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CALHOUN WEEKLY TIMES. by and. b. freeman. CALHOUN TIMES Rates of Subscription. 0e Year $2.00 Six Months 1.00 Ten copies one year 15.00 t Rates of Advetising. For each square of ten lines or less for the first insertion, sl, and for each sub sequent insertion, fifty cents. JJo.Sq’rs 1 Mo. | 3 Mos. | 0 MoS. | 1 year. Two $4.00 $7.00 I $12.00 $20.00 Four “ 6.00 10.00 | 18.00 35.00 1 column 9.00 15.00 I 25.00 40.00 i “ 15.00 25.00 40.00 65.00 t “ 25.00 40-00 1 65.00 115.00 ggay* Ten lines of solid brevier, or its equivalent in space, make a square. Rates f Rising. Sheriff’s Sales, each levy $4 00 Citation for letters of Administration and Guardianship : 4 00 Application for dismission from Admin istration, Guardianship and Exec utorship 5 00 Application for leave to sell land, one square 4 00 Each additional square 2 00 Land Sales, one square 4 00 Each additional square : 3 00 Application for Homestead 2 00 Notice to Debtors and Creditors 4 00 gaitmft ftfetflule. Western & Atlantic Railroad. X>AY PASSENGER TRAIN —OUTWARD. Leave Atlanta 3:40 a. m Airive Calhoun 12:40 p. m “ Chattanooga -350 p. M DAY PASSENGER TRAIN —INWARD. Leave Chattanooga 5:15 p. M. Arrive Calhoun 3:31 a. m. “ Atlanta 12:35 p. M. NIQHT PASSENGER TR VIN—OUTWARD. Leave Atlanta 5:55 p. M. Arrive Calhoun 9:41 p. m. Chattanooga 12:30 a. m. NlttUT PASSENGER TRAIN—INWARD. Leave Chattanooga 4:00 r. M. Arrive Calhoun v5 ! ?2 M ‘ Atlanta 10:lo P. M. ACCOMMODATION TRAIN —OUTWARD. Leave Atlanta -3:50 p. m. Arrive Calhoun ‘A o: jv P ‘ M ’ “ Dalton ••*••• U:55 P. M. ACCOMMODATION TRAIN —INWARD. Leave Dalton 4:00 a. m. Arrive Callipun A “• Atlanta * 10:08 A. M. Professional & IghWM wg. TTI J. KIKER & SON, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, Will practice in all the Courts of the' Cher okee Circuit; Supreme Court oi Georgia, and the United States District Court at Atlanta, Ca. Office : Sutlieast corner of the Court House, Calhoun, Ga. TfUIN & 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. J D. TINSLEY, Watch-Maker & Jeweler, CALIIOUN, OA. All styles of Clocks, Watches and Jewelry neatly repaired and warranted. Jj>UFE WALDO THORNTON, D. D. S.. DENTIST. Office over Geo. W. Wells & Co.’s Agricul tural Warehouse. jyjTSS 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. 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 call attention to the cole rated “Fish Brothers’ Wagon which he tin fcishes. Call ahd examine before buying elsewhere. J H. ARTHUR DEALER IN GENERAL MERCHANDISE, RAILROAD STREET, Calhoun , Ga. CHEAP GOODS. RICHARDS & ESPY, (OLD STAND OF Z. TANARUS, OKAY.) Dealers in Confectioneries, Crackers, Fancy Groceries, &c. Tobacco, cigars and snuff a specialty.— Highest market price paid for country pro duce of all kinds. Give them a call and they will give you a bargain. mar3l-3in JAY. MARSHALL, RAILROAD ST., OLD STAND OF A. W BALLEW. 'Heps constantly on hand a superior stock of family & Fancy Groceries, a fi ne assortment of Saddles, Bridles, t a Pl e Hardware, &c, to which especial at- is called. Everything in my line tion at 4 )r^ces that absolutely defy competi gjs nr A DAY GUARANTEED using oaf WELL AUGER & DRILLi n goad TT WmSI territory. Endorsed by Governor* of IOWA, ARKANSAS & DAKOTA LINES. Respectfully Dedicated to the Veterans of the Third Ga. Regiment. Veterans brave, may Heaven bless you! Keep unbroken long your band ; Parted years, once more united, Side by side again to stand. Silenced now arc war’s dread thunders, Furled the flag you loved so well; Graves on hillsides and in valleys, Mark the spot where brave men fell! Fell, while nobly, vainly striving Freedom, country, home to save ; Lost, a life so freely offered, Found, an unknown soldier’s grave ! Unknown graves where gentle breezes Softly sigh a requiem sweet, Grasses wave and tiowers blossom O’er them in their last long sleep. Memory often wanders to them— Hovers sadly round “Our Dead”— Recollections ever linger, Of the life blood freely shed. And these memories, sad and tender, These memories, plaintive and sweet Are all that's left of the lives they led, And the hearts which have ceased to beat. And veterans brave, who survive them, In your reunions we bid you “God speed,” From the rank and file of the privates, To your brave Colonel Claiborne iS'need. May the ties which unite you be strength ened, As you think -of your ranks grown thin ; While honor and praise undying, From the world your record shall win. BLOOD.