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CALHOUN WEEKLY TIMES. BY D. B. FREEMAN. CALHOUN TIMES Office: Wall St., Southwest of Court House. Rates of Subscription. Ohe Year $2.00 Six Months 1.00 Ten copies one year 15.00 Rates of Advertising. fgjT For each square of ten lines or less for the first insertion, sl, and for each sub sequent insertion, fifty cents. No.Sq’rs | 1 Mo. | 8 Mos. | 0 Mos. | 1 year. Two $4.00 $7.00 I $12.00 $20.00 Four “ 6.00 10.00 | 18.00 35.00 j column 9.00 15.00 25.00 40.00 l “ 15.00 25.(X) 40.00 65.00 1 “ 25.00 4000 65.00 115.00 Ten lines of solid brevier, or its equivalent in space, make a square. Rates of Legal Advertising. Sheriff’s Sales, each levy $4 00 Citation for letters of Administration and Guardianship 4 00 Application for dismission from Admin istration, Guardianship and Exec utorship 5 00 Application for leave to sell land, one square 4 00 Each additional square 2 00 Land Sales, one square 4 00 Each additional square 3 00 Application for Homestead 2 00 Notice to Debtors and Creditors 4 00 grofo wimxl & 'gwiwm (tortis. "Ft J, KIKEK Jsc SON, * ATTORNEYS AT LAW, Will practice in all the Courts of the Cher ekee Circuit; Supreme Court of Georgia, and the Uuited States District Court at Atlanta, Ga. Office: Sutheast 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. T I). TINSLEY ~ Watch-Makor & Jeweler, CALHOUN, GA. All styles of Clocks, Watches and Jewelry neatly repaired and warranted. jDUFE WALDO THORNTON, D. D. S.. DENTIST. Office over Geo. W. Wells & Co.’s Agricul tural Warehouse. J H. ARTHUR DEALER IN GENERAL MERCHANDISE, RAILROAD STREET, Calhoun , Ga. y T. OKAY, 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. J. W. MARSHALL, RAILROAD ST., OLD STAND OF A. W BALLEW. ceps constantly on hand a superior stock of family & Fancy Groceries, ilso a fine assortment of Saddles, Bridles, Jtaple Hardware, &c, to which especial at tention is called. Everything in my line Jold at prices that absolutely defy competi tion. Books, Stationery and Jewelry. rfJJfljflL 111 WIN & CO. (Sign of the Big Book & Watch.) WE sup ly Blank Books, School Bocks and bjoks of all kinds ; also, pens, inks, paper , and everything in in the line of Stationery, at Atlanta l*rices. A good lot of JEWELKA always on hand. Watch, Clock and Gun repairing done cheaply and warranted. Country produce taken in exchange for goods. IRW IN & CO. BARBER SHOP! By ESSEX CHOICE . HAVING opened a Barber Shop between the Calhoun Hotel and W. & A. Rail road, 1 earnestly solicit the custom ol the public,pledging an honest endeavor to mer it the good will of every one. Single shave, 15cts. ; hair-cutting, 2octs.; shampooing, 25 cts. Shaving per month — - shaves per week, SI.OO, hair-cutting and sh uupooing included Other prices low in accordance. july2B tf. T.M.33LXjIS’ LIVEHV & SALtS STABLE. Good Saddle and Buggy Horses* and New Vehicles. Horses and mules for sale. Stock fed and cared for. Charges will be reasonable. Will pay the cash for corn in the ear and fodder in the bundle. feb3-tf. JEN AND JOE. It really don’t seem long ago, Since you were Jen and I was Joe, But forty years have passed and gone Since we commenced to trudge along Yes, forty years of wedded life, Since you became my happy wife; But now they call me Uncle Joe, And you had changed t® Aunt Jennettc. But still I never will forget When yon were belle and I was beau. Ah yes, it’s very long ago, Since our young love commenced to grow, And o’er our heads the years have rolled, And people call us rather old ; I’m sure it don’t seem so to me, You’re sixty-one, I’m sixty-three— It really don’t seem if ’twas so, But when the children pass us by, They always say ’bout you and I, There’e Aunt Jennette and Uncle Joe I Ah, well, God will soon call us home, And then in Heaven we shall roam. And wife, perhaps it will always be so, You’ll look like Jen and I’ll look like Joe. Then we’ll commence our love once more, As hapny as in days of yore, For those were happy days, you know— And sweet and joyful it will be, To live throughout eternity, As bonnie Jen and loving Joe. THE BROKEN PRIMROSES. A HIGHLAND STORY. Among all the flowers that make the country beautiful, I think none have such a tender place in memory as the primrose. Who ever passed the months of spring in the country, in childhood, who cannot recall how joyously the first appearance of the favorite was hailed, and the opening watched as its delicate buds peeped from amongst the thick green leaves under the shade of the briar bush, or around the roots of a wide branching ash tree, or ou the tiny shelves of a hoary rock ? To see even a bunch of artificial prim roses on a pretty young lady’s bonnet seem to me to give a touch of poetry to the wearer ; whilst to see them worn by a matron about to enter into the sere and yellow leaf period looks like the ripe months of September and October wearing the livery of spring. They seem more in keeping