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CALHOUN WEEKLY TIMES.
BY D. B. FREEMAN.
CALHOUN TIMES
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Tt J. KIKER & SON,
* ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
Will practice in all the Courts of the Cher
ekee Circuit', Supreme. Court ot Georgia, and
the United States District Court at Atlanta,
Ga. Office : Suthcast corner of the Court
House, Calhoun, Ga.
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,
CALHOUN , GA.
All styles of Clocks, Watches and Jewelry
neatly repaired and warranted.
WALDO TIIOItNTON, D. D. S..
DENTIST.
Office over Geo. W. Wells & Co.’s Agricul
tural Warehouse.
■jyjHSS C. A. HUDGINS,
Milliner & Mantua-Maker,
Court House St., Calhoun,Ca.
Patterns of the latest, styles and fashion
fot" ladies jUst received. Gutting and
making done to order.
J H. ARTIIUK
DEALER IN
GENERAL MERCHANDISE,
RAILROAD STREET,
Calhoun , Ga.
7 T. GRAY,
CALHOUN, GA.
Is prepared to furnish the public with
Ruggies and Wagons, bran new and warrant
ed. Repairing of all kinds done at short
notice. Call and examine before buying
elsewhere.
DR H. K. MAIN, M. D.,
PRACTICING PHYSICIAN,
Having permanently located in Calhoun,
offers his professional services to the pub
lic. Will attend all calls when not profes
sionally engaged. Office at the Calhoun
Hotel.
Books, Stationery and Jewelry.
mmk IKWTN & co
,~tt, jw (Sign of the Big Book & Watch.)
WE sup ly Blank Books, School Bocks
and b>oks of all kinds ; also, pens,
inks, paper , and everything in in the line
of
Stationery, at Atlanta Prices.
A good lot of JEWELRY always on hand.
Watch, Clock and Gun repairing done
cheaply and warranted.
Country produce taken in exchange
for goods. Jlil\ IN & CO.
J. W. MARSHALL,
RAILROAD ST., OLD STAND OF
A. W BALLEW.
Keeps constantly on hand a superior stock of
Family & Fancy Groceries,
Also a fine assortment of Saddles, Bridles,
Staple Hardware, &c, to which especial at
tention is called. Everything in my line
bold at prices that absolutely defy competi
tion.
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 and
they will give you a bargain. mar3l-3m
Squire Wadley 4 Petition tor divorce in
vs. VGordon Superior Court,
Amanda Wadley. j September term, 1875.
The defendant is hereby notified that the
above stated case will bo tried at the Sep
tember term, 1875, of Cordon Superior
Court. HANKS & BIVINGS,
junO-OOd. Plaintiff’s Attorneys.
I'LL KNOW THEE THERE.
[George D. Prentice said : “No living
poem can surpass in beauty the following
lines from the mu.sic of Amelia
Pale star that, with thy soft, sad light,
Came out upon my bridal eve,
I have a song to sing to-night,
Before thou takest thy mournful leave.
Since thou so softly time has stirred
That months have seemed almost like
hours.
And I am like a little bird
That slept too long among the flowers,
And, waking, sits with waveless wing,
Soft singing ’mid the shades of even ;
But, oh ! with sadder heart I sing—
-1 sing of one who dwells in Heaven.
The winds are soft, the clouds are few,
And tenderest thought my heart beguiles,
As float ing up through mist and dew,
The pale young moon comes out in smiles;
And to the green, resounding shore
In silvery troops the ripples crowd,
Till all the ocean, dimpled o’er,
Lifts up its voice and laughs aloud ;
And star on star, all soft and calm,
Floats up yon arch, serenely blue :
And, lost to earth and steeped in balm,
My spirits float in ether, too.
Loved one ! though lost to human sight,
1 feel thy spirit lingering near ;
And softly—as 1 feel the light
That trembles through the atmosphere,
As in some temple’s holy shades,
Though mute the hymn, and hushed the
prayer
A solemn awe the soul pervades.