€I!IU)LI.\G KITES. The Terrible Devotional Acts of itaiicing Hervislics. Algiers, Africa, Jan. 15,1875. —A short time since we received information from our dragoman that there was to be a performance by the Dervishes in AL giers. We were on the point of leav ing for Tifnis and Carthage, but deci ded to remain specially to sec the per formance. Our route lay up through the old Moorish city, up the narrow streets of stairs, winding through the crooked byways of old Algiers to the crest of the Sabel Ilill, where, in the shade of the towering but crumbling walls of the Kasby (the ancient citadel' of the Deys), our path ended in front of a white wall and a heavy oaken door, well studded with iron bolts. There was a small square hole near the top, barred like a prison window. The hoarse cry of our Arab guide was answered by the appearance of eight long fingers clinging to the bottom of the window, and soon a wild face was drawn up full in the moonlight which was streaming over our shoulders. Our guide drew near, and after exchanging a few words in Arabic, the bolts were drawn, the door swung open, and we passed inside. We found ourselves in a narrow hall, which, turning first to the right and then to the left, brought us into an open court, with stone pillars all around it, supporting a balcony above. The opposite end behind the pillars was cov ered with mats, which were also strewn across one end of the open place in the centre. Some Arabs were scattered about on the mats, all engaged in prayer. In the centre of the court a dim candle struggled against the gloom about it, while a small brazier of live coals, with a queer checkered box keeping it com pany, stood near the candle. A TAMBOURINE OVERTURE. Other Arabs came in by ones and twos, all stopping at the entrance to take off their slippers, which they carried in their hands to their seats. A portion of them, before seating themselves, went around and saluted those who had ar rived before them, either by kissing on the forehead or throwing kisses at them. The old patriarchs, who seemed to be seated exclusively behind the pillars in the end of the court, received the most attention in this respect. Strewn on the mats near ihe brazier were a dozen or more of wnat looked like clieese-box lids with raw-hide heads, and snares on the inside. Presently some of the Arabs began tuning these by first warming them over the brazier and then playing on them like tambou rines. This completed, a very tail fel low, with very wild eyes, and a very long moustache, took his place in the centre of the mats; and, following his guidance, a dozen or more took up the tambours, and began playing on them. The overture lasted about ten minutes; commencing very slowly, and gradually quickening, until, before they ceased, they seemed to have worked themselves into a frenzy ; their wild eyes glared fiercely, their breathing became quick, their bodies swayed violently, and their arms and heads flew about with wonder ful rapidity ; meanwhile tffey were con tinually exchanging tambours by throw ing them at each other, sometimes from one side of the court to the other. To ward the close there was a low rumbling around the place, as of a growing storm ; but at last they ceased with a grand flourish, leaving the players very much exhausted, and everybody very much excited, ourselves included. Then there was a pause for a lew minutes, during which they all sat as motionless as stautes, and apparently fleetly immersed in thought. The lead er with the long moustache was the first to move ; he again grasped the tam bour, which, in the moments of supreme exhaustion, had fallen from his grasp; and, after a few raps upon it, began a rude chant, assisted by all the other players. Thejjji was a chorus in which the whole audience joined, and which was accomplished by clapping the hands. This continued about as long as the other, and, like the other, grew faster and. faster, until the players became fran tic, and roared and yelled like demons ; their eyes rolled wilder and wilder than before, and their oomplexions, naturally CALHOUN, OA., WEDNESDAY, MAY 19. 