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PUBLISHED WEDNESDAYS
By D. B. Freeman, Proprietor.
KATES OF SUBSCRIPTION.
Oh® Year
Ten copies one year to
S>u:\„ Communications on matters of pub-
Jic interest solicited.
feallroait frtwflufc.
WESTERN & ATLNTIC RAILROAD.
I)AY PASSBSOKtt ftt.AiJj— OUTWARD.
Leave Atlanta 8:40 a. m
Airive Calhoun 12:40 r. m
<< Chattanooga 360 p. m
pay PASSKNOBE TRAIN —INWARD.
Leave Chattanooga 6:15 P. M.
Arrive Calhoun. 8.31 A. M.
Atlanta 12:35 p. m.
night PASSENGER TR VIN —OUTWARD.
Leave Atlanta 5:55 p. M.
Arrive Calhoun 1>:41 r. M.
. Chattanooga 12:30 a. m.
NIGHT PASSENGER TRAIN - INWARD.
Kate Chattanooga 4:00 p. m.
Arrive Calhoun 0:38 p. m.
Atlanta 10:15 p. m.
ACCOMMODATION TRAIN —OUTWARD.
Uave Atlanta 3:50 p. m.
Arrive Calhoun 10:28 p. m.
.. Dalton 11:65 p. m.
ACCOMMODATION TRAIN INWARD.
Leave Dalton 1:00 A. M.
Arrive Calhoun 3:00 a. m.
Atlanta 10:08 a. m
professional * gasttftft (Sants.
V. J. HIKER & SOS,
ATTORNEYS at law,
Will practice in all the Courts of the Cher
okee Circuit: Supreme Court ot Georgia, and
the United States District Court at Atlanta,
Ga. Office : Suiheast corner of the Court
House, Calhoun, Ga.
TLTAcT&TMILNER,
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 ourts, at Atlanta.
AN KIN & NEEL,
attorneys at law,
CALHOUN, GA.
Office: Court House Street.
J D. TINSLEY,
Watch-Maker & Jeweler,
CALOUN , GA .
All styles of Clocks, Watches and Jewelry
jicatly repaired and warranted.
IKE WALDO THOUNTON, D. D. S..
DENTIST.
Office* d*er Geo, W. Wells & Cos. s Agricul
tural Warehouse.
IyJISS C. A. HUDGINS,
♦lilliner & Mantua-Maker,
Court House St., Callioun,Ga-
Patterns of the latest styles and fashion
ladies just received. Cutting and
done to order.
"VTUSIC! MUSIC!
IVL.\ large variety of new and select music
direct from Philadelphia kept constantly on
hand and for sale by Mrs. J. E. Parrott.
She also gives notice that she will instruct
in music at her residence. Terms, per month,
$4.00; use of instrument, 50 ennts. Recep
tion days, Tuesdays and Thursdays.
ZT. GRAY,
CALHOUN, GA„
Is prepared to furnish the public with
Buggies and Wagons, bran new and warrant
ed. Repairing of all kinds done at short
notice. Would cill attention to the cele
rati'd “Fish Brothers’ Wagon which he fui
ni-hes. Call and examine before buying
elsewhere.
NEW GROCERY STORE.
J. W. Marshall,
ftAILROAD ST., OLD STAND OF
A. W. BALLEW.
FRESH GOODS, BOUGHT FOR
CASH, AND WILL BE SOLD
FOR C ASH AT TH E V ERY
LOWEST PRICES.
Would respectfully ask his numerous
friends in Gordon county to come in and
See him before making purchases elsewhere.
1 PROPOSE TO OPEN ON
Monday, January 10th, 1875,
CALHOUN MALE AND FEMALE
HIGH SCHOOL.
Assisted by Mrs. M. E. FIELD, a known
and experienced instructress. The school
will be divided into three (grades, the Pri
mary. Intermediate and Academic. The
I* RIMA RY DEPA 11T MEN T
tvill embrace the following studies;
Holmes’ Speller ami Readers, Nos. 1,
2,3 and 4, Maury’s Geography,
No. 1, Primary Arithmetic and
Practical Lessons in Penmanship, S2O 0
- INTERMEDIATE.
