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CALHOUN MEEKLY TIMES.
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Communications on matters of pub
liC interest solicited.
fultnrad Schedule.
(E jf J:iV & .TLNIIU HAILROI).
DAY PASSENGER TRAIN OUTWARD.
Leave Atlanta 9: 5 a. m
Strive Calhoun 1:17 p. m.
“ Chattanooga 425 p. M
DAY PASSENGER TRAIN —INWARD.
Leave Chattanooga '. 4:45 p. m.
\rrive Calhoun 9:09 a. m.
*> Atlanta 1:15 p. M.
SIGHT PASSENGER TR VIN—OUTWARD.
Leave Atlanta 6:55 p. m.
Arrive Calhoun 9:38 p. m.
*< Chattanooga 12:30 a. m.
SIGHT PASSENGER TRAIN —INWARD.
Leave Chattanooga 3:20 p. m.
Arrive Calhoun 6:01 p. m.
•4. Atlanta 9:50 p. m.
ACCOMMODATION TRAIN—OUTWARD.
Leave Atlanta ’. 3:50 p. m.
Arrive Calhoun 10:28 p. m.
.. Dalton 11:55 p. m.
ACCOMMODATION TRAIN —INWARD.
Leave Dalton liOd a. m.
\rrive Calhoun 3:00 a. m.
Atlanta 10:08 a. m
grofwsiomrt & T-nsincs's Cards.
J. KIKER & SON,
attorneys at law,
Will practice in all the Courts of the Cher
•kee Circuit; Supreme Court of Georgia, and
ie United States District Court at Atlanta,
Ga. Office: Sutheast corner of the Court
House, Calhoun, Ga.
rAUN & MILNER,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
CALHOUN, GA
Will practice in all the Superior Co'irts of
of Cherokee Georgia, the Supreme Court of
the State and the United States District and
Circuit Courts, at Atlanta.
pANEIN & NEEL,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
CALHOUN, GA.
Office : Court House Street.
J D. TINSLEY,
Watch-Maker & Jeweler,
CALO UN, GA.
All styles of Clocks, Watches and Jewelry
neatly repaired and warranted.
WALDO THORNTON, 1). D. sT.
DENTIST.
Office over Geo. W. Wells & Co.’s AgricuL
•tu ml Warehouse.
'yy M. BOSWELL,
PHOTOGRAPHER,
Calhoun, Ga.
I respectfully call the attention of those
desiring good pictures to the fact that they
cad he supplied at my gallery.
lyxiSS C. A. HUDGINS,
Milliner & Mantua-Maker,
Court House St., Calhoun, Ga.
Patterns of the latest styles and fashion
for ladies just received. Gutting and
Making done to order.
J H. ARTHUR,
DEALER IN
GENERAL MERCHANDISE,
RAILROAD STREET,
Calhoun , Ga.
y J. MIDDLETON.
Dealer in
FAMILY GROCERIES,
CALHOUN, GEO.
A superior steck always on hand. For
cash everything will be sold at amazingly
low figures. Give me a call.
lyrusic i music i
■IvJ-A large variety of new and select music
direct from Philadelphia kept constantly on
lund and for sale by Mrs. J. E. Parrott.—
She also gives notice that she will instruct
in music at her residence. Terms, per month,
$1.00; use of instrument, 50 ennts. Recep-
Coa days, Tuesdays and Thursdays.
NEW OItOCEUY STORE.
J. 'W. Marshall,
i RAILROAD ST., OLD STAND OF
A. W. gALLEW.
FRESH GOODS, SOUGHT FOR
CASH, AND WILL BE SOLD
FOR CASH ATTHE VERY
LOWEST PRICES.
Would respectfully ask his numerous
friends in Gordon county to come in and
see him before making purchases elsewhere.
Fall and Winter Goods J
MRS. ANNIE HALL
lias now in store her fall and winter stock
t>f iaskionable Millinery and Straw Goods,
Consisting in part of Bonnets, Ladies’ and
Children’s Hats, White Goods, Ladies’ Un
derwear, Ribbons, Laces, Flowers, &c , With
•in endless variety of
TRIMMINGS OF ALL KINDS.