Which tells that worship has been there;
A breath of incense, left alone,
M here many a censor ewung around,
Which thrill the wanderer like to one
Who treads on consecrated ground.
I know thy soul, from worlds of bliss,
Yet stoops awhile to dwell with me,
Hath caught the prayer I breathed in this,
That I at last might dwell with thee ;
I hear a inur nur from the seas
That thrills me like thy spirit’s sighs;
I hear a voice on every breeze
That makes to mine its low replies—
A voice all low and sweet like thine ;
It gives an answer to my prayer,
And brings my soul from Heaven a sign
That 1 will meet and know thee there.
I’ll know thee there by that sweet face,
Round which a tender halo plays,
Still touched with that expressive grace
That made thee lovely all thy days ;
By that sweet smile that o’er it shed
A beauty like the light of even,
Whose soft expression never fled
E’en when its soul had fled to Heaven ;
I’ll know lliee by the stari’y crown
That glitters in thy raven hair ;
Oh ! by these blessed signs alone
1 11 know thee there, 1 11 know thee there.
For ah ! thine eye, within whose sphere
The sweetest youth aud beauty met,
That swam in love and softness here,
Must swim in love and softness yet.
For ah ! its dark and liquid beams,
Though saddened by a thousand sighs,
Were holier than the light that streams
Down from the gates of paradise—
Were bright and radiant like the morn,
Yet soft and dewy as the eve,
Too sad for eyes where smiles are horn,
Too young for eyes to learn to grieve.
I wonder if this cold, sweet breeze
Hath touched thy lip>a and fanned thy
brow,
For all my spirit hears and sees
Recalls thee to my memory now ;
For every hour we breathe apart
Will but increase, if that can be,
The love that fills this lonely heart,
Already filled so full of thee,
Yet many a tear these eyes must weep,
And many a sin must, be forgiven,
Ere these pale lips shall sink to sleep,
And you and 1 shall meet in Heaven.
“03i! Please Don’t Any
More—A Woumu’s Appeal.
You will bring ruin on yourself and
innocent children. Ybur poor, heart
broken wife pleads with you to “ drink
no more.” Your bright and beautiful
little prattlers know not the evil in store
for if you continue to indulge your
thirst for drink. They follow you to
the door as you part with them in the
morning, and in guileless confidence,
watch your deputing footsteps. They
hasten to meet you on your return in
the evening, to welcome you back.—
When sober and cheerful, you will fill
their litt l e hearts with joy. When
drinking and morose, their hearts are
made sad; whilst sorrow for their pa
takes the place of gladness. The moth
er pressing closely the half-abandoned
children to her breast is unable to sups
press her grief. Her husband, no long
er worthy the name, has been spending
the money which is needed to supply
their wants; whilst his staggering about
on the streets and sidewalks hastens the
loss of public confidence and takes from
him the means of making a support.
“ O, please don’t drink any more.”
Let jour wife know ; let your friends
know, and let the world know that you
will drink no more. Be at your count
ing-house, or place of business betimes,
and let no temptation to evil lure you
off from the faithful performance of
your duty. Take warning from your
grief-stricken wife, and heed her appeal
to drink no more. Fay heed to your
sorrowing friends and acquaintances,
who see in your intemperate habits the
blight and ruin it will bring upon your
now innocent and helpless offspring.
Look at the wife of your bosom —the
pallid cheek ; the wasted form, and sun
ken eye, and hear in plaintive wailings
the appeals of a despairing and break
ing heart. Look that you may see the
blight that your drunkenness is bring
ing-upon her, and hear, that you may
have courage to drink no more.
Venders of drink traffickers in
liquors, read the above picture, and at
once and forever sell no more.
Take a dagger and stab to death the
wife of the drunkard; place speedily in
untimely graves her innocent and help
less offspring rather than, by degrees,
through selling drink to the father, com
mit murder as certain and sure.
O close up your haunts of dissipation ;
cast from you the murderous tempta
tions aud tempt men no more.
—.— 4
An exchange says that the best pla
ces for boys to play marbles is at the
stores where they don t advertise, the
only drawback belDg that the players
fjl kind of lonesome.
