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e w AT u" O. P1TBAS3 jXDTTCa- STORE. 1AM ow reeelvinjf a very lanre and select stork of everything in the fUil'ti and MKPiCINE line, together with a very line and elegant assortment of the choicest Perfumery, Colognes, Hair Oils, Pomades, Combs, Brushes Etc., Powder Puffs and Puff Boxes. All of in v L'ooN are purrhael direct from the manufacturer and Importers in New York and Philadelphia, at their lowest cash price, consequently I can offer superior inducements to all cavil buyer. l.would call partisular attention to my FRENCH BRANDY. WINE AND PURE WHISKIES, of which I have the finest good in the city. Prescription We nrike the filling of prescription a tion, and tbo una of none except the very tatlon and staiidlnx of my house lor the pint Bve year. I iiImi h:iv on hand a very Largs stock of the beat brand of White Xicad, Linseed Oil, And faints of all kind, and on which I cannot be undejsojd by anybody, apl-tl k. r. loi:(;iik.i. LOTIGHEAD MANUFACTfUEUS OK DOOKS, SASH AND Kough aiul Dressed Lumber, LATH 5cO., I' rice JAitt or Moulding Hook sent on application. No. '2'i lliiniiibal St., Let. 6th and and D. Railroad Depot, GiisroinsrisrjLTi, o. -?" The Third and Fourth Str.etCar run within half a square of the'Kactory july l-iui Manufacturer and exclusive dealer In BOOTS, SHOES,HATS & CAPS, "ErPS a large, extensive and well . and Children's Bought direct from Manufacturers!, and Men, Boys and Youth's Boots, Shoes, Hats and Caps. Champions O p C p p p G p G G P G ' G nsl,0!d'iiw'lD Champions ptippt;pspo5 sfBuoidimiq; ) Champions 3 3 5 3 3 33323 33 3 23 3 3 3 suoidmuti;) Champions 'H.'H.'H.'H.'H.'H.'H.'H.'H.'H.'H.'H.'H. -."H. i.'H.'H.'H.s u o i d i u ii : Champions 2 g 2 S 2 2 2 2 2 Champions Champions Champions Champions - Champions Champions Champions Champions Champions Champions Champions Champions Champions Champions Champions Champions Champions lntentel Hlwy OB tt CO 09 QD (t) CO CV y t-hr-.; Champions s SSSSsSSSoSSSSSSSSS suotduiutt: Champ i o u 'H.'5."H.S.'E."o,'E."S.'S."E."E.'H."S."S.'E."E.'5.'3.'E. s u o 1 d iu nt ; ) Champions SSaSSSSSaSSSSeSBSSE suojduiinio ChanipionsjS jSjSjSjSjjjSjSjSjjSjS S jS j5 j 5 J5 5 suoiduiqf) Champions 3oUi)OUyCJ3D0.i) 3 suoidurst) Exclusive Kight to sell the WHICH HAS BEEN ItKDUCEU FItOM $3 CO TO $3 OO. Kvery pair of Champion 1 warranted ko, honest anil serviceable, in everv particular, viptal to the best custom niado shoe and worth the money. Will not bo undersold. Call and examine before purchasing elsewhere. Sign of the Big Boot, Corner Main and Market st. npl-ftm Ml V HDLLENBERG, AGENT CHICKERING'S ASD OTHER And Kstcy & Co.'s, Geo. "Woods ami Loring & Bla ke's PARLOR AND CHURCH ORGANS, 274 Second Street, Ayres Building, Memphis, Tenn. ii. IloLI.KNBKRO i a Practical Piano and Organ Builder. Particular attt-ntion 11 M paid to the (lurrhaxe, Hale and renting of nccoud-hand Pianos and Ornns, and to Tun I ii f? ami Ileiialriiig'PinMo.s and Orsrans. Ml A - Anderson DK ALECS IN HARBWARE, CUTLERY, STOVES ID BRATES OF EVERY rI-'CRlPTION. IRON, STEEL, NAILS, ETC., Also manufacturer of and wholesale and retail dealer in TIN', COPPER ANI SHEET-IRON ATA RE. Heating and Cooking STOVES of the most Approved Styles ALWAYS ON HAND. Also, Gratc.4 of Every DeKcriptlon. House Euruishiur Goods ill ciullcM variety, emhracing a complete assortment of GLASS AND QUEENSWAEE, The attention ol Mechanics in specially dire Mock ol ecially direi-te. mm A splendid asuortment T7 T jcurmmg- lrapiements, (. :.ll kind-, nnd of tho vert let manufacture. I J7 Hardware, Cutlery and Agricultural Department, Xortli side Puhlic Siuare. t tfTiit M .in ul'ucturv. Stoves. Uoum-hnld Kurnisliin - JohU, etc.. etc., at nir oil stani on Main nlrect, opposite Presbyterian Church. Jackson, .1.111 s-jv or MAIXT I.OU1S. Otrcru it horviccs to tho people of AVcst Tennessee as a candidate for Lifo lusurani-e, and in doing so will be controlled by all the wise and lib eral features known to tho seience. Its Policies are All Xuu-Forlcitablo! After the payment of ONE Annual Premium. So restriction Is imposed on travel or resideueo in the United States, British Provinces or Europe. None hut really extra hazardous! occupation restricted. Hi hiieraiitv of fc ituie, aosolute .security and pru lent Ct T V base its claim for preferment. The hoard l n'ticer stand uiiurp:issi"l it". I', nam'iers, and are national in their repulatio OFFlOEiiS jAMKs r. O KAI.I.ON President. A. M. R1 r TON. Vice rresideot. si. W. LOd AX. ."secretai v. UUl'tl, Assistant fsecretary. DIRECTORS. Jan. H. I.ucas, A. M. Brittou. J. O'Fallon, A. Hatch, J a. Lu)e. Home Olllce No. i;i, Whccles & Hamilton, State Agents, "ahville, Tennessee. If. R. DASUIELE, M. D Medical Examiner. . Octl-U Goods! duo Mock or rure Liquor, Department. specialty, and hope by the mot careful atten best and purest drug, to maintain the repu & PORTER, & SHUTTERS, UKALERS IN Joist, Scantling, Shingles, 6th Sts., West of and near the C. II. assorted stock of Ladies, Misses 9 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 sa05.Iu1u.iri B n suouluivtif) 8iioi(ltnn3 mioiiluiBii.) suoidiuBq;) siioid(iii siioiduiuij, ) suoidtutfii,") suoidumqf) euojduivijf) euoidurcqf) siioidtuviif) euojdniutjf) suoiduiunf) suoidtuvq;) 6U0!IlUUI(f) suokIiiiwii. 80, I SOU OB OS m eo a a t o a SlIOpJuiBtjf) Celebrated Champion Shoe I'OIt FIRST PRIZE T COS - ted to the Urge and carefully selected 1 i Tennessee. S? 0GS UJI5 CSTV management, the JlOOD loir skill and ability as 'ti- C. O. XebAT ().V, (ieneral Anent. V. K. HAttVKY. Consultin'' Actuary. THO. A. RllSSKLl,. Attorney. V. HATCH, M. D., Medical Ollicer. M. Waterman, U.Ciarrisou, J. M. Ilarnev. TUos.A. Uu'sm-II. Xorth Third Street. WHIG VOL. XXVII. WHIG AND TRIBUNE. fCRLInllKD KVERY SATUKklY, BV W. W. GATKS. IKX CAMERON. D. M. WUDOM. J. T. HICKS. Under the Firm and Style of "W. "W. GATES &c CO. Tm:MS ov PrBSCRlPTl'iS. Two dollar t rear, invariably in advance. .Single cojiics 10 cent.'. A itvKR-riMixo IJatm. Advprt:pm-iil insrrttd for a Ii-m mtiu than three month will h oluwd f 1 !) !-r uare m ti ;ht lines, or li-r-, for the first insertion, for each uheiuent insertion. and tl A I V E JRT I S I N C KATES. ft MOXTnS. B. 1 mniare, tri o) 2 " -JiXK) 3 . " 25 (XI M column. 'XI " M MI MONTHS. 12 MONTHS. j-.D m .;o " a)i) 40 o 40 00 Mix) 50 (HI ',! i vm too oo loo on noooo 1 NO Ol) 13" One inch hj.ace con.itituU-s a Kjuarc. Whore atlvertiiementa are ordered to he umiMiallv difplaved they will he charged rorai'corJini.' to the space they occupy; one inch to constitute a U.ire. heritr. Clerk and Kanu'eri. ho "-nd u their oatrona'e will rewne tne Mji without charge. iTriiviHDiiii Kor announcing cm .Ii. I (,r I niintv office and the J.e-jisla- ture. Kh for Conirreka lor lumcipai and civil diotriot onices. all in advam THE DAY I DOSE. FY II. XV. T03H.FF.LOW. The day Is done and the darkness Falls fioni the wiiiL'of ni,-ht A a feather is wafted downward From the eagle in his flight. I aee the lif-'hta of the village (ileam througU the rain and lh-mi-t, And a feeling of sadness ume oer me, That my soul uannot reit. A fueling of sadness and louina, That 1 not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only. A the mist resembles rain. Come read to me some poem, Some simplo and heartlelt lay. That shall xoothe the retless l"i-liir,'. And bimi.h the thoughts ol day. Not from the grand old master. Not from the bards sublime, Whose distant tooUtepa echo Through the corridors of time. Kead from some humbler poet. Whose sonif gush from hi heart. A shower from the cloud of summer, Or tear from her eyelid t:u t. Who through long day of