Cutting, fitting and making dresses a spe
fcialty. All work done with care, neatness
anddispalch. Prices reasonable. Give me
Ca T MRS. ANNIE HALL.
t'T'gray;
[i f CALHOUN, GA„
w ,s prepared to. furnish the public with
■nggies and Wagons, bran new and warrant
n . Repairing of all kinds done at slioit
ice. Would call attention to the cele
r. 'ed “Fish Brothers’ Wagon which he fur
•1 < \ T examine before buying
ENGINES & BOILERS.
p *’44l Horse Power.
tne Cheapest and the Best
Address, M. L. GUMP & GO.,
Room 4, Sun Building, N. Y.
VOL. V.
“ Over Her Knec.^
Over her knee, over her knee,
How my old grandmother used to spank
me;
Over her knee, over her knee,
When 1 was quite a small boy !
It was spank, spank, spank !
No use it was kicking,for on she went lich ing,
With spank, spank, spank,
The thing she quite used to enjoy!
Chorus—Then it’s over tier knee, &c.
Over her knee, over her knee,
Oft she would turn me as if for a spree,
Over her knee, over tier knee,
Turn me again and again.
It was spank, spank, spank!
In vain was my crying, she kept on applying
The spank, spank, spank !
Oh, it was terrible pain !
Chorus—Then it’s over her knee, < c
When I was free down from her knee
Naughty a lad I was certain to be,
Then she took me back from her knee,
Acting the same as before ;
It was spank, spank, spank !
Wretched young fellow, how J did bellow !
Still spank, spank, spank!
Oh, ’twas no end of a bore !
Chorus- When over her knee, &c.
—WfIWMP—MMBB
THE MISSING FINGER JOINT.
It was my first visit to London since
l had taken up my abode and entered
on the practice of my profession as a so
licitor in Southampton.
In London I had a very dear friend,
my old friend, my old college chum,
George Dickson ; and he was the only
person I knew in the great metropolis,
of course I lost no tinie in looking him
u P; m -
Three years had passed since our last
meeting; but ten could scarcely have
produced a change more marked than
hud taken place in the appearance and
manner of my friend.
Our first greetings and friendly in
quiries over, I longed, yet fovebore, to
ask the cause of my friend’s melancholy.
I felt sure, in due time, of being made
the confidant of the secret, provided no
motive of delicacy prompted its conceal
ment.
That evening, in my room at the ho
tel, George told uie his story. He had
formed an attachment for a } r oung lady,
whose graces of mind and person he por
trayed with all the fervor of a lover’s
eloquence. She had returned his affec
tion, but her father had opposed his suit,
having set his heart on the marriage of
his daughter to a nephew of his. This
nephew was a young surgeon, of profli
gate character, my friend assured me —
but that may have been prejudice—who
had long, but unsuccessful, woed his
cousin, to whom his offers were as re
pugnant as to her father they were ac
ceptable.
Some months since, Mr. Parson, the
young lady’s father,had gone into Lamp
shire ol business accompanied by his
nephew. At Southampton he had been
seized by a sudden illness, which termi
nated fattally in three aays.
On the day preceding his death lie
had executed a will ( which had since
been duly proved by the deposition of
the attesting witnesses), containing a sol
emn request that his daughter, to whom
he had lef t the whole of his estate, should
accept the hand of his nephevir in mar
riage, coupled with the provisons that,
in case the latter offered, and she refuss
ed, within a specific period, to enter into
the proposed union, the entire estate
devised to the daughter should be for
feited to the nephew.
To sacrifice her fortune to her heart’s
choice would not have cost Julia Parsons
a moment’s hesitation ; and nothing
could have more delighted George
Dickson than so fair an opportunity of
showing how superior his devotion was
to all considerations of personal advan
tage. But her father’s dying request, in
Julia’s eyes, was sacred. It had surprised
and stunned her, it is true ; for, in their
many conferences on the subject, he had
never gone beyond the most kindly
remonstrations, and had never hinted
at anything like coercion.
Young Parsons, the nephew, had not
the magnanimity to forego his ungen
erous auvantago. He might have been
contented with his cousin’s fortune
alone, but his right to that depended on
his offer and her rejection of an aTiiance
which she felt in conscience bound to ac
cept. The brief Season of grace, which
she had been compelled to beg even with
tears, had almost passed,and a few more
days would witness the condemnation of
two lives to hopeless misery.
At the conclusion of my friend’s nar
rative, in which, for reasons that may
hereafter be developed, I felt a peculiar
interest, I prevailed upon him to ac
company me to a place of amusement,
to which I had’previously procured tick
ets.