CALHOUN, GA., WEDNESDAY, JUNE 16.1875.
Ugly Greg.
At the Detroit house of correction a
year or so ago, the high white-washed
walls of the corridors were furnished
with brackets and flower-pots, to relieve
the monotony and take away some of
the gloom. One would scarcely think
that the rough-looking wicked men sent
there for robbery, burglary, arson, and
graver crimes, would have carsd for the
change, yet they gladly welcomed it.—
A rose, or geranium, or pink, or tulip,
seemed to bring liberty and sunshine a
little nearer, and to drive the evil out
of their hearts, and it waa a stiange
sight to see hardened criminals watering
and nourishing the tender plants and
watching their daily growth.
Two or three months before the
brackets were hung up a prisoner came
from one of the territories—an old, sul
len-looking, bad-tempered man, con
victed of robbing the mails. They
called him “ Greg,” as short for Grego
ry, and it wasn’t long before they made
it 14 Ugly Greg.” lie was ugh. He
refused to work, cared nothing for rules
and regulations, and twenty-eight days
out of the first month were spent in the
“ solitary,” for bad behavior. He was
expostulated with threatened and pun
ished, but he had a will as hard as iron.
He hadn’t a friend in the prison, and
the knowledge of it seemed to make
him more ugly and desperate. When
the brackets were hung up, there was
one to spare, and it was placed near the
door of Ugly Greg’s cell until another
spot could be found. No one had any
hope that the old man’s heart could be
softened, and some said he would dash
the flower pot to the floor.
W T hen he came in from the shops his
face expressed surprise at the siglit of
the little green rosebuds so close to the
door of his cell. He scented it, care
fully placed it back, and it was noticed
that the hard lines melted out of his
face for a time. No one said anything
to him, but the next morning before he
went to work he carefully watered the
rose, and his eyes lost something of their
sullen look. Would you believe that
the little rose-bush proved more power
ful than all the arguments and threats
of the keepers ? It did, strangely
enough. As the days went by the old
man lost his obstinacy and bis gloomi
ness, and he obeyed orders as well ard
as cheerfully as the best man in prison.
His face took on anew look, bis whole
bearing changed, and the keepers looki
ed at him and wondered if he could be
the man Greg, of four or five months
before. He watched the rose as a moth
er would watch a child, and it came to
be understood that it was his. WTiile
some of the other flowers died from
want of care, the rose-tree grew and
thrived and made the old man proud.—
He carried it into his cell at night and
replaced it in the morning, and some
times ho would talk to it as if it were a
human being. Its presence opened his
lonesome heart, and planted good seed
there, and from the day the basket was
hung up no keeper had the least trouble
with Ugly Greg.
A few weeks ago he was taken sick,
and when he went to the hospital the
rose-tree went with him, and was placed
where the warm sun could givo it the
nourishment it needed. After a day or
two it was hoped that the old man would
get better, but he kept sinking and
growing feebler. So long as his eyes
were kept open he would watch the rose,
and when he slept he dreamed of it. One
day when the nurse found an opening
bud he rejoiced as heartily as if bispar
don papers had arrived. The bud was
larger next day, and the rose could be
seen bursting through. The flower pot
was placed on the fed, near the old
man’s face, that he might watch the
bud blossom into a rose, and he was so
quiet that the nurse did not approach
him again for hours. The warm spring
sun glided in through the bars,
and ksised the opening bud, and then
fell off in showers over the old man’s
pale face, erasing every line of guilt
and ugliness which had ever been
raised.
At noon the nurse saw that the rose
had blossomed, and she whispered in
the old man’s ear :
“ Greg, Greg, the rose has blossomed.
Wake up.”
He did not move. She felt his
cheek and it was cold.
Ugly Greg was dead.
One hand rested under his gray
locks, while the other clasped the flow
er-pot, and the new born rose bent
down until it almost touched bis cold
face. His life had gone out just when
his weeks of weary watching for a blos
som were to be repaid, but the rose
tree’s mission was accomplished.