English Grammar, Geography, Mau
ry’s Intermediate Arithmetic,
First Lessons in English Compo
sition, Penmanship, and Algebra
through Simple Equations, with
Reading, Elocution and Spelling, S3OOO
ACADEMIC.
f’hilosoj by. Natural and Moral Chem
istry, Rhetoric, Algebra, Geome
try, and such studies as are usu
ally taught in high schools with
Latin, Greek and French S4O 00
Fine Arts and Instrumental basis' alt Prt>-
xessor’s charges.
The scholastic year will be divided into
two terms of 24 and 16 weeks each.
TUITION FEES.
Primary Department, Ist term sl2 00
Intermediate “ “ “ 18 00
Academic “ “ “ 24 00
Incidental expenses p 'r term 1 00
Tuition paid quarterly in advance.
It is desired that patrons send in prompt
ly the first week, that all may be present at
tlie formation of classes. We earnestly so
licit the patronage of the vicinity and coun
ty, and hope by arduous effort to merit you?
continued support.
W. <\ HOLMES, A. M . Principal.-
Mas. M. E. FIELD Assistant.
*ov26-tf
Cn!ljotut ukchhi Whites.
VOL. V.
THE FARMER'S Pi RESIDE.
Around the fire, one wintry night,
The farmer’s rosy children sat;
The fagot lent its blazing light,
And mirth went round, and harmless
chat.
When, hark! a gentle hand they hear
Low tapping at the bolted door,
And thus to gain their willing ear,
A feeble voice was heard implore:
“ Cold blows the blast across the moor,
The sleet drives hissing in the wind •
You toilsome mountain lies before,
A drearv treeless waste behind.
“My eyes arc dim and weak with age,
read, no path can 1 descry;
And these poor rags I’ll stand the rage
Of such a keen inclement sky.
“ So faint I am, these tottering feet
No more rny palsied frame can bear;
My freezing heart forgets to ben*,
And drifting snows my tomb prepare.
“Open your hospitable door,
And shield me from the biting blast;
Cold, cold it blows across the moor,
The weary moor that I have passed.”
With hasty steps the farmer ran,
And close beside the fire they place
The poor half-frozen beggar-man,
With shaking limbs and pale-blue face.
The little children flockirg came,
And chafed liis frozen hands in thcif'S ;
And busily the good old dame
A comfortable n.ess prepares.
Their kindness cheered his drooping soul,
And slowly down his wrinkled cheek
The big round tear was seen to roll,
And told the thanks h could not speak.
The children then began to sigh,
And all their merry chat was o’er;
And yet they felt, they know not why,
More glad than they had done before.
THE DIVE It’S STORY.
“ To be caught in a tight place, with
twenty fathoms of water above and a
stillness, as of death, about you, a slen
der cord your only means of communi
cation with those above—to be caught
in a tight place, I say, under these cir
cumstances, is about enough to craze a
man out right! I can tell you, sir”—
and the old diver leaned back in a
chair, and fixed his eyes thoughtfully
on the roaring fire before which we
were seated —“ I can tell you, sir, it’s
often a toss of a penny with us, when
we once get in among the timbers of an
old wreck, if we ever come to the sur
face again !
I remember a pretty tight fix I got
into when we were driving into the
Conqueror, op the Sound, olf the Con
necticut shore. She was coming in
from the Mediterranean, after a three
years’ cruise with the 1 middies,’ and
went down in a gale in sight of home,
with every soul on board. I was young
then, and anxious to be the first sent
down into her, for the sake of the rep
utation it would give me ; for reputa
tion meant money, and ‘ money,” you
see, was the only reason Nettie and I
were deferring our marriage. You can
understand how matters stood, and how
glad I was when in receipt of orders to
make the first dive into the old man-of
war.
The sea was running pretty high as
I was carried down in my ‘armor ’ from
the deck of the steamer to the float
alongside, where the ropes by which to
haul me up again were fastened on ;
the india rubber tube through which 1
was to be supplied with air, was ad
justed, and I stood listening to my final
instructions before being put over*
board.
“ Now, dear boy,” said my old friend
and instructor, Lott, the famous deep
sea diver, who came forward to close
the little glass window in my helmet,
“take good care < f yourself, and don’t
stay long below. The currents are
swift and treacherous about here ; and
keep an eye to your ropes, or they’ll get
tangled. New, then, good bye, old fel
low, and good luck to you,” and with a
pleasant smile be closed the glass door
before my eyes, and fastened over it the
protecting wire netting.