When we reached the theater the
performances had already begun ; but
we succeeded in finding seats which
commanded a lair view both of the stage
<r>
and the audieuce.
In a few foments George touched my
elbow. “Observe the gentleman nearly
opposite, in the front row, seated next
the column, leaning his arm on his
cane,” he whispered.
I looked in the direction indicated,
and saw a face whose strikiug resem
blance to one I had seen before caused
me to start w ith surprise.
“ Who is it ?” I asked.
“ Eldred Parsons,” was the reply.
“ The nephew of whom you spoke ?”
“The same,-’ my friend replied.
“ Does he resemble his uncle ? ’ I was
on the point of inquiring ; but j ust then
the stranger drew the glove from his
right hand, and [ saw that the first
joint of the mid-lie finger was wanting,
a circumstance which for sufficient rea
son, absorbed my attention
“ Do you know the exact date of Mr.
Parsons’ death ?” I asked, when we had
gained the street at the close of the pei
formance.
“ Yes,” said George ; “ it was the 2”d
of December, liis daughter received a
CALHOUN, GA., WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 9, 1874.
telegram from hei cousin announcing the
fact the same day. But why do you
ask r
“ I have a reason which may or may !
not prove a good one,” I returned ; and
stating that I had business engagements
for the whole of the next day, I parted
with my fneud, promising to meet him
on the following evening.
Next afternoon found me at the abode
of Mr. Parsons, the nephew.
“ Mr.Parsons, I presume ?” were the
words with which I accosted the gentle
man T had seen at the theater.
“ Yes, sir.”
“ l"ou may not remember,Mr. Parsons ;
but I believe we have met before.”
“ I beg your pardon, sir, for not re
cording the occasion.”
“ Y"ou were in Southampton, last win
ter, were you not ?”
“ I was,-’ he answered with some em
barrassment.
“ I am the solicitor on whom you call
ed to make a draft of a will.”
He turned pale, but made no reply.
“ I saw a record of that will at Doc
tors’ Commons this morning,” I resumed,
“ and—”
“ You speak of my uncle’s will,” he
hastily interrupted.
“ And yet,” I continued, “ you said it
was yours when you applied to have it
written. Y r ou represented yourself de
sirous of exacting sucli a document pre
paratory to embarking on a perilous
voyage. The paper was drawn in ac
cordance with your instructions, leaving
the date to be filled out at the time of
signing. Your locks were gray then,
and you certainly looked old enough to
have a marriageable daughter; but your
disguise was not; perfect.” And I point
ed to the mat Hated finger.
“ What do you mean ?” he shouted,in
a defiant tone.
“ Simply that your rinele’s signature
to that will ; s a forgery !” 1 answered,
rising and confronting him. “He died
on the twenty-third of December. Your
own telegram to that effect is in exist
ence. It was on £he twenty fourth, the
day before Christmas, that you called on
me to prepare the document now on re
cord as hs will. The inference is plain ;
you undertook to manufacture this spu
rious testament after your uncle’s death,
aud wishing to clothe your villany in
legal form, you procured from me the
required draft- You, or someone at
your instigation,simulated the signature
of the deceased. The witnesses, who
have since perjured themselves in their
depositions, were procured in some man
ner best known to yourself —”
“Enough, sir,” he ejaculated, placing
his back against the door; “you have
shown yourself in possession of a secret
the custody of which is dangerous /”
“ I am not unprepared for your
thfeat,” I replied. “Tn the first place,
I did not come here unarmed , in the
next, I have prepared a full written
statement of the facts to which I have
alluded, with information, besides,.of my
present visit to yourself. This paper
will be delivered to the friend to whom
it is directed, unless within an hour I
reclaim it from the mesengsr, who has
been instructed for that length to retain
it.”
His face grew livid. llis frame quiv
ered with mingied rage, and his eye
gleamed like that of a wild beast at hay
“What is your purpose?” in a voice
hoarse with suppressed passion.
“ To keep your secret while you live,”
I answered “on one condition.”
“ Name it.”
“ That you write instantly to Julia
Parsons, renouncing all pretensions to
her hand, and absolutely withdrawing
your proposal and marriage.”
After a moment’s pause, he hastily
penned a brief note, which he submit
ted to my inspection ; it was quite satis
factory.
“ Be so good as to sea-1 and address
it,” I said;
He did so.