even on the sil very locks of old age; for an early primrose may blossom on the brown of winter. Rut to our story. The laird of a certain Highland es tate, which we call Achaneilean, was early left fatherless, but was carefully trained by a very wise, though doting mother. Sir Evan was a fine high-spir ited young man, who gave her the very highest satisfaction in all things, ex cepting in the wandering habits he had early formed. He would often dress himself in the strangest disguises and mingle with the tenauts,taking a leading share in their games and pastimes. His mother, knowing his high and hon orable nature, was never afraid of his doiti" anything wrong, at such times, but she thought his conduct undigni fied ; so, as she could not win him from his strange habit, she tried to influence him to get married. With this object in view she gathered arouud her, both in London and at home, all the young ladies she most admired; but her efforts seemed in vain. Sir Evan was courte ous and attentive to all her guests, but he was still fancy free; and she loved him too tenderly to wish him married without a sincere attachment. She knew the requirements of his nature, and understood, therefore, that a love less marriage would only drive him far ther into his wandering habits from which she wished him weaned. When Sir Evan was in his twenty* fifth year, he went to a distant part of his estate, which he had never visited before; and hearing there was to be a wedding, he went to it in disguise as a minstrel. He wore a tattered old tar tan coat, and carried his fiddle over his shoulder in a green baize bag, whilst his fair skin was stained to appear like a gipsy's. It was toward the latter end of spring —a clear, beautiful afternoon —and by the riverside the young people were gayly daDcing, whilst an old white-hair ed man, with palsied hand, was trying his best to give them music. The young man drew near bow ing to the company, he drew his old bonuet over his brow and he began to play. The dancers were delighted, for they had never listened to such strains be fore; and the old fiddler, trembling for fear he would lose the reward he ex pected, went to the young minstrel in the first pause of the music, and pro posed that whatever was paid to either of them would be equally divided with the ether. The young man laughingly assented, and when the best man came to offer him something to drink, he re fused it; but said as it was getting cold, it the old man would play them a spring he would be glad to he allowed to dance a reel. Permission was at once given auu the minstrel asked tor his partner a pretty,gray-eyed,modest looking maiden, whose graceful movement he had watch ed in the dance. She readily gave him her hand, and such dancing was seldom seen by those present. When he had led her back to her friends, he offered her a few primroses from a small boquet he had gathered by the river side, and turning to another fair girl, he offeied her the remainder, and begged her hand for the next dance. She tossed her head indignantly, and her looks said plainly, “Ho you think I would dance with a gipsy V taken thee primroses out ot his hand, but she broke them, and cast them away, saying suddenly, “ I don’t care for flowers, and 1 m not going to dance with you, thank you. , The young man turned away hastily, I and the maiden who had danced with him said to her companion, How could you wound the young man’s feelings so. CALHOUN, GA., AYEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 1875. What harm could it do you to dance with him ? And oh ! the dear prim roses ; the first I have seen this year; see, you have broken them ; ” and Elen bowed down and gathered the scattered flowers, and carefully placing them among those given herself, fixed them in her belt. “ How could you rather dance with a fellow like that— likely one of the gang of tinkers that passed yesterday ? And will you really wear the flowers he gave?” replied the maiden with a scorn ful sneer. “ I wear the flowers for their own sakes. How could you bieak them— the beauties ?” replied Ellen, caressing the boquet with a tender touch ; “ r.s for dancing with the young man, I am sure I am quite ready to do so again were it only for his delightful music.” Margaret drew herself away in digni fled silence. She was quite horrified at the conduct of Ellen ; and the young man, who was hovering near,and watch ing the maidens, again offered his hand to Ellen; and, anxious to heal the wound her companion had given, she danced with him gladly. He saw she was enraptured with his music, and he was delighted when, at the close of the festival, she asked him to proceed to her father’s house, where she wished to hear again his sweet strains. She had an old piano—not a very good one, but nevertheless one that gave her much pleasure ; and she wished to try some of the tunes he had played to the dancers. Ellen’s sisters were very much