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CALHOUN WEEKLY TIMES. BY D. B. FREEMAN. CALHOUN TIMES Rates of Subscription. One Year $2.00 Six Months 1.00 Ten copies one year 15.00 itflles of Advertising. For each square of ten lines or less for the first insertion, sl, and for each sub sequent. insertion, fifty cents. Fo.Sq’rs 1 Mo. | 3 Mos. |6 M 66. | 1 year. SYOO~ $7.00 I $12.00 $20.00 four “ 6.00 10.00 | 18.00 85.00 1 column 9.00 15.00 1 25.00 40.00 “ 15.00 25.00 40.00 65.00 t •• 25.00 40 00 I 65.00 115.00 t%r ~ . * Ten lines of solid brevier, or its equivalent in space, make a square. Rates of Legal Advertising. Sheriff’s Sales, each 1evy........ ....$4 00 Citation for letters of Administration and Qtlafdlahship 4 00 Application fctf dlsihissibh froth Admin istration, Guardianship and Exec utorship 5 00 Application for leave to sell land, one square ’ Each additional square 2 00 Land Sales, one square 4 00 Each additional square 3 t)U Application for Homestead 2 00 Notice to Debtors and Creditors 4 00 fthefluU. Western & Atlantic Railroad. DAY TASSENGER TRAIN —OUTWARD. Leave Atlanta 40 A ‘ M Airive Calhoun r. m • Chattanooga. 3oU p. m DAY PASSENGER TRAIN —INWARD. Leave Chattanooga r. m. Arrive Calhoun Yo.qa t' “ Atlanta p. M. night passenger train—outward. LeaVC Atlanta. 5:55 p. m. Arrive Calhoun - 9 ; 41 * • Chattanooga a. m. ntgiit passenger train —inward. Leave Chattanooga 4:00 r. m. Arrive Calhoun -6.38 r. m. Atlanta ACCOMMObAfIoS URAiit — OtJTWARb. Leave Atlanta p m Arrive Calhoun n°ss p‘ M “ Dalton p> M# ACCOMMODATION TRAIN —INWARD. Leave Dalton A ’ Arrive Calhoun * .. Atlanta 10;08 A - M Change of Schedule. ON THE GEORGIA AND MAGON AND AUGUSTA RAILROADS. ON AND AFTER -SUNDAY, JUNE 28th, 1874, the Passenger Trains on the Georgia and Macon and Augusta Railroads will run as follows: GEORGIA RAILROAD. Day Passenger Train Will Leave Augusta at a m Leave Atlanta at “60 a m Arrive in Augusta at P 111 Arrive in Atlanta at • ,J P 111 Niggt Passenger Train. Leave Augusta at P m Leave Atlanta at ™:ZO p m Arrive in Augusta at ° oo a m Arrive in Atlanta at 6:— a m MACON AND AUGUSTA RAILROAD. Macon. Passenger Train. Leave Augusta at a m Leave Camak at P m Arrive at Macon at 6 ; 40 p m Leave Macon at a m Arrive at Camak at o.nn 111 Arrive at Augusta at pm BERZELLI P.4SSENGER TRAIN. Leave Augusta at 4;lo p m Leave Bcrzelia at 8:30 a m Arrive in .Augusta at 1-2 a m Arrive in Berzelia at 5:o0 p m Passengers from Athens, Washington, At lanta, or any point on the Georgia Rail road and Branches, by taking the Day 1 as senger Train, will make close connection at Camak with trains for Macon and all points beyond. Pullman’s (First-Class) Palace sleeping Cars on all Night Fassenger Trams on the Georgia Railroad. S. K. JOHNSON i Superintendent. Superintendent’s Office Georgia and Macon and Augusta Railroads, Augusta, June 29, 1874, ftottSSionat & jßnstafjss fflarfls. J. KIKER & SON, * ATTORNEYS AT LAW, Will practice in all the Courts of the Cher kee Circuit; Supreme Court of Georgia, and the United States District Court at Atlanta, Ga. Office: Sutlieast corner ot the Court House, Calhoun, Ga. r attorneys at law, OALIIOUN, 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, CALHOUN, GA. All styles of Clocks, Watches and Jewelry neatly repaired and warranted. JJUFE WALDO THORNTON, D. D. S.. DENTIST. Office over Geo. W. Wells & Co.’s Agricul tural Warehouse. C. A. HUDGINS, Milliner & Mantua-Maker, Court House St., Calhoun Patterns of the latest styles and fashion for ladies just received. (Jutting and making done to order. J 11. ARTHUR DEALER IN GENERAL MERCHANDISE, RAILROAD STREET, Calhoun, Ga. Jon Printing neatly ami cheaply executed at this office. TRUE GREATNESS. BY CHARLES DICKENS. Say, where does greatness dwell ? In courts, On throLes of glory seated, ’Mid glittering ranks of bright cohorts, By pomp and grandeur greeted ? A crown, indeed, may make a king, Our crowns true greatness cannot bring, Or shall we find on battle field, By victory attended, The truly great, unless the shield The cause of light defend ? For oft hath might the battle gained, While nations wept th’ escutcheons stained. Shall horded richiless grant Where mortal worth is needed, What times the sons of woe and want In vain their sorrows pleaded ? True greatness surely must be more Than misers seek or fools adore, But he who feels another’s woe, And strives