing
is extremely slow, lie builds his poems
word by word, just as a brickmaker
makes a wall, biick by brick, except
that the poet takes a hundred times the
trouble that the mechanic does to ar s
range arid cement his words together.
The song “Come into the Garden Maud,”
is reported to have cost him more
thought and labor and labor than any
poem of the same length he has ever
composed. 1 have been told that he
wrote it fifty times before it pleased him,
and then he spent nearly a month at it.
“Locksley Hall” is another marvel of
effurt. He wrote it in two days, and
occupied the better part of six weeks
for eight hours a day, in altering it.—
He used frequently to work as loug as
that,; of late years he rarely spends more
than four hours out of twenty-four in
composition. One of his favorite po
em? is “The Princes,” which he consid
ers his best production, after “Idyls of
the King.”— St. Louis Democrat.
Making Up for a Deficiency.—
Judge Collins —so wo will call him—a
well-known, highly respected Knicka'
bocker, on the shady side of fifty, wid
ower, with five children, full of fun and
frolic, ever ready with joke—to give or
take —was bantered the other evening
by a miss of five and twenty for not ta
king another wife. She urged that he
was hale anti hearty and deserved a
The Judge ac
kuowledged the fact; admitted that he
was convinced by the eloquence cf his
fair friend that he had thus far been
very remiss, and expressed contribution
for the fault confessed, ending with of
feriug himself to the lady, telling her
she could not certainly reject him after
pointing out to him his heinous offence.
The lady replied that she would be most
happy to take the situation so uniquely
advertised and become bone of his bone
and flesh of his flesh, but there one,
to her, most serious obstacle. “Well,”
says the Judge, “name it. My
ion is to surmount such impediments.”
“Ah, Judge, this is beyond your pow'
ers. I have vowed if ever I marry a
widower he must have ten children.”
“Ten children ! Oh, that’s nothiug,”
says the Judge ; I’ll give you five now
and my notes on demand in installment
for the remainder.”
A lady in a menagerie being asked
wby she so closely scanned the elephant
with her opera gla s, icplied she
was “ looking for the keyhole of his
trunk.”
CALHOUN, GA., WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 25. 1874.
Forty-five.
The man of forty five, or thereby,
says Alex. Smith is compelled to own,
if he sits down to think about it, that
existence is very different from what it
was twenty years previously. He is
like one who has spent $750 of his or
iginal patrimony of SI,OOO. Then
from his life there has departed that
‘•wild freshness of morning,” which
Tom Moore sang about. In his on
ward journey he is not likely to en
counter anything absolutely new. . He
has been married—only once let us
tiust. In all probability he is the
father of a fine family of children ; he
has been ill, and he has experienced
triumph and failure ; he has known
what it is to want money in his purse.
Sometimes he has been a debtor, some
times he has been a creditor. He has
stood by the brink of half a dozen graves,
and heard the clod faMiner on the
coffin-lid. All this he has experienced;
the only new thing before him is death,
and even to that he has at various
times approximated. Life has lost
most of its unexpectedness, its zest, its
novelty, and has become like a worn
shoe or a threadbare doublet. To him
there is no new thing under the sun.
But then this growing old is a gradual
process; and zest, sparkle and novelty
are not essential to happiness. The
man "who has reached forty five has
learned what a pleasure there is in cus
tomariness, and use, and want—in hav
ing everything around him familiar,
tried, confidential. Life may have be
come hundrem, but his tastes have be-
come hundrem too. Novelty annoys
him, the intrusion of an unfamiliar ob
ject puts him out. A pair of newly
embroidered slippers would be much
more ornamental than the welhworn ar
ticles which lie warming for him besore
the library fire, but then he cannot get
his feet into them so easily. He is con
tented with his old friends—a new
friend would break the charm of the
old fauiiiiar faces. He loves the hedge
rows and the brook, and the bridge,
which he sees every day, and he would
not exchange them for the alps and
glaciers. By the time a man has rea
ched 45 he lies as comfortably in his
habits as the silk worm in its cocoon.
On the whole, 1 take it that middle age
is a happier period than youth In the
entire circle of the year there are no
days so delightful as those of a fine Oc
tober, when the trees are bare to the
mild heavens, and the red leaves be
strew the road, and you can feel the
breath of winter morning and evening—
no days so calm, so tenderly solemn, and
with such a reverend meeknees in the
air. The lyrical uphurst of the lark at
such a time would bo incongruous. The
only sounds suitable to the season are
the rusty caw of the homeward sliding
rook the ejeaking of the wain return*
ing empty from the farm yard. There'is
an “unrest which men call delight, and
of that “unrest” youth is for the most
part composed. From that "middle ago
is free. The setting suns of you are
crimson and gold ; the setting suns of
middle age,
Do take a sober coloring from an eye
That hath kept watch o’er man’s morality.
