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CALHOUN WEEKLY TIMES
BY D. B. FREEMAN.
CALHOUN TIMES
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polmlrnl & Canto.
t/ J. KIKER & SON,
attorneys at law,
Will practice in all the Courts of the Cher
*Vee Circuit; Supreme Court ol Georgia, and
(he United States District Court at Atlanta,
Oa. Office: Sutheast corner of the Court
House, Calhoun, Ga.
T/AIN & MILNER,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
CALHOUN, GA
Will practice in all the Superior Courts of
of Cherokee Georgia, the Supreme Court of
the State arid the United States District and
Circuit Courts, at Atlanta.
J 1), 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.
"VJISS C. A. HUDGINS,
Milliner & Mantua-Maker,
Court House; St., Calhoun,Ga.
Patterns of the latest styles and fashion
for ladies just received. Gutting and
making done to order.
J H. ARTHUR
DEALER IN
GENERAL MERCHANDISE,
RAILROAD STREET,
Calhoun, Oa.
/ T. GRAY,
IA •
CALHOUN, GA.
Is prepared to furnish the public with
buggies and Wagons, bran new and warrant
ed. Repairing of all kinds done at short
notice. 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.
Hunks. Stationery and Jewelry.
rjp/XL IRWIN & CO.
usExiw (Sign of the Big Book & Watch.)
WE sup ly Blank Books, .S'chool Books
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. IRWIN & 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 whieli especial at
tention is called. Everything in my line
sold at prices that absolutely defy competi
tion.
CHEAP GOODS.
RICHARDS & ESPY,
(OLD STAND OF /.. T. OKAY.)
Dealers in
Confectioneries,
Crackers,
Fancy Groceries, &c.
Tobacco, cigars and snuff a specialty.—
highest market price paid for country pro
duce of all kinds. Give them a call and
they will give you a bargain. mar3l-3m
Squire Wadley ) Petition tor divorce in
vs. [ Gordon Superior Court,
Amanda Wadley. ) September.term, 1875.
Ihe defendant is hereby notified that the
* J °ve stated case will be tried at the Sep-
Umber term, 1875, of Cordon Superior
HANKS & BUYING S,
juno-60d. Plaintiff’s Attorneys.
ONLY.
Only a little word.
Whisper’d half sobbingly under the breath
But an echoed sweetness to lull my soul
When 1 pass the valley, Death !
Only a trusting heait,
Beating an instant against my own—
But a iaStiog joy that will throb and thrill
When the years are dead and gone.
Only an upturned face
With love’s own holy light imbued—
But a picture to float before my eyes
And make the world rose-hued.
Only a tender glance
From eyes that were wet with sudden tears
But a light to glide the clouds of care,
And brighten the toil of years.
Only a single kiss,
Beneath the moonlight’s silver bars—
But a memory to swell the joy
Of the world beyond the stars.
CHARGE IT.
“That is all, this afternoon, I think/’
said young Mrs. Gray, looking over the
bundles in her market basket, as she
stood before the counter of the village
store. “ Let me see—sugar, coffee, tea,
starch, soda, cream of tartar, raisins,
spices and a can of fresh lobsters. The
two bags of flour you will send, I sup.
pose ?”
“ Yes’rn,” said the shopman, after a
moment’s hesitation which Mrs. Gray
did not notice.
“ I would like them by seven in the
evening, if convenient.”
The clerk bowed.
“As for these things,” said she, with
a merry laugh, to which the cleik did
not respond, even by a smile, “I am not
such a tine lady that I cannot carry them
home myself. You will charge these, if
you please. Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” replied the
clerk.
lie was a tall, middle-aged, somewhat
stiff-mannered man. Something seemed
to be on his mind which he knew not
how to express.
And before Mrs. Gray had crossed
the threshold of the store, he had passed
down to the desk at the lower end of
the building,-and laid a memorandum
of the things just sold to her before his
master, who sat there poring over the
pages of a great account book.