to sooth his sorrow, Whose sympathies spontaneously flow To brighten his to-morrow, Shall be esteemed both good and great, And heaven shall bless his last estate. Good service makes the meanest great, Zeal purest shines, and brightest; Devotional smiles at frowning fate, Love’s labor is the lightest; What lives to purpose lives indeed; And good words best adorn his creed. Then say not wealth, or rank, or power, Or crowns, confer true glory j ’Tis goodness that survives the hour. . And reads the best in story ; And though obscure the good man’s name, ’Tis glorious still* though lost to fame. Lindley Hurray. As many spoke of Roben Hood who never shot with his bow, so many hear of Lindley Murray who know noth ing of him but he composed a book of English grammar. He was an American—native of Pennsylvania— and realized a competency at New York, partly as a barrister and partly as a mer chant. The necessities of health obliged him to remove to England, where he spent the last forty years of his protracted life at Holdgate, near York, a feeble invalid, but resigned and happy. Besides his well-known Gram mar, he wrote a hook on The Power of Religion on the Mind. He was a man of mild and temperate nature, entirely beloved by all connected with him. In a sei ies of autobiographical letters, he gives a statement as to the moderation of his desires, well worthy of being brought under general notice : “My views and wishes with regard to property were, in every period of my life, contained within a very moderate compass. I was early persuaded that, though ‘ a competence is vital to con tent.’ I ought not to annex to that term the idea of much property. I deter mined that when I should acquire enough to maintain and provide for my family, in a respectable and moderate manner, and this according to real ra tional, not imaginary aod fantastic wants, and a little to share for the ne cessities of others, I would decline the pursuit of property, and devote a great part of my time, in some way or other, to the benefit of my fellow creatures, within the sphere of my ability to serve them. I perceived that the desire of great possessions greatly expanded with the gradual acquisition and full attain ment of them; and I imagined that charity and a generous application do not sufficiently correspond with the in crease of property. I thought, too, that procuring great wealth has a ten dency to produce an elated independence of mind, little connected whith the hu mility which is the ground of all our virtues ; that a busy and anxious pur suit of it often excludes views and re flections of infinite importance, and leaves but little time to acquire that treasure which would make us rich in* deed. * * * I was persuaded that a truly sin cere mind could be at no loss to discern the just limit between a safe and com petent portion and a dangerous profu sion of the good things of life. These views of the subject I reduced to prac tice ; and terminated my mercantile concerns when I had acquired a mod erate competency.” —-Booh of Days. The World in Epitome. The number of languages spoken in the world amounts to 3,064 ; 587 in Europe; 896 in Asia; 276 in Africa, and 264 in America. The inhabitants of tho globe pro fess more than 1,000 different relig ions. The number of men is about eqttal to the number of women. The average of human life is about thirty years ; one-fourth die previuus to th<j age of seven years, and one-half be fore reaching seventeen. In every one thousand persons, only one reaches one hundred years. In every hundred only six reach the age of sfixtyffive, and not more than one in five hundred reaches the age of eighty. There are on the earth one thousand millions of inhabitants. Ot these 333,- 333,333 die every year ; 91.324 every day; 3,870 every hour; 60 every min ute, and one in every second. These losses are balanced by about an equal number of births. The married live longer than the sin gle, and above all, those who observe a sober and industrious life. Women have more changes of life in their favor than men previous to the age of fifty years, but fewer afterwards. — The Chromo Business —Our im pression was that only those who sub scribed for papers received chromos; but we are just informed that an enter prising young clergyman, in the west, is presenting the inducement of a sev enty-five ceut chromo, “ neatly hamed, to every couple coming