Youth is a slave of beautiful faces,
and fine eyes, and silver-sweet voices—
they distract, madden, alarm. To mid
dle age they a*re but the graceful stat
ues, the loveliest poems. They delight,
but burn not. They awake no passion,
they heighten no pulse. And the im
aginative man of middle age possesses,
after a fashion, all the passionate turbu
lence, ali the keen delights of his ear
lier days. They are not dead—they are
dwelling in the ante chamber of his
memory, awaiting lis call ; and when
they are called, they wear an ethereal
something which is not their own.
The muses are the daughters of memo
ry ; youth is the time to love, but mid'
die age is the period at which the best
love poetry is written. And middle
age, too —the early period of it, when
a man is master of his instruments and
knows what be can do —is the best sea
son of intellectual activity. The play'
ful, capering flames of a newly kindled
fire is a pretty sight ; but not nearly so
effective —any housewife will tell you—
as when the flames are all gone and
the whole mass of fuel has become
caked into a sober redness that emits a
steady glow. There is nothing good
in this world which time does not im
in.prove. A silver wedding is better
than the voice of the epithr.lamimum.
And the most beautiful face that ever
was nnde is yet more beautiful when
there is laid upon it the reverence of
silver hairs.
“ Help ” in Western Yiginia.
Donn Piatt, writing about the Vir
ginia mountaineer, says; It is impossi
ble to ’. et house servants from among
the natives for love or money. A charm
ing little lady here,Mrs. Morgan, sister
in-law to the famous John Morgan,gave
us a verv amusiog account of her trials
in this direction. Her first experience
was with a tall, angular mountain maid.
One morning she announced a visitor to
Mrs. Morgan.
“Who is he Malvina?”
“Lord only knows I don't he’s a to
tal stranger to me.”
“Is he a gentleman ?”
“Well, he ain’t a niggar.”
•‘Did he not give you his name ?”
“Not much. But I did’nt ask him.”
“But he gave you his card ?”
“You mean that bit of paper with the
printin’ on it ? t
“Of course; what did you do with
it?”
“Why, I jest put it whar I seed the
others, on the pnlilow table.
“How
say to him ?”
“I told him to hitch on thedoor'knob
till I see you.”
Brotherly Love.
ATTENTIVE BROTHERS TC MAKE
GOOD HUSBANDS.
Not many Sabbaths ago a stranger
was standing at the door of the Baptist
I Church in this city, talking to a mern
’ her of the church while the congr ua-
Uon was gathering. A young gentle
man came up with 1 is sister and walk
ed in. The stranger asked who that
young man was, the member told him,
he then asked what young lady that
was w ith him ; he was told who she
was. He then asked if this young man
was in the habit of coming to church
with his sister. The member told him
that he n r ver failed to do it morning
and night when he was at home or when
she wanted to attend church. The
stranger said, “I would like to make
his acquaintance, shake his hand, and
tip my beaver to him, and congratulate
his sister for having a true aaid noble
brother,” and he went on to tell what
he had often heard his old father say
about young men who consulted the
interest, comfort and pleasure of their
sisters; that they invariably piade good
and affectionate husbands, and never
objected to his daughter associating
with such but rather cncouaged it, for
he never knew one of that sort but
what was a gentleman and mfide a good
and useful citizen, and done well in
life.
There is more truth than poetry in
the above. We know the jjfoung man
alluded to and know the jold man's
prophecy bolds true in hi# case, and
will ninety-nine times in a hundred
The stranger said if he were a young
lady he would go for him, quick.
Too many young men neglect their
mothers and sisters. They are .seldom,
if ever, seen with them, unless it is at
home. This is not as it should be.
Nothing is more becoming in a young
man than to be kind and attentive to
them at all times, and not to go off and
leave them to go and come the best way
they can, or stay at home. Some young
men treat their sisters shamefully in
this way. Young ladies, beware of all
such. They would soon get tired of
you and treat you as they did their
and sisters ; nothing is more
natural in such cases It is human
nature and you know you stand a poor
chance to change it, don’t you ?
It improves the looks and conduct of
any young man to keep the company
of his mother and sister ; not only that
but it proves that they have some re
finement about them, and will be men.
