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Kstablisliod in 1840. ROBERT HIRAM HENRY, Editor nud Proprietor. r. .r_ it - " ik-? -- 82.00 rrcn year; $1.25 for six months. Till: I.KHOKR HAS A1ISOUBED TUB SOI'TH Kli.I JOl'ltNAL AND WEEKLY CITIZEN Job Work of Every Description Done in Best Stylo and at Lowest Prices. «L«y IIIMHM ■ ■■ . '"r BROOKHAVEN. _ ST. .11.111(0 HOTEL,, AND BKGOKH A V BN, MISS. KKPT BY LUCICH AND CANTONS. MEALS AT /'LL HOURS. Confecti onerV;! FANCY G ROC KIES, Fine Wines, Liquore, Cigars, Etc.. Kvory rornn with tiro jilflee and Ho-1 ■rntit turn it u rc. Kntes reaiHonao <*.. N>ar Un lM*po|. I.adii h and iXk*nib,-| UK»n will find this e*tAbli*liiiK»iU H«*- j pantly fitted up. Jau. ‘i-'My . I PETER LUCICH, AT THE OLD STAND, « BROOKHAVEN, MISS., Informs bis friends lie is preoared to fur nish them with the lx-st ihe market afford* at his restaurant and •onfeclionery. l ine wines. Liquors, Cigar*, E * alwavs on hand. J-"' 23d-y. (hartes CJtrisman, Attorney at Law, BROOKHAVEN, MISS. ,B. C. .ir.V.fJR, attorney at law, BROOKHAVEN, MISS., "Will practice in the Circuit and Chan ccrv Courts of Lincoln. Copiah. Pik* „nti Lawrence counties. Prompt atten -. tion. jTf SESSIONS n. CASSEDT. Jk SESSIONS & CASSEDY, ATTORNEYS AT LAW llruokliuTen, - - - y\ ill attend promptly to all civil busi ness entrusted to them in the counties of Lincoln. Franklin. Pise, Lawrence and in the Supreme Court at Jackson J. F .Sessions will practice alone hi criminal eases. sept. 2-1} r Btr. J. Boircn PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON BROOKHAVEN, MISS., Offers liis service to the people of this sec tion and themirronnding country. He will attend calls at any hour of day or night. Office at Daughtry & Suivlie’s Drug Store. Oct 21-ly J)R. J. J r. BENNETT, Physic • 311 and Surgeon. BROOK H A V EX, M l -S. Office at Daughtry and Smylie's Drtr. More. ’ ap!27-ly DR. B\ £2. 5IVJTTS. 33 <y II 1 u 1 K 111-gcon. Brooi.h£ven, iYliss. Having practiced Deutist v in this town and vicinity for the last thirteen years,I feel safe in refering to all those that I ever worked for. il l have any work not giv jng silisl'action, I will cheerfully render it satisfactory free of dun ge, by eslling tit mv office. I guarantee rny work, i u-e nothing but first class material. ! don’t use cheap teeth and inferior gold. I don’t put oil’ anv '’ Work on any body, and my charges are as reasonable as any first-das Dentist can afford to work for. I will visit the country promptly an.l attend all calls. Will take stock in payment for work. Office at F. M. Martin & Co.s Drug Store. may 1-tf. V. B. WATTS. First-Class Fare AT STEU DNT.’SS EOTEIj, BROOK HAVEN, MISS. The table ia sjt all times supplied with the best the market affords. Terms rea sonable. J A COB SIERN, aprilll-lyr Proprietor. SHAVING AND SKAR ROOMING, Hair, Moustaches, and Whiskers, Pressed, Trimmed or Dyed in the latest style. Bay Ruin, fresh Linens/choice Perfumes, fra grant Pow«1er and colored Cosmetics always on hand at X*. Fltzner’s, Between Perkins Bros, and the courthouse, lirookhaven. Miss. June 8^ly. E. L. lfotven, Sr., Justice et the Peace, Notary Public and II. S. Commissioner for the Southern Dis trict of Mississippi Office in the Court bouse Justice of the Peace court, the 2nd and 4th Satur days in each month. Office hours from P a. m. to C p. rn. unless officially absent E. J. SC HALLER. Manufacturer of Steam Pipes, Smoke Stacks and Breeching, Iron doors and Window Sha les. Also Well Augers. Pumps, Well Tools and all ki> ds of Sheet Iron Work. Model-making and any kind of light ma chinery made and repaired AT LOWEST CASH PRICES. Brookiiaves, Miss., II. R. Avesue. dec-2-ly. R. H. HENRY &3RO., Advertising Agents, 22 Cherokee Street, |),-<inUliaven, .... Jl ins. a he prepared to do advertising la Southern imiiers cheaper than any other agents. Their business is coniine I exclusively to Southern papers, and advertisers desiring to make them selves known i u this section would find it to their interest to correspond with them Sam Isightfoot, FASHIONABLE HAIR DRESSER, Has opened n shop near Hie Cour house, w here beis prepared to do nil yvork in liis line. His prices for Shaving Cutting Hair and Shampooing are re. niarkaidy low. He solicits the patron use of tie public, and guarantees satis faction to all patrons. Sept. 2-1 \ r. MAY SERIES. RROOIvIlA YEN. MISS., THURSDAY. OCTOBER g. 1ST!)