to him to be married. CALHOUN, GA., WEDNESDAY, MAY 2G, 1875. Modes of Dying. The brain, the heart, and the lungs, may be called the three great centra) wheels of the living machine. Mu tually dependent, and derangement of the functions of the one is felt by each of the others. Should the action of one entirely cease, all would stand still. Accordingly, as one or the other is first to feel the approach of death, it is said that death begins at the brain, or the heart. As an example of death beginning at the brain, we mention apoplexy, in which tho pressure from distended blood vessels, or from the presence of blood from a ruptured vessel, so great ly interfere with the action of the brain as to causeideath. The same result fol lows from the pressure of a depressed fragment of bone in a fractured skull. Opium and other narflotifl drugs act specifically on the brain ; and when ta ken in poisonous quantities, death be* gins ill that ofgati. In the operation of hanging, if the neck is broken, the pressure of the frac tured portion of the cervical vertebra upon the medulla oblongata which is but a continuation of the brain from the flranial davity, produces death instant ly. But if the neck is not broken, and the victim dies from strangulation, we have an example of death beginning at the lungs. Any obstruction of the lungs, whether the peculiar exudation of croup which fills the larynx, and is known as the false membrane , or any other which prevents the access of air, causes death by strangulation. In ex tensive pulmonary congestion, and in solidification of the lungs from inflam mation, the natural spongy tissue is ren dered impervious to air, and death be gins at the lungs. Drowning, and suf focation by any means, as well as the inhalation of poisonous gas, are other examples of this mode of dying.— Death beginning at the heart may be sudden or gradual. The opposite con ditions of paralysis and spasm may be produced by the same cause, such as wounds of the heart, shock from exten sive injury, as the crushing of a limb, or a violent blow on the pit of the stomach. If; from paralysis, the heart ceases to contract, and is found disten ded with blood. If from spasm, the organ is powerful contracted, its cavi ties are emptied and almost obliterated. Sudden death from drinking ice-water when the body is overheated is by some supposed to be caused by “ cramp in the stomach.” But it is spasm, or “ cramp ”of the heart, which is the immediate cause of death in those cases. The violent shock of the cold liquid on the nerves of the stomach is transmit ted to the heart by reflex action, and produces the powerful and fatal con traction. Many fatal cases of sunstroke are ex amples ot death from paralysis of the heart. Exhausted by the heat and over-exertion, the patient faints, and never revives. The heart loses its pow er to contract; and, in a state of com plete relaxation, its cavities loaded with blood, motion ceases. The example mentioned will serve as a type of cases of sudden death from paralysis of the heart. A person pros trated by loss of blood is suddenly raised up in bed —he falls hack and is dead. The heart weakened in common with the whole muscular system, is un able to perform the extra labor forced upon it by the change of position. Death begining at the heart is not al ways sudden. In fevers and other con tinued diseases, which gradually ex haust the vital powers, the action of the heart becomes by degrees irregular and feeble, until at last it flutters and die®. For practical purposes, it is sufficient to recognize but two modes of dying, viz., death from asthenia , or want -of strength, and from apnaea , or want of breath. The common saying that a man died “ for the want of breath ” is not always correct. His breathing ap paratus may have been in perfect con dition, and no lack of pure air, still he dies from want of strength—his heart has the strength to continue its labor, and there death begins. Or, he is in good strength, but some of the. condi tions above mentioned interfere with respiration, and he dies from apnaea , want of breath. — Hall’s Journal of Health. - ■ * Gen. Jfacksfon’s Walking Stick. Andrew Jackson Wilcox, a clerk in the Navy Department, and a great grandson of “ Old Hickory,” has in his possession a cane that was pre sented to General Jackson, by a com mittee representing the citizens of Ten nessee, and