—Rome Courier.
A Horrible Snake Story.
M essers. D. S. Perkins, Joseph Stra
ley and John F. Stienrack.a party of Chi
cago tourists returned yesterday from a
three months trip through Park Sum*
mii, and Grande counties, They fitted
out an outfit at Simpson’s coral last Ju
ly, and drove down southward and pros
pected from Granite to Fort Steele, on
the Union Pacific.
These gentleman relate a most horri
ble snake story, which will bear repeat
ing. They were encamped in Elk Head
mountains, in the North Park, on the
10th of last September, when they met
with a misfortune which cost one of the
party his life. The party arrived in
camp late one night after a day’s hunt
and ramble over the hills. After a
hearty supper the party lay down in
their blankets around the fire, which
had been built in the cl ft of some large
quartz rocks, and all were soon fast
asleep. Mr. Straley was awakened in
the night by a heavy weight upon his
chest. At first he supposed it was his
brother’s hand, but, as it did not move,
and becoming nervous and "alarmed, he
raised his head and was horrified to find
a large mountain rattlesnake coiled
upon his chest, with its head nestled
dov n in the centre of its coil.
It was nearly daylight, but Mr. Stra
ley was so paralyzed with fear that he
could not make a noise, and dared
not move. He recovered his presence
of miud so far as to be able to draw the
blanket over bis face. This movement
startled the reptile monster, which gli
ded from him to his brother, who was
sleeping with him. The snake passed
from his breast to his brother’s face,
when, in a fatal moment, Henry Straley
raised his hand to tear it away. There
was a fierce rattle and a loud cry from
the half-awakened boy and the monster
buried its fangs in bis right hand and
a second time in his cheek. There was
a horrible scream from Henry Straley
as the poor boy jumped to his feet,while
the snake glided from the blankets to a
large flat rock near the embers of the
fire. Mr. Jenkins fired his revolver at
the horrible creature, an I at the second
shot brought 't down.
Poor young Straley was soon suger
ing the most intense agony. Ilis broth
er, at his request, cut out a large por
tion of the cheek iu hopes that the
poison had not penetrated very deep,
and a tight ligature was bound around
the wrist of the bitten hand, which was
lathed in cold water. But nothing the
horrfied young men could do availed to
save the poor boy. He died in less
than two hours in the most terrible ag
ony. Had the party been supplied
with whisky his life might have been
saved, but they had none with them.—
The body changed color within three
hours after the accident. The young
men conveyed the corps to Fort Steele,
whence it was shipped home to Chicago
for interement. The snake measured
four feet in length end had nine rattles,
which were taken off, and which were
shown to our reporter at the coral last
evening.— Denver (Col.) World.
lle that docs business simply for
gain has some enjoyment ; but lie who
likes also to accommodate his neighbors,
njoys infinitely more.
Almanac.”
Josh Billings’ Almanac for '75 is
just out. It is lull of droll and mis
chievous humor, and it is the best he
has issued yet.
We present some extracts from it
which are rich and racy :
The dumplins are about the natural
size ov your phist, made out of dough
aud filled with apples. They are served
up hot, with some sweet tasting Lni
ment on them, and iz az eazy to struggle
with az a sugar plum. They ain’t so
good kold az they ought to be. Kold
dumplin and raw potato eat similar. I
never et an apple dua.plin yet without
thankin the Lord for that one and the
! landlady for another. Four apple
dumplins, at one sitting, iz 'use about
my size. I wish I kuu who invented
these kind-hearted balls, I would like
tu weep over his memory. Punkin pi
and apple dumplin have done az much
tu civilize man az enny two missionar
ies that have ever lived. Good vittles
iz next tu good morals enny how. Yu
may talk abom virtue az much az yu
pleaz •, yu kant never inokulate a man
with virfue fust rate on an empty sturn
muk. Give a man four apple dump
ins, wi'h some good kind ov intment
on them, an he haz settled down tu
bard pan, yu kan krawl up tu him on
either side with a dose of morality, or
even some new kind of sope for taking
spots out ov your clothes.
When a man ain’t good for enny
thing else he iz just right to sit on a
jury.
Coquets make better wives than Pru
des do, but, thank the Lord there iz
better ODes in the market than either ov
them.
One ov the most unfortunate indi
viduals I know ov iz a third rate ddler.
A good character is always gained by
inches, but iz often lost in one chunk.
After trieing lor more than 35 years
have my own way in all things, I have
finally come to the konklusiou to split
the difference.