“Mrs. Gray, sir,” said the clerk, “'you
told me to let you know about her next
order, sir. There it is. She said
‘charge it/ as usual, and I didn’t know
what to do, as you gave no directions.”
The merchant looked over the order
with a slight frown. Then he turned
over a few leaves in the account book
before him and glanced down the two
opposite pages at which he paused.
“ Make out her bill, and send it in
this evening, with compliments, and re
quest a speedy settlement,” said he.—
“ Say that I have heavy bills to meet
next week, and would feel obliged by
the immediate receipt of the money.”
“ There are two hags of flour also or
dered, sir; one of Graham, one of su
perfine. Shall I send them down to
day ?”
‘ Were they ordered to-day ?”
“ Yes, sir.”
“ Then send them, and the bill with
them. Or, stay, Mr. Richards. Let
the porter take the flour at once, and
do you deliver the bill this evening, as
you go home to supper. Perhaps she
may be able to pay it at once. If so,
you can receipt the bill.”
The middle-aged clerk went to his
place, not much relishing the task that
lay before him. To draw off the bill
was nothing—to present it was much,
since, as he fully believed, pietty Mrs.
would not have the money on hand
with which to ray it.
“And then she will look scared and
grieved, for I don’t think she has any
idea how these things are mounting up
here, day by day,” thought the clerk.—
“And I know she has not much to de
pend upon, except her house and gar
den, and that pension money that came
to her after her husband’s death. To be
sure, she is rather extravagant, but she
is very pretty, and she likes to look
nice ; and she does look nice, too, in
the things she buys of us ! I felt sor
ry all the time she was filling the basket
to-day —though it wasn’t my place to
say anythitg. And I wish the govern
or would send some other clerk on this
errand —that I do. However, it must
be done ! I fancy I sec his face if I
should ask to be excused from dunning
poor little Mrs. Gray, because I feel
sorry for her as a soldier’s widow,
and because I think she is the
prettiest woman in town. I should get
my walking papers, to a certainty, and,
do her no good either, poor soul!”
Meanwhile, Mrs.• Gray, utterly una
ware of the storm cloud gathering in
her sky, tripped out of the store, and
was joined, before she descended the
steps, by her cousin, Miss lioxy San
derson, a tall, gaunt, and singularly
plain spinster of five and fifty, who had
been buying a skein of linen thread at
the other counter, and who, therefore,
had been a witness of the little scene.
Greeting each other after a very
friendly fashion, the two ladies walked
down the street toward Mrs. Gray’s cot
tage, which stood in a pretty garden at
the extreme end of the village.
When they reached the house the
charming little widow asked her cousin
to go in and take a cup of tea with her.
“I will,” said Miss Roxy, solemnly.
“ The fact is, Ellen, I wantto say some
thing special to you, and this is as good
a time as any.”
“ Come in, then, and get it off yoar
jnind,” said Mrs. Gray, laughing. “But
let me get the tea on the table first
there’s a good soul.”
A brisk little fire burned in tjje grate
of the cottage kitchen, which was one
of the neatest, brightest, cosiest places
one could wish to see.
The table was ready in a moment, the
CALHOUN, GA., WEDNESDAY, JUNE 30, 1875.
tea was steeped, the cold bread, cold
ham, fresh butter and cranberry pre
serves were quickly in their places.—
Then the widow placed a plate of rich
looking cake on one side of the table ;
opening the can which she brought
lrom the store, she filled a glass dish
with the preserved lobsters, and set it
down opposite the cake, wich a look of
pleasant triumph in hor deep blue eyes.
“ There, Cousin Roxy !” she ex
claimed, “if you do not say that is a
nice supper, I shall never invite you
here again.”
“ Very nice, Ellen, very nice, in
deed,” quoth the spinster, taking her
appointed chair. “If it Was only paid
for,” she thought, eyeing the dainties
with a serious face. “ But there—l
know what I can do to help her, for
once in a way, if she is in a fix.”