———
Don’t Take in Washing.—A good
cld minister of one of our New England
Baptist Churches was agreeably sur
prised by the intelligence from one of
his flock that five individuals had ex
pressed a desire on the next Sunday to
have the baptismal rite performed upon
themselves. After its performance, he
was somewhat chagrined that only one
of tUe five joined the church of which
he was pastor. A few Sundays after,
the same worthy elder waited on him
with the intelligence that ten more
desired immersion.
“ And how many of them will join
our church ?” querried the minister.
“ Two, I regret to say, are all we can
depend on,” was the elder’s reply.
“ Very well,” said the good old min
ister, “you may a? well inform the other
eight that this chureh doesn’t take in
washing.”
A Montana justice of the peace
doesn't splurge any when lie marries a
couple. He says: “ grab hands
—hitched—six dollars!” And that’s
all there >? to it.
How to Keep tlie Children Pure.
“ Will you not use your influence in
trying to deter large boys from contam
inating the minds of small boys ?
Things which should be told in a whole
some manner and as solemn truths are
distorted into vile shapes, and perma
nent injury is done to children’s minds.
Would it not be better for the body to
be poisoned than the mind, and thereby
be enabled to use cures and antidotes ?
But I am sorry to say that I think the
trouble lies deeper than with the big
boys. I have been looking around and
am quite sure that it does. A jury
might acquit them with the verdict,
more sinned against than sinning. It
is the men that I am coming at, for just
so long as they meet in groceries, on
street corners, and in shops, telling sto
ries unfit for the ears of their mothers,
sisters, wives and daughters, just so
long big boys will listen and think it
cunning to emulate the filthy example.
Is it not a terrible thing to look into a
young man’s face and think of the im
purities his mind must be loaded with,
unless he has strength to cast off the
unclean things and be a noble man ?”
No subject more vital in its bearing
on the morals of the young could have
been placed in this column, says the
New York Tribune, in reply to the
above letter.
There are parents who recognize
among the duties they owe their chil
dren that of instructing them with re
spect to the origin of life. This is left
shrouded in impenetrable mystery, and
all manner of lies are told in reply to
the questions which at a very early age
children will ask. Tho mother leaves
this matter for her daughter to be told
about by any school-mate, who, with the
few grains of truth she may communi
cate, is more than likely to sow tares
that never can be weeded out. The in
nocent-hearted boy learns from his
roygb companions what his own father
or mother should have told him with
perfect simplicity and ingenuousness,
and learns a great deal they would not
have had him know. Truth is sacred,
truth is pure and never corrupts any
one. It is the vile admixture of false
hood with it that contaminates. Every
fact in human physiology can be so
communicated to a pure mind that its
delicacy shall not be in the least offend
ed. The time to make these facts
known is when the desire to inquire in
to them manifests itself, and the best
teacher is the parent. As between hus
band and wife, so between parent and
child there is no place for shame.—
Where virtue reigns shame cannot
come.
A child thus taken iuto sacred
intimacy with its parents will instinct
ively revolt from whatever is vulgar
aud base and obscene. At every period
in the development of the young life,
the parent should be before everybody
else in preparing and fortifying his son
or daughter against the dangers which
lie in his or her path. There is noth
ing that so strongly binas a child to
virtue and honor and chastity as perfect
and unrestrained intimacy between it
and the father and mother. We are
careful about the sewerage of our houses,
about ventilating them, and see to it
with diligence that every nook and
corner is kept neat and sweet. Let us
carry the same thing into character and
open all the doors and windows of the
soul by total frankness and transparent
simplicity, that the pure air and sun
shine of Heaven may have access to
them and keep them pure.
One word more. If home is so at
tractive that boys and men prefer it
to the corner groceries, an ounce of pre
ventive will bo better than many pounds
of cure.
—
The Worth of Life.
Life is no commonplace matter. We
may feel so when we are disappointed,
when wo are wearied with labor, or are
disgusted with meanness, and then we
may say with the Jewish preacher:
“Vanity of vanities, all is vanity!”