which is one of the most unique, and at the same time intricate pieces of workmanship that the writer has seen for many a day. It is of the finest hickory wood, and was taken from a tree in the front garden of Gen. Jackson’s plantation, the “ Hermitage,” a short distance from Nashville, Tenn. The top is surmounted with a cap of solid silver, upon which is engraved the names of all the Presidents of this country, from 1776 to 1841, commenc ing with John Hancock, the first Pres ident really, and ending with John Ty ler. Each of the prongs or knots is tipped with silver, upon which is en graved the names of the donors. There is also a whistle made in one of the knots, which was used by Gen. Jack sou in calling his hounds. Upon the side is engraved the following beautiful liues: “ And may at last my weary aye Finn out my peaceful Hermitage,” A Friend. General Jackson carried this stick continually, and ’tis said was more fund of it than any article he possessed. Tlic Man v, he Disappoints. The man who h always ready to make j promise and always failing to fulfil it s one of the most exasperating of soci al trials. A state of disappointment, even over trivial things, is thoronghly uncomfortable. Our own plans are so mixed with those of others that we must rely on them to some extent. Our work anc our amusements are devotional into theirs. In everything we do we de pend somewhat on what another does. His doings fits into ours like parts in a machine. We are always mortising our own affairs with another’s implied promises. The tacit confidence that he will meet our expectations is the basis of our plans and labor. When a man continually disapoiuts this confidence everything goes awry. After a little experience we learn that he cannot be depended upon, and set him aside in all matters of moment; bnt thrown in con tact in our social relation, we heedless fasten a peg upon his word, arranged some plan on his proffered service or make an engagement depending upon his promptness, only to be fretted and disappointed in finding that he did not think of keeping his word, was too bu sy to perform the proffered, service and forgot the engagement. The man who disappoints is not inten tionally a false man. There is no de liberate cheating in his failures to meet your expectations. He does mean to lie. At the time he premises he will do as he says. He miscalculates on himself. He attempts too much, and lacks the forethought, judgement, and will to ac complish what he could reasonably under take. He is full of intentions but care less of bringing things to pass. His affairs are in a tangle. He drops some present duty in the effort to pick up a past neglected one. He crowds out the work of to-day in finishing something that should have been done yesterday, or in anticipating that of to morrow. He makes blunders and in creases the mischief in trying too late to remedy them. He forgets his en gagements and puts yours aside as of no consequence- What he has agreed to do to to day he thinks will do just as well next Week. He feels no moral obliga tion to meet the expectations he has raised. When he forgets or neglects to do as he had promised he will laugh over it as an amusing thing, and tell over as good jokes his dilemmas when people depended on him, or their vexa tion at his failures. If you attempt to hold him to his promise you never resolve to make a crooked thing straight. If he does keep an engagement he makes you feel as if he had moved heaven and earth to do you a favor, and gives you an uncomfortable sense of obligation because he has for once been trust worthy. The man who disappoints is not an unkind one in temper, nor a conscious ly selfish one. lie is full of good im pulses. He has quick perceptions and generous feeling. He is always ready to offer services to friends, putting him self to great inconvenience to help them. He does more : he proffers kind nesses to those who have no claim on him and no expectations from him. He will urge his offers on you when you hes itate to accept from delicacy or unwil lingness to make him trouble, and will take upon himself what really belongs to another to do. If you are so inju dicious as to accept that offer you will find that he had previous engagements and prior promises which made it im possible for him to perform what he so freely pressed on you, or he accumula ted so many new obligations