labor. And nights devoid of ease. Still heard in hi soul of mu-ii-, Of wondrous melodies. Such song have power to quiet, The restless pulse of care. And come like the benediction That follow. after prayer. Then read from the treasured vol nine. The poem ol thy choice. And Uiid to the rhyme of the pod The beauty of thy voice. nd the night shall lc tilled with mu-ic; And the cares that infest the day Shall fold their tents like the 4 rab. And a silently steal away. NELLIE'S VA1TIG. "And you will not forget mc, lit tle Nellie?" Forget vou, Fred? As if I could ever know a happy hour without ou!" and tho brown eyes, usually so full of merriment, now shone through, glittering tears. llut vou, Jt reil, away ou m mat great city, with so much that is new to pleaso you, will lindsome one else to to lovo, while I fehall be forgotten and alone." And tho sentence so bravely com menced, ended in a great choking sob; then covering her face with her hands, tho maiden ou whose brow but fourteen summers had left their blooming freshness, yielded to the first great grief her young heart had ever known, and all for the sake of her childhood s friend and playmate, who had come to bid her a long good-by. 'Nellie, clear JNeiue, now can vou peak so? You will break my heart, indeed you will, if you are going to make our parting tttill harder by our distrust of mc." The boy-lover gently drew her head upon his shoulder, with its dark curls rippling in shining waves against his breast, and, withdraw ing one little dimpled hand from the lovely tear-stained face, caress ed it tenderly with his own. "Do vou not kuow, Nellie, that it is the hope of being one dav able to ask for this little hand, mul of ob taining a home worthy of the jewel that may graco it, that alone can re concile me to our separation. And I know, for I am older than you, Nellie, that it is I who will have most cause for doubt." 'Listen, Nellie; you are lovely as a fairy now, and you will be very beautiful. You aro the only child of a proud, ambitious father, and the beautiful heiress of Squire Field ing's tine estate, and will not want for suitors, and those, too, more eli gible than the son of a poor widow, if not more flattering to a maiden's pride. Forgive me. Nellie; vou may not always regard tho friend of ear ly youth as you do now." "You think me a child. Fred, and that time will teach me to forget; but I feel to-day that I have a wo man's heart, and I know that to you this heart cau never change. 1 will wait for you, dear Fred, and never, no, never, love another, though I am suro your riches could not make us happier." They sat together still, those two child-lovers, beneath tho chestnut trees, under whose wide spreading branches they had played many a long summer day, and where now they exchanged their pledges of eternal constancy; and not until the lengthening shadows fell around them did Nellie watch for the last time his receding footsteps as they pressed the beaten path down to the village cot that was to be his home no longer; while his lips, yet dewy with the tears she had u ept for hhii, mflrmured again those precious words that were to be his solace in the coining years: "I will wait for you, Fred, darling; I will wait." Nellie Fielding was bereft of a mother's love ere scarce those in fant lips could lisp her name; aud Fred Truman's mother had loved and petted the little orphan, who crept into her heart with her pret ty winning wavs, until sho became scarcely second to her owu boy iu her affections. It was Fred who truudled her over the lawn in her baby carriage, and culled for her the "first spring blossoms; and his the hand that led her to and from the village school, as proud of his littlo charge as she was grateful for his protection. His mother watched with fond delight the growing intimacy be tween those two as each passing year developed the innate sweetness of the little girl; aud those who knew her noble boy might well have pardoued the mother's partiality in tho wish that their lives might ever flow together as smoothly aud natu rally as now. Hut mother and son would equally have scorned to offer her an inferior position, and togeth er they had matured their plans for the future; iu furtherance of which they must bid adieu to the homo they had learned to love, and where the wanderer now left his treasure to watch and wait. Mrs. Truman had known better days; but her father having died in solvent, she married a poor artist who had long loved her; aud now her fatherless boy was left to carve his fortune by his own exertion. If Squire Fielding had ever given the subject a thought, he evidently saw iu this intimacy nothing more than a child's preference ou the part of Nellie, aud deemed it only natur JACKSON, TENNESSEE, al that any one should admire his little pet. llut certainly he enter tained other visions for his daugh ter than that of her marriage with the son of a poor tenant. Fred Truman's prophecy had been more than realized; for Nellie Fielding, at twenty, was more beautiful than his fondest dreann had ever pictur ed her, nnd as good as she was beau tiful. She had many adnrrers, real, true lovers, ami not a few suitors for her hand who had dcirmed her father's broad acres no inltrior con sideration even with po ch-irming an encumbrance. To all s!i6 gave kind but decided refusal: and to her father, who was in no haste to part with her, when he .bantcruu her on her fastidiousness, she ever gave the same iiiiauit answer,"! am wait ing." Among the last-mentioned cla of feuitor.s was Louis Whit ford whoe father was a gentleir.an of re tiuted wealth, and beinr an old friend of Mr. Fielding, ths son pos scssed this prior claim upon hi fa vor. He not only encoursged the young man's suit, but urged his daughter's acceptance of hi in with a vehemence that surprised no less than it pained her. lie embraced every opportunity to till her ears with praises of his favorite, and re count the advantages of a union on which he had set his heart. She in formed them of her betrothal to her old playmate, and how Ion,' and pa tiently they had loved, anu that in one short, "year he was coming to claim her as his own. Hut her lath er reproached her for wilful disobe dience, and her lover unl not cease to persecute her with his attentions. hhe at lengtii wrote to r reit iru man of her trails, and received iu re turn a cold congratulatory letter, hailing what he was pleased to term htr providential good fortune as propitious to the happiness of both, inasmuch as he had recently formed an attachment that had taught him to look upon his boyiah fancy as au idle dreai.i, that could never result in a happv union. l'oor Nellie! Fierce was the struggle between grief and pride, when she read that ueartieM letter that nearly crushed her, fcfter all those years of faithful love, that timo and absence had served to strengthen, until, it had become so blended with her being, so closely iuterwoven with every liber of her heart, thf.t to conquer it was to strike the fatal blow to all h?r hopes of earthly bliss. Itut pride tit length prodomiuated; and she yielded pas sively to the fate she no lorger had tho heart to resist; for the love that would have braved everything for him could not withstand' this wit ness of hs perfidy, and the cold world's scorn of woman's slighted love; and the promised that in three months she would give her hand to Louis; Wlr.tford. Her lather was willing to accept her coinpl.ancc with his wishes un questioned; and Whitford seemed to exult in the happy progress of his wooing as tho result of his own irresistabl J powers, licr lathers manner resumed more than its wonted tenderness; but had she been less absorbed in the silent hopelessness of her own sorrow, Nellie must have seen that he strug gled with secret grief, that even the contemplation of her cligibl-J pros pects was not patent to relieve. His financial affairs had become deeply iuvolvcd, and circumstances sudden ly terminated a crisis he was no longer able to avert. The calamity against which he had so bravely striven now burst up on him, nnd the worst that he had feared was true the estate must be sacrificed to meet his creditors' de mands. And though his daughters' marriage v.