But myself, how often in my more
cheerful moments, and at those more
thoughtful seasons, when my awakened
faculties have made me most truly man
ly, have I b£ea awestruck and breath
less whilst the great mystery of life has
occurred to my mind in sudden vivid
ness. In such moments what a myra
cle have I felt myself! Excepting God
Himself what is there more wondrous
than the existence of the infinite; than
this birth of feeling, thinking and ac
tive life in our bosoms, which a short
time since were inanimate, insensate
dust! What thought is there more
wondrous than this, that we are living
souls, abroad and active on the face of a
worid which was once without form and
void! Well might the sons of God
shout for joy when the first man of our
race stood up erect amid tho trees of
Eden. It was the birth of the mortal
spirit, and the Paradisal wonder is re
peated in the growth of every infant,
and throughout the life of every man !
— Mountford.
—
Is He Rich ?—This is the question
that fioa's around the circle of matri
monial ladies. Poor giddy fools, who
seek happiness where There is neither
brains nor morality—good sense or high
honor. Yes; he is rich—he has strong
arms, a pure heart, a clear head, a brave
soul! “Aye, but has he cash and bonds,
real estate and stocks ? for new bonnets,
fine clothing, costly houses and elegant
equipages are needed.” Go to, you
generation of vipers, you curses of hu
manity, who canuot make an honest
man’s life and fate your own, and with
him toil and live, that happiness and
virtue may dwell under your roof, be it
evei so lowly, that the next generation
‘may, if they will, be better than the
present, and the world lifted aud moved
forward heavenward.
A Fnunj Incident.
.One day, a short time since, a little
boy who had been standing for some
time in front of the drug store of Dr.
Scheetz, corner of Franklin and Ogden
streets, enviously eyeing a large reel,
well provided with twine, as the boys
call it, which was fastened to tho top of
the counter, summoned up courage
enough to walk in and ask for a few
yards with which to fly his kite. The
doctor bears the reputation of being a
good natured man. full of humor and
very fond of the little ones, but the
youngster approached him at a time
when he was out of his usual mood,
and he consequently gave “ no” for an
answer. The urchin had made up his
mind to have some of “ that there cord,”
anyhow; and the seqiiel will show, he
got it.) One morning,theboy enteredt he
store, with another boy and dog. Boy
No. 2, having placed a bottle upon the
counter demurely asked for five cents’
worth of “ syrup of squills and polly
gclic,” and while the doctor was tilling
the order, boy No. 1 was tying the end
of the cord to the dog’s tail. When
the man of medicine returned to the
counter, the reel was flying like fury.
The doctor quickly reached for a pallet
knife, and having hung himself over
the counter, made a desperate whack
for the cranium of the youngster, who
he supposed was sitting on the floor
helping himself. But, lo! the boys
and the dog “ Bully,” were honest.—
Mr. Sheetz having tried in vain to stop
the reel, was obliged to give it up on
account of the heat it communicated to
the palm of his hand. He Started
down the street in quest of the other
end of the cord, occasionally stopping
to pick up the string with a view to
check its rapid progress, but it being
too hot for bis fingers, he would quietly
drop it again and continue his chase.—
When he reached the corner he beheld
the boys upon the sidewalk about two
squares ahead and the dog in the mid
dle of the street, going at the rate of
forty knots an hour, the string pointing
directly towards his tail. The doctor
shouted and he placed his foot upon the
cord, but the dog’s tail would not come
off nor the string break, and finding
be was running a risk of paving the
sole of his slipper, and perhaps his foot,
sawed iu twain, he retraced his steps,
and by the time he found a knife the
stock of cord was pretty well used up.
and continued to spin for some moments
afterward, until it stopped of its own
accord. Although the (kictor has lost
the patronage of two families, there
was none who enjoyed the joke better
than he, or who can tell it with a great
er gusto. When the first kite makes
its appearance in that vicinity and rais
es to an extraordinary height, the doc
tor will find out where the boy lives
and carry him some liquorice root. —
Baltimore Evening News.