that what he voluntarily incurred to you are soon crowded out. The annoyance and disappointment which such a character continually leaves with all who have relations with him infuse a bitter taste into the kind ly deed and generous courtesies he of fers. Forgetfulness and unpunctilality in most are forgiven to the really gen erous, kind hearted man ; but though he may count them as small delinquens cies, and we, too, may speak of them a> such, yet the woild soon learns to ac cept a man for what he is really worth, and an Untrustworthy man must he counted at a low value. Men find their level in due time, and the man who dis appoints must be contented to he left out in all matters of importance and in all relations of trust and responsibility. — The Ears of Wheat. Ages upon ages ago, when the an* gels used to wander on earth, the fruit fulness of the ground was much greater than it is now. Them the ears of wheat bore, hot fifty or sixty-fold, but four times five hundred fold. Then the corn grew from the bottom of the stalk to the top ; and so long as the stalk was, so long were the ears. But as men al-. ways do in the midst of their abund ance, they forgot the blessing which came from God, and became idle and selfish. One day a woman went to a corn field, and her little child who accompa nied her fell into a puddle and soiled her frock. The mother tore off a hand ful of wheat ears and cleaned her daughter’s dress with them. Just then an angel passed by and saw her. He became very angry, and declared to her that henceforth the wheat-stalks should no longer produce ears, for, said he, “ you mortals are not worthy of heav en’s gifts.” The bystanders who heard him fell on their knees, weeping and praying for him to leave the wheat sta’ks alone, if not for themselves, yet for the poor fowls, who must otherwise perish with hunger. The angel pitied their distress and graDted part of their prayer; and from that day tfib ears of wheat have grown as they do now. Choose Wisely Your Wife. Said an eastern sage to his son : “ Go forth, my 6on, to the world; be wise in the accumulation of riches ; be wise in the choice of friends; yet little will all this avail thee, if thou choose not wisely the wife of thy bosom. When the rulers of the earth echo thy sayings, aud the trumpet of fame sounds thy name abroad and among the nations, more beautiful will the sun of thy glory set if one bright cloud re flects its brightness, and sullied forever ffill be the splendor of its rays, if like a dark spot she crosses the surface. Consider this, then, my son, and look well to her ways whom thou wouldst love ; for little will all else avail thee if thou choose not wisely the companion of thy bosom. See yonder the maid ens of Tinge; they deck themselves with the gems of Golcondd Add tlifl roses of Kashmir, themselves itidre brilliant and beautiful; but ah ! take them not to thy bosom, for the gems will grow dim, and the roses wither; and naught remain to thee of all thou didst woo and win. “Neither turn thyself to the proud one who vaunts herself of having scan ned the pages of Vedas, and fathomed the mysteries of the holy temple.— Woman was not born to wield the scep tre or direct the council; to rival the mandates of Brahma, or expound the sacred versus of Medu. Rather let her support thee in thy grief and soothe thee in sickness ; to rejoice in thy pros perity and cling to thee in adversity.— Reflect, then my son, ere thou choose, and look well to her whom thou wouldst make the wife of thy bosom. “ A wife ! what a sacred name, what a responsible office ! she must be the unspotted sanctuary to which wearied men flee from the crimes of the world, and feel that no sin dare enter there.— j A wife ! she must be as pure as spirits round the everlasting throne, that men may kneel to her in admiration and feel , no abasement. A wife! she must be , the guardian angel of his footsteps on , earth, and guide them to heaven; so , firm in virtue that shoilld he for a mo ment water, she Cdn yield him support 1 and replace him upon its foundation ; ( so happy in conscious innocence, that , when from the perplexities of the world , he turns to his home, he may never find ■ a frown where he sought a smile. Such, ( my son, thou seekest iu a wife; reflect ] well ere thou choose. , “ Open not tlly bosom to the trifler, repose not the head on the breast which nurseth envy, and