They bore me up in their arms to the
side of the float, where the hungry
waves were leaping up, as though greed
ily opening their foaming frothy jaws
to receive me.
I cropped into the waves with a
splash, sinking swiftly down through
the brilliant sunlit waters, which, though
rough and boisterous at their surface,
suddenly grew calm as I passed below.
I glanced up at the sun, which appear
ed as a great ball of fire, but, growing
smaller and smaller as 1 sank lower, it
finally seemed like the tiny red spark
Of a candle, and then faded from sight.
I noticed that the waters were lit by a
pale greenish haze, much like the effect
of moonlight in a light, drifting fog ;
but the observations were cut short by
my realizing that I was near bottom,
and looking below, I found myself over
a bank of tall, thick seaweed.
Knowing that if I were once entan
gled in them, they would hold me there
forever, I pulled the signal rope vio
lently, and my descent was checked
just as my feet touched the treacherous
grasses. The tide bore me slowly along
and passed them, turning me around
again and again in the eddies, and
making my head so giddy that I was
heartily glad when I cleared the bank
and stood at last upon the bright sandy
bottom. The shells and gravel on the
bed of the wateis were most delicate
and beautiful information, and exquis
ite in design, but so tender that even
shells crumbled at my touch.
I hurried on with the curent until
I saw before me what I judged to be
the great wooden walls ot the Conquer
oi, but on nearing it I found it to be
a reef of rocks, fancifully honey-corned
from end to end, and in and out among
the little arched halls of the fern cov
ered chambers the fish were chasing
CALHOUN, GA., WEDNESDA Y, MARCH 3. 1875.
each other playfully or hanging idly in
the waters.
Passing arcund these rocks, I came
upon a mass uf tangled rigging, and a
few steps further brought me to the
man-of-war half hurried where she
lay, in the drifting sand, her spars and
to*" masts crushed and splintered upon
her deck ; her sails and rigging hang
ing over the side and resting upon the
broken bulwarks.
Great caution was necessary lest I
should become entangled among the
ropes or caught unJer the shifting tim
bers, and making my way sluwly to
the companion way, I sent up the sig
nal :
“ 3— ’ —’28— * 7—” ( I am about to
enter the vessel’—l shall be in danger’
—Play out rope freely and give me
plenty of air.”
I made my way to the lower deck
and found myself in the lower cabin.
It was very dark, and I groped about
for the doorway, knowing that once in
the main saloon, the deck lights would
enable me to see more distinctly.
Clearing the rubbish and drifting
sand from about the doorway. I hurst
it open, and was about to ent*r, when I
paused, to summon courage before en
tering. A moment, and my nervous
ness was over; I put my shoulder to
the door, shoved it back against the
waters, and resolutely entered. An
awful silence was upon everything—a
silence as of death. I was alone, at
the bottom of the sea, in the saloon of
the Conqueror, and close aboot me
were postured, like grim sentinels set
to watch me iu my work, the officers
and crew of Ino hundred !
Yes, there were the ill-fated men, as
they stood when death overtook them
on that awful night, jvhen they were
nurried from their berths on the alarm
that they w’re sinking. Before they
could reach the stairway, the mighty
water had rushed in upon them, and
they died where it had met them, at the
threshold.
The eddying waters carried them
here and there through the cabin, but
still, so close were they to one another,
that I had to part them now and then
to reach the outer cabin, and more than
one turned, as I slowly passed along,
and followed >n the wake I made be
hind me. Their faces were often
against my helmet, and it horrified me
to notice that they all wore still upon
their features the impression of the
terror that had come upon them in
death.
You musn’t think me heartless if I
say I went at once to my wotk, for we
divers constantly go through such
scenes; and I knew very "*ell before I
went down, that they were awaiting
me there. I felt it as keenly as yon
would, sir, but I Was sent and >wn to do
certain things, and I had to start about
it at once. Still, I ’vas glad enough
whep I stood again on deck, and ready
to go above with u>y first report, and 1
gave a good strong pull on the signal
rope
A moment passed, and I was terrifi
ed at receiving no response from a sec
ond or third signal I
I pulled the ?ope again vlo’ently—
Waited— s/ill no reply !
Great Heaven ! what did it all mean?