._YOU. 9 .--NO. 10. Kj term; it. fur The Ledger.) Sir, I, there it 1.niter for Me?” BY 1IOMER. MAGEE. 'Mr, sir, is there a letter for me? For more than live long, d irk years gtme, I’ve trudged to the office hear to see/ And, sir, J’m old and all alone, And 1 scarce can bear to walk alone; Say, sir, is there a letter tor me? They say I’m crazy to ask each day, And hoot and jeer me when 1 come; But, sir, my hoy—my Tommy’* away— L.ft long, long years ago his home; Ban away tost a and left his homo. Ob^ir, I’ve known not a moment’s rest! (tjji, God! to think that he would go; Aiia^trouble his poor old mother's b:e:ut, When site—when sheiloe* 1 >ve him mo— Break my heart when I do love him km Ah, sir, hut he Wn the nicest lad, So handsome sir. so dear to me; And just like his fit her, too, he ha I A longing for the broad blue sea; \ii«i I lagged, hut he would setk the sea* And, sir. I've not from over the wave, A single line had from l.is hand; Perhaps— oh God!—in a deep >-ea grave* He sleeps a thousand miles from home— SieepM tn£dealh a thousandjinileH from land! All, mr poor heart is breaking, and I Shall soon a letter seek no more; Bent is tny form and dim is my eye, 1 soon shall pass to the oilier shore; Amll’il meet my boy on the other shore. * * * # * What, sir! you’ve found me a letter you say? Quick!—read it str—it is from him! WIi.-ii’m 111:»:? “He is comin<rr will lie here to-day?” My boy, ray boy, it is from him, And he’s coining—will be here to-day; Thairk Cod, you found that le'.t# for me! IIazukhuRsT, Mips., Sept. 8:h, ls79. “Wadi Doll} up Sdke That.” ‘‘I’ll !)o the goodest little girl That ever you did see, If you’ll let me take my dollv To church with you and me. It’* too drefltj! bad to leave her When we'n all ^one away; Oh! Colette will be «» lonesome To slay vt home all day.” ’Tw »« *uch a pleading pair of eyes, And winsome little face, That mamma couldn’t well refuse, Though chinch was not the place For dolls or plaything**, she well koew. S ill mamma’* little mai l Was aiwayg so obedient She di In’t led afraid. 0 0 0 0 0 Xo moU'C Was ever half *r» #=»tr J1 As this sweet little lass, Until the serin >n was quite through; Then this did come t<» pa«s; A dozen babies, more or less, Dreaped in long robes of white, Were brought Ik fore lire altar rail— A flash of heaven’s own light, Then Mm hie stood upon the sent, With dolly held out straight, And this is what lire darling said: ‘‘O minister please to wait, And wa-h my dolly up like that— Her name it is Coset to.” The minister smiled and bowed bis head; But mama blushes yet. IS V JWMIClC. . Oh, for a day on the dear old plantation, Just ns tiie fair South-land homo used to he! Oh, f.>r a swing at the gate of the garden. Under the boughs ol the June apple tree. Oh, for a rest in the shade of the straws stack, Hearing the limn of the threshing ma chine: Oh, for a drink in tiie spring of the meadow Under the sweet gum tree fragrant and green. Oh. fora cantaloupe.juicy and mellow, Fresh from the melon patch down by the spring; Oh, for a night on the trundle-bed pillow Sleeping calm sleep t'^at each nigh1 used to bring. Oh, for a sight of the well-beloved faces, Now widely scattered, and some alasl dead, Oil, for one d ly in the dear old borne place, Fright with the light of the days that are fled. cousiTbilly. When I wan a young fellow I fell in love with Sally Cartwright. She was the prettiest little thing I ever saw then, and she seemed to like me very much; hut I was afraid it was only seeming, after all, and I was afraid to propose for fear she’d say "no.” So I hung about her as a moth hangs about a candle; nof'quite singeing my wings, but always just ready to do it. until people began to talk; ami I heard —no matter how—that Sally Curt wright’s aunt Melissa, of whom I was drendfnlly nfraid, had said that if I didn’t menn anything she wished I wouldn’t come there scaring away those that had intentions. Then I saw I must risk all on one throw; and on Sunday evening I went over to Sally’s, dressed in my best, meaning to propose that very night. But the fates opposed ray proposal. There on the sofa beside Sally sat a young man; the silliest, foolishest look ing creature, with a long neck, and lit tle hands, and big, fat cheeks; and Sally introduced linn as cousin Billy Peters. She seemed to think a great deal of him too—why, I could not understand; and they sat and giggled most of #the eveniug together. 