Tlie Mourner*
“It is very lonely, Mamma,” mur
mu' ed a fair-haired, lovely little girl,
as she rested on the sofa one evening;
“ it is very lonely now, and the night
seems very long. Shall I see papa any
more ?”
“Yes, my love, you shall sco him in
a better world than this.”
“ But this is a fair worid,” said the
little girl. “ I love to run and play in
the sunshine, and pick the watercresses
from the brook ; and when the weather
is a little, little warmer, I shall go and
gather the blue-eyed violet, that papa
said was so like me.”
“ Too like, I fear,” said the mother,
and the teardrop trembled oh tlie droop
ing lid, “but my child, there is a fairer
world than this, where the flowers nev
er fade —where clouds never hide the
light of the glorious sky, for ths glory
of him whose name is love beams
brightly and forever in those golden
courts ; the trees that grow on the bank
of the river which waters that blessed
place never fade as they do in this
world ; and when friends meet there
they will bo parted no more, but they
will sing hymns of praise to God and
the Lamb forever.”
It was a little mound. The mother
bent over the grave of this frail little
flower of intellect, withered by the un
timely frost of death ; but was she
alone when, in the twilight shades, she
sat upon tho grass beneath which the
deep, yearning hopes of that fond heart
were gathered in oblivious silence ? Oh,
no ! The soft and silvery tones of buried
love whispered in the breeze that lifted
the drooping flowers, overcharged with
the dewy tears of night. The diamond
stars, that one by one came forth to
their shining watch seemed beaming
with the light of that deathless flame
which burned undimmed upon the in
most shrine of her heart; and she en
joyed in the holy hours of solitude, that
communion of pure spirits which our
exalted faith alone can bestow.
—* -*-> •
Small is the sum that is required to
patronize a newspaper, and amply re
warded is its patron, I care not how
humble and unpretending the gazette
which he takes. It is next to impossi
ble to fill a sheet with printed matter
without putting into it something that
is worth the subscription price. Every
parent whose son is away from home at
school should supply him with a news
paper. I web remember what a mark
ed difference theie was between my
school-mates who had and who had not
access to newspapers. Other things
being equal, the first were always de
cidedly superior to the last in debate,
composition, and general intelligence.—
Daniel Webster.
-
Tiie best way to prove the clearness
of our mind, is by showing his faults ;
as when a stream discovers the dirt at
the bottom, it convinces us of the trans
parency and purity of tho water.
“Sncli a Nice Horse.”
An incident which lately occurred in
Maine, illustrated in a striking manner
how much imagination has to do with
fear. It was in the town of Lewiston
that tho affair took place, and it had
two heroines, prominent ladies in Lew
iston society. These two ladies con -
cluded the other day that they would
enjoy a buggy ride to a friend’s, who
lived some miles out in tho country,
and accordingly they went, to a livery
stable to engage a horse. It so chanced
that tho proprietor of tho stable was
absent, and the only person about the
premises when the ladies called was an
exceedingly green hostler. Anxious to
accommodate the ladies, tho hostler,who
had not yet become acquainted with the
characteristics of the different horses
under his charge, gave them the best
looking one he could find, and they
drove off, happy. Soon the proprietor
of the stable returned and learned what
horse the ladies had taken, when he was
terrified beyond description. The horse
in question was a vicious runaway brute
no one dared to drive—a genuine four
legged demon, such as are sometimes
read of in descriptions of the feats of
Mexican vaqueros. The situation in
which the liveryman was placed was
one requiring instant action, and taking
another team he followed the ladies,
sparing neither whip or voice. He
failed to overtake them, however, and,
much to his surprise, upon reaching the
place of their destination, he saw the
dangerous horse tied to the fence with
the carriage in good condition. Hur
rying into the house the liveryman
found the ladies, and, upon asking thonl
if they had met with any accident was
answered in the negative. Then they
both broke out in praise of the horse
they had driven. “He was a splendid
horse ; he had traveled all tho \vay
awful fast in great big jumps, and they
didn’t have to touch him with the
whip 1” They were asked if they had
any trouble in passing teams. They
said they did not, as every one who
saw them coming got out of the way
and gave them the whole road. The
liveryman went away relieved and hap
py, btit he took the “ nice ” horse with
him, and the ladies have not yet been
alarmed by the knowledge of what ter
ror their presence saved them.