Had they forgotten me ? Were they
to leave me at the bottom of the sea
with that awful crew ? I no sooner
realized my helplessness than an uncon
trollable teiror took possession of me,
which horrible doubts and fears Came
crowding info toy brain. Surely they
would not desert me !—surely they had
not forgottom me ! I pulled onCe more,
and glancing up perceived that there
was something steadily resisting my ef c
forts from the masthead above.
Was it some monster who Was play
ing with my rope ?—some great fLh
was holding it in his jaws ? In my
desperation I threw my'‘whole weight
on, and —it gave way, slowly,
silently on the deck at my feet! the
ragged, frayed ends which had become
entangled in the rigging, Were in my
bauds, and the tfpper half of the ropes
had floated far away with the tide.
I was alone at the bottom of the sea.
with no means of signalling my dis
tress ! The india-rubber tube, which
Was my only means of breathing, was
vet left to me; but as soon as they
should begin to wind in the rope and
tube, on some supposed signal *Vom me, ;
it would snap in two and the waters
would come in upon me.
I need oot tell you of thf wild ter
ror which took possession of me, you
c uld not appreciate it. I knew the
men were close to me—only thirteen
yards above —yet I must die because
I could not reach them ! I raved like
a madman, and tried to tear my armor
from mo,- hut its irun rivets held me
fast. I shouted piteously, uselessly,
through the silent waters, my crying
going no further than !he wall of my
helmet. I was beside myself in my
awful terror. I tried to pray, but I
could not control my maddened brain.
I fel* upon the deck at last, exhaust
ed-—in an ominous stupor —a sullen
despair —and sank into unconscious
ness. When I recovered, I was calm
—prayer came to my lips, and with a
peace and resignation to my heart.
I closed my eyes quietly, and waited
for the death I was powerless to defer.
Waited for it with my head laid on my
arm as I used to sleep in the dear old
days at home. Waiting quietly for its
coming, fraying God that it might
come upon me gently, and asking that
I might fall into unconsciousness when
?t was close aShand.
Has I crazfd ? Was I mad, or was
this anew torture fur me in my last
moments ? I had laid quiet but a mo
ment, when I started up in a terror ut
tering a cry—a weak, miserable cry,
* which died on my lips as I sank again
'on the deck and closed my eyes to a
terrible sight before me.
I had left the cabin door open, and
freed the imprisoned dead men. One
of the dead sailors had floated up the
deck, and, by some horrible chance, the
tide bore him directly toward me. Wis
I to die surrounded once more by
those ghastly sentinels as a death
watch ?
He was borne slowly along on the
current, his eyes wide open in an awful
stare, his arms outstretched, as though
to embrace me, welcoming me tv the
unknown world. I fell prostrate in the
de*Jk Hi uif terror, hut he floated on
slowly, the tide casting him against me,
when he fell at wv s’de.^
I caught him, in my desperation, to
fling him from me, out his arms closed
tight about me in an iron embrace, and
his face was close to mine—the face of
old Lott, the diver, who had come down
through the waters to save me, and in
whose stout arms I was borne up,
and carried insensible to the boats
above.
* * * *
“We saw what was wrong right
away, dear boy,” he said to me after
ward, “ when the ragged ends of your
ropes floated to the surface. There was
only one way of reaching you, old fel
low, and I can tell you we flew arnund
lively. We had no “ bell ”to go down
to yon in, so we just fastened some
weights to my feet, and ropes to my
arms. I took a rubber mouth-piece be
tween my teeth, and dropped over
board. The water oppressed me fear
fully, and l couldn’t have stood it more
than a few minutes. In that few min*
utes I found you, old fellow, caught
you in my arms, and signalled them to
haul us up mighty quick. I couldn’t
have stood it much longer, dear boy,
for it was killing me.”
I took his dear hands in mine, and
looked into his good, honest eyes.—
With a swelling heart I told him in
such w.uds as I could, of my gratitude
for his heroic efforts when he came
down through the waters at the risk of
his own life to save mine.
Daniei in the I***‘l* of a Quaker.
Nantucket people enjoy a reputation
for smartness, and even Daniel \\ eb
stcr found his match there. The sto
ry as told by Mr. Webster is as fol
lows :
The court held a term on the island
rcviodically. There was not much lit
igation. But the suits were heavy, re
lating to ships,"whale fishing, aud oil.
The judges aud lawyers usually went
over from the contifieift and spent n
week or ten days, and finished the bus
iness of the session. One day one of
the Friends of the Island called at my
office in Boston, and said :
“ Friend Daniel, what wilt th'U ask
to come down to Nantucket and plead
a case for me before the judges ?”