1875. brown, became positively black and hid eous ; and the singing grew into a wild, rapid, violent chant, interspersed with yells and groans. THE ANTICS OF A GIANT BEDOUIN. Opposite to us, sitting on the ground, was a very large and powerful Bedouin, heavily clad in coarse robes, and crown ed with a gay parti.colored turban. We had noticed something very peculiar in his actions ; he appeared to be very sus ceptible to the influences of passion, and seemed to be more intensely inter ested than the others in the music and singing. Suddenly, in the midst of the singing, and high above the din, thore arose a mo3t deafening shout, and this burly fellow leaped to his feet, dashed into the open space in the centre, and began a very rude and violent dance, one movement being to jump straight up and down, with his.neck limber, leav ing his head, with its abundance of long black hair to fly about at random, beat ing in turn upon his chest, shoulders, and back. Two old men, who |pemed to officiate as masters of ceremonies, approached him, and without attempt ing to hinder his movements, gradually relieved him of his turban and other superfluous clothing. When the music became fastest, it seemed as if his bur ly Irame would fall to pieces, so violent vyere his motions. After a time the mu sic ceased suddenly and he fell or tum bled, ou his hands and knees, his long bair falling over his purpled face and neck, and commenced to crow like a cock and make all sorts of insane noises, in imitation of both bird and beast, jumping now and then, with an angry snarl like a dog, at some poor fellow, who jumped back affrighted. One of the men endeavored to quiet him by patting him on the head, but he was answered by bites and grow’s. The monster, for such lie was grown, evident ly craved something. Presently he was handed a little iron shovel, heated red hot at the scoop. ROASTING Ills OWN FLESH. This seemed to bo what he wanted, for he seized it fiercely, and jumping to his feet howled and roared, and danced, wilder than before, meanwhile pounding the poor shovel with his fists, and head, and feet in a most savage manner; then, with a fearful yell of exultation, he put it on the ground and jumped on it; then stood on it, barefooted of course, until the air grew foul with the sicken ing fumes of burning flesh, and he was almost enveloped in the smoke; then he grasped the scoop, still almost red with heat, between his teeth, and ran around the circle thrusting the handle into the laces of the others, seemingly defying them to take hold of it. One of the old men finally took it away, giv ing him instead a lighted torch, with a goodly flame; this he held to his arms, and neck, and cheeks lung enough to cook the flesh brown, and ended by thrusting the flames in his mouth and holding it there for fully a minute, it being still lighted when he took it out. But still he was dissatisfied ; still he growled and roared. He was next handed a large prickly pear, or cactus leaf, green with gall, and coated with needles like a porcupiue. He ate half of this with a great relish, the other half being passed around among us.— W e secured a small piece as a sample of Arab food. Before the big Bedouin fell down from exhaustion, which he afterward did, bo was joined, one by one, by oth ers, all of whom prefaced their appear ances by loud shrieks and long jumps into the centre of the court, always ful ly habited, the masters of ceremonies in each case relieving them of their ex tra clothing. One gray-hcaded, fine-looking old Sheik varied his performance by eating a goodly supply of nails, broken glass? and stoucs. Ido not know where he put them, but he ate far more than a mouthful, and did not spit them out again, but danced afterward as violent ly as any of the others. EATING A SCORPION. About this time occurred one of the most disgusting scenes of the exhibi tion, which was the eating, by one of the Arabs, of a live scorpion ! The scorpion was taken out of the little checkered box by one of the perform ers, who let it crawl over his face and hands, muttering to it all the time, and then handed it to another Arab, who went through much the same perform ance ; and finally, putting his face within two feet of mine, he took the head of the scorpion in one hand, hold ing the tail in the other, put the terri ble reptile iu his mouth, body first, chewed it up, and swallowed it. Another fellow took a number of iron skewers, and ran one through each cheek, one through protruding tongue, one through his nose, one through each arm and hand; and, while the blood was streaming from