afraid she had compromised the family dignity by dancing with this stroller, and they grumbled about her asking bin: to their home so late in the evening. ITe went, however; and after Ellen and himself had discoursed music for a considerable length of time, to the delight of the old folks, who were rather proud of Ellen’s musical taste, he rose to leave. offered him a bed in the barn but be said he had to be miles away be fore daylight ,so Ellen gave him a piece of money and stuffed his pockets with bread and beef and a large piece of cheese, at the same time begging of him if he ever came that way again to give them the pleasure of listening to his minstrelsy. Sir Evan returned to his own castle, lut he could not banish the image of gentle Ellen from his heart. When he slept or when he woke he always saw her as she stood fixing the broken prim roses in her belt— looking so sweet and pretty in her white dress and blue rib bons, and her rippling brown hair tossed both by the evening breeze and by danc ing ; and at length,when his mother re newed her attacks upon him to get mar ried, he told her of the maiden he had learned to love so well. The lady was dumfounded. Was her darling son, the pride of her heart, to wed a nameless, humble bride. But as she pondered the matter over she be came more reconciled to it. If he loved this maiden his happiness was concern ed ; and what was his true happiness was hers. So after a short silence, that almost seemed years, she raised her head and asked Sir Evan if he had cause to think the maiden returned his love ? “ I dare not say she does, mother,” he replied, “ yet, I think she thought tenderly of the strolling musician. I think there was a sigh of regret that he was not the son of a neighbor farmer. I could read that in her dark gray eyes, even when she was not the least consci ous of it herself.” “ God bless you, my son,” replied the good lady, with a tremor in her voice, “ God bless you, indeed ; so amiable a maiden must prove a sweet campanion ; and she must be in a measure accom plished, accordong to your statement ; and if it is for your happiness I am re conciled.” The young man kissed his mother’s hand with tenderness and "latitude; and he went at once to order out his carri* age for the interesting journey. He dressed with great care, and a finer looking man could seldom he seen. His well-knit limbs were lithe and hardy looking, and showed the nimble huntsman or the brave soldier, as the occasion might demand. His dark, ha zel eye was beautiful, and his curling hair of the sunniest shade of brown. His bushy whiskers were auburn, and the habit of command gave a dignity to his presence that heightened the charm of the tfhole. Ellen’s father saw the carriage ap proach the house in great surprise, for he knew the great yellow carriage, though he had not seen it tor years. He went, bonnet in hand,to meet the laird, whilst his good wife hastily got on her best cap, and looked to her whiskey bottle and her bread and cheese, in case he might alight to rest his horses and get some refreshments, as she had seen his excellent father do. Sir Evan leaped from the carriage, and gayly entered the old house as it ; he had been an acquaintance for years, i to the great delight of the old farmer and his wife. He partook of a glass of rich cream and a piece of delicious oat aud then asked to see the family. They came one by one, tall, blushing girls, and stout, health; looking, awkward lads —all but Ellen’'; aud Sir Evau asked if these were all. “ We have cue other daughter, one second eldest, but she is busy with some household duties, and unfit to come in to your presence; so we hope you wiii excuse her, Sir Evan,” said the moth er gravely. “ Show me where to find her then and I will go to her,” said Sir Evan, with a strange quiver of lip and voice. The mother was about to cad the daughter, when one of the boys hastily opeuing the door, pointed to the room where Ellen was bujy taking the butter from the churn. She was arrayed in a plain gray linen dress clean and neat,and the curls that had hung so prettily about the neck and face at the wedding were fastened back with a piece of bright blue ribbon ; but the drooping, lilly-like figure and the modest gray eyes were the same, and the expression he thought so angelic when she gather ed the broken primroses was still the same also ; indeed, as be gazed upon her, he thought her more beautiful than ever. She looked bewildered at the fair face of the young man, and he took her hand saying: “ I have accepted your invitation, Ellen. Yon see I have returned, though in good sooth your eyes would speak a warmer welcome if I had come with my tattered coat and my fiddle.” Ellen stood speechless in astonish ment, for she saw, indeed, he was no other than the strolling musician, for that hazel eye had left a tender regret in Ellen’s heart for which she had of ten chided herself; and as it