“ 1 will go for a thousand dollars.”
“ That is too much, friend Daniel.”
“ But I’ll have to go down Saturday,
and perhaps remain the whole week
following ; I would as soon argue the
whole docket.”
“ Well, friend Daniel, if thee will ar
gue such cases as I will present to thee
before my case is called, I will give thee
a thousand dollars,” So the bargain was
struck.
My client went to Nantucket, and
found his case at the foot of the dock
et. He went from man to ma“ and
saw all who had any case on the dock
et, and said : “ What will thee give if
I get the great Daniel Webster to plead
thy cause ?” He took retainers from
a dozen men Some gave him SIOO
and some SSOO. He had grace enough
to give me the SIOOO agreed, and paid
my expenses irf the bargain. 1 argued
the docket right through, for plaintiff
and defendant, flntil I reached my cli
ent’s case. He struck the balance, and
admitted as the steamer left the wharf
that, he had got his case argued and
pocketed $1,500 besides.
A Druidfeaf Wedding.
The following description of a mar
riage in the Druidica! days is given in
Saintine’s “ Myths of the Rhine.”
At a place where two roads meet the
cracking of a whip is heard; hogs,
sheep and small oxen are driven aside
to make way for a kind of procession
consisting of’grave and solemn men and
women.
It is a wedding.
Two young people have just had
their union blessed by the priests un
der the sacred oak. The bride is dress
ed in black and wears a wreath of dark
leaves on her head. She walks in the
midst of her friends. A matron who
walks on her left holds before her eyes
a white cloth ; it is a shroud, the
shroud in which she will be hurried
one of these d'ys. On her right a
Druid intones a chant in which he
ennumerates in solenm"rvthm all the
troubles which await her in wedded
life.
From this day, young wife, you alone
wi H have to bear the burthen of vour
united household.
You will have to attend the baking
oven, to provide fuel, and to go iw
search of food, yon will have to pre
pare the resinous torch and lamp.
You will wa-h the linen at the
fountain, and you will make up the
clothing.
You will attend to the horse and
even to the cow, if your husband re
quires it.
Always fall of respect you will Wail
on him, standing behind him at bib
meals.
If Ire expresses a wish to take you
with him to war. you will accompany
him to carry his baggage, to keep
arms in good condition, and to noise
him if he be sick or wounded.
Happiness consists in the fulfillment
of-these duties. Be happy my child
The Bliss of Marriage.
Time whirls along the down hill path
of life with the velocity of a locomo
tive, but we have one comfort—we can
make love on the road.
*\V hat the negro preacher said of Sa
tan may be said of love—
“ Where he finds a weaker place, dere
he creeps in.”
There is a warm corner even in the
coldest heart; and somebody, if that
somebody can only be found, was made
expressly to fill it.
Thousands of both sexes live and die
unmarried, simply for want of a propel
introduction to one another. Whatun
absurdity !
There is not a woman or man of
any age who might not find a suita
ble partuer by using the proper
means.
The fact is, that affection is smother
ed, choked down, subdued and para
lyzed by the forms and conventional!'
ties of this etiquettish world.
“ Society ” attaches a ball and chain
to the natural feelings of the heart.
The fair girl, with her bosom run
ning over with love for a worthy ob j
ject, must take rs much pains to con
ceal the fact as if it were a deadly sin
and, Heaven had not implanted within
our bosoms the tender spark that bade
us “ to love and be loved.”
Is this natural ?
No, it is artificial.
Why should innumerable marriages
be prevented by chilling rules and pen
alties ?
Nature is modest, hut she is not a
starched up prude ! Look at the little
birds.
There are no old bachelors and old
maids among them.
The hearts that flutter under their
feather jackets follow the instinct of
love, and they take to hilling and coo
ing without the slightest idea that
courtship should be a formal affair.
Whv should there be forlorn bache
lors and disappointed old maids, and
lonely widows and widowers among the
unfeathered any more than the feather
ed bipeds ?
Oceans of happiness are lost to both
sexes every year simply because parties
who wish to be married are not per
mitted by etiquette to make the fact
known.
These unfortunates might verv prop
erly say to tie happy married folks, as
the frogs said to the boy who was pelt
ing them with stones —
“ This may be fun to you, hut ’tis
death to us.”