-ith Whitford was to se cure her frain the humiliation of tho impending blow, yet it was very hard for him, that careworn old man, now hi the winter of hi- days, to leave tho home of his youth. where his parents had lived and died, and whose dearest associations were sacred to the memory of his transient veddud love, and where he and his child had so long abode. lie was fitting alone, busy with thoughts like these, when a servant entered, handing him a letter, lie mechanicaily broke tho seal; but the words that met his eye were calcula ted to arro5t his attention and add fresh torture to his soul, while they galled his proud nature with a hu miliation as bitter as it was unex pected. It was nothing less than a letter from Louis Whitford, express ing his regrets that, much as he had admired Miss Fielding, it would not be compatible with existing circum stances to consummate a union that would not, he lelt assured, be a greeable to the young lady's nice perception?, and he would accoid ingly withdraw all furher elslins to her consideration. This from the man to whom he had so eagerly en trusted the future of his child, and ho now dared lo offer her so gross an insult a-, tlius boldly to imply the nature of his former pro.'ssion, which had no deeper foundation than mere mercenary motives. He felt sutliciently punished for his own mistaken solicitude for her pros perity in urging her to renounce the lover' of her early years for a wretch who could desert her iu the hour of need; for hs knew not of the fatal letter that alone had power to swerve her fidelity to her only love. As for Nellie, any natural mortifica tion her pride might undergo was lost in the stronger feeling of" relief that the farce was endeed.and the ho liet relations no longer to be made a mockery. She felt that she had rather toil for her daily bread than become the wife of a man who was incapable of love that would not promote his interest. It was Just eight years sinco Fred and Nellie farted beneath the branch esof thechestnuts; and, according to the placards on the walls, the grand old homestead would, in two days more, come under the hammer of the auctioneer. Nellie walked about tho house with a wearv, dejected air sadly unlike her former self. In her own room she lingered bv the window that looked out upon the village, from which she had so often watched for Fred iu the olden days, aud where she always sat to peruse and answer the'ouce precious lc ttters that had lain untouched in a secret corner of her escritoire since that last cruel message had come to her. Ah, she cov hi not bear to thiuk of that: and now she passed down the stairs and through the broad hall to the musicroom, where stood the grand piano from whose swet in spiration she had drawn the magic of many a happy hour; and that, too, must go wi;h all the richly-carved furniture, to save her father's name from dishonor. She could not play now, sh-j was in no mood for music; and the thougts that crowded so thiekly upou her seemed almost suffocating her, and pasiug out into the open air, she walked to the old seat be neath the trees; aud there, rehears ing all the bitterness since that hour when fell the first great drop into her cup of sorrow, whoso brimming contents she was now draining the the very dregs, she hurried hc-r face in her hands, just as she had done that day eight years ago, and reliev ed her aching heart in a passionate tit of weeping. Then there was a loving voice to soothe her, while warm lips kissed away her tears: and then she had her own dear lome that would soon be hers no longer: and now another brow received those kissess once her own. Will she never watch for his coming any-more never know that bagful hour for which she so long had waited'.' "Oh? Fred," she murmured, "how could you prove so faithless to a heart t iat cau never leara for get fulness?" 'Heaven grant it never mav, mv Nellie, mint tilocc! Look into my eye, darling, and recall those cruel words;" and, with a stilled cry, Nel lie sank back fainting in Fred' Tru man's arms. If love has power to re-animate the sluinbering senses, her lover's cares AND ses must have restored to life the form that lav so motionless in his embrace, for presently the eves uu closed; then, nestling closer to his bosom, she closed them again, as if fearful ofbreaking the spell that seemed too happy to be real. Then, as if convulsed by the painful recol lection this sudden shock bad mo mentarily suspended, she startyl wildly to her feet, and the next mo ment stood before hiin flushed ami excited, till she at length found voice to speak. "Frederick Truman, why have vou come to mock mv miser ? Not satisfied with the written acknow leiigment of your treachery, you Lave come here to triumph in your power? How I loved vou. all those years of misplaced confidence but too plainly bear me witness; but I will tear your image from my heart as carelessly as you have trilled with mv happiness; and vou mav re turn to the object who has taught you the fallacy of your boyish fancy, and tell her that Nellie Fielding, thought she rnav weep for the home of her childhood, and drop a tear to the .memory of the plavmates of those happy davs before the world had hardened him, pays no such tri bute to the precious letter that gave her back her freedom. The young man had essayed to in terrupt her, but she waved him to be sileut. When she ceased speak ing, he besought her to be calm aud hear him. He assured her that he had never written that cruel letter, nor ever heard of Louis Whitford; but had written her.thrce letters that elicited no reply, the last of which wa3 to inform her of his mother's decease. Only two days before he had seen the advertisement of the sale, aud. divining that they were in trouble, he hastened to come to them. There was a bridal instead of an auction sale at the homestad, then ; for Fred,. Truman redeemed the whole as a gift to his fair bride. The mystery of the letters proved to bo the work of Whitlord's villainy, who iutcrcepted those that both had writ ten, and forged the one that so near ly cost them their happiness. squire Fielding, fdill a hale old man in spite of his four-score years, now gathers his grandchildren about his knee, while he recounts to them this story, and how the poor widow's son had saved them from the brink of ruin. For the Yhi;j and Tribune. SCIEWE HAS BIT IKw VOTA- It ICS. Import of ttae Term. tagci. -Its Ad van. BV J. B. CONGER. An idea thrown out by a divine from the pulpit, some time since, is truism worthy of note, yet one that is realized by very few persons. After discussing the inspiration of the Holy Scriptures, and descanting upon their agreement with the works of nature, whose principles originated with tho same great first cause that inspired the writers of the Bible, and that consequently, true science and the Scripture will ever harmonize, the preacher sub stantially remarked: The number of persons who study and understand science are but few, compared with those who ead and understand the scriptures." Although this is not generally as sented to