I will see that it is delivered,” I
remarked, taking it up, and bowing,
myself out.
When I met George Dickson that
evening his old college look had come
back. He had great news to tell me.
The next tiling was to take me to see
Julia; and it is needless to tell what a
happy evening we three spent together,
and what a happy marriage followed
not long after.
Eldred Parsons, I have just learned,
emigrated for Australia, on board the
“ London,” and went down in that ill
fated ship.
A Worthy Example. —We know
a iady in this city, who although her
husband commands a good saliry, does
her own booking and household work
in fact all home work except washing
arid scouring. She does this of her own
volition for the purpose of economy and
with the desire to aid her husband in
the struggle of life. She was once the
daughter of one of the well-to -do citi
zens of Columbus, and unlike many oth
ers of this class she does not sit down
to repine over the change in her condi
tion, but works with cheerful courage for
present gain and future happiness. She
is setting a noble example for her sisters
of this downtrodden and impoverished
land, and one which all should strive to
emulate. With such a spirit on the part
of Southern women, prosperity will re
turn again to our waste places, and
peace and happiness to our homes. God
bless our noble women, who accenting
the situation, and labor with head,
hca't and hand build up and to restore
our ancient prosperity and greatness.
The men, seeing such a self-sacrific
ing spirit on the part of their wives and
daughters, will take fresh courage in the
conflict with poverty, and soon the
South will be herself again.— Columbus
Enquirer.
-•-- —
Fashionable fall suits —Libel suits.
VERY SHORT ESSAYS.
BY JOSH BILLINGS.
Luv. —Luv iz a pashun that is eazier
felt than deskribed. It is common to the
yung, middle aged, and even old fellows
have thought they had the disease.
It generally makes victims feel phool
ish, and akt phoolish, too.
Sumtimes it braktu3 out sudden, with
out enny warning, and then agin it cams
on slo, like the rumatiss.
I have known sum pashunts to be in
luv for six months arid not kno cxaekly
what did ail them, and then I hev
known other cases whare the partye
thought they were in luv, and nothing
was the matter of them all the time, on
ly they was out of humor.
Sumthing to do ollwus kures theze
kinds ov attacks.
When a person really iz in luv they
aint fit for anything else.
It unfits a farmer and a blacksmith
for bizziness just as much az it duz a
student at law or a boarding-skool rnisa.
Genuine luv never fastens its fangs
onto a fello but once ; he often gets nip
ped by it before and afterward, but the
first skar sticks to him for life.
Sum poeple fall in luv every ninety
days just for the fun of the thing.
Real love wont divide its posseshun
ov the heart with any other pashuns;
it drives out ambition, and takes the
stiffening out of pride and vanity.
A man is never more pure than when
he is sensibly in luv.
Luv is a great humanizer ; it makes
the rude az gentle az a duv, and polish
es the rustik like three months tuition
at a dancing school.
It iz hard to be in lav and not akt
phooly; but luv iz the only thing i kno
that makes phooly exkusable.
We alwuss laff at the yung, when
they are in luv, and pity the old ones.
An old man in luv iz az helpless az a
lost child
He wanders about heedless, not know
ing where he iz, nor where he iz going
tu.
What sense he ever did hav haz left
him, and he won’t take nobody’s advice.
We could spare a'most enny other
pashun ov the heart better than we
could luv, altho it haz made az much
truble in this world az the rest.
Slander. —Slander iz a lie and kan
travel faster than daylight kan.
Where it kiims from it iz often im
possib'e tu tell, and where will go tu
nobody kan tell.
There iz nothing too pure for it to
to feed upon, and there iz no sich thing
as satisfying it- 3 appetight.
It is conceived in eniqui f y and born
in sekresy, aud will gro fatt where truth
would starve tu death.
It iz a foundling that the world al
wuss stands ready to adopt and send on
its way rejoicing, with a free pass and
full letters ov k red it.
It has fastened its dedly fangs upon
the innocent,and haz made virtue trem
ble in her presence.
Slander is the coward’s refuge, and
the devil’s logic.
Sloth. —Sloth will eat the core out
ov enny man, and leave him nothing
but a shell to inhabit.
It envelops like a dream and eats
like a kanker.
Sloth is a syren, and he who listens
to her songs will wake up to despair.
Sukcess.— It iz az hard to define
sukcess az an aksident.
Yu kant iokate a sukcess enny more
than you ken the north pole.