Experience ackts on some pholk’s
vitals just az it doez on a bull terrier;
he don’t fairly git over one whipping
before he begins to look around for
another.
There iz a gra f e menny gingerpop
people in this world, after they have
bin uncorked a few minutes they git
to be dredful phlat.
“This is The Last of Earth.”
The above was the dying expression
of the celebrated John Quincy Adams.
Daniel Webster’s last utterance was, “I
still live,” a prophetic declaration of
his immortality by the great American
orator and statesman. But Stonewall
Jackson’s last words were still more
beautiful and significant, ‘ Let ua pass
over the river and rest under the shade
of the trees !”
These last words of America’s great
men bring to remembrance the record
ed last words of other eminent men in
past ages. We append a few.
Sir Thomas Moore remarked to his
Executioner, “I pray you see me safe
upon the scaffold, and for my coming
down, let me shift for myself.”
Chaucer, died while composing “A
ballad made by Geoffrey Chaucer on his
death-bed lying in great paiu.” Suc-h
was its title.
Quin, the Actor, when dying, ex
claimed, ‘ J wish this tragic scene was
over. But I hope to go through it
witn becoming dignity.”
Petrarch was found dead in his libra
ry, leaning on a book.
" The celebrated Loru Chest'ei field ex
claimed to his valet when dying, “ Give
Darrel a chair,” as that gentleman en
tered his room.
Boyle, when dying, pointed to the
place where his proof-sheet was depos
ited.
Bede expired in the very act of die
tating to an amanuensis.
Iloscommon, when dying quoteiTfrom
his own translation of the Dies Iroe
Rousseau, when dying, directed his
attendants to place him at his window
that he might gladden his eyes with be
holding the flowers in his garden.
W ychere'y, when dying, had his
young wife brought to his bed-side, and
having taken her hand in a very solemn
manner, saia he had but one request to
make of her. She inquired what it was.
He replied. “Never marry an old man
again !” She didn’t.
What Onsitutf.s a Car Load.—
Someone who has been investigating
the subject says that in general, 20,000
pounds is a car load, 70 barrels of salt,
70 of lime, 90 of flour, GO of whiskey.
200 sacks of flour, G cords of hard
wood, 7 of si .ft, 18 to 20 head of cattle,
50 to GO head of hogs, 80 to 100 head
of sheep, 6,000 feet of solid boards. 1 < ,-
000 feeet of siding, 13,000 feet of floor
ing, 40,009 shingles, one-third less
hard lumber, one-tenth less of joists,
one fourth less of green lumber, scan*
tling and all other large lumber. 340
bushels of wheat, 360 of corn, 680 of
oats, 400 of barley, 360 of flax seed,
360 of apples, 480 of irish potatoes,
360 sweet potatoes, 1,000 bushels of
bran. The foregoing tale may be not
exactly correct, for the reason that rail
roads do not exactly agree in their
rules and estimates, but it approxima
tes, so closely to the general average
that shippers will find it a great conve
nience as a matter of reference.
A man in Fitchburg, Mass., develop
ed a fine strategic talent the other day.
He was.paying a hack tare, when he
dropped three bank bills, and the wind
whisked them swiftly away. After un
availing search for an hour a bright
idea struck him. He folded a piece of
paper and dropped it where the bills
fell, followed its flight, and where it
sted there he fuuud also his money.
A Howling Wilderness.
What is now. we believe, a place of
some consequence, (we allude to a cer
tain city far west), was. a number of
! years ago, fas a matter of course) in its
1 infancy; yet even then prefering its
j chums to be considered a town, and num
! boring among its citizens a young “limb j
jof the law,” a judge, &c., ike. It would |
; seem a stream of water separated the !
; two sections of the town, so, with a view .
to public convenience, it was resolved
nemine contradicentc , that a bridge to
spin this audacious stream should at
once be erected. The grand design be
ing accomplished, it was next resolved
that the event should be duly celebrated
on a certain day —that an oration should
be delWercd—and, in fact, that ail oth
er observances appertaining to a public |
holiday should be gone into. The
joung lawyer was selected as the “ora
tor of the dayso, when the thrilling
moment arrived, he ascended the “ros
trum” (in the shape of a table), not
with “a skip and dance” as Cowper de
scribes his young parson to have done,
but with all the solemnity and gravity
becoming the high occasion. “Silence
was pleased.” “Ladies and Gentle
men,” began the speaker (and you
might have heard a pin fall) “the place
where we now stand was once a howl
ing wilderness”—here a pause as un
expected as unaccountable intervened,
and the audience became agitated—“l
repeat” at length continued the orator,
“the place where we now stand was
once a howling wilderness”—a second
pause, but not so protracted as the first,
the speaker evidently having discovered
that he was occupying a position for
wh'eh nature had never intended him.