And so Miss Roxy ate and drank and
praised the viands till the hospitable
heart of the charming little widow
glowed with delight.
“ It is so pleasant to have some nice
little thing like this, and then share it
with a friend,” said she, as they left the
tea table. “ I often wish I was rich,
Cousin Roxy—l should so like to en
tertain peeple all the time, and get nice
meals ready for them to eat.”
Cousin Roxy was silent. She was
wondering how, without seeming un
gracious, after the welcome and the
treatment she had received, she should
introduce the subject that was lying
heavy at her heart. Just then the gate
latch clicked. Mrs. Gray looked out.
“ Why, here is Mr. Richards from
the store !” she exclaimed. “ Surely he
is not bringing that flour all the way
himself. But I don’t see the porter ;do
you, Cousin Roxy ?”
Miss Sanderson shook her head.
“It is coming upon her mw without
one moment’s warning. I’m glad I’m
here, for Ellen is no more fit to meet
trouble alone than a baby six months
old would be.”
“ Good evening, Mrs. Gray,” said
the voice at the door, where the widow
was now standing. “ Mr. Morton re
quested me to hand you this bill, and to
say that as the account had been run
ning a long time, he would feel greatly
obliged if you could settle it at once.—
He has some heavy bills of his own to
meet next week, or he would not trou
ble you.”
“ Oh, it is no trouble at all, Mr.
Richards,” said Mrs. Gray, flushing a
little as she took the paper. “If you
will walk in, I have some money in the
house, and I will pay it now.”
She ushered the middle-aged bache
lor (who seemed strangely agitated and
nervous) into the sitting room and
opened the folded paper to glance at the
amount.
“ Twenty dollars,” said she quickly ;
„ I will get the bill for yott.”
She lurd just that amount in her
pocket book. It was all that she had to
depend upon till the next payment of
her pension, and three months must
elapse before the remittance could ar
rive.
Yet she would not seem to hesita f e.
Since the merchant had r’ked for his
money he should have it at any incon
venience to herself. She turned to
leave the room.
“I—I —I beg your pardon, Mrs.
Gray,” stammered Mr. Richards, turn
ing very red, “I think you fead the fig
ures wrongly at the foot of the column.
It is not twenty dollars that is due, but
two hundred.”
“ Two hundred dollars !”
She glanced at the sum total again,
the bright color fading from her cheeks
aud leaving an awiul gray ness and pal
lor in its stead.
Yes, there were the horrible figures
staring her in the face.
Two hundred dollars ! had she been
mad. Every penny of her pension
money must be taken to satisfy this
claim! And Mr. Mor-on wanted his
money at once —this very evening, per
haps—and it was out of her power to
give it to him for three long months to
eome. What would they do to her ?
Sell her house ? Put her in jail ?
“ I have not so much money as that
in the house,” she began, looking up at
the clerk with a wild and harassed
glance.
And then the ringing in her ears and
the beating at her heart increased, the
room turned black before her eyes, and
the next thing she was conscious of was
that she was supported in Mr. Richards’
arms, with his anxious face looking
down helplessly at her, while Cousin
Roxy, scoldin" vigorously, was sprink
ling her temples with camphor, and di
recting him to lay her on the sola as
carefully as he could.
“And then go; don’t let her see you
when she comes clear to,” she heard the
spinster say. “And John Richards, do
you keep a still tongue about this busi
ness, if you have the heart of a man.”
“ I’ll never breathe a word,” an ear
nest voice replied. “ Rut may I call
later in the evening, just to ask if she
is better ?”
“ Come at nine, and I’ll speak to you
through the door,” said Roxy iu a whis
per. “And as for your bill. I’ll see
that it’s all right,*
“ It isn’t the bill —it’s her,” replied
the agitated voice.
And then the door closed, and Cousin
Roxy took the slender little figure up
in her arms went back into the
cosy little kitchen, where, in the famil
iar glow and comfort of the fire, the
scattered senses of the widow soon came
back.