Menny a sukcess has crowned a for
lorn hope, and menny a one has sick
ened and died almost in the very arms
ov fruition. -
The onty tru way to define a sukcess
iz to sukceed, and then tell how it hap
pened.
Energy and common sense are the
privy couneelors ov sukcess ; but they
often have no control over it, for suk
cess is a vagrant, and will akt and go
whar it pleases.
Revenge. —Revenge is the basest
pashun ov the harte, an to gratify it iz
az low az a man kan git.
Revenge is the deviding Hue betweeu
the human aud the brute.
To be revenged iz a brute’s preroga
tiff.
Base kowardice iz the mother ov re
veng, and its only exkuse is anger.
Revenge is no viktory, for the author
ov it iz alwuss more injured than its f ik
tim.
No man ever wreaked hiz venganc
yet, and lived long enough after it tu
kontemplate the result, but what was
ashamed ov it.
There never has lived on this earth,
nor never will, a being pure enough to
be entitled the privilege ov * revenging
a wrong.
God is the only One who haz a right
to be revenged,and He never resorts to it
Charity. —Charity iz a blessed
privelege. It lifts poor human nature,
up to the level ov the angels, and sheds
the light of Heaven around our path
way.
It is the most beautiful ov all the
impulses ov the haft, and the easiest
one to execute.
Thare iz not a thought that goes out
from the hart kindly to weikum a child
ov sorrow, but wh it is kredited iu the
gate book ov everlasting life under the
head ov charity.
Thare iz not a gift, even ov kold
water ; there iz not a self-sacrifice ov
enny kind; thare iz not a virtuous, nor
a kind hope, but what kan be kounted
among the jewels ov charity.
The hart 12 the birthplace and home
ov charity, the bed should be its confi
darite and adviser, and the hand its rea
dy' servant.
Charity hath no market-place here
nor hereafter. Thare iz many a penny
in the gate box that will kount out
brighter in the last day than enny dol
lar that iz thare.
FACTS FOR THE MARRIED.
A Husband Without a Fault-Ami a wife
that was Still Better.
After having been married some weeks,
it ca ee into the head of a yo ng hus
band in this city, one Sunday, when he
had little to occupy his mind, to suggest
to his wife that they should plain'y and
honestly state the faults that each had
discovered in .the other since they h.,d
been man and wife. After some hesi
tation the wife agreed to the proposition,
hut stipulated that the rehearsal should
be made in all sincerity and with an
hones: view to the bettering of each
other, as otherwise it would be of no use
to speak of faults to which marriage had
opened their eyes. The husband was
of the same mind, and his wife asked
him to begin with her faults. He was
somewhat reluctant, hut his wife insis
ted that he was the first to propose the
matter, and as he was at the head of the
house it was his place to take the lead
Thus urged, he. began the recital. He
said :
“My dear, one of the first faults I ob
served in you after we began keeping
house was that you a good deal neglect
the tinware. You didn’t keep it scour
ed as blight as it should be. Mv moth
er always took great pride in her tin
ware, and kept it as hr ght as a dollar.”
“I am gl id you have mentioned it
dear,” said the wife, blushing a little ;
“hereafter you shall see 110 speck on cup
or pan. Fray proceed.”
“I have observed,” said the husband,
“that you use your dish-rags a long time
without washing them, and then finally
throw them away. Now, when at home
t remember that my mother always
used to wash out her dish-rags when
she was done using them, and then hang
them up where they could dry, ready
for the next time she would need them.”
Blushing as before the young wife
promised to amend this fault.
The husband with a most formidable
list of similar faults, many more than we
have space to enumerate, when he de
clared that he could think cf nothing
more that was worthy of mentiou.
“Now,” said he, “my dear, you begin
and tell me all the faults you have ob
served in me since we have been mar
ried.”
The young housewife sat in silence ;
her face flushed to her tour les, and a
great lump came in her throat, which
she seem to be striving hard to swal
low.
“Proceed, my dear ; tel' me all the
faults you have observed in me, sparing
uone !
Arising suddenly from her scat, the
little wife burst into tears, and throwir g
both arms about his neck, cried :
“My dear husband, you have not a
fault in the world. If you have even
one, my eyes have been so blinded by
my love for you that so long as we have
been married £ have never observed it.
In my eyes you are perfect, and all that
you do seems to be done in the best
manner and just what should be done.”