each wound, he executed a violent dance, and lushed from the courtyard. Then a negro, black as night, and young and vigorous, who was one of the first to begin the dance, and last to cease, took iron spikes, and ham mered them with a stone into his body ; one being driven in just above the col lar bone, one in the abdomen, and one in the right leg, blood flowing freely from all the wounds. He finally faint ed while dancing, perhaps more from loss of blood than fatigue. HORRIBLE. Another one, who had very much the appearance of a blacksmith, took a bar of iron about two feet in length, small at one end, and having a wheel on the other, with a handle in the centre of , the bar, through which the bar revolv ed. He worked the wheel up to a very rapid revolution, and then placed the sharp point of the bar into the side of his eye next to the nose, and gouged the eye out of its socket; he took the eye in his hand and held it at least six inches from his face ; and after dancing and yelling for a few seconds, he re placed the eye in the socket. Fie end* ed his performances by dancing around the court, butting his head severely against each of the stone pillars, and then tearing out his hair by handfuls. There were three ladies in our party. Up to this time, by hiding their faces at the worst parts of the performances, they had managed to keep up ; but two of them suddenly fainted. We carried them out into tho street, and they were soon resuscitated, lut no amount of persuasion could induce fhew to re-* turn. fictional Keligion. The New York Sun favors us with copious extracts from a paper read by liev.Dr. James 11. Fairchild of the Con gregational church, before the National Council at New Haven, in October last, which the editor comments upon and, we may say endorses, chiefly on account of the position therein taken that “There are indications on every side of the unsettling of the minds of men as to the foundation truths of the Chris tian faith," and that the intelligence of the age demands a religion having its basis in a “ welFconsidered and ration al belief." According to this position the Rev. Mr. Fairchild does not consid er that the Christian religion is now based upon a “ well-oonsidered rational belief," and therefore, it “ cau have no controlling power With an intelligent thinking people." In the language of the Sun, he eloquently descants upon the vice and corruption which threaten our social life, and deploring the gener al ignoring of the Christian virtues, doubts, even with t*hc case of Elijah be fore him," whether enough righteous men can be found to save the Bepub lic." He says, “we mourn the wide spread immortality of our times*, the failure of honor and honesty in high places and low" —that the “ seven thou sand who have not bowed the knee to Baal" may remain, “ but to the most hopeful the outlook is disheartening." We entirely agree with the Congre gational brother on those statements, though we do not participate in his doubt about the “ seven thousand."— When he wrote that paper, he doubt less had in his mind the “ Credit Mo biler," the “ Pacific Mail Job," the Woodhull publication of the Beech r j Tilton scandal, and had read Tilton’s biography of Victoria—and peradven turc, the Rev. Gentleman had read something of the Southern Carpet-bag State Governments—heard of Bullock and Blodgett, of Georgia, the Rev. Brooks, of Arkansas, Moses and Cham berlain, of South Carolina, Roeder and his gang of Florida, and last, though not least, of the virtuous Kellogg and his “ Returning Board,” of Louisiana. To these reflections he may have super added reminiscences of honest Ben But ler, a few notes on “Boss Tweed," a chapter of the San Domingo treaty, (that was to be,) and it is barely possi ble that he read some honest daily news paper, (perhaps the Sun) and was post ed on the thousands of official money de falcations which have occurred since the Radicals took forcible possession of the Government. If so, we do not wonder that a faithful minister is disturbed in his mind—feels gloomy when he looks out upon things and lifts-up his eyes and weeps. There is abundant cause for weeping, and the half has not been told. But this is not the only age when some men thought the world had reached its climax of wickedness. — Almost every century of the Chris tian era has witnessed the same culmination, and suffered the same loss of confidence in