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CALHOUN WEEKLY TIMES. BY D. B. FREEMAN. CALHOUN TIMES Kates of Subscription. One Year $2.00 Six Months 1.00 Ten copies one year 15 00 Rates of Advertising. JjNif" For each square of ten lines or less for the first insertion, sl, and for each Bub sequent insertion, fifty cents. jNoVSq’rs | 1 Mo. | 8 Mos. | 0 Mgs. 1 year. 3’wo $4.00 $7.00 $12.00 $20.00 Four “ 0.00 10.00 18.00 35.00 1 column 9.00 15.00 25.00 40.00 1 “ 15.00 25.00 40.00 65.00 1 25.00 40 00 65.00 115,00 ■ r icn lines of solid brevier, Or its equivalent in space, make a square. Kates of Legal Advertising. (Sheriff’s Sales, each 1evy........ ....$4 00 Citation for letters of Administration and Guardianship 4 00 Application for dismission frofn Admin istration, Guardianship and Exec utorship ° 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 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.