folly, and vanity; hope not for obedience where t’ne pas sions are untamed; and except no hon or from her who honoreth not the God who made her. Though thy place be next to the throne of princes, and the countenance of royalty beam upon thee—though thy 1 riches be as the pearls of Omar, and thy name be honored from the east to the west, very little will it avail thee, if darkness and disappointments and strife oe in thine own habitation. There must be passed thine hours of solitude and sickness; and there must thou die. Reflect, then, my son, ere thou choose, and look well to her ways whom thou wouldst love ; for though thou be wise in other things little will it avail thee if thou choose not wisely the wife of thy josom.” The Woman who Lived Loo Long. The legend says there once dwelt on the island of Falster a lady of rank who was extremely rich, but had neither son nor daughter to inherit her wealth. She therefore resolved to dedicate it to a pious use, and caused a church to be built which was both spacious and mag nificent. When it was completed, she had the altar candles lighted, and go ing through the"choir to the altar she cast herself on her knees and prayed to God that in reward for her pious gift he would add as many years to her life as her church should stand. Fftnfl time to time her relatives and servants died, but she who had made so foolish a prayer lived ou. At length she had no longef relative or friend. She saw children grow up, become aged and die, and their children grow oil, while she herself was wasting through extreme age, so that she gradually lost the use of her senses. Sometimes, however, she recovered her voice, though for an hour only, at midnight on Christmas. — On one of these nights she desired to be laid in an oaken coffin, and placed in the church, that she might there die, but that the priest should attend her, every Christmas night to receive her commands. From that time her coffin was stood in the church, but she has not been permitted to die. Every Christmas night, the priest goes to her, lifts the lid of the coffin, and she raises slowly up. When sitting she asks, “is my church yet standing ?” And when the priest answers, “ Yes,” she sighs and says: “Ah! God grant that my church were burnt; For then only would my affietion be ended.” She then sinks back into the coffin, the priest lets the lid fall, and comes not again until the next Christmas midnight o e> tolls from the high church tower. — Home and School, Louisville, Ken tucky. <; ♦ Spectacles.— When spectacles were first introduced it was fashionable to wear them, even by people who were not in the least near-sighted. In Spain they forme- 1 part of the costumes of ev ery we’l bred person. This absurd use of glasses was meant to increase the gravity of the appearance, and conse quently the veneration with which the wearer of them was regarded. The glasses of spectacles were proportioned in size to the rank of the wearer.— Those worn by the Spanish nobles were as large as one’s hand. Rum aul Cheese, In his address at the late anniversa ry of the National Temperance Society. John B. Gough relatod the following anecdote, illustrating the absurdity of some of the objections made to the measures taken to suppress the eviable intemperance: A gentleman was dining at the table of a lady who refused to tolerate one drop of wine or spirits at her table, and who, when asked to entertain one of the British nobility, replied, “ I can ; but it must be understood that neither wine, ale, ’ nor spirits are offered in my house.” This gentlemen referred to, as at her dinner table said, “ I en j°y a glass of wine, and I have got in the habit of using it. By-and-by you will take from us all our luxuries. I think wine promotes digestion. Did you ever hear of a man who could not eat cheese without hurting him ? Then I suppose you would deny me cheese.” She replied, “ Did you ever hear a man standing under a gallows, and saying to the witnesses of the execution, ‘ Now my friends, take warning by me and never eat any cheese V Or did you ev er read in the newspapers when a man is murdered in our streets that ‘ those men had been eating cheese V ” Show to me that cheese produces tilUe-tenths of the crime seven-eights of the pau.. perism, one-half of the lunacy ; show to me that cheese produces the result that drink does, and by the grace of God I will battle the