“ Oh, Roxy, what shall I do ? ’"said
she weeping, after had related to
her cousiu, the story ot the bill “ I
had no idea I *>wed over twenty
dollars there. Two hundred! Just
fancy ! Oh, how could I have been so
foolish as to get things charged ? If I
once get out of this scrape, I’ll never
buy another thing in my life unless I
Jiave the money in my hand to pay for
“Do you really mean that ?” asked
Miss Roxy, bending over the fire.
“ Indeed I do. I never suffered like
this before, and if I starve, I’ll do with
out things unless I can pay for them, in
the future, rather than suffer like this
again ! And what must Mr. Richards
think of me?” she added, her color
deepening, “It seems to me as if I
had been stealing. Perhaps he thinks
just the same.” ♦
“ Humph !” said Miss Roxy, looking
keenly at the blushing little beauty.
“ Well,” said she, after a pause, “just
let John Richards alone and listen to
me. I’ve been feeling concerned about
you for some time past, Ellen. I was
afraid you were spending a great deal
more than you know about by getting
things charged. I tried that way my
self once. It was mighty pleasant, and
mighty easy to step into the store and
take anything I wanted, and put off’ the
payment to a more convenient day.—
But, oh, my! when the settlement
came!”
“ What was it ? What happened to
you ?” asked Mrs. Gray, deeply inter
ested.
“Well, you See, I wasn’t pretty to
begin with,” said the spinstei, with a
knowing glance ; “and there was no one
to say a good word for or to me, or to
feel sorry if I was sold on the spot It
was down in Massachusetts, and the
storekeeper was a crusty old fellow—
more like Mr. Morton than John Rich
ards, by a long way. Says he: ‘What
did you get the goods for, if you had
nothing to pay for them with ? I have
to make my living out of my store/
says he, ‘and I may pretty soon shut up
shop and turn bankrupt, if L am to be
kept waiting for my money like this,’
says he. I thought I should have
dropped, Ellen, I felt so small and so
mean while he was abusing me. And
every word lie said was right and true
that was the worst of all.”
“ And what did you do, Roxy ?”
“ I did something that I have never
gotten over from that day to this,” said
the spinster, swallowing hard, and
wiping a tear away from her eyes. “ I
had a diamond ring that my poor moth
er gave me on her death bed. I had to
pawn it to pay the hateful debt. I tried
my best to redeem it, but sickness and
trouble of every kind came upon me
that year. At last, I saved! the money
and went after the ring. I went on the
evening of the day that my pawn-ticket
expired. But I forgot that I had bor
rowed the money on the forenoon of
that other day. So the time was up —
legally. They said the ring had been
sold that very day to a stranger. I did
not believe them, but what could 1 do ?
I went home crying all the way, and
from that moment I have never bought
anything unless I can pay the cash
down for it. When I had not the mon
ey I went without; and that is why I
I came here to lecture you to-day, El
len. I was afraid you were going on
the same road, and I meant to stop you
in time, if I could.”
“ It is too late,” said Mrs. Gray, sad
ly. And 1 have no diamond ring to
save me, Roxy.”
“ You have me,” said Miss Roxy.
Mrs. Gray burst into tears.
“ There, child there—don’t vou cry !”
said the old maid, patting the bowed
head kindly. “ I have some money in
the bank, and I’ll lend you the two hun
dred dollars it you’ll give me your word
of honor that you will never have any
thing charged again.”
“ I never will,” said Mrs. Gray, kiss
ing her gratefully, “Rut, Roxy, how
am I to pay you back ?”
“ You can give me one hundred dol
lars out of the pension money this year,
and let the rest lie at interest for anoth
er year, if you like.”
“ Oh, how good 70U are ! Are you
sure you can spare it ?”
“Of course I can. But there is nine
o’clock striking, and there is John
Richards knocking at the front door.—
Will you go? Or shall I?”