“But my dear,” said the husband, his
face reddening and his voice growing
husky with emotion, “just think. 1
have gone and found all manner of fault
with you. Now, do tell me some of my
faults; I know I have many—ten times
as many as you ever had or ever will
have. Let me hear them.”
“Indeed, husband, it is as I tell you;
you have not a single fault that I can
see. Whatever vou do seems right in
my eyes; and now that I know what a
good for-noth mg little wretch I aiu, I
shall at once begin the work of reform,
and try to make myself worthy of you.”
“Nonsense, my-dear, you know some
times I go away and leave you without
any wood cut; I stay up town when I
ought to be at home ; I spend my mon
ey for drinks aud cigars when I ought to
bring it home to you ; I —.”
“No you don’t,” cried his wife; “you
do nothing of the kind, i like to see
you enjoy yourself; I should be unhap
py if you were to do otherwise than just
as you do ! ”
“God bless you, little wife ! cried the
now thoroughly subjugated husband ;
“from this moment you have not a fault
in this world ! Indeed you never had a
fault; I was but joking—don’t remem
ber a word I said 1” and he kissed away
the tears that trembled in the little wo
man’s eyi s.
Never again did the husband scruti
nize the tinware nor examine the dish
rag —never so much # as mention one of
the faults he had enumerated ; but soon
after the neighbor women were wont to
say :
“It is wondeaful how neit Mrs,
keeps every thing about her house. H ,•
tinware is always as bright as anew and •
lar.and Ido beleive she not only was' s
but irons her dish-rags !” And t
neighbor men were heard to say “ \VT t
a steady fellow M— has got to be of
late ; he don't spend a dime where he
used to spend and dlars, and can never be
kept from home half an hour when he
is not at work. He seems to worship
that wife of his.” — Territorial Enter
prise.
Farmers, read this, and look well to
chickens : A farmer in the West has a
hen uneomonly smart at hatching. Since
the fact has been known the hen has be
come a source of revenue to her owners
—neighbors and others have brought
eggs to he hatched, leaving them in the
morning and calling for them in the
evening. Eleven eggs is as many as
the hen can m mage at once. A gentle
man called with thirteen, and wanted
them done, sure, that evening, but the
family would not promise them, as the
hen was young, and they didn’t want to
strain her.
Nothing is so dark that in a bright
A ght it cannot be seen.
Spiritual Evolution.
The consciousness of ignorance, which
is painful, is the first step to knowledge.
The man or woman, of whatever age,
satisfied with attainments already made,
ceases to make progress, and loses
ground. A noble discontent with one’s
sell is an essential element of grow th.—
W hen enurled with this there is a
ceaseless effort t) imp eve to the utmost
opportunities offered, there progress is
inevitable Do you lo k, my young as
pirant, with earnest and at dent longings
at the moral elevation of a Wesley or an
Edwards, at the wondmus achievements
of a Ouvor or a Humboldt, at the in
telieetual height ot a Milton or a New
ton ; do you say, with Themistocles,
“ The trophies of 31 iltiades will not let
me sleep ”? Rejoice because of this un
rest,and consider it the pledge of future
conquests. Up n the battle ficid where
the passions in ceaseless conflict wastes
eternal war, aie victories won sit once
most fearful and glorious. While we
live in the body must this warfare last,
aud though we may from time to time
regard the strife as over, sense will
watch its chance and revolt front con
trol. In youth the hot blood of desire,
in middle life the fierce appetite for
power, or fame, or wealth, in old age
f he lust ot avarice—these all lie in wait
to lead us from the right, and in pro
portion as we turn them into the nutri
moot of virtue will be the good they
may bo compelled to work out for us.
The foremost champion of the age i.->
science which boldly throws down the
gauntlet of materialism,and says “ there
is noGod.” “ Caust tnou by searching
find out God V' Yet'hc admits tiierq is a
power he cannot explain which Fara
day, fully his intellectual peer, hesitates
to call Divine. Tyndal frankly admits
there is in the human soul wants not
satisfied with what meets all the de
mands of the understanding. Faith is
as much a faculty of the sou! as reason.