flashed across her mind who he was and how she had stuffed his pockets with bread and beef, she fell on her knees, crying, “ Forgive me, sir; oh, forgive me; I knew not, indeed, you were any other than what you seemed.” “ Forgive you, Ellen ! Yes, my fair girl,you have more need for forgiveness than you think, for you have stolen my peace of mind. Will you restore it to me ? Will you be my partner now again—for all my life loDg ?” He raised her from the floor as he spoke, and drew her tenderly toward him, and she laid her face upon his breast and wept tears of the purest joy and gladness, as, amidst hi3 caresses,she promised to be his through life. Ere he led her back to get a blessing from her parents, he took from his bosom a boquet of the latest primroses of the year, and fixed them on her breast, whispering, “ These flowers must always be sacred to us, for it was when you was gathering those of mine so rudely broken and scattered by an ungentle hand, that my soul vent out to you in the fullness of its first affection.” So Ellen became the wife of Sir Evan; and through life proved herself to be a true wife, a loving mother, and a bene factress to the poor and lowly. Yonng Women and Young Men. A correspondent of the Chicago Tribune writes as follows: “ Having thrown open your columns to the dis cussion of the subject treated in your issue of yesterday under the above cap tion, I w'.sh to say that, in my opinion, the great question is, “ Why do not young people marry ?” The girls would, if the boy3 would ask them ; hence we must iufer that the boys don’t ask them. And whence this reluctance to ‘ pop V I answer, that the most sensitive part of our organisation, our pocket, warns us against orange-Llossoms and honey moons. Now, I think this fear : s groundless. I believe that any man who can keep himself in tolerable com fort can keep a wife. I never yet earn ed more than S9OO a year, and I have been married five years, within which time we (I say emphatically we) ha7a built up a comfortable home, and bavo no debts that a month’s salary will not cover. I have been once or twice in rather tight places, but every difficulty has yielded to persistent effort, and the practice of systematic economy has en abled us to tide over the troublous times. But young men say the girls have such high-toned ideas that they do not know what economy is. and certainly will not practice it. are hundreds of girls in this town who know the value of money, because they have to earn it by hard work, who have to economise rigidly to keep themselves in respecta bility, who would jump at the chance of giving up their daily toil for the comfort of a homo of their own, how ever humble. Try them. Go and tell them honestly, “ 1 have but a moderate salary, and I can’t afford a high-toned house; but it seems to me that if you and I were to put our heads together we could build up a home in time.”— For remember thi3, it takes time to fur nish a house. I commenced with a stove, a rough table, four chairs, and a bedstead, in one room, on sl4 a week. So you begin ; be content with a little to start with ; don’t try to ape those whose means will permit them to launch out, but aim rather to get things togeth er that are useful. And so jou may go on, hand in hand, acquiring habits of' economy and industry that will grow with vour growth and prove greater Dlessings than all the wealth that could be given you, until at last you can build yourself a brown stone front on Calu met avenue if you choose. And be lieve me when I say that you will prize the home thus earned through patient industrv and by years of toil more than if you wait till you have the means to get such a home before you marry.— j You can call it our home and you will 1 look back to the day when you were bold enough to venture as the best day’s work you ever did. It can be done. A man can do any thing if he is really in earnest about it, but both must be of the one mind and one heart in this thing. In Scotland, it is customary, when a death occurs in a family, to send the neu;nbors an invitation to att.-nd the funeral. A “guid auld wife was passed over in one of these dispensations, and, with a heart full of indignant grief, she watched the luneral gathering around her'neignbor’s door. It was finally too much for her, and she exclaimed, in a tone of forced resignation : “Aweel, aweel ! we’ll have a corpse o’ our ain in our house some day; see, then, if she be invited 1” A Young Unn Who Wants Advice. It was the second time he had accom panied the young lady home from one of those little social parties which are got ten up to bring fond hearts a step nearer to each other. When they reached the gate she ask ed him if he wouldn’t come in. He Laid he would, and he follwed her into the houee. “It was a calm, still night,” the hour was so late that he had no fear cf seeing the old folks. Sarah took h;3 hat, told him to sit down, and she left