••Oh, let me go,” said the young wid
ow, blushing again as she hastily ar
ranged her hair before the glass and
wiped the traces of tears from her eyes.
“I want to tell him that I can pay the
money at once—thanks to you, you dear,
kind sou! !”
She went.
Mr. Richards was again ushered into
the sitting room,and the door was closed.
Miss Roxy sat musing over the fire,
her leaning on her clasped hands,
and took no note of time. Suddenly
the clock struck ten.
“ Bless us and save us ! Is that man
going to stay all night?” exclaimed Miss
Roxy aloud.
A meary laugh answered her.
Miss Roxy looked up and nearly fell
off her chair.
Before her stood Mr John Richards,
his arm completely encircling the pre'-
tv widow’s waist, and his face lit up
with an expression that made him quite
a handsome man.
“ I’m coming soon, to slay always, I
hope, Miss Roxy,” said he, as he shook
hands with her. “ And you will find
Mrs. Richards as good and grateful a
friend of vours as Mrs. Gray has been,”
he added with a meaning smile.
So the white cottage received anew
master, and Decame once more a happy
home' But the “ credit system ” found
no favor there. “ Cash on delivery ”
was the order of the day, and Mrs.
Richards never knew again the brief
but awful feeling of shame and degra
dation that pretty Mrs. Gray endured
through “running up a bill.”
A soul conversant with virtue re 4
seuibles a fountain; for it is clear and
gentle, sweet and communicative, rich
and harmless, and innocent.
Waif.
I can recall neither thb day nor the
hour, but the incident I am about to re
late is as fresh in my mind as if it had
happened yesterday. I was limrering
at a small watering-place, situated on
the rocky shores of the coast of Scot
land. The ordinary visitors had already
fled, dreading the high winds and ter
rific storms, which were of frequent oc
currence at that time of the year, and
it was ouly a few hardy ones like my
self who still found pleasure iu facing
the raging elements of wind and water
combined.
It had been a more than usually
stormy night, and many an anxious
heart had watched through its vigils,
for it seemed as if some terrible disas
ter must be heralded by the booming
sound of the waves, and the screech*
ing of the wind when it found opposi
tion to its coarse in the shut doors and
windows of the littlehamlet.
But morn ing broke atlast, and brought
a few wintry gleams of sunlight to
brighten the agitated atmosphere,though
the waves still could not forget their
angry roaring, aud dashed against the
rocks as if bent on their destruction.
I wandered along the low line of
sand which, broken as it is, into
many small bays, runs under the high
beetling cliffs of the shore, and reached
one of the most retired of these spots.
Here I sat down on a flat rock, which
guarded the entrance of the bay, to en
joy the beauty and majesty of the scene.
L had not long sat thus when I was dis
turbed by a low, whinning sound, and,
looking down, saw a dog standing be
fore me. Its coat was dripping with
water, one of the fore feet covered with
blood, and the sad, wistful look in its
eyes went to my heart.
I gently patted its head, and, taking
a piece of bread from my pocket, effer
ed it some ; but the animal scarcely
glanced at it, and only continued to
look at me with that sad searching gaze,
as if asking assistance. After a while,
he turned a little way back on the sands,
and laid himself down, casting a look
toward me. My curiosity and interest
were both arroused, and I followed.—
At first I could see nothing, but pres*-
ently from under the paw of the ani
mal, which was placed protectingly up
on it, I drew out a little glove— only a
little child’s glove—where life seemed
lingering, so completely hud it retained
the form of the fingers that had once
worn it. I cast my eyes over the wide
waters but no sign of life or death was
there, only the mute token in my hand
spoke of both. Long I searched up and
down but in vain. The poor little body
must have been carried out to sea, and
was never found, as far as I know
“ Ah, little one,” I sighed, “ have
the greedy waves, then, required such
a holocaust as thou, young, innocent and
forelorn ; and is there no mourner for
thee save this faithful dog, and no mon
ument but this little glove ! At least,”
I continued, as I folded it carefully in
to my portfolio, “ it shall live in my
memory, and thou, poor creature, in my
affections.”