The Old, Old Homestead.
Oftimes in memory I see the dear old
homestead ! Oh ! how plainly in imagi
nation the old farm house comes up be
fore my mind ; and those uncultivated
rock crowned hills, the rude plain, that
old maple and apple orchard, in fancy
again I see. The violet and forget
me-not, the mossy rock, and laughing
rills, the crystal spring, all these again
I see, and the happy days of childhood
floating back to me again. It seems
but yesterday, that father smiled, and
mother kissed her boy, in the old home-,
stead ! Oh, those sunny days of child
hood, they were all too bright to last,
and as I sadly think of the dear ones
passed away, mother, father, sister,
brother, all sleeping in those orchard
graves on tho old homestead, and of the
thousand happy hours spent by us to
gether, it seems that death has taken all
my earthly treasures and I am left alone
at last.
But a voice softly floating on tho
evening breeze, tells me I am not alone,
and iu imagination I ramble over the
old homestead, with the cherished love
of long ago at my side. And thus it is,
the buds of spring, the summer flowers
come and go, with the beauty teeming,
but in memory never dying. So with
fondly cherished ones, though in the
grave we hide their forms so fair, they
ever in memory dwell with us. The
days of childhood, the cld homestead,
will never be forgotten, the past to us,
by mind and ‘memory, will be renewed,
the tuneful birds with varied songs, the
little brooks that wind along the stream
reflecting a spotless sky, and “ crystal
streams more fair,” and tho wildwood
around the old homestead where nature
first her charms displayed, eclipsing
words of human art, these are more
precious in memory than all fhe gems
of earth and art, rude though they may
be.—
< ■ o
To-morrow.
To-rriorrow may never come to us, we
do not live in to-morrow. We cannot find
it in any title. The man who owns whole
blocks of real estate and great ships on
the sea does not own a single minute of
to-morrow. To-morrow ! It is a mysteri
ous possibility not yet born. It lies un
der the seal of midnight; behind the
veil of glittering constellations.
Enjoy the prsent whatever it may be
and not be solicitous for the future; for
if you take your foot from the present
standing and thrust it forward to to
morrow’s event you are in a restless
condition. It is like refusing (o quench
your present thirst by fearing you will
want the next day. If to-morrow you
should want, your sorrow would come
time enough though you do hasten it.—
Let yoUr trouble tarry till its own day
comes. Enjoy blessings this day, if God
sends them, and the evils of it bear pa
tiently and sweetly, for this day is ours.
We are dead to yesterday, and not yet
born to to-morrow. — Jeremy Taylor.
When we are young we are slavishly
employed in procuring something where
by we may live comfortably when we
grow old ; and when are old we per
ceive that it is too late to lire as we
proposed.
Some old men, by continually prais
ing the time of their youth, would al
most persuade us that there were no
fools in those days ; but, unluckily, they
arc left themselves for examples.
VOL. V.—NO. 46,
ijosli Billing*' Marked Card*.
If a man iz natral nowdays he is at
wonst charged with trying tube eksen
trik or silly.
Menny a man has reached the sum
mit of fame and then looked down into
the humble valley he cum frum, and
longed to be'back thare agin.
J hare iz a grate deel of modesty that
is nothing else but fear.
Ihe days of shivelry are not over;
they will la?t as long n§ whisky duz.
I never hav noan an impudeut man
yet who was possessed of downright
good sense.
It iz the littlo things that enable us
to judgo ova man’s character; he
don t try to hide them, aiid he couldn’t
if he would.
I hav never seen but phu who nu
how to cry good, and even less who nu
how to luff well.
I tliink the majority of people have
a much better pubiik than private kar
akter.
II a man tells a lie he iz always in a
great hurry tu pruve it.
Pashunz iz like kaster ilo—it is ono
thing to prescribe it, and it iz another
thing to take it.