A Chemical Difficulty.
A lively exchange tells the follow
ing :
One of our merchants recently sold
a block of matches to a woman, who,
on reaching home, could not make them
burn. In a towering rage which in
creased all the way back, she returned
and demanded, “Why did you cheat mo
with those worthless matches ?”
“ Matches,” responded the grocer
pleasantly—he always wears a smile for
lus customers-—“ What is the trouble
with the matches ?”
“They won’t burn not one of them,”
was the quick and angry response.
“Let me c ee,” replied the gentleman,
applying the charged ends to his pan
taloons, and causing them to burn in
stantly ; ‘ that burns well enough 1
“But the rest won’t,” replied the wo
man, who began to fear that she had
walked seven miles and was to return
on foot, and Jiad got angry for nothing.
The grocer opened three bunches and
proved the same. “I don’t want to
burn them all,” he said, ‘ but there is
not one that will not bu n the same
w ay ”
Chnrgrinea she stared at him with ti
ger eyes, and not to be beaten, burst
out, “if they will, you don’t ’spose ev
ery time I want a fire, I’am coming all
this way to rub them on the seat of your
trousers, do you ?”
A “Speedy” * heu lotion.
While riding from South Paris to
Portland, some years ago, on the grand
Trunk railroad of Maine, then newly
opened, I overheard a middle aged man,
iu the seat directly before me, express
ing to a companion his wonder at the
rarid advance of improvement. He
was evidently from the backwoods, and
his speech gave proof that he was
Yankee born and bred. Said he:
“Wat, I swan, it’s cur’us haow we du
git up. Now when I ain’t a lookin’ out’r
the winder, it don’t seem as though we
was a scootin' it so dreadful ; but when
I look at the trees--Jerusha ! don’t they
spid by ! Only think I can remember
when it took dad an’ I, once fonr days,
of hard travehn’. to git from Paudunk
few Besting. Then by’ui by. the stage
was put on the German road, an’ by
hard pushin’ we could get to Portland
?n a day. That made it three days.—
Then, by gracious, when they got on a
steamboat, we could go in tew days.—
Noaw look at it ! Geewhitakef l Ken
git up in Paudunk this mornin’ an’ milk
fhe keows, an cat breakfast an git my
stepper in Busting—all in one day l
Eveflastin’ tarnation ! Ef they keep on
a tew years to come as the’ve been doin’
for a few years past, I do really believe
Chat a fellow might be sloping himself
in ’r his bewts in Paudunk, an’ himself
in Besting afore he’d fairly got ready to
start !”
“ Wfll, inv son,” said a Detroit fath
er to his eight year-old son the other
night, “ What have you done to day
that may he set down as a good dec!
“ Gave a poor boy five ceuts,” replied
the hopeful.
“Ah, ha! that was charity, and
charily is alwas right. lie was up or
phan boy, was he ?”
“ I didn’t stop to ask,” rephed the
boy ; “ I gave him the money for lick
itig a boy who spit in my dinner basko:! ’
Ami Love^V^Over_All.
Someone ought to make Maggie
'Flynn, of St Paul, Minn., the heroine
of a nice sentimental poem. Her story
is net a long one, and it is proof that
“it's love that makes the world go ’round.’'
Some time ago, became engaged
to a young man of St. Paul, moving in
her own social circle, and one she loved
fondly, as he seemed to deserve. Mag
gie. had done nothing Wron**, but
had an enemy in the person of a young
man who may have been an umuecess
ful suitur, and he hurt her as a woman
can be hurt, though chaste as Diana, lie
put in c.reulation certain stories about
Maggie whieb Induced her lover to
break off the engagement; and Maggie,
poor girl, lost her reason, and was piaevd
in the hands of the Sheriff of St. Paul
to be taken to the insane asylum.—
Meanwhile the employers of the voung
man to whom the crazed girl was ei
gaged heard of the case and ascertained
that there was no foundation for the
stories affecting Maggie’s character, and
they proposed to right the matter if
possible. The young man, absent on a
business trip, was sent for, Hffll was on
ly too glad to learn of his error. It
was resolved that Maggie’s lover should
see her, and it was hoped that the in
terview might aid in restoring her reason.