I stopped, as I spoke, to caress the
still prostartc animal, aud so great had
been the absorption of my fellings that
I had not marked the incoming tide ;
but now a wave rushed swiftly up, and,
though I was still beyond its reach, it
wrapped its coronal of foam round the
weak and wasted form of the faithful
dog, and carried it helplessly back into
the ocean. One short, sharp bark, one
feeble struggle, and the brave heart
sank to rise no more. It is long since
this happened; but the glove still lies
in my pocket book, and a tear in my
heart w'henever I recall its guardian’s
fate.
Proverl*** of Truth.
A man may buy gold too dear.
A light purse is a heavy curse.
A little leak will sink a great ship.
All lay loads on the willing horse.
A fault confessed is half redressed.
A wise layer-up is a wise layer-out.
All are not friends that speak us fair
A quiet conscience sleeps in thun
der.
A guilty conscience needs no accu
ser.
An oak tree is not felled with one
blow.
A bad workman quarrels with his
tools.
A good name will keep its lustre in
the dark.
A nod from the lord is a breakfast for
the fool.
Always put your saddle on the right
horse.
An unlawful oath is better broken
than kept.
An honest man’s word is as good as
bis bond.
A man may hold his tongue at the
wrong time.
An hour in the morning is worth two
in the afternoon.
An ounce of mother wit is worth a
pound of book learning.
Tiie Printing Office. —The print
ing office has indeed proven o better
college to many a boy, has graduated
more useful and conspicuous members of
society, has brought more intellect out
and turned it into practical, useful
channels, awakened more minds, gener
ated more active aud elevated thoughts,
than many of the literary colleges of the
country . A boy who commences in such
a~school as a printing office, will have
his talents and ideas brought out; and
if he is a careful observer, experience
in his profession will contribute more
toward an education thuu can be obtain
ed in almost any other manner.
Anger wishes that a’l mankind had
only one neck ; love, that it had only
one heart; grief, two tear glands y and
pride, two bent knees.
John Higgins of Sucker Flat.
A San Francisco papet relates the
following incident : A few evenings ago,
an odd-looking character entered one
of the leading hotels of this city, and
after scrawling his name—“ John Hig
gins Sucker Flat ” —upon the register,
cast down a twenty-dollar piece upon
the counter, and asked for a “good
room. ’ The obliging clerk docketed
him No 498, somewhere in the attice,
and John Higgins of Sucker Flat, was
shown into the elevator. For sone
reasons or other the boy was not at his
post, and Higgins supposing it was the
room in which he was to spend the
night, immediately began to undress.—
In a few minutes the elvator boy return
ed, and found Higgings minus every
thing Out bis undershirt and drawers.
The gentleman from Sucker Flat was
considerably surprised at what he con
sidered the unceremouius intrusion of
the boy, and demanded why he dared
to come into a gentleman’s room with
out knocking. The boy took in the
situation at a glance, and seeing a party
of ladies coming up, with the apparent
pnrp>ose of ascending in the elevator,
concluded that Higgins must be got out
of the way as soon as possible, and giv-
ing the rope a tug, sent the apparatus
skyward. The moment the thing be
gan to ascend, Higgins began to bound
about the confined apartment like a
caged lunatic, and it was hard to tell
which of the two was the most fright
ened Higgins or the boy. At last they
reached the top floor and came to a
dead halt. The Sucker Flat man burst
open the door and rushed out of the
elevator, airily clad in a simp’c custom
of red undershirt and white drawers.—
He was closely followed by the boy,
who was evidently anxious to get the
guest into room No. 498 as soon as cir
cumstances would permit. As luck
would have it, however, a number of
chambermaids were just passing the
spot, andjis Higgins broke loose in their
midst they filled the upper coiridors
with unearthly shrieks, and fled in dif
ferent directions. At last, by the as
sitance of Several waiters, Higgins was
caught and taken to his room, where
his wearing apparel was afterward
brought to him. Higgins now uses the
stairs when be wants to go up or down.