He again, bower, rapidly repeated (but
with an addition by no means compli
mentary to himself or his audience)
“the place where we now stand was
once a howling wilderness, and I wish
it had remained so.”
llow to Bet a Wife.
A California correspondent of the N.
Y. Times shows how John Chinaman
manages the matrimonial lottery. Here
it is :
A Chinaman in want of a wife scrapes
together his wages and sends the
amount home, generally to his father or
mother, with the order for a wife, and
they go into the market and make the
best bargain they can, according to
the money tobe invested. Sometimes
the amount is small, and a really first
class article cannot be had for the sum,
but the old woman generally does her
best and ships over the woman consign
ed to her son, who meets her at the
steamer with his bill of lading, pays
freight and charges, and takes his
property. * 1 * * *
If any of your readers want to know
the price of a real useful wife of this
sort, of reliable color, warranted to
wash, (Mondays) 1. can inform them,
as my Celestial, Ah, Sam, who dusts
out my office, has recently imported one.
Sam sent money to his mother, and in
due course of time the purchase arrived,
and Sam brought her down for my in
spection. She was as ugly a Chinese
woman as I ever saw 1 said, “Sam, not
hardsome ; eh ?” Sam says “Not
handsome much; hands >me gr.l cost,
heap money, and all time kick up —
bobbery.” Sam had the correct idea
of it, and was wisely content with an
article, that was most likely to stay with
him. Sain informed me that the origi
nal cost, with freight and charges, was
8300 —all it was worth, if I am a good
judge of that species of goods gained
a mild experience.
—* <•
Do Not Quarrel.
There is one rule which we think
every person beset by family or
domestic difficulties will find advan
tageous, and that is, “Never to quarrel.’
If a wife has unfortunately linked
herself to a man who persists in acting
like a brute, it is a terrible destiny ; but
quarreling with him will not make it
any better. If you have made up your
mind that an evil is irremediable, bear
it as philosophically ns you can, but do
not quarrel because you are subjected to
it.
If a man finds that bis wife is a very
different woman from what he thought
lie was marrying, let him understand
one thing: quarteling will not make
her at*ull more as he would like to have
her.
But that is not all. It is not that
quarreling does no good, it does a world
of harm. Bad as matters may be in the
inside of a household, quarreling inevit
ably tends to make them worse. You
may find it very difficult at times to
give the soft answer that turneth away
wrath, but you can at least keep still.
There are many occasions in the lives
of most men and women when it would
be better for them if they were dumb
We repeat the rule, applicable to all
circumstances : Bo not quarrel.
Unknown Neighbors.—Neighbors
in cities often need to travel to become
acquainted with each other. A good
story is told of two Boston neighbors.—
A gr title man and lady who occupied the
same seat on an Eastern bound train of
cars in Ohio, recently falling into con
versation, found that they belonged in
Boston and were going home. On their
arrival at the depot in Boston, they got
into the same hack, and the hack man
having inquired of the man where he
wanted to go, he replied, “No l- >
fctreet.” “ You may leave me at the
same place,” said the lady. Ihe man
was a good dual surprised, but when
they arrived at the house, they found
that they had been iiving in adjoining
houses, the entrence to which were not
three feet apart, lor several years, and
had not known each other.
The best thing out —"ao aching
tooth.”
tksr For each square of ten imc. .
for the first insertion. sl, and for each sub
sequent insertion, fifty cents.
No.Sq rs | 1 Mo. j It Mos. | o Mor I 1 year.
Two S*.oo s7.ocTl ITTg.oo T 8-oltxi
Four “ 6.00 10.00 | 18.00 36.00
| column 9.00 16,00 26.00 40.00
| “ 16.00 25.00 40.00 66.00
I “ I 26.00 40 00 65.00 ll&.CO
fr-TV* Ten lines of solid brevier, or its
equivalent in space, make a square.
NO. 18.
Life.
Live for somethin?'' ! Ye.*, and for
something worthy of life and its capa
bilities and eportunities fur tittle deeds
and achievmcnts. Every man and every
woman has his or her assignment in the
duties and mpcnnbiiitics if daily life.