by literary men without scientific knowledge, nevertheless, nothing more true ever emanated from the sacred desk. Persons hav ing but a smattering of some of the sciences, are apt to conclude that a knowledge of the sciences is much more general than it really is, or than in after years, with a more thorough knowledge, they find it to be. The number of men of science iu any community are few, and those not often duly appreciated, for literary men seldom know or appre ciate the advantages of science, or even understand the import of the term. But what, then, is science? Science is defined to be "certain knowledge;" "the comprehension of truth by the mind;" "a collection of the general principles relating to ny subject; ' "a system ot rules built on principles." Hence, as all truth and certainty are of God, and as principles exist in nature which originated with Deity, and arc im mutable aud uniform under similar conditions, science is a knotcledge of thelaics of nature by which cer tain phenomena are iroduced. All the arts and sciences are necessarily built on the inventions of man, or the immutable principles of rature. If built on man's invention, it is an art; if on the principles of nature, a science. Men without a kuowledge of science have but a vague idea of what it is. They usually conceive it to be knowledge acquired by ob servation and experience, which, however, is not science, but simply an art. "Authors are not always careful," says Mr. Webster, "to use the terms art and science with due discrimina tion and precision." Mere literary writers often coufouud the terms, or, rather, use the term science, when that of art is indicated and should be used. Scientific writers, however, understand by the term art, that knowledge which depends alone ou practice, and by the term science that knowledge which de pends on abstract principles which have been established on independ ent evidence. Knowledge acquired by the exercise of that peculiar fac ulty ot the mind by which, when properly cultivated, the relations existing between cause aud effect are mentally determined, and their connections traced to their sources, or, rather to where they rest in Deity. Scientific men are those whose minds are stored with prin ciples, facts and truths, drawn from precepts, observation and contem plation, by which they can mentally determine the causes producing cer tain effects, and the results that will follow certain causes, without hav ing previously witnessed such phe nomena. Mau is designed, by his Creator, as a social being, individually en dued with separate gifts, variety of iutellect and bent of mind, that each may fill a certain sphere and form a part "of one stupendous whole," wherein each are dependent on each other for the enjoyment of life aud happiness. All things are properly ordered for man's happiness and en joyment, would each individual but move in their proper spheres aud uo mar the harmony that would otherwise prevail, by assuming po sitions they were not designed to fill. Notwithstanding the fact that but few men have the gift and bent of mind to study and acquire a thor ough knowledge of science, never theless their number were sufficient to raise mankind to a lofty eminence, were it not that the world is filled with persons who assume to under stand science, and whoe insidious views are spread broad-cast over tho land aud inasmuch as the sophisms of pretenders appear to the uniniti r j SATURDAY, ated more plausible than the truth of science these views are taken up and practiced upon to the exclu siou of the truths put forth by men of science. And here the occurrence of the many errors and failures with the operations of men. xnc History oi man iroin the ear liet ages of the world down to the present time, confirm the truth of these views. History teaches us that wherever and whenever men ot science have controlled the opera tions, whether of building temple or cities, ruling governments or prosecuting a war. success has in variably followed their effort.. Wherever tho rulers of a nation have duly appreciated the advan tages of science, and have (.vailed themselves of it, that nation ha arisen in the world and prevailed in war. ine reign of 1'eter the ureat in Russia, and the recent contest be tweeu France and Prussia, art; strik ing illustrations. I eter, by appro ciating science, raised an obscure na tiou to an enviable eminence; and Prussia, a nation in every respect ex cept the appreciation of scier. ee by her rulers, the inferior, in n few short months completely subjugates France. And we find it to be the case, not only with governments, but with corporations and individu als, that wherever science is t.ppre- ciated, success follows their opera tions. In fact, civilization is b it the development of science. Man with out science is a savage; and civilized nations merge into barbarism when ever they neglect science. Coming nearer home aud taking a view of the past history of our city and county, we find the truth of the proposition amply verified. ''Alien men of science have controlled pub lic works, success has followed. But, which is usually the case, when law yers, merchants, etc., to the exclu sion of men of science, have had the control of that about which they knew nothing, failure has inevitably resulted. Whole communities are sometimes led astray by tho ttoph isrus of persons whose false views are taken for truths, and run head long after some ignis-fatuus which is never come up with. "The sober second thought." of the people, however, when they are allowed time to think, often checks their mad career and saves them from ruin. AVe had an illustration of the truth of this, in our city, near the close of the last year. The citi zens of Jackson, after they had giv en their assent, were by an accident al circumstance or providential in tervention, prevented from beiug taxed $5,XX) per annum for ten years, at the end of which time they would have still been owing $50,000,expeud ed in building a wood pavetaent, j long before rotted and worn out. In order that chemical action, be- j twixtthe elementary principles of which ligneous fibres are composed, j tpi-inod "dd-nv. " mar tato id.u-f n.o '. ,.e : .! and necessary. Wood absolutely free from moisture, and kept so, will no decay, neither will it rot without oxvgen. .Mosttiinbercontaius with in itself sufficient oxygen aud mois ture to cause it to undergo a chem ical action, termed "dry rot;" aud blocks of wood, though previously immersed in pitch, will, ordinarily, contain sufficient water and oxygen to cause them to decay. Moreover, it is not possible so to iusolate blocks of wood in a pavement that mois ture will not penetrate them. Hence no wood pavement will last. This fact has uniformly been verified by experience. As might have been anticipated, however, since heat fa cilitates decay, wood pavements last longer in northern than in southern climate. It is is also well known to some that the same kinds of wood when grown in some climates will not last as long as when grown iu others, aud that the timber grown in West Tennessee will soon decay. Therefore, in West Tennessee, wood pavements have so far been, and ever will be, a failure. In confirmation of the above views, it is found that wood pavements thus far "have not come up to pub lic expectation;" "that holes aud rotten places may be found in any ten yards square of the pavement in Memphis;" that it is badly affected by 'dry rot' in two years, at Colum bus, O.;" "that the average duration is three years at Cincinnati;" "near ly ruined by 'dry rot' infourycars," at Toledo. Their average duration in New York is