the Chris’ian faith ; and yet the world moved ou and the Christian remained substantially as it is at present. True, it encountered nu merous superstitions and was often for long seasons so warped and obscured as to be uudistinguishable, but it emerged, as the sun from behind a. cloud, with the same resplendant glory which illu minated the dark age of the “stum bling" Jews and the “ foolish " Greeks. Irrational as it appears to the Rev. James 11. Fairchild of the Congrega tional church, it was rational to Paul, Peter and John—was sufficient for Lu ther and Melancthon in the middle ages, and later, fully satisfied such men as Bunyan, Hall, Ilill, Wesley, and Whit field. It is still found all sufficient for the poor and ignorant —for the “ meek and lowly,” who are contented to be saved by any method the Lord may adopt—and it must be remembered that the Gospel was preached to the “poor,” not to the rich—to the ignorant not to the learned, and it was sent not to tho fold, bat to the “ lost,” sheep of the house of Isreal. It was known in Heav en that it would not bo acceptable to the Scribes aud Pharises of Jeruselem, nor to the learned*philosophic Greeks, because they were too “ wise in their own conceit," to believe so simple a tale as salvation by faith." They wanted something “ rational ” Something they could have the honor and glory of weighing in the scales of human intel lect—of measuring with the rod of hu man greatness, and something with in gredients or parts that might be disin tegrated or united with the accuracy and absoluteness of human mathemat ics. Such a substance or doctrine would be sensible, (rational) would ad dress itself to the lovers of science, would be worthy of the exalted digni ty of scientific knowledge, and would appeal to the lofty ambition of all who aspired to find out God by philosophic examination of his works. But they were disappointed, Jehovah did not consult their tastes or their humor, nor does ho seem to have had much respect for their “ thinking intelligence." He well remembered that they had had “ Moses and the Prophet3," of whom they discoursed very learnedly every day, but were nevertheless still so blind as not to be able to discern the “ signs of the times.’ 7 They read the Scriptures, and even a Samaritan wo man knew that “ Messiah ” was com ing, to tell them “ all things," and they confidently looked for Him, but when they beheld him, he was a “ Nazarene,” the son of a carpenter. Beside, he consorted with “ publicans and sin ners," chose poor persons and igno rant men for his companions, and made these poor ignorant men the bear ers of tho Gospel, the head of the mighty church—instead of selecting from among the rich and noble, men of known ability and fame, that the Gos pel might have honor and immediate acceptance by all classes , and the learn ed Greek, who knew not Moses, but gloried in the amplitude of his philoso phy, could exchange for no such intan gible contigent promise, by the son of a carpenter, a Nazarene associating with the lowest class of people iu the country. Jehovah would not deceive nor pass over his consequential High Priest of the al ter set up by his servant Moses, sancti fied by “ a man after His own heart," and adhered to through many genera tions; and the “ Unknown God,” whose hand was seen in the complex grand eurs of the universe and whose infini tude reached down to a merciful cogni zance of the erudite Greek, would not approach his dignified creatures with so baseless a fabric of a vision. Thus the Jew and Greek found the Gospel, the one a “ stumbling block " and the other “ foolishness." May there not be Jews and Greeks of the same school at this day ? \Ye very much fear that the “ rational ” religion men of our day are the same enquiring Greeks who reject the substance for the shadow of religion. At any rate, with, recent lights before us, we should hesitate long before ac cepting for our spiritual guide an apos tie of the “ rational " order. The evils complained of by the Rev. Mr. Childs can be cured by a unity and simplicity in teaching the doctrines—pure and un selfish devotion in the Ministry and ed ucational extermination of the “ High er lav/ " latitudirarian—isins.