A Detroit Man's Joke.
He did not look like a joker. One
to sit and study his face would have
said that his soul was so lost in melan
choly that he didn’t care two cents
whether the sun set at noon or stayed up
until seven o’clock.
He entered the ladies’ sitting room
at the Central depot, walked up to a wo
man whose husband had left the room
about ten minutes previously, and calmly
inquired :
‘‘Madam, your husband went out to
see the river, didn’t he ?”
“Yes; why?” she asked turning
pale in an instant.
“He was a tall man, wasn’t he ?”
“He was,” she replied, rising up and
turning still paler.
“Had red hair ?”
“He had—oh! what has happened ?”
“Weighed about 180 pounds ?”
“Yes—yes—where is he—where is
my husband ?” she exclaimed.
“Couldn’t swim, could he ?”
“He’s drowned—oh ! my husband is
drowned !” she wailed.
“Had a silver watch chain,’’continued
the stranger.
“ Where is my husband—where is
the body ?” sho gasped.
“Do not get excited, madam. Did he
have on a gray suit?”
“Yes—my Thomas 1 oh, my Thom
as !”
“And stoga boots ?”
“Let me see him—let me see him !”
she cried.
“Come this way, madam, but do not
get excited. There, is that your hus
band across the street at that peanut
stand ?”
“Why, yes, that’s him—that’s my
husband !” she exclaimed, joyfully. “ I
thought you said he was drowned.”
“ No, madam, I did not. I saw him
buying peanuts, and I believed it my
duty to s;iy to you that peanuts are not
healthy at this season of the year.”
He slid softly out, and she stood
there and chewed her parasol, and
stared after him as if he were a men
agerie on wheels.— Detroit Free Press.
A colored dame encountered a po
liceuian on licaubien street yesterday,
and halting him she enquired :
“Spose’n data pusson spits in anoder
pusson’s face —is dat anything ?”
“ Well, no,” replied the officer.
“ Wall, spose’n dat pusson whose face
was spit into should take a poker and
drop de pusson who done de spittin’,
and cut a big gash in dnt pusson’s lied,
would dat be anything ?”
“ That would be a serious case, mad
am. Did any one staike you with a po
ker?”
“ Dat’s whar de pinch comes in. Ize
de one who done de hittin’!” she ex
claimed, lifting her hands in amazement
and! horror. — Detroit Free jTrei>s.
A Good Rule.—A man who is rich
now, but was once very poor, was asked
how he got his riches, when he replied :
“My father taught me never to play
until my work was finished, 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 thing, and
in an hour, and after this 1 was allowed
to play, and then I could play with
much more pleasure than if I had the
thought of an unfinished task before
my mind. I early formed the habit of
doing everything in time, and it soon
became perfectly easy to do so. It
is to this (hat I owe my prosperity.”
YOL. V. —NO. 48.
Sentiment.
Prejudice squints when it looks, and
lies when it talks.
He who expects a friend without
faults will never find one.
Pride often builds the nest in which
poverty hatches out its sorrows.
The only thing we have really to be
afraid of is fearing anything more than
God.
A lie has no legs and cannot stand
but it has wings and can fly far and
wide.
No manners are so fine as the most
awkward manifestations of good-will
toward men.
A joyous smile adds an hour to one’s
life, a heartfelt laugh a day, a griu not
a moment.
Leisure in sweet to (hosb who haye
earned it, but burdensome to those who
get it for nothing.
He who wishes to reap a harvest of
the tears of sincerity must first sow the
true love in his bosom.
If you ever promise at all, take cafe,
at least, that it bo to nobody that may
suffer by trusting yoii.
God accepts man’s hearty desire and
the will instead of the deed, when they
have not the power to fulfill it.
ll there is a past in wh ch men have
done ill, let them have a hope, for there
is a future in which they may do well.