1 felt quite slighted; but, after all, perhaps I deserved it; and I resolved that lie should not sit me out. I I’d have my talk to S-iHy before I left, i Th re I sat, then, not saying much. but stairing at H illy, aud thinking she never looked so protty, mid there he eat. He was visiting in the lionse, I know; bnt couldn’t he seel'..'"iw matters stood aud go off to bed? Not he, it seemed. m The clock struck nine, ten and eleven; there he was. It struck twelve; lie only crossed his legs and got nearer to Hally. As the hand crept over the clock face toward one he looked at me and said: “Mr. Thompson, ain’t it pretty lone some going your way so late?” “Yes,” said I. “I menu to stay until it is earlier.” He did not take the hint. Hilly was growing so sleepy she could just hold her eyes open, and whioi t!ie el, ck really struck one I felt that I could not carry the game on any longer. “I'll say good-night. Perilous you’ll ' see me to the door, Miss Sully?’’ Then tin jumped cousin Billy Peters. “Oh, yes,” Raid he, “,ve both will.’’ They both did. 1 went home in a terrible rage; but determined to say my say yet. 31 went down there again next evening. Hally was not in the parlor when I got there, but pretty soon she earns in, and cousin Billy with her. He was just the meanest looking little creature lever saw, aud he be haved as badly as he did the night be fore. Again the clock struck oue before I went; ngaiu he went to the door with me. Hallv must have known what I wanted to say, but she gave me no chance. 1 l-.-rr.x, tlx,,!.- fli <1 * ,,ri i nil clx. really liked c-usiu Billy. I must know, whatever happened; and though I'd ha 1 plenty of chances to know long btfore, I felt myself dreadfully 'll u-.-hI. I tried it the thirl time. There was Billy agiin. It was a bright, moonlight, and the shade w is not down, and we could catch n glimpse of tho garden through the window. As I sat looking at it, nod listening to the whispers of the other two, n thought came to me. I couldn't make an idiot of myself at’ V longer. I wonhl Had out tho truth. So I turned in my chair and looked straight into cousin Billy’s face, and 1 said: •-Mr. Peters, if Miss Sally will <x c-nsa us, I'd like you to take a walk with mo. I'va something to say to you." "Shall I go, Sully?" said Billy, in a soit if a whisper—oh, lie was such a little idiot! “Yes,” said Sally. "Pet on pa’s traveling shawl—it’s on the ha Brack there. I wouldn't have yon catch cold for a great deal, Billy." "And if 1 take cold, Miss Saily?" said I, with a sneer. “0!i, you,” she began, but did. not explain herself. She sat, down at the piano and began to run her fingers over the keys, and Billy and I went out into the hall. Ho wrapped himself in the shawl; I i..o i . ... «.,i . Tim moon, ns I have said, was very bright. I could see that ho was on the broad gnu. “Yon nrn mightily amused, Mr. Peters. Perhaps it is me that you are laughing at?'’ “Suppose it was?” said lie. “Well, I shouldn't stand it long,’' said I. “However, I brought you out, not to quarrel, but to ask yon u simple question. I see I’m in the way at the house yond r, but have you u right to ; make mo feel so? Are' you engaged to i Miss Sally?” “Plain questions indeed; perhaps I'm just Rhilly'-shallying, like some other folks l know of.” “What do yon mean by that?” said I Put just there I stopped. I looked cousin liilly straight in the face, amt caught the queerest look. I'd been blind as a bat. No man ever gave a glance like that —half shy half pert. “Pshaw!” said I. “What shallow trick is this? You’re a woman.” At that the queer little figure at my aide started to run, but I caught it by ii... “Tell me what it all means.’’ “Oh, dear, dear,” the little crpahtre sobbed; “what shall I do? Sally said no one could ever guess. I did it for Sally’s sake. You did shilly-shally so she could not make out whether you ever meant to propose or not. I am her cousin Belinda, and I always could deceive people in men’s clothes, and so-” “And so I was to be led on.’’ “Oh, no, lib!” said she; “lint men are so queer. A girl don’t want to lie | courted for ever. And Jnow yau’ll tel! ! every one.” “No, I shall tel! no one. Now I’ll take yon home. I. shall call next Sun day, and I hope you'll let me see cousin Belinda. I shall like her better than cousin Billy, I know.” So I walked to the house, and left her at the door. And now the coast was clear. Sally wanted me to propose—that was plain—and she would accept me if I did. And, with the usual ppiveraity of roan, I was not so anxious to do it now that the const was clear. But I would goto see her on Snn dav. I would take my time now, ana I would see what Belinda looked like in her proper costume, and tease both girls a little. On Snndav I called. Sally scarcely lifted her eyes to my face as she introduced cousin Belinda. She was a pretty girl, with rod cheeks and a merry smile, and we luid a pleas ant evening together. She would have left mo alone with Sally nt nine, but I would not lot her 6° 1 was master of the situation now, and held my own well. I heard several times that summer that aunt Melissa wondered what I ; meant by it, but 1 had begun to won der myself, and did not care much. It was harvest time when I went over to the Cartwrights oho Sunday evening, and saw Belinda standing by the gulden palings with ft pensive face. I went up to her uud held out my hand. “Will you come and take a walk with me?'1 I said. “Our other walk was very short, yon know.” She looked at me with her bright,si.v , (■•mile, and turned her steps as I turned j mine. “I’m not shilly-shallying like seine, folks, Belinda,” said I, As in the old time when she said those words to tue, she blushed scarlet. “Why don’t you propose, then?” she said. “Well, will you have ni'?” “That’s not a pretty joke. I mean, of course, to cousin S.diy.” “And I mean—to cousin Belinda. Meeting yon has changed all my life, I think. I love vou, Will you be niv wife?” “But cousin Sally; I thought you loved her.” “I thought I did. I’ve known bet* tern long while. Don’t you care a lit tie for me?’* “I—I’m afraid T do, ’Rhe whispered; “but it would Iw mi li-enrlierons to eons in Sadly. Oil, no, no, wo must never be to wicked. Yon must go away, and l will never see you again.” liul just then ft voice said softly: •‘No—no, he must stay.” And from behind the groat tree, un der which we had paused, came Sally. *‘I ve followed you and listened to yon,” she said. “I knew all about it before—and l am glad. I think I thought I liked you once, Seth Burton; and I did want to know if you liked me. But I care n great deal for some one else now—some one who likes me —and I am so glad I shall not hurt you by telling yon so. lie can stay,Belinda, and I wish you joy.” Then she went a way. Belinda and I were married about Chrismas time, and on the samo even ing Sally married iCben Williams. Aaij all is well that ends well. A Serna; liable Rifleman. At Agricultural Park yesterday Dr. John Ruth, of Oakland, give an exhi bition of his skill as a rifle shot, and achieved a decided sue"-astonishing even lii.s friends. During the enter tainment lie shot cigars from the month of lii.s assistant, who w.ia stand ing about twenty feet distant, and not only did so while h iving the gnu—a twenty-two calibre B d'ard—ag oust, lii.s shoulder in ihn u.stii! manner, hut with it turned sideways, or upside down* with the stock resting upon his head. He also shot apples from a stick, two or three inches long, held in his as sistant's month, the gun being find fcniii various difficult positions, includ ing sighting over his shoulder with a small mirror; ami also shot glass balls from his assistant's head, making many shots that weie difficult aud seemed I perilous. The audience were at a loss which to admire most, the nerve of the shooter or of the youth who “held the target ” As a portion of tiin exhibi tion the Doctor attempted to beat his score, made recently at Oakland, of breaking 922 glass balls out ot 1,000. During the forenoon ho shot 500 and missed 20. In the afternoon he shot at 53) more and missed only 10—mak ing a total of 30 misses nut of 1,000 balls shot at. The score in the after noon was carefully tallied by several persons, including the Secretary of State elect. D. M. Burns. The best “rim1' made by thepshooter was 80 suc cessive hits. While pleased with hay ing made the bent scoie ever made in public on the coast, lie stated that be was not iu good trim for shooting, hav ing been uearly laid up lately by a big boil on the back of his nock, which was lanced only Tuesday. He has shot at 1,000 successive balls but ouce before, but in shouting at 500 he has been so -.-f..l nr. In l-