the roc*n to lay off her things. She was hardly gone before her mother came in, smiled sweetly, and dropping down beside the young man she said : “I always did say that if a poor but respectable young man fell in love with Sarah he should have my consent. Some mothers would sacrifice their daughter’s happiness ior riches, but lam not one of that class.” The young man gave a start of alarm. He didn’t know whether he liked Sarah or not, and he handn’t dreamed of such a thing as marriage. “She has acknowledged to me that she loves you,” continved the mother, “and whatever is for her happiness is for mime.” The young man gave two starts of alarm this time, ana he felt his cheeks grow*pale. “I—l haven’t ”he stammered, when she said : “Oh, never mind. I know you haven’t much money, but of course you will live with me. We’ll take in boar ders, and I’ll risk but that we’ll get a long all right.” It was a bad situation. He hadn’t even looked love at Sarah, and he felt that he ought to undeceive the mother. “I hadn’t no idea of-—of ” he stammered, when sue held up her hands and said : “I know you hadn’t, but it’s all right. With your wages and what the boarders bring in we shall get along as snug as bugs in a rug.” “But, madam, but—but “All I ask is that you be good to her,” interrupted the mother. “Sarah has a tender heart and a loviug nature, and if you should be cross and ugly it would break her down within a week.” The young man’s eyes stood out like cocoanuts in a show window, and he rose up and tried to say something. He said : “Great heavens ! madam, I can’t pre mit -” “Nevermind about the thanks,” she interrupted. “I don’t belive in long courtships myself, and let me suggest an early day for the marriage . The 11th of September is my birthday, and it would be nice for you to bo married on that day.” “But—but —but ” he gasped. “There, thero, I don’t expect any j speech in reply,” she laughed. “l r ou aud Sarah fix it up to-night, and I’ll advertise for twelve boarders right away. I’ll try and be a model mother-in-law. I believe I am good tempered and kind hearted, though I did once follow a young man two hundred miles and shoot the topof his head off for agreeing to mar ry Sarah U nu thea jumping the bounty!” She patted him on the head and sailed out, and now the young man . ..ants advice. He wants to know whether he had better get in the way of a locomotive or slide off the wharf. Love for Love. Ragged, dirty, ugly. He had fallen in the muddy gutter ; his hands and face were black; his mouth wide open, and sending forth sounds not the most musical. A rugh hand lifted him up, and placed him against the wall. There he stood, his tears making little gutters down his begrimmed cheeks. Men, as they passed, laughed at him, not caring fora moment to stop and inquire if he was really hurt. Boys halted a moment to jeer and load him with their insults.— Poor boy !he hadn’t a friend in the world that he knew of. Certainly he did not deserve one ; but if none hut the deserving had friends, how many would be friendless! A lady is passing ; her kindness of heart prompts her to stay and say a kind word to the boys who are joking their companion and laughing at his sorrow Then she looked fixedly at the dirty lad against the wall. “Why, John, is it you?” He removes one black fist from h’s eye and looks up. He recognizes her She Las taught him at the ragged school. “Oh ma’am, I’m so bad !” She has him examined, then taken to the hospital. Afterwards she visits him kiudly and friendly. A year passes by. Thete is a fire one n’ght. A dwelling house is in flames. The engine has not yet arrived. The immates cannot be reached. A boy looks on. Suddenly be shouts : “Oh she lives here !” Then he climbs the heated, falling stairs. He fights against the suffocat ing smoke, lie hunts about till he finds what he sought. She has fainted —is dying perhaps. No Ihe will save her. Five minutes of agonizing sus pense and she i3 safe in the cool air. The by-stauders are struck with the intrepidity of the boy. lie only walks away muttering : “She didn’t turn from me when I wsa hurt.” Oh, freinds the stone looks very rough but it may be a diamond. “As to being conflicted with the gout,” said Mrs. Partington, “high living don’t bring it on. It is incoherent in some families, and is banded down from fath er to son. Mr. Hammer, poor soul, who has been so Ion" ill with it, disinherited j it from bis’ Wife’s grand-mother:” C annot IMcase Every! : Jy. “If you pLase,” said the Weather cock to the Wiod, “ turn mo to the south. There is such a cry out against the cold, that I am afraid they will put me down if I stop much longer on this north quarter.” So the Wind blew fr>m the south and the Sun was master of title day,and rain fell abundantly. “ Oh,please turn me from the south,” said the Weathercock to the Wind again. “ The potatoes will be spoilt, and the corn wants dry weather, and while I am here rain