cheese just as hard as the wine. Frightening Children. Nothing can be worse for a child than to bo frightened. The effect of the scare it is slow to recover from ; it remains sometimes until maturity, as is shown by many instances of morbid sensitiveness and excessive nervousness. Not unfrequently, fear is employed as a means of discipline. Children are con trolled by being made to believe that something terrible will happen to them and punished by being shut up in dark rooms, or by being put in places they stand in dread of. No one, without vivid memory of his own childhood, can comprehend how entirely cruel such things are. We have often heard grown persons the suffering they have endured, as children, under like circumstances, and recount the irrepa rable injury which they are sure they then received. No parent, do nurse, capable of alarming the young, is fitted for her position. Children as near as possible, should be trained not to know the sense of fear, which, above every thing else, is to be feared in their edu cation, early and late. — N. Y. Free man’s Journal. “ Cutting n Dido.” This is a phrase older than most peo ple imagine. Do you call to mind the story of Dido, princess of Tyre ? Her husband, Aeerbas, priests of Hercules, was murdered for his - aalth, by the King Pygmalion, brother to Dido The widowed princess was enabled to escape from Tyre, bearing with her the wealth of her husband, and accompanied a number of disaffected nobles. After a variety of adventures they landed on the coast ef Africa, where Dido bargained with the natives for as much land as she could enclose in a bull’s hide. Selecting a large tough hide, she caused it to be cut into the smallest possible threads, with which she enclosed a large tfact of country, on which the city of Carthage soon be* gan to rise. The natives were bound by the let ter of their bargain, and allowed the cunning queen to have her way; and after that, when any one had played off a sharp trick, they said he had “ cut a Dido.” That was almost three thousand years ago, and the saying has come down to our day. flow it Was Done. — J. S. Perrin, lately a Pepublican member of the Al abama Legislature, testified on Wednes day before the Spencer investigating committee at Montgomery. He sai l that troops were retained in Alabama before the election on a requisition of himself and others, it having been un derstood that Spencer “ had arranged for troops to be put at the disposal of the Mayor and other revenue officers wherever intimidation was necessary.” He stated further that these troop, ac - companied by an U. S. Marshal, wbo had fictitious warrants against citizens, were paraded in different counties. Per rin, himself, shot a hole in his hat, re ported that he had been attacked by Ku-Klux,’ and sent troops to arrest the mythical assailants. He kept the troops as long as he could use them as a politi cal machine. The purpose was to se cure the Legislature at all hazards and elect Spencer. Other witnesses testi fied that money had been used for the same purpose. ~ A Heroic Act. —At Alymer, Cana da, a few days ago, an act was perform ed bj a girl seventeen years old which was as heroic as its result was mourn ful. Her little brother who was left in ber care during the absence of ther mother, fell through the ice into a deep creek, near the shore of which he had been playing. She plunged in after hiui, and getting him to the surface, thrust him by main strength into a po sition of safety, although by so doing she knew that she was losing her only chance of escape. When bis hands had grasped something on the tank by which he could draw himself out, she calmly bade him brace his feet against her and clamber up. The frightened boy did so, and the pressure thus brought to bear upon his sister pushed her beneath the ice, where her body was afterwards found. VOL. V. —NO. 4 3i The i‘ar. Moore, was sitting in his office one afternoon, some years ago, when a tann er friend came m and saij ; Mi. Moore, L like your paper, bit times aic so hard that 1 cannot pay lor it." 1 J “Is that so, Iriend Jones 't I niff very sorry to hear that you a- e so poor if you aie so hard run 1 will give vou uiy paper." & J •*Ou, no ! I cau’t take it as a gift." . thou lets see how we can fix it. Yourais chickens I believe.” u \es, a few, but they dou’t bring anything hardly." Dou t they '{ Neither does my