—South ern Enterprise. Whiaiug. There is a class of persons in this world, by no means small, whose prom inent peculiarity is whining. They whine because they are poor, or, if rich, because they have no health to enjoy their riches ; they whine because it is too sunny ; they whine because they have “ no luck,” and.others’ prosperity exceeds theirs ; they whine because some friends have died and they are still living; they whine because they have aches and pain, and they have aches and pains because they whine ; and they whine no one can tell why.— Now we would like to say a word to these whining persons. First, stop whining —it is of no use complaining, fretting, fault-finding and whiuing.— Why, you are the most deluded set of creatures that ever lived ! Do you not know that it is a well settled principle of physiology and common sense that these habits are more exhausting to nervous vitality than almost any other violation of physiological lav/ ? And do you not know that life is pretty much as you make it? You can make it bright and sunshiny, or you cau make it dark aud shadowy. This life is meant only to discipline us—to fit us for a higher and purer state of being. Then stop whining and fretting, and go on your way rejoicing. A Beaniitul Comparison. Away among the Alleghanres fchefe is a spring so small that a single ox, in a summer’s day could drain it dry. It steals its unobtrusive way among the hills till itspreads out into the beautiful Ohio. Thence it stretches away a thousand miles, having on its banks more than' a hundred villages and cities, and many thousand cultivated farms, and bearing on its bosom more than a half a thou sand steamboats. Then joining the Mississippi, it stretches away some twelve hundred miles more, till it falls into the great emblem of eternity. It is one of the great tributaries of the ocean, which obedient to God shall roar and roll till the angel with one foot on the sea and the other on the laud, shall lift up his hand to heaven and swear that time shall be no longer. So with moral influence. It is a rill, rivulet —an ocean, boundless and fa’hornless as'eternity— rolling on, and deepening and widening, till eternity, not time, shall measure its results. Let the young bear this in mind forever, and let the old never forget it To-Morrow. —To-morrow may nev er come to us. We do not live in to morrow. The man who owns whole blocks of real estate and great ships on the sea does not own a single minute of to morrow. It is a myste rious possibility not yet born. It lies under the seal of midnight, behind the veil of glittering constellations. En joy the present, whatever it may be, and not be solicitous for the future ; present standing, and thrust it forward i to to-morrow’s event, you are in a rest | less condition. It is like refusing to quench your present thirst by fearing you will want to diink the next day.— If to-morrow you should want, your sorrow would come time enough, though you do not hasten it. Let your trouble tarry till its own day comes. Enjoy blessings this day, if God 5 sends them, and the evils of it pear patiently and sweetly, for this day is ours. We are j dead to yesterday, and not yet born to o* morrow. —Jenny Taylor, * Ijove Versus Pallets. John Seedling was piaing for lovo of sweet Mary Murray— that is, she was sweet to him. John was a lonely orphan. His parents had died and left him in sole possession of the really rood farm upon which he resided—upon which, in fact, he was born. And John wanted a helpmate. It was not with selfishness that he wanted Mary. No—he loved her—was really and truly pining for her —and yet the poor boy could not pluck up courage to tell her his love. He had resolved often to do it, and had as often gone back into his boots. Mary Murray was also an orphan, liv ing with an uncle who gladly gave her a home for tho help of labor and help of sunshine she returned. If she loted John Seedling, she had never said so. She was modest as,well as strong, if she suspected John’s attachment she evidently [awaited its avowal from him. When Mary came to have little female wants of fiuery which her uncle did not feel he could afford, he told her she might raise and keep aad sell as many hens as she pleased, and as many eggs. She might feed them from his granray, yard and shelter them upon his land.