Render therefore unto Caisar the
things that are Caesar’s, and unto God
the things that are God’s.” Let reason
have its own and faith its own. The
cultivation of one set of faculties to the
exclusion of other products inordinate
growth of the one and atrophy or dwarf
ing of ihe rest. The man who will take
no testimony save that of his sense, will
soon be incapable of seeing ant/thing with
the eye of faith. But every man and
woman who has a soul large enough to
furnish a battle ground for these ele
ments, must go through this conflict,
must study and think for themselves,
weighing evidences, sounding depths,
balancing arguments, giving to reason
the things that are reason’s, and to
faith the things that are faith’s. Though
in every age there have been infidels
and skeptics, the brightest names upon
the roll of. literature, of art, of science,
are of men who embraced with humility
the teachings of the sacred Scriptures
and accepted the record therein given
by God of Himself.— Phrenological
Journal.
Mr. Johnson.
Max Adeler tells the following heart
rending story :
Mr. Alexander Johnson of Towanda
is dead. lie was bilious—Mr. Alexan
der Johnson was—and he saw the fol.
lowing paragraph from the pen of Dr.
Hall
•‘lf a bilious man wants to get well,
and is in no special hurry, all he has to
do is to lie down cut doors Between two
broad boards, and stay there until he
gets ravenously hungry.”
Mr, Johnson followed this advice,
and calmly fell asleep with a broad
board on top of him. Under ordinary
circumstances there would have been nq
trouble, but there was a Fat Men’a Ball
in the lager beer saloon next door that
day,and the two champion fat men got
over the fence, and sat down with a jerk
on top of Mr. Alexander Johnson’s up
per boar! without knowing he was there.
It squelched the breath out of him at
the first blow. And the fat men, they
sat there, and discussed polities, and the
Alabama claims, and the weather, and
woman’s rights, and the glacial theory,
and metaphysics ; and they kept on
drinking glass after glass of beer, and
getting heavier and heavier, until one of
them happened to look under die board,
and there was Mr. Alexander Johnson
as dead as Nebuchadnezzar, and smash
ed out so thin that you could pass him
under a closed door without scraping
his vest buttons. He does not suffer from
bile now, but Mrs. Johnson is roaming
over the country hunting for Dr. IJall.
She will probably make a lasting impres
sion un him ifshe meets him.
Electioneer]no.—The courts and
the frolics of a frontier State usua ly fur
nish abundant material for story and
fun. Judge It. formerly of the West
ern circuit, Fla., canvassed that circuit
in 1844. as a candidate for the Senate,
and was cheered by the promise of a lit
tle Frenchman* living in one of the
counties of the Senatorial district, tv do
‘all he could’ for him. Not a solitary
vote, however, was cast for the Judue
in that county, and he seized the first op
portunity thereafter to tax his backer
with false promise. ‘Surf said the
Frenchman, very much offended, ‘I tell
you no lie ; I travel over this country
three, four, five days, and I gay to every
man,will you vote for my friend ze Judge,
and he say no, I vill be darned if I do.’
‘But,’ says the Judge, ‘you did not vote
for me yourself.’ ‘No, Judge, when I
come back, I shut moyseif up in my
own room, and I ’lectioneer myself two
day—but I no get my const nt to vote
for you.”
Motto for the married—Never de
spair.
Imposing stones —Imitation dia
nds.
ADVERTISING K VIES.
CvSjP For each square of ten lines or less,
for tue first insertion, sl, and for each sub
sequent insertion, fifty cento.
No.iMj r> J i Mo. j • Mus. j t> Mot | 1 year,
rwo -Mi'ii $t*(;() j $12.00 | s:’odu
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Ton lines of solid brevier, or its
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NO. *2O.
r —r y- --r-i -*• jp ; ---
Fobbed Debating Society.
A friend bands the Barncsville Ga
zette the fallowing speech delivered by a
membe*ofa colored debating society in
that county :
Debate introduced by singing the
hymn, ‘ And must this feeble body fail.”
Ibe second speaker ad : Mr. Judge
—De subjik have been presented by uiy
ponent brother, who tried to explicate
' o you dat da is mo pleasure on pussuit
dan in possession. As dig is de fuss
time, pleas yer, hom r, dat l is been in
ye butements, 1 don’t feci perzackly
qualificuted to skuas dis subjik wid do
best of my debility in nil its nunions
partments; neberdeless, I will dearer to
iustrate de subjik to some intent. My
ponent brother says ho sees mo pleasure
flying round de gals dm he would if
possessed one.. Judge, dot’s all stuff,
and he knows dat if da wusn’t no pleas
ure in de possession of one he’d never
pussuit um no mo while do wurl stands.