A Rcady-wittrd C'lerjrj man.
Dr. C of the Methodist denomi
nation, in Portland Maine, is a very
apt manager. It sometimes happens
that, his meetings draw together a few
rowdies, who do not go there to pray or
to be prayed for. }A few evenings ago
some young fellows, forgetting their
manners, were rather noisy, and hot so
attentive to the services as they ougt to
be. Dr C thus addressed them :
“ Young gentlemen,” said he. Then
stopping a few moments he continued,
“ I don’t know as I ought to call yoit
gentlemen, for your conduct here this
evening does not merit that title. And
yet I may be doing you injustice as an
other clergyman did on another occa
sion. Having reprimanded a young
man for disturbing his meeting, he met
the father of the young man the next
morning, who told the pastor he did
wrou iu reprimanding his son.”
“ ‘ Why so ?’ said the pastor, { surely
your son was noisy and disturbed the
meeting.’ ”
“ ‘ Very likely,’ replied the father,
‘ but he was not accountable for such
conduct.’ ”
“ ‘How is that ?’ ” demanded the pas
tor.
“ ‘ My son has fits/ ” replied the fa
ther.
“And now,” said Dr. C., “ I don’t
know, young gentlemen but you may be
troubled with fits. If so, I will not re
primand you, but ask you to leave.”
The young men took their hats and
departed with fleas in their ears.”
Found at Fast.
A few days since, says the Chicago
Tribune, a portly and patriarchal gen
tleman might have been seen passing
along Leavitt street, pausing at each
house to ring the door bell. When it
was answered, he always sighed heavily,
and with a mournful air, asked if a gen
tleman v*ho wasn’t known in the vicini
ty lived there. At last he stopped be*
fore a cottage which gave to the eve an
impression of humble comfort and .re
finement, if not grandeur, and rang.—
The mistress of the house answered the
ring promptly. The old man’s face
lighted up with pleasure, and taking
from his finger a diamond ring, the
blazing solitaire in which weighed nine,
teen and five sixteenth carats, and was
of the purest water, he said, in a voice
husky with emotion : “Take this, my
dear, and this, too,” taking from his
pocket a roll of parchment. “ That is
the deed, in fee simple, to a mansion and
corner lot on Calument avenue, with a
blank for you to fill with your natne.~~
Nay, refuse it not. lam not your long
lost uncle, but I have devoted the past
seventeen years of my life to finding the
woman who, before answering the door
hell, did not strive to peep through the*'
window to see who was there. Good
bye,” and with the agility of a boy he
sprang into a magnificent barouche that
was drawn by two priceless horses, and
vanished.
What is Loveliness?
It is not in pearl powder, nor in gol
den hair dye, nor in jewelry. It can
not be got in a bottle or a box. It is
pleasant to be handsome, but all beauty
is not in prettiness. There is a higher
beauty that makes us love people ten
derly. Eyes, nose, hair or skin never
did that yet; though it is pleasing to
see fine features. What you are will
make your face ever for you iu the und,
whether nature has made it plain ct
pretty. Good people are never ill-look
ing. Whatever their faces may be, an
amiable expression atones for all. If
they can be cheerful als), no one will
love th m the less because their features
are not .egular, or because they are too ’
fat, or too thin, too pale, or too dark.— '
Cultivation of the mind adds another
charm to their faces, and, on the Whole,
if any girl is desirous of being liked
by the many and loved by the ODe, if is
more in her power than she may be
lieve to accomplish that olject. Cos*
meties will not accomplish it, however-
Neither will fine dress ; though a wo
man that does not dress becomingly >
wrongs herself. Forced smiles and af
fected amiability will be of no avail ;
but if she can manage to feel kindly to
everybody, not to be jealous, not to be
cross, to be happy if possible, and to en
courage contentment, then something
will come into her face that will outlast
youth s roses, and gain her not only a *
husband, but a life longiovetvY