— And then it came about in time that Mary Murray owned the finest and rarest flock of hens in that section. One day John resolved that he would be a fool no longer. He would go over and solve his fate off-hand. He would know the best or the worse before the sun set. Dressed with core, and clea”** handed he approached Mary’s residence. With a stout, resolute heart he went up to the door ; but with the tap-tap-tap of the brass knocker his heart fluttered and failed. When Mary, smiling sweet ly, came to the door, the poor boy, sad ly stammering, forged a fa'se excuse for his visit. He told her he had come to look at her spring pullets. .Would she sell him a few ? Certainly. A.nd they went out and' looked over the flock. John asked many questions touching the qualities of the various breeds, and in the end, so con founded was he by the sprightly multi" plieity of Mary’s answers, that he must go home aud think of it, and come again. in a few days John went again de termined to pop the question in the hen yard. But the result was as before.— The awlul words stuck fast in his throat, and again he turned away without a pul let, or a knowledge of his fate. A third time John went, and a third time Marv accompanied him to the yard, where the love sick swain began to hes itate and to stammer as before. “Come, John," said the damsel, pleas antly, but with spirit, “this is becoming tiresome. You ought to know what you want by this time." “Well,” said John, scratching his head, “them Barma Pootress look pooty, but, I swar !" Mary said nothing. “Them Yallar Shangc’s look kind ’r nice, though, don’t they?" Mary nodded. “But, Mary, them Golden Ilambus— I swow, I don’t know." A long pause, and then John, more perturbed than ever, went on : “Jerewsalem ! Mary, your pullets arc all on ’em so tarnal nice and handsome that, really—” Another pause, at the end of which Mary burst out: “John, if I'm the one you want, tchy don’t you say so ? The ice thus broke John fell in di rectly; and wo can only add that before the snow fell again, Mary had become the happy and contented mistress of bis home. Sidney Smith on Kissing. —Some of our readers will be interested in the following from Sidney Sumh, on kiss ing : “We are in favor of a certain amount of shyness when a kiss is pro posed, but it should not be too long ; and when the fair one gives it, let it be administered with warmth and energy; let there be soul in it. If she cleseher eyes and sigh immediately after it, the effect is greater. She should be careful not to slobber a kiss, but give it as a humming bird runs his, bill into a hon ey-suckel—deep, but delicate. There is much virtue in a kiss when well de livered. We have the memory of one we received in our youth which lasted us forty years, and we believe it will be one of the last things we shall think of when we die." A New Race of Cats. —“ Here, Thomas Henry, someone has taken an orange off my bureau !" exclaimed a Sixth street woman the other day. “ I’ll bet it was the cat!’’ replied the boy, looking very innocent. “ Cat! Cats don’t eat oranges," con* tinwed the mother. “ I know they didn’t used to, mother, but you ought to see how these new kind ol cats go for oranges and lem ons ' They just chunk ’em down as I would g’lffi drops." The old lady sat down and remarked that this was a world ol change. The old man, sitting quietly in the corner, remarked (sutto voice) that the race of liars hadn’t died out with Ana nias, however. ■-. Dr. J. 11. Vincent recently said in a lecture on boys, that he knows no more beautiful sight than that of a two.-year-old boy making love to his mother. The age of two is iudecd a very tender age, but even at that ago some of the best or worst passions may be exhibited. ‘ Even a child is known by his do.* ings," and we can often tell the two year-old is going to be when he grows up. The two-yearcold who has a good mother, has a more priceless treasure than the wealth of this world cau ever buy him. VOL. y.—NO. 42i Bon't Kill Time. . “ Spare a copper, sir ; I am starv* ing, said a poor, half clad man to a gentleman who was hastening home* wards through the streets in A great city one bitter cold night. Spare & copper, sir, and God will bless yod." Struck with the fellow s manner and appearauce, the gentleman replied : “ You look as if you had seen bottef days. If you will tell me candidly what has been your greatest failing through life, I’ll give you enougu to pay yout* lodging.” 