it will; and what with the feat, and the wet, the farmers are just mad against me.” So the Wind shifted to tho east, and there came soft, drying breezes, day af ter day. “ Oh, dear!” said the Weathercock, “ Here is a pretty to do ! such evil looks as I get from the eyes of all around me the first every morning ! The grass is getting parched up and there is no water for the stock ; aud what is to be done ? As to the gardeners, they say there won’t be a pea to be seen, and the vegetables will wither away. l)o turn me somewhere else.” So the Wiua changed to the east. “ What do they say to you now ?” he asked. “What?” cried the Weathercock; “ why, everybody has caught cold, ev erything is blighted—that’s what they say, and there isn’t a misfortune that happens, but some how or other they lay it to the east wind.” “ Well,” cried the Wind, “let them find fault; I see it is impossible for you and 1 to please everybody ; so in future I shall blow where I like, without ask ing any questions. I don’t know but that we shall satisfy more than we can do now, with all our consideratiou.” Golden Words. The habit of looking on the bright side is invaluable. Men aud women who are evermore reckoning up what they want rather than what they have —counting the difficulties in the way, instead of contriving means to overcome them— are almost certain to live on corn bread fat pork, and salt fish, and sink to un marked graves. The world is sure to smile ou a man who seems to be sue* cessful, but let him go about with a crestfallen air, and the very dog> iu the stieet will set upon him. We must all have losses. Late frost will nip the fruit in the bud, banks will break, in vestments will prove worthless, valuable horses will die, and china vases will break, but all these calamities do not come at once. The wise course to pur sue when one plan fails is to form an other ; when one prop is kuocked from under us, fill its place with a substitute, and evermore count what is left rather than what is taken. When the final reckoning is made, if it appears that we have not lost the consciousness of our iuternal rectitude; if we have kept charity toward all men; if by the vari ous discipline of life, we have been freed from follies and confirmed in vir tues, whatever we have lost, the great balance sheet will be in your favor.— Rural New Yorker. A Child’s Prayer. —Sho war hard-, ly able to talk plainly, and a policeman had to give her his hand to assist her up the steps into the Central Station. ‘‘Did you put my mother in jail ?” she asked as she pushed her sunbonnet back and looked from one to another. They had arrested a red faced, tangled- haired wo man, who fought the officers and made use of foul language. No one dreamed that the child was hers, but it was. The little child was so innocent and pure that they didn’t want her to even see the iron bars, but the mother heard her voice, called to her and they opened the corridor door. The child grasped the iron door, looked into the cell, and cried out: ••Why, mother, your are in jail!” The mother crowded back,ashamed of herself,and the child knelt down on the stone floor, clung to the iron bars of the door, and prayed : “Now I lay me down to sleep, and I hope my mother will be let ont of jail!” The men had tears in their eyes a3 they gently removed her, and when the woman came into court yesterday morn ing to be tried his Honor whispered to her to go home and try for that child’s sake to be a mother instead of a wretch. Danger in the Cup. The Rev. W. 11. 11. Murray, in a re cent sermon in Faneuil Hall, Boston, dealt with the subject of intemperance 1 thus : “ You are talking like siily idi ots when you say there is no danger iD the cup. I know from the blood of five generations of cider-drir king ancestors in my veins the danger there is in this thing. There is not a scent of liquor that is not pleasant to me, that would not be a precious drop to my tongue. Look at me. Do I look like a man easy to be overcome by temptation ? Do you know my life ? Go back and learn it, and see what I have suffered ; and yet I say to you. with this back-ground of evidence—l declare to you, as I value my manhood, and my standing, and my soul—l would not dare to drink for three weeks ?■ glcss of liquor a day. The chasm yawns at your feet, and at |my feet. '1 hose who say there is no danger in the first glass of liquor do not recognize the peril of hereditary weakness.” In watching with sick people, eat a regular meal before going into the room and repeat at intervals of not over four hours; this keeps the stomach in a state of excitement which repels itifhctioii;' VOL. VI.—NO. 8. I>amaged Men. 1 ou can see, any day, in the streets of any city, men look damaged. Men, too} of good original material who started out in life with generous aspirations.