The poor girl’s things had been packed
and a carriage engaged by the Sheriff
to convey her to the depot. lie was in
duced to postpone the trip, and the
young man went to sec the girl he had
too rashly forsaken. Wandering in her
talk, like Ophlia, she was seated in the
Sheriff s house when her lover entered
Tn an instur-t the meaningless prattle
Ceased, reason came to the c’o ided brain
through that best of avenues, the heart ,
and Maggie not only recognized the
man she loved but became her own joy*
ous sell again. She has been once more
entrusted to her friends and relations,
retains her reason and soon to be well
enough to take the part of a bride in a
wedding ceremony. As remarked in
the beginning of this short story, there
is a chance to immortalize Magg’e in
verse. Ihe tale is a true one in every
particular.
Notoriety.
It is not always the achiever of noto
riety in any art, profession or calling
that can justly prefer a legitimate claim
to distinction, in the world’s estima
tion. Some writer, indeed, whose name
we forgot, but whose knowledge of hur
man nature was alike profound and ac
curate, has remarked that “ men of
greatest minds are tfio.se of whom the
noisy world hear least.” Certain it is that i
“ distrustful sense,” or diHi fence, the
accouipanymcnt so often of deep re
search and profound investigation, has
a decided tendency to shrink from too
close contact with even an appreciative
to say nothing of a public at once
un appreciative and unobservant—its
almost morbid solicitude being to pui"
sue, in quiet and alone its researches
and investigations. That an individual
of this description, whose chief design
it, is to “ shut out” the world, and “let
no passion stir.” (not even that 6f a
love of renown j should be apt to despise
the public and its ways, is not mtfeh ttf
be wondered at; for, depend upon it,
however ambitious of genuine fame such
a character may be, lie will never culti
vate undue intimacy with the public as
a wans of securing the same. The
lover of notoriety, on the other hand,
whose unceasing aspirations are ever
lastingly at work to secure recognition
on the part of the public, lets no op
portunity pass of flaunting before that
public s eye his wonderful achievement
in art, literature, science, or what not;
and should his little world of lookers
on betray the very faintest expression
of approval, our indefatigable pursuer
of notoriety would (We were going to
say) “ blush to find it fame ; ” but no,
on mature reflection, we should rather
say he would become at once intoxica
ted with vanity and presumption, assu
ming airs of superiority and condescen
sion. such as would be well calculated
to strike with equal reverence and awe
the astonished beh Cider.
The Sailer in ChnrchT
A celebrated commodore in the Amer
ican Navy having a few hours to spend
in a port where lie was unacquainted,
concluded on attending a religious meet
ing, and for this purpose, taking with
him his favorite servant, he started fur
the church.
“ Now mind,” said he to Jack, as
they were going in, “don’t you say a
word. No one speaks there but the
minister ”
A seat was provided for the commo
dore, and Jack was invited to take a
seat by the deacon. The minister was
giving out a hymn, and it foil to the
deacon s lot to rereat the hymn for the
singers. No sooner had he risen than i
Jack, plucking the deacon s coat, whis
pered in his ear.
“You’d better be still. I had my or
ders afore I came he r e, so you’d better
be still ”
The deacon proceeded to read, and
Jack repeated his admonition, but to no
purpose. He had got out the first two
lines and all the member# of the meet
ing were engaged in singing, wfreff the
poor tar driven to desperation at’seding
the commodore’s orders disobeyed*, turn” j
ing to the deacon and rolling up his I
sleeves, lie exc ! iameJ:
“\ou were the beginning of this ’ere 1
row. and shiver my timbers if you don’t*'
pay for it, and he hammered away, j
first on one side then on the other, un
til the whole scene became a powerful
illustration of the church militant.
When a Comstocker wants to dis- !
parge another he says : “ When you j
have thoroughly prospect him, yotf’ll
find no bonanza in him.”
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miscellaneous.
It is better to be alone in this world
than to bring up a boy to play oil the
acordeon.
“ I allow that Job was patientf” re
marked a farmer, “ but be never seen a
determined Shanghi hen sitting on a
nest full of tiled eggs.”
“ John, I am afr .id you have been
forgetting me,” said a bright-eyed girl
to her sweetheart the other day. "Yes,
Sue, I have been for getting jou these
two years.”
A Kansas gentleman has thoughtful
ly put his front gate in the parlor, so
that his daughter and a young man can
swing on it without catching cold dur
ing the cold weather.