pa per cost anything hardly. Now L have a proposition to make to you. I will coutiuue your paper, aud when you go home you may select from the lot UUH chicken and call her mine. Take good care of her and bring me the proceeds whether in eggs or chickcus, aud we Will call it square." ‘‘ All right, Brother Moore," and thd fellow chuckled at what he thought and capital bargain. lie kept the contract stiictly, and at the cud of the year found that he had paid four prices for Ins paper. He often tells the joke him self and says lie never had the face to say that he was too poor to take a a per from that day. Jelly From Old Roots. The reader may stare, hut science smiles supreme and asserts very em phatically that a toothsome delicacy can be made from a dilapidated foot cover feome time ago, says (lie ibeient'f ic American, i)r. Vnnder Wevde re. iraled some friends not only with boot jelly, but with shirt coffee, and the re past was pronounced by all partakers excellent. 'J lie Doctor tells us that he made the jelly by first cleaning the boot, and subsequently boiling it with soda, under a pressure of about two at mospheres. The tannic acid in the leather, combiued with salt, made tan into of soda, and the gelatine rose to the top, whence it was removed and dried From this last, with suitable flavoring material, the jelly was readily concocted. The shirt coflee, incident ally mentioned above, was sweetened with cuff and collar sugar, both coffee and sugar being produced in 'he same way. The linen (after, of course, wash ing)) wasj treated with nitric acid, which, acting on the lignite contained in the fibre, produced glucose or grape sugar. J his roasted, made an excellent imitation of coffee, which . an addition of unroasted glucose readily sweetened. —London Medical Press and (iircit lar. Who are Rich.—The man with good, firm hea th is rich. So is the man with a clear coli-. science. So is the parent with vigorous chil dren. So is an editor of a good paper with a big subscription list. So is a clergyman whose coat the children piuck when he passes them in their play. So is the wife who has the whole of the heart of a good husband. So is the chi'd who goes t > sleep with a kiss on his lips and for w’hose waking a blessing awaits. So is the maiden whoso horizon is not bounded by the coming man, but who his a purpose in life, whether she meets him or not. So is the young man who, laying his hand on his heart can say : ‘ l I have treated every woman I ever met as I should wish my sister treated by other men. -•H 4 A Look Around the World.— T.he latest and best authority gives tha population of the globe at 1,350,300,- 000. In America, 72,800,000. In Eu rope, 587,000,000. In Asia, 708,000,- 000. In Africa, 188,000,000. In Australia and Polynesia, 5,300,000.—* These people speak about 3,000 differ ent languages, and are cut up into 1,- 000 different religious sects. The acL herants of the principal seeks, recount ing the whole popu’ation, are supposed to be nearly thus : Roman Catholics, 105,000,00). Protestants, 57,130,- 000. Mubomuiedans, 400,000,000. Buddhists, 340,000. The six other oriental churches. 6,500,000. Other Asiatic religions, 260,000,000. Pagans 200,000,000. Jews, 6,000,000. A Good Rule.—A man who is veiy rich now, was very poor when lie was a boy. When asked how he got his rich es he replied : “My father taught me never to play until my work was finish ed, and never to spend my money until I had earned it. If I had but one hour’s work in a day, I must do that the first tiling, and in an hour, and after this I was allowed to play, and then I could play with much more pleasure than if I had the thought of an unfin ished task before my mind. I early formed the habit of doing everythin** in time, and it soon became perfectly easy to do so. It is to this that I owe my prosperity.’’ Maturity in Grace.—Maturity in grace makes U3 willing to part wiib worldly goods ; the green a{ pie needs a sharp twist to separate it from the bough ; but the ripe fruit paris readily fiOm the wood. Maturity in grace makes it easier to part with life itself; the uuripe pear is scarcely beat; n dowu with much labor, while its mellow com panion drops readily into the hand with the slightest shake. Rest assured that love to the things of this life, and cleav ing to this present state, are sure indi cations of immaturity in the divine life. Spurgeon.