\ ou know, Judge, dat you sees mo pleas
ure in one day wid your wife dan all de
time you pussuited her. Why good
granny ! Judge, I’am stonished at my
ponent brother for not havin no mo
sense dan to git up here and liistrato
sich as dat befo a teligcnt Judge as you
is. If I couldn’t do better’n dat I’d
never tempt to bate no more. My po
nent brother says lie’s got no wife to
bother him, he can go to an fro an thro
de wurrel wid his pocket full of money
—Now dat knocks all his r.uguments in
de head. If lie’s got money he’s in do
possession of it, pleas yer honor ; but ho
ain’t got none dough ; if you wus to
turn his pocket rongsterdoubtards, you
wouldn't find narry nickel to buy his
sweetheart a stick of candy—nuffin hut
a barlow knife, and I spoeks i ats’ broke
out’n de ribbet.
Mr. Judge, I will lustrate one mo
pint and leave de subjik wid you—You
start dis nigger to town bare-footed ad
ter a pair of shoes, when de ground is
white wid snow, and let his heels bo
cracked, and if he says it’s mo pleasure
in de pussuit of dero shoes dan to pos
ses um, den I yields up wid no further
bateuient of de subjik. We think that
the Judge will decide that it is.
Did Not Take the Prize. t .
.... y
Our county fair is just oyer; but
Johnson’s Cotsv old ram did not take
the prize that was offered for the best
animal of that kind. Judge Pitman
was chairman of the committee on rams,
and he manifested the deepest interest
in Johnson’s raui ; indicating clearly
i that if any sheep ought to take a prizo
that one ought to. Johnson’s ram was
by itself in a pen with a high board
fence, and before adjudicating the prizes
the judge thought he had better go in
and make a close examination of the
animal for the purpose of ascertaining
the fineness of its wool, etc. As soou
as the judge reached the interior ho.
walked toward the ram, whereupon tho
ram began to lower its head and
shake it ominously. Just as thq
judge was about to feel the fleece .the
ram leaped forward rnd planted its
head in the judge’s stomaoh, rolling him
over on the ground. Before fhe judge
had time to realize what hud happened
the ram came at him again and began a
series of promiscuous huts, each given
with the precisian and force of a pile
driver. It butted the judge on tho
back, on the ribs, on his arms, on his
shoulder-blades, on the baldjplace on
his head, on his breast, on his shins ;
it butted his nose, it butted his watch
into a mass of loose cog-wheels,it butted
his spectacles off, it butted his high hat
into black-silk chaos; it butted him
over into the corner and up against/the
fence, then it butted four boards out of
the fence, butted down another of the
committee, butted three small boys into
fits, butted the money-taker at the gate,
and then fled out into the country, but*
ting harmlessly at the fresh air. The
judge did not distribute the prizes that
day. W hen they collected him from va
rious parts of the pen,they wiped the mud
from his trowsersand the blood from Iris
nose,and sent him home with a perennial
stomach-ache and a determination to
start after that wandering mutton the
first thing in the looming with a shot
gun.— Max Adlecr , in iJaulurg Ncu;s.
Many young men who have fathers
that are well off,have no ambition,and no
particular prospect. They scorn a trade.
A man that is too well born for a trade
is very well born for the gallows ! Thou
sands of parents, who, by industry, have
gained a position which enables them
to destroy their children, take the sur
est way to accomplish their destruction,
by encouraging them in idleness, and
allowing tTiem, as they grow up, to feel
that it is disgraceful to work at whatev
er manual labor best suits their talents,
no matter whether their father is a min
ister, or a lawyer, o - * a Senator, or the
President of the United States. Many
young men are looking forward upon
life with the general idea to enjoy theui
se.ves. Tney are provided with all the
needful physical comforts, and they
mean to be happy. 'I hey slight their pro
fession. Their whole governing princi
ple in life is to shirk anything like work,
and they expect to have enjoyment with
out industry. You must work if you
are going to be a happy man. I koow
you think it is haid, but if God had
meant that you should be a butter fly,'
you would have been burn a butter-fly.
And as you were not born a moth or a
miller, but a man, you must accept the
condition of your manhood. And if
there is one principle that is more im
portant ot the very threshold of life than
another, it is that man is born to work.
God’s gifts are not in man’s current
cy.
—
The lives of the best of us are
in choosing between evils.