We are in the world to make the world
better ; to lift it up to higher levels of
enjoyment and progress, to make its
hearts and homes brighter and happier
by devoting to cur fellows our best
thoughts, activities, and influences. It
is the motto of every true heart and the
genius of every noble life, that “no mail
liveth to himself”—lives chiefly for
his own selfish good. It is a law of our
intellectual and moral being that we
promote our own happiness in the
exact proportion we contribute to the
comfort and enjoyment of others. Noth
ing worthy ol the name of happiness is
possible in the experience of those who
live only for themselves, all oblivious of
the welfare of their fellows.
The St. Louis Globe tells a plain
truth in the following words: The
business of journalism will continue to
hi an inviting field for experiments to
those who have a large amount of ego
tism. It a man. who, having edited a
newspaper untill he was forty, should
annou eo himself a lawyer, he would
be regarded as a fool by the legal pro
fession, and yet we often hear of lawyers
of forty suddenly making pretentions
to journalism. There is an idea that
the business of editing requires no ap
prenticeship; that editors come forth
from law offices and colleges, fully arm
ed for the profession, like Pallas from
the brow of Job. It is a mistake. There
is not in America to-day a single jouin-*
alist. of natural reputation, who has not
devoted more time and more hard work
to his profession than, witli equal fit
ness and application, would have made
him a great lawyer or a good doctor ;
and yet, ninety out of every hundred
men you meet on the street can, accord
ing to their own ideas, edit any news
paper in the country better than it is
Tooth Pulling Illustrated.
Befure the days of elhoroform there
was a quack who advertised tooth draw
ing without pain. The patient was
placed in a chair, and the instrument to
his tooth with a wrench, follown and by a
roar from the unpleasant!}' su:prised
sufferer, “Stop,” cried the dentist;
compose yourself. I told you I would
give you no pain, but I only just gave
you that twinge as a specimen, to show
to you Cartwright’s method of operat
ing.” Again the instrument was ap
plied —another tug, another roar.—
“Now don’t be impatient; this is Du
mergies way ; be seated be calm—you
will now be sensible of the superiority
of uiy methud.” Another application,
another tug, another roar. “Now pray
be quiet, that is Parkinson’s mode and
you don’t like it. no wonder.” By tiiis
time the t >oth hung by a thread and
whi) ping it out, the operator exclaim
ed: “That is my mode of teeth-drawing
without pain, and you arc now enabled
to compare it with the operations of
Cartwright, Dumerge and Parkinson.”
A Man who recently attended a lec
ture on the “Antiquity of Intoxication”
got home about one o’clock A. M , and
told his wife lie had been to hear some
remarks upon “lntoxity of Antiqua
t’on.”
Elizabeth is forty, ha.s had seven:
children, was never handsome, is shape
less, with a dull, ordinary face set be
tween two rows of corkscrew curls that
gave school ma’my to hcrShe. ’s
woman that I should go to for a gojd
pattern for a flannel undershirt.
At a dinner party recently, Senator
Nye put his new silk tile carelessly up
on the sofa. A few moments after Gen.
Butler sat down aud crushed the hat
fearfully. ‘ D —it,” roared Nye. “I
could have told you it woulu’t fit before
you trie*l it on.”
An Irishman asks a Bong Island
woman the price of a pair of fowls, and
is told.
“A dollar.”
“And a dollar it is, my darlint ? why
in my country you might buy them
o’sixpenee apiece.”
“And why didn’t you stay in that
blessed cheap country V’
“Och,faith,and there was no sixpence
there to be sure 1”
It didn't rain for some time in aVes
tern town, and when the floods did de.
scend the editor said : After many
days of arid disication the vapory cap
tains mars’,.abd theirthundering hosts
and poured out upon scorching humanity
and the thoroughly incinerated vegeta
tion a few inches of “inqua bluvialls.”
A Frenchman having heerd the
word press made use of to signify per
suasion—as, press that gentleman to
take something to eat —took occasion,
one everr.ng, at a party, to use a term
which thought synonymous, and
begged a fellow to squeeze a lady to
sing-
A Wisconsin swain saag, “ Come
love, come,” under her window the oth
er night, and having leaned too far over
the window sill, she fell, all her flutter
ing drapery knocking music, breath,and
everything else out of the serenader.
A Couple of members of the darkey
conference were passing down the ave
nue, when one trod on the indigestible
portion of a pear, and as his number
elevens went up the rest o* his being
was correspondingly lowered. “Ki
yah, Brudder Joues, is you-fallin’ from
• •race ?” chuckled his companion. “Not
prezacly, Beacon ; I’se settin’ on do
ragged edge ob dis gear.”— Capital*