I hare iz more reel happiness in re
dusing our wants than in cratafyin*
them. J °
No man ever failed ov sukccssi wild
could do a thing better than another
man, and kept a doing.
You kant make a trend of survents ;
frendship and survetood don’t mix, only
in the 'same way as ile and alcohol duz.
Deflereuz is the most kunning kom
pliment yu kan pay tu a wurthy man,
and the most wasteful ono yu kan pay
to a bully. •
No man kan git mo to keep a secret
for him ; I had rather hold a mule for
the same length of time.
There iz won kussid smart- tiring about
ghosts tha never sho themselves oanly
by kandle lite, and then tu oanly wun
purson at a time.
It iz a well-known fact to outsider 3 ,
but parents won’t believe it, that pre
cocious children never amount to any
thing else. If I had a boy I had mutch
rather be unable to decide, up to ten
years of ago, whether he wuz going to
boa fool or not, than whether ho wuz
going to be a Homer or a Napoleon.
II a man wants to find out the utter
weakness uv munny, let him try to hire
a double tooth to quit aching.
Accidents to Bccr-Drinkers.
The worst patients in the Metropolis
tan Hospital are the London draymen.
Though they are apparently models of
health and strength, yet, if one of them
receives a serious injury, it is nearly
always necessary to amputato, in order
to give him the most distant chance of
life. The draymen have the unlimited
privilege of the brewery cellar. Sir
Ashley Cooper was called to a drayman.
He was a powerful, fresh-colored, heal
thy-looking man, who had suffered an
injury in his Gnger, from a small splin
ter of a stave. The wound, though tri
fling, suppurated. He opened the small
abscess with his lancet. 110 fuund, on
retiring, lie had left his lancet. Re
turning for it, he found the man in a
dying condition. The man died in a
short time. Dr. Gordon says, “ The
moment beer-drinkers are attacked with
acute diseases, they aro not able to bear
depletion, and die." Dr. Edwards says
of beer-drinkers, “Their diseases nro
always of a dangerous character, and, in
case of accident, they can never under
go even the most trifling operation with
the Security of the temperate. They
most invariably die under it.’’ Dr.
Buchanan says, “Malt liquors render
the blood sizy and unfit for circulation ;
hence proceeds obstructions and inflam
mation of the lungs. There are few
great beer-drinkers who are not phys
ical., brought on by the glutinous and
indigestible nature of ale and porter.
* * * These liquors inflame the blood,
and tear the tender vessels of the lungs
to pieces. Dr. Maxson says, “ intoxi
cating drinks, whether taken in tho
form of fermented or distilled liquors
are a very frequent predisposing cause
of disease.”—lf. Hargreaves , M. LK
Tiif, weather at the North has been
so cold this spring that, says tho Roston
Post, the ladies have ell got neuralgia
in their shoulders from wearing spring
clothes, and many new dresses are sup
plemented across the back by porous
plasters, and next to a vest front a mus
tard poultice is generally most worn.
Young ladies alternate between a neck
lace tor street wear and a flannel rag fot
the house. Diamonds are worn in thb
ear with roach effect abroad, but a lock
of cotton and a little roast onion is the
usual adornment at home. Pearl pow
der is applied to the shoulders for full
dress, but camphorated oil and harts
born liniment, are considered very pret
ty also by the sufferers. Silk stockings
with colored clockings are the things
for low slashed shoes, but pails of hot
mustard water and warm bricks are ala<>
much worn on the feet.
——* ►-
An editor in Oregon recently' an
nounced that “all those who are in ar
rearage for the paper, by calling and
settling the same can have the marks
and brands of their hogs published gra
tuitously, otherwise they will be placed
upon the black list, and their names
published.”
—* •
nr is a newspaper like a tooth
brush ‘t Do you give it up '! Because
every one should have one of his own,
and not be borrowing his neighbors.
Henuy Clay described a mule as an
‘animal that has ro pride of ancestry,
and no hope of posterity.”
Y ested in the waist
coat pockut.