three years, St. Louis, four to six years, and their average duration in Chicago is from seven to nine years, the longest aver ago duration known. Notwithstanding the coutinutd il lustration of these facts, communi ties will still be, as they ever have been, led astray by the plausible sophisms of persons who do not understand what they are talking about. And youths will still con tinue to be taught, to the exclusion of science, that which is more popu lar, less useful, and which requires less effort of mind to attain. - - - - - Baron James de llothschild, dur ing the Communist period in Puris-, was one morning seated in his cabi net, when two fellows from the fau bourgs, armed to the teeth, entered and asked to be shown in to citizen Rothschild. "Gentlemen," said he. "what can I do for you?"' "Well, this is what we have got to say: You have millions of money, aud the peo ple want bread: so you must share, or if not " ''Share? Very well. How many are you in France?" "Perhaps thirty millions." "And how much money do you suppose I have?" "Say a hundred and fifty millions." "Well, then, among thir ty millions that makes five francs a head. You are two. Here are ten franc for you, and now we are quits." The two men were so con founded by the argument, aud by the rapidity with which the whole incident occurred, that they took the money aud disappeared. Tne Fortune of Homely .irl. "How did that homely woman con trive to get married?" i's not uufre quently remarked of some good do mestic creature whom her husband regards as in the plain face he sees something better than beauty. The truth is, that most men prefer homeless and amiability, to beauty aud caprice. It' is a noteworthy fact that homely girls generally get better husbands than lab to the lot of their fairer sisters. Men -who are caught merely by a pretty face and figure, do not as a rule amount to much. The practical, useful, thoughtful portion ofj mankind is wisely content with unpretending excellence. The Mont Ceuis railway tunnel through the Alps is pro noun ceil a complete success, and will bo for mally opened next mouth. RffiUNE AUGUST 2G, 1871. trrsntnox. tV J. AlOl'STJ.VK SI'.X.Wi.'i. The live-l!i niirht, a solemn m Vith lu.irtial air and ! arit;.-. Wb.M' noble x.ul had led tin. au Where valor most was d:irir:-'. Who paring sadly in his room And shuddering at to-morrow : Kor Appomattox, full el giooia, Foretold a people's sorrow. Ah! w ho will know the woe. the p.iin. Tiieangui-h of the thiukicr. The racking ot that 1 1 rle- bru:!i To see a nation inkir.; But, then a conqueror there stu(i he At Appomattox, grander Our ehosen.Ciod-liie Ilobcrt te. Surpassing Alexander. Wull could the ietor claim no word AS'hieh iui'ht more pain engender. For u'ju'ht suWimer bu. the Lord Than Leo at that surrender. He gave up all save honor, tiuth, And that divine behavior, Which through the world releath s ruth AVas syinlol of the Savior. We nirse liftt Appomattox no! For Fame shall tell the story, And Free-loin, rising from that blow. Will yet proclaim our plory. That uotul day endeared the name Ol him so brave aud tender, For ne'er won ehieftaiu grander lame Than I.ce at that surrender. -, The world, from its first dawn ot liht. Ne'er felt such sore aflliction. As was that agonizing' sight Except the Crucifixion; To see Lee, 'neath Virginia's sky. Furl up "Truth" damped upon her The flag whoe fame will never die. Surrendering all but honor. CiKEXana, ifiss., May i, ln?J. TKiUtDV OF ( ROI'TU WOODS. vounz lady, with streaming black hair, and great purple-black eyes, was standing with claaped hands in the doorwav of a pretty country house. With Lead bent for ward aud lips parted, she listened and peered through the t-hrubbery, as if expecting someone. A step sounded on the gravel walk at hist, and a tall form came hurriedly for ward in the twilight. 1 he lady in the doorwav, Calista Langdon, shrank back a little in tho hall, and the eager, anxious look passed from her face. Her white hands unclasp ed, and she changed her position of inquiry and watchfulness to au atti tude ol perfect ease and indiucrcncc. She plucked at a bloodiose that grew and dropped over the door. "Uood evening, .Mr. llolnston, she called out, in a pleasant, musical voice. "1 have becu looking and watching for Alice." She dropped her eves as she utter ed these words, which were false, but in au instant after, flashed them upon Herman Jtoiiiston iu all their bewitching splendor. Careful and thoughtful, as usual, Calista," said the youngman. spring ing to her side, and taking her hand. "Where has Alice gone?" "She went over to see Miss Pru dence, a short time ago, and said she would be home at sunset; 6he will be here shortly I think. Come into ! the parlor, Herman; 1 have a bunch of water lillies there, your favorite flowers." ... vuIu liS'etilvShSf j'll go across the field to meet Alice; then I shall be most happy to see the lillics when we return." A dark shadow fitted across the face of Calista Langdou; tier eyes flashed with a baleful light, but she said, very calmly, as she plucked at the petals of the blood-red rose iu her hand. "I presume Alice will be glad to have company across the lonesome field." Herman Holliston ran down the steps, and walked hurriedly along. He looked behind him, and waved his hand towards Calista, smiling pleasantly as he passed uuder the great elm trees which grew on each side of the gravel walk. He had gone but a lew rods in the greeu fields before he met Alire ("ray, a delicate blue eyed maiden, with long golden hair, and a slender, graceful form. As they wcrwalking back to the house, Herman drew the young girl uuder the shadow of a great elm tree; and with the moonbeams strug gling through the leaves, and sit ting down upon them, he asked her to be his wife. Obtaing her blush ing consent, he placed the betrothal ringou her finger. With hearts over flowing her with happiness, they re turned to the house, and found Ca lista awaiting them at the door. "Give us our blessing, Calista," said Herman, as, clasping the hand of Alice, they stood before the queenly form of Miss Langdon. "Al ice has promised to be my wife," he continued; "and to make our happi ness complete, we want vour appro val." Calista Langdon staggered back into the hall, her face blanching as hite as death: but in an instant she was calm and composed, and held out both hands to them. "If that is all vou need," she said, "it shall not be denied you. My ap proval is given most heartily." Sho drew them into the house as he said this. "The dew is heavy to night," she added: "come into the parlor." They followed her: and. entering the pretily furnished room, sat dowu side by side on a sofa near the open window. Calista sat down for a few moments, then graciously bid ding them good night, she retired from the room, leaving the lovers alone. "Once I thought it was C alista you loved," said Alice, timidly, when they were alone. "1 was "dazzled at first, by her beauty," he replied, "but my infat uation soon passed away when I came to know you; and now one ringlet of your golden Lair has a greater charm for me than all ot Ca Iista's surpassing beauty. She is very kind to you though Alice; and I love her as a friend."" "Calista has changed much of late," said Alice; "sh ouce was so cold and unapproachable, I almost feared her; now she is so gentle aud kind to me, that 1 love her dearly." While these two lovers sat con versing so happily together, the sub ject of their conversation was pac ing her room, with her hands clench ed and her black eyes flashing with anger and evil determination. "They shall never be united," she said, in a