—* Once it was said they were bright, prom ising lads; once they looked happily into the faces of mothers, whose daily*' breath was a prayer for their purity and peace. Ah ! what if some of them have vowed their souls away to confldo ing wives who silently wonder what cac he the meaning of this change—the cc!d, tfow-creep shadow that is coming over the house and heart. < Going to the bad! The spell of evil ! companionship; the willingness to hold aud use money not honestly gained ; the 1 stealthy, seductive, plausiblo advance of the appetite for strong drink; the treacherous fascination of the gambling table; the gradual loss of interest iri business aud doings that build a man up; the rapid weakenings of all noble purposes; the decay of manliness; the recklessness and blasphemy against fate; the sullen dispair of ever breaking the chains of evil habit. What victories of shame and contempt, what harvests of hell, have grown from such steed as this ! Sneer, if you will, like a fool, at the suggestion of reform, morals and religion. Every man knows, in his better moods, that all there is of true life is persona) virtue and rectitude of character. Going to the bad ! But there is hope. Earth and heaven aro full of hands ever reaching to help the lost man back to the better way. All the good there is in the universe is in sympathy with that little goodness which inwardly reproves and protests. How to Keep a Subscriber. An indignant farmer entered the of-, fice of the Elizabeth News, and ordered his paper discontinued because he dif fered from the editor in his views in re gard to the advantages of subsoiling fence-rails. The editor,of course,conceded the man’s right to stop his paper, but he coolly remarked looking over his list: “ Do you know Jim Sowders, down at Hardscramble V’ “ Very well,” said the man. “ Well, he stopped his paper last week because I thought a farmer was a blamed fool who did not know that tim othy was a good thing to graft on huck leberry bushes, and he was dead in four hours.” “ Lord ! is that so ?” said the aston ished stranger. “ Yes, and you know old George Erickson, down on Eagle creek V* “ Well, I’ve heard of him.” “ Well,” said the editor,gravely, “he stopped his paper because I said he was the happy father of twins, and eongrat* ulated him on his success so late in his life. He fell dead in twenty minutes. There are lots of similar cases,but don’t matter. I’ll just cross your name out, though you don’t look strong,and there is a bad color on your nose.” “ See here, Mr. Editor,” said the subscriber, looking somewhat alarmed, “I believe I’ll just keep on an other year, ’cause I always did like your pa per ; and,come to think about it,you’re a young man, and some allowance orter be made.” And he departed satisfied that he had made a narrow escape from death. New Treatment of Cancer. Anew and wonderful applicatipp <?£ alcohol has recently been made in tbp treatment of tumors and cancer. Schwalbe of Weinheim, has reported 100 cases of various forms of indolent glandular swellings treated sucessfully by the subcutaneous injection of the tincture of iodine. Latterly he has used injections of simple alcohol in fifty similar cases, and has found the results equally|favorable and the time required for a cure no greater, and he therefore concludes that the alcohol is the essen* tial remedial agent. He explains its curative action as follows : It establishes a state of chronical inflammation in the connective tissue, causing it to contract by degrees, and thus pressure is brought upon the vessels and the lymphatics are obliterated. These effects, and th e consequent hardening of the connective tissue, he proposes to utilize in the treat* ment of other tumors, and reports the cure of fatty tumors by the use of such injections, to which some other was add ed in order to dissolve the fat. lie finds however, the most important application of his plan in the treatment of cancer by preventing its extention to the neigh* boring tissues and lymphatic glands.— The tumor i first to be isolated, as it’ were by causing the connective tissue, on all sides of it to become shriveled. Then the contractive connective tissue, presses upon it, cuts off its blood supply and so causes it to disappear by atrophy. Lymphatic glands which are already affected are to be similarly treated.— Schwalbe, with Dr. Ilasse, claims to have cured three cases of cancer of the breast in thi3 way. If the gates of heaven were suddenly to swing open, and all mankind be ask ed on equal terms to enter the kingdom, some people would pause to see what some other people were going to do about, it, and some would draw back for fear that the celestial city was getting vul gar, and some would refuse altogether, >f thej saw so-and-so about to enter. Let all your bouse cleaning opera tions be conducted with regard,to health, even more than appearances. Thorou ghly air and ventilate and wash all car pets, clothing, ect, especially those that ihave beed packed away iu garretff,’ closets and out-of-way places.