1 am afraid I could hardly do that,” the beggar answered with a mournful smile. “ Try, man,, try,” added the gentle man. “ Here s a shilling to sharpen your memory ; only he suro vou speak the truth.” The man pressed the coin rightly in h r s hand, and after thinkiug for nearly a minute, said— To be honest with you, then, I be* liovo my greatest fault has been in leum ng to “ kill time.” \\ hen I was a youngster, l had kind loving parents, who let me do petty much as 1 liked ; so 1 became idle and careless, and nev er once thought of the ehango which was in store for me. In the hope that I should orie day make my mark in the world, I was sent to college; but there I wasted my time in idle dreaming and expensive auiuseuients. It [ had°becn a poor boy, with necessity staring mo in the face, 1 think I should have dotid better. But somehow I fell into the notion that life was one continued holi day. I gradually became fond of wine and company. In a few years my pa* rents both died; and you guess tho rest. I soon wasted what little they left me; and now it is too late to comhat my old habits. \es, sir, idlenes ruiu ed me.” “ 1 believe your story,” replied thg gentleman ; and when I get home, f will tell it to my own boys as a warn ing. lam sorry for you, indeed I am. But it is never too late to reform. Come to my office to-morrow and let me try to inspire you with fresh cour age.” And giving the man another piece of money, and indicating whuro he could be fouud, he hurried away. Never “ kill time ” boys. lie is your best friend. Use him well. I>on’t 16ft him slip through your fingers when you are young as tho beggar did. The days ot your boyho:d are the most precious you will ever see. The habits you get into will stick to you like wax. If they are goods ones, life will be a pleasure, and abovo all success—l mean true suc cess. You may not grow rich, but your liie will be a real success, never theless. if, on tho contrary, you waste your early years, live for fun only, trifle with your opportunities, you will find after a while that jour life is a failure—yes even if you should be as rich as CroC'- sus'. Ono of the saddest things is, to meet a man who has let golden opportunities go by him, just entering the Sattle of lile, yet entirely unfitted for his posi tion. He is to be pitied, and yet blamed, in this favored land every one can learn to read and write, for instance. But how often we meet young men ut terly unable to writo a dozen lines with out making mistakes ! Be assured, my young friends, it will be a source of shame to you as men if you do not pay attention to education as boj r s. The world is full of' good books to read. }ou are surrounded with friends and relatives. Be warned in time, and coin happiness and honor in the futuref from the industry of the present, and you will not read this page in vain. She May Not Have Loved’ Ifni. A woman never quite forgetd the man who has'loved her. She may not have loved him; she may, indeed, have given him the “no ” instead of the “yes” die hoped; but tho remem brance that he desired a “yes” always softens her thoughts of, and would make him, were ho reminded of it, a friend forever. There may bo girls who make a jest of discarded suitors j but they are very young, and tho wooing has been something that does not betoken much depth of tenderness. There are mercenary offers’ too, that only awaken scorn and hate in the wotren wooed for money and not for herself; but, really to have touched a man’s heart is some thing not to be forgotten while shfr lives. Mark of a Gentleman —No man is a gentleman who, without provoca tion, would treat with incivility the humblest of his species. It is a vul garity for which no accomplishment of dress or address can ever atone. Show us the man who desires to make every one around hiui happy, and whose greacst solicitude is never to give cause of offence to any or.o, and we will show you a gentleman by nature and by pra<f tice, though he may never have worn a suit of broadcloth, nor ever heard of a' lexicon. Wc are proud to say for the honor of our species there are men itf every throb of whose heart there is a solicitude tor the welfare of mankind' and whoso every breath is perfumed kindness. The Hoot. —Get to the root of things. The gold mines of Scripture are not in the top soil; you must open a shaft 3 the precious diamonds of ex perience are not picked up in the road way ; their secret places are far down. Get down into tho vitality, the solidity, the veracity, the divinity of the Word of God, and seek to possess with it all the inward work of the Blessed Spirit.' — Spurgeon.