hoarse whisper. "Never! never! I will stab her to the heart first. Herman Holliston shall mar ry me yet. If that little doughfaced Alice had not crossed my path, he would be mine now. I was a fool to come here, but I little thought Herman Holliston was a man to turn from my dazzling beauty to that baby-faced Alice. She shall never be his wife. I swear it!'' Until nearly morning the paced her room, forming plans to prevent the marriage of the mau she loved and her pretty cousin Alice. She had met Herman Holliston the pass winter, in London, and he had shown her marked attention. But when the warm days of June came, she left town to spend the summer months with her cousin Alice, who was an orphan, and lived with a maiden aunt in a beautiful country house. Herman Holliston followed her, takiug up his abode at the hotel in the nearest town, and, calling often at the house. He became acquaint ed with Alice, whom to know was to love. Calista soon lost all charms for him; and it was not long before he asked the Golden-haired countrv f maiden to be his wife. Wo have nf- ready told tho result, and the effect which the betrothal had upon Calis ta Langdou. A week after the engagement ring had been placed upon Alice's fingrf. she was sitting in the library, read ing, one lovely alternoou, when Ca lista entered; and bending over her NO. 43. she kissed her on both cheeks, aud said, "Come, Alice, let us have a ride on horseback. I want to go up to croltou Woods, ft will be mag nificent there to-day. Shall I order the horses?" "Yes, do. Calista," said Alice. "I am g ma you proposed it; it is o dull, now Herman is gone." "Foolish girl," said Calista, play luuy.-ne has only oeen gone one day, and you expect him lack to morrow. But girls will be foolish So be ready as soon as possible, Al ice, and we will canter off to Crof- ton Woods." She went gaily I'rou? the room and Alice laid by her book, and went to prepare for the ride. She had no presentiment of evil. Inno cent heiself, she suspected wrong in no one, especially her cousin, who, ot late, was so kind to her. hen they were about to mount the hor ses, calista am. gaily, "Let us chauge to-dav, Alice i wain you to try Flvawav, uud I want lo ride VJip. "JJO you thud: 1 could inauage flyaway.'" said Alice, a little anx iously. "kjii, yes, easuy enough; ne is a little fiery, to be sure, but I 6hall be near you. I have never ridden Cip, you know, and want to see how she will like me." Alice's aunt, Miss Cray, stood in the door. "You will keep near Alice. Calis ta?" she said, "and see that Flyaway is Kept quiet: ' "Indeed 1 will." answered Calista. "Don't you fear for her, Miss Cray." Thev mounted the horses and pro ceeded toward Crofton Woods. When they arrived at the forest they rodealon"- leisurely, looking about them, and remarking on the beauty of the day and scenery. They soon came to a bv-path,that struck offin to the woods; and Calista drew rein saying, "This path is the one I took the other day, when I came here a loue. Let us go through it, aud I will show you one of the most mag nificent scenes you ever saw." They turned their horses into this path, and cantered oil' into the !i?art of the forest. They had ridden nearly a mile when tliey' came sud denly upon a great ledge of rocks, standing out bare in the wood and overlooking a frightful chasm or ra vine. -What a Strang n!ace this N!" said Alice. "W'e will ride to tin-tup of the hill," said Calista, "and then we can see t he ocean." "Can we?" said Alio-. "I w ant to see it, but I'm ahno-t afraid lo ride there on FJvawav: let u- dismount and walk."' "Uh, he. s:ud iiUsta. a lit tie ner vously, "luiil arra-u flvawav to ueliave just as M wnnt l;ii;i tn.w Come along, Alict; don't bu timid." They began to ascend tho jagged hill, the horses stumbling over the rocks; ami at last thev stood at the summit. There was the ocean, sure enough, lying blue and fathomless away off in tho dihtance; but Alice gave it only a passing glance; sho was gazing in terror dowu the terrible abyss, on the edge of which their horses were standing. "Oh, Calista," hhe cried, -'why did you bring me here.-1 It is terri ble: I am frightened! I shall bo drawn into that terrible abvss, iu spite of me." Calista raised her riding whin. "Alico Gray," she said, her eves gleaming aud flashing with horrid and evil resolve, "vou shall never marry Herman Holliston! A few more minutes, and vou will be iu c ternity, and 1 shall 'be avenged." "Oh, heaven! save me, save me!" cried Alice attempting to dismount from her horse; but Calista struck him with her riding whip, speak ing sharply to him, and like the wind he new down the jagged roi.ks. Alice, iu terror, lost all power and presence of mind, and in an ins tant was hurled down the frightful chasm, and lay lorn aud bleeding at the bottom. CalUta, witha hollow, demon-like laugh, dismounted and elimed down the rocks to where Alice was lying. With eyes like balls of fire, and face as pale as death, she put her hand on tho pulse of the bleeding girl, and found that life was quite extinct. She then climbed up the steep, mounted her horse, anil rode w ith full speed toward ihe house. When she reached the highway, she saw two gentlemen in acurri'aire coining leisurely along. She screamed to them wildly, and told them that Alice Gray had been thrown from her horse on the rocks in the Croi ton Woods, a'd she feared she was dead. The gentlemen, who knew Alice well, left their carriage in the road, and hurried to the place where the poor murdered girl lay mangled and dead, her beauuful srohlen hair dripping with her blood. Thev took her up tenderly, and bore her to their carriage, and then drove slowly toward the house. Calista had arrived there long be fore, and was swaying to and fro, white as a ghost, and blnininir her self to the distraetod aunt of Alice for allowing the poor girl to ride the fiery horse, Flvawav. When Herman HolKsUn lame back to the home of his bet rot hod, the whole neighborhood was in com motion over the accident that had befallen the beautiful aud beloved Alice Gray: but no one distrusted Calista Langdon for an instant. When the funeral was over, the heart-broken lover, after passing a whole night on the grave of his loved one, left the place, and soon after ward, Calista went back to her house in town. They sometimes met, but the guilty woman could never call up a smile to his hairLrard face. He wandered about from Elace to place, never at peace, and is hair grew gray before its time. Calista Langdon. from the time she murdered sweet Alice Gray till her death, never spent one happy moment, and at last on her dying bed she sent for Hermiin Holliston, and confessed the whole. It was hard for him to forgive her; but when he saw her writhing iu an gush, and calling for mercy and for- !.-.- lit- 'iiuuii;u llUt f Ulf t UV died with a faint hope of salvation iicruian ifolliston is an old man now, but every summer he visits the grave of sweet Alice Gray, and only looks forward to their ruion in the world where all is pure ami beautiful. IHIi I XI IMKIIED I'll II. II. -Now I lay me" Say it darling: "Lay me," lisj-d the tiny lip- Of my daughter, kneeling, bendiiw O'er her folded tinker tip-. I II to sleep" ' "To -le i p. mured, And the curly head ilropd low; -I pray the Lord" I ;. ntly added. "Vou cm say it all, I know." "I'ray the Lord" the words eaine t in.' Fainter till "My ou! to keep:'' Then the f red head fairly nodded. And tbeehiM wai fa-t a-hep. But the dewy eyes hall opened When 1 clasped her to my brea-t. And the dear voire softly whi- r. d. -Jlanima. (il knows all the r-t." O, th trusting. -et eoiiti lii-.i.