Gilbert A. Beckett and llenr£ Mny
hew many years ago established a pu
li cat ion called the Eye. The first num
ber commenced with, “ Here we are
with our Eye out.”
There was a room with eight corn
ers, In each corner there sat a cat;
before each cat sat seven other cats,'
and on each cat’s tail sat a cat. JIo\V
many cats in all ?
I hey tried to scare a man in Missou
ri by threatening to tar and leather
him; but he replied, “Come on with
your old tar; I’ve been there six
times, and I’ve got a receipt for wash
ing it off.”
“ Well, how do you get along?” in
quired a country landlord, one rainy
morning, of a guest whom he had put
in a top floor room, under a leaky roof.
‘ Oh, swimmingly,” was the smart re-
Pty-
Political economy is practiced in New
Hampshire by renting out the base
ment of the State House as a heubery
to the janitor of the building, who is
now doing a lively business in the poul
try line.
Darwin still secretly believes in it,'
but he hates to have a man come up
and say, “Good morning Mr. Darwin;
how s your old babboon of a grand
father, And how’s the apess, your grand
mother r
A little girl four years old created a
ripple by remarking to the teacher of
the Sunday school class: “Our dog’s
dead. I bet the angels was scared when
they saw him coming up the walk.—
He’s cross to st; angers.”
“ Will the boy who threw that pop
per off the stove please come up here
and get H present of a nice book,” said
a Sunday-scfro >! Superintendent in lo
wa ; but the boy rijvef moved. He was
a far-seeing boy.
A Canadian murderer wanted therrf
to put off the day of execution owing
to his being afflicted with the tooth
ache ; but the Sheriff said he’d got ttf
go to mill next day a* and he couldn’t pos
sibly accomodate the prisoner.
A boy, writing of todes says :
“ Todes is like frogs, but more digni
ty, and, when yotf Come to think of it,
frogs is wetter. The warts which tode#
is noted for cant be cured, for they is
chronic ; but if I couldn’t git wel I’de
stay in the house.”
An Indiana farmer, needing a pack
age of screws, writes to his merchant
in town : Deer Sur—pleze cend by
the Barer 1 (won) paxig of Skrougl o.
tnejoum sise, all Sow a Scheep skrough
dryver, and obleege, etc. As the chief
engineer of a spelling-school that far
ther woula be heard from.
A minister who had preached a very
long and not very lively sermon, think
ing his eloquence gave him a title ti
complain of his fatigue, said, on cornin'l
- from his pulpit, to his deacon:—
* Oh, deacon, I am so tired 1” “ And
have you no pity for us ?” replied the
deacon.
An athletic specimen of a man from'
the Kmerald Isle called at the counting
room of a merchant, and took off his
hat to make one of his politest bows.
“The top o’ the rnornin’ to ye. Misth
er S. I’ve been tould ye’re in want of
help.”
“ I’ve but little to do,” replied Mf.
S., with mercantile gravity
“ I’m the boj for ye’s. It’s but litt ! e
I care about doing shure, it’s the
I’m afi.her.”
“ Speaking of shooting ducks,” says
Dr. F. “puts me in mind of the great
storm that occurred when I lived on
the island. As you are well aware, our
island was near by Casoo Bay ; an aw
ful storm arose, and was so fierce that
it drove ail the ducks in the Bay into
a pond, covering about an acre, near my
house.- In tact, fto many ducks crowd—'
ed into that pond that I could not see a
drop of water.” “ gho,” says Smith,
“ did ye shute any of ’em ?” “ That’s
what I was coming at. I went into'
the Itottee and trot my double-barrelled
shot-gun, and discharged both barrels
in the midst of them hut, to my as
tonishment, they arose in the air, leav
ing not a solitary duck in the pond!”
“ Good gracious, ye don’t say,” say
Smith “didn’t ye hev any shot in ver
gun. or what in the thunder was the
trouble i ’ “ Well, I was coming to
that, said Dr. F., “it astonished mo at
first; but as soon as the ducks rose a
few hundred yards in the air, arid' com
menced to separate a little, the duck#
began to drop, and whether you believe
it or not, I picked up twenty-nine bar
rels of ducks, and it was a poor soas< n
lor ducks, too. You see, the duels
were wedged in so solid in the
that when they rose they carried t 1 e
aer.d ones into the air with them, and
when they separated, down came tl
twenty nine barrels of dead ones.”