-Cf the child-heart: oul.i thai 1 Thu niijrht tru-t my heavenly Father. He who hears lay feeblest cry. An eccentric man, who recently furnished an elegant residence in New York, bought a handsome cain-phor-wood colli u, and placed it on a pedestal in his study as a reminder to him in the midst of his wealth, that he was but mortal. ; - Ilrigham Young was grieved the other day by a refractory daughter, who spoke right out at him in this trea-onable language: "I am will ing to marry a dozen husbands if vou will let "me select them myself, but 1 will never put up with a piece of a man." tiii: n arc ii or Lire. 1 sfrem evils bun we suffer. Than from those we apprehi nd, And no path through lifu evm rou,-!i Than the one which we ascend. l'.ut though Time deUhN In dealing Wound which he alone en heal. And the orrows wo! to fei-l'ir,' Make it misery to f.-cl. Nobler than the s eilb'-s Moie. He. who, like the Theban I ho t. Till the t'uht it -on, heroic f fides ibe r.inkl: dnrt of u 1. Lord, of an impartial '"ry lie the slaves of in r:al -haute: No; though inartjrdom befoicje. llcur a preeipicr of tlamr. ')n this barriers thutdi-m y us Carve the charter of your birth; True endurance, like Ant.eiis, strengthens with each east to earth. Way warJ men too often flitter Liv ini; destin'.e away. Chasing inuji that irUtter To bewilder and betray. Then press upward iu the vanguard; Be not guided by the blind; For when Vigor waves the standard Triumph is not far behind. It wa that wh'cli led the marches Through the IJev olutiou suow. And through Jena's fiery an he Kolled destruction on its toes. Tbca if failure b unt your spirit-. Think of this Iwfor you swerve: He has glory who has merit ft is royal to deserve. , A YEAR'S ANWR. It was sunset hour. The magniti cent orb of day cow glided xlowlv down the western sky into the flee cy ermine clouds, bordering them with tassels of gold ami prismatic hues, and sheeting the mountain crests with yellow and crimson On through the evening air came merry singing zephcrs, scattering a thousand perfumes around, and i k' a ring across the lakes the gos samer mists, formed by a pictures que marsh near the edge of a grassy plain. It was upon this beautilul pauora' ma of nature that Wiltnot Evans dreamily gazed. Ho was artist by profession, and for a moment the fair beiug by his side was forgotten, so intent was he in the view. Presently a bright though sad smile lit up his features, and ha turned to his companion, saying: "Ah, Maud, what would I not give to depict such a scene ou can vas. Aoone but a painter cancan ccive its beauties fully. No one but a painter Knows ofthc many anx ious days and sleepless nights re quired to portray its charms." "Oh, ve-, W llniot," the Jadv re turned, 1 am fully aware that many severe trials mut be undergone be fore fame W reached; but when vour troubles aro at au endtio you not feel fully reroinpensedfor your la bor.' Jionotbo discouraged, W ll- mot; persevere in your attempts, and fortune must soon smile on your en drtavors." While yet speaking the young lady started toward tho lake, aud was followed by Wilmot, who, unlock ing a little boat ou the shore, sprang into it, aud then led .Maud to a seat. Soon the sails tilled aud tho boat silently dasred through the waters, until it reached a largo farmhouse on the opposite bank. While Maud and Wilmot arc walk ing up the lawn let us go back a lit tle into their histories. Wilmot Evans was the son of a poor carpenter; and from his earliest in fancy was inured to hard labor. He received very littlo education; yet his superior talents enabled hici to study even difficult works in Pri vate. It was until long after he nad lef the paternal roof that ho enter ed a college; aud there, bv dint of severe application, succeeded iu fin ishing his course iu three years. His benefactor, who had sent him to college, afterward procured him a place in the studio of an eminent artist. Day by day Wilmot rose higher in his profession, and at the present time was consideied, in tho par lance of the world, as one worthy of patronage. Such was Wilmot Evans. His be trothed, a beautilul, blue eyed blonde, was the only daughter of a wealthy l'hilidelphian, who had come to seek recreation iu the quio tude of the country. From the very lirst moment that Wilmot beheld Maud Ewing he was in love. Her open, childish and na tural manner charmed him, aud in defiance of the great abj ss of wealth that yawned between, he told the "old story." and was accepted. As yet,' Maud's father knew noth ing of the existing engagement. Maud left the news to be carried by Wilmot, and Wilmot felt a reluc tance to inform Mr. Ewing. Some thing told him that Hubert Ewing would never consent to a match so unequal in a pecuniary point of view. Then Wilmot determined to go into the world and reap the hrr vest that would secure his bride. He told his intentions to Maud and she sanctioned them. The object had now become lixed iu W'ilmot's head, aud nothing could turn him from his course. One bright morning he left the large farm-house aud tho farewells of the many city visitors. For a few days after his departure, the place seemed ever so lonesome, but soon the same hilarity of spirits re turned, aud Maud was gay. As for the gentlemen, thev appeared to be overjoyed wheu W'ihnot was gone. Harry Adams, especially, w as de lighted with the idea, for now he could cultivate Miss Ew ing's society much more. l'ic-uics, parties, boat rides, all that tended to promote pleasure, was introduced; ami on those occa sions, Harry Adams was Maud s in evitable escort. The other ladies often smiled archly when the attachment of Adams to Maud was the subject of conversation: but in secret, regret ted I ho Ios of their favor:te. "Harry," said one of the gentle men who were standing under the elm tree shade after dinner on a lovely day, "Harry! I say, do forget Miss Ewing this afternoon, and en joy a boat ride with us." ft was c rank 1 aimer that spoke; a small sized man with a grizzly moustache, and no great favorite. either, with the lady just mentioned by nun, or with the lady just men tioned by hiin, or with any other ladv mentioned bv him, or with any other lady of the part y. "1 erhaps I may, t'almer, " said Harry, "hut vou must tiit promise that ihe wine and sandw iches will be plenty; for I do not relish the idea of becoming hungry or thirsty out on the lake. Bv the wav, could we not invite some of the ladies?" "No, we had better not. Let us keep this affair to ourselves," re marked one of the gentlemen. Thev f keep it to themselves, for it was not until the ladies beheld the boat far out on the lake that they knew the wharcabouts of their gal lants. And vht a scene that boat offer ed when the desired shore was reach ed. Sandwiches, glasses aud bot tle, lay promiscuously around, while here and there could bo seen a boot, paper collar, or a fragment of hat. Evidently a struggle had transpired. Harry Adams is resting on the grassy bank; he does not look injured. Ah! but here comes Pal mer. The gentleman is decidedly ill-looking, lfhehadbctu through a ''mill" with one of our noted pug ilists he could not appear worse. He comes forward to Adams and in a low voice speaks, -Harry, 1 am sorry, . extremely -nrry, that this unpleasant encoun ter bus come between us. Howev er, let it be forgotten: let us think no more of our past quarrel. That 1 have been in the wrong, I admit; what more can a gentleman do?" "I accept vour appology, I'a'.mer," returned Harry, "I was also to blame for mv hastiness. Here is mv hand." The two friends theu went to the boat, to drown their sorrows iu the last bottle of champagne. It seems that during the sail a dis cussion arose as to whom in the com pany was looked upon most favora bly by Maud Ewing. Tfie decision was givenj favor in of Adams, but Palmer broke forth saying: "Harry, be not flattered, you hare not thought of Wilmot Evans, who I think is Maud's prom ised husband." Thus they began, and from slight remarks geucrated a foolish quar rel. If Harry Adams had been a close observer, ho would have delected in Palmer's voice, during Lis apolo gy, a touch of irony. Palmer was not one to be easily vanquished by an opponent; so failing to grain hi point by ph)6icftl means, he deter mined to adopt another course. His apology was the prelude, and ho was satisfied with the beginning. Adams had no reason to fear Pal mer's influence. He kucw that the gentleman was no general favorite; thus he trusted in his envied situa tion. "Tall 'oaks from little acorns grow," saith the adage, and seem ingly to verify this, Palmer rapidly grew into Maud's favor. Never was mortal so muck sur prised as Adams, when he realized this fact. Nay, he would hardly be lieve his eyes when he saw Maud aud Palmer walking near the lake shore every day. The summer passed away. Au tumn came, bringing pleasure to some, but pain to others. Maud bad returned to .the city, without once hearing from .Wilmot Evans. Autumn indeed brought pain to her. Letter after letter she directed to Home, whera Wilmot told her he would go. No answer. Could he have forgotton her? Thus tho au tumn went by and winter came; still no word from tho absent one. Christmas arrived, with ita thou sand rejoicings. An elegant party was given by Maud. ' Adams aud J ilmer were both there, and bo I .re supper hour Maud had receiv '.tolh their declarations of love. Her answer was, "wait until this time a year." It was a long timo to wait; but how many have wailed even ten years, and then not obtained their heart's object? Spring, summer and autumn again came. Not a line from Wilmot Ev ans. Maud often "heard indistinct murmcrs of a wonderful artist that was soon to visit America. Hut what cared she? She did not know that the Public's admired one was her one Wilmot. She did not know that his letters had been intercepted by Harry Adams. Neither did Adams know that his reputation had suffered considerable at the hands of Frank Palmer. Christmas eve' came. By a seem ingly strange coincidence, the two aspirants for the hand of Miss Ew ing, called at the same hour at the residence of that lady. Each re mained in tho parlor, 'wishing the other to go. When nine o'clock struck a ring was heard, aud lo! Wilmot Evaus entered the room. Welcome, Wilmot!" said Maud: and then turning to Palmer and Adams, gently remarked: "Gen tlemen, 1 promised to giro you an answer to-night. Mr. Adams, your interception of Wilmot's letters ha availed you naught. And you, Pal mer; you slandered Harry Adams to no purpose. Do not think that 1 should have married cither of you. 1 kept you in suspense ou account of the joy exhibited by you at the departure of Wilmot from the farm house by the lake, i our deceit has been discovered. Wilmot has ex plained all to-dav. 1 have oue re quest to make of you. Will you not be present at our wedding.' ' Palmer and Adams, however were not present. Just before Wilmot aud Maud started ou their bridal lour, old Mr. Lwtng satit: " Wilmot, my bov, why did you not ask me for Maud when you were poor? I should have given her for I nave always loved you the same." "Pride, Mr. Ewing, pride," was tho significant answer. The excursion of certain rural ed itors of New York' to Saratoga has drawn the attention of some of their coutcmpoary journals to the fact that, almost without exception, these tours bring discredit to the irofession. - An incident bv war of illustration is mentioned by the l'otighkeepsie Kagle: w hen the late editorial bust to Saratoga ended the editors started for home. Among them was an Orange county "quill" and his wife. ihe conductor applied for lares, when Orange county showed him a pass. The conductor assured him it did not indicate his wife, aud agaiii demanded fare, when Jt was refused, when an arg ument of a very gentle manly character arose aud was con tinued by Orange cennty till the train reached Fishkill, when he pet ulantly turned to the conductor and remarked,, '."well, sir, I don't pro pose to pay. her fare; I'll leave the train first, sir." And he did. It was tuc exact place he wished to stop at to reach his home via New- burgh;" A "custom of the couutr" Las cp used many newspaper conductors to accept what etiquette terms courtesies" from hotels and corpo rations, who would as promptly re- scut the imputation of "dead beats" as the Orange county fellow that of being anything else, it is a custom honored in tho breach but seldom in the observance. . A certain class of country editors ecern to define 'journalism" to mean setting up a newspaper at some cross-roads, ob taining a few railroad passes, going gadding about on a "free hash basis at hotels, and puffing them selves up with the assumption that to ask payment from them lor any thing is to insult tho press. Fel lows of this class are to the respect able press what the Thernadiers, so well described by ictor Hugo in "Les Miscrables," are to armies. Ihevarethe ramp followers and body fillers. Thev bring the same disgrace to journalism that their rcllow vulturas do to soldiers. They should bo summarily kicked off rail ways and out of hotels, and be taught their places. No person from whom this species of black mailing is sought to be forced need fear the thunders of these sous o Jove. It will be found no more damaging than that produced by vigorously belaboring sheet-iron. Woman. Wc have always be lieved that the gentler sex includes more true Christians than tho ster ner. But we were not prepared for the very definite statistics of Hev. Kichard Wilkins, Swanmore, Eng.. who, by "a calculatien of his own. based on sacramental confession," reaches the conclusion that "there will be in heaven twelve women to one man!" These statistics, we take it, are more definite than relia ble; for the confessional does not stand on that path to heaven along which the greater number "pass in to the skies." It is to be hoped that the case will not prove quite so bad for male professors of the faith, as this substitutcrof "sacrainentalism" for the gospel would have us think. 'loffetlier in Life mmd Dcalh, From the Tulaski (Tcnn.) Citizen. Scott aud Richard Tomlin, sous of Mr. Johu Tomlin, of this couuty, aged about sixteen and eighteen years, died last Saturday at seven and eight and a half o'clock. They were buried in the same grave. The histary of these two devoted broth ers forms a chapter of strange but true coincidences. They both pro fessed religion about six years ago on the 6ame day, joined the church on the same day, were baptized on the same day, died on the same dar, were buried on the same day, and, full of the Christian's hopej went to the beautiful world behind the stars on the same day. They were brothers indeed. They had lived together, played together, eaten and slept together, died together, aud were buried to gether. Affection aud religion marked their' brotherhood, and in the sad finale of life their twlu spir its climbed the eternal heights of thu upper world together. . (J lory consists iu making fools of ourselves that wc may make fools of others in wasting our health, forgoing our pleasures, aud giving our hearts to bo seared or broken by tho ruthless utikinduess to the world in shutting our cars upon the music of love aud gladness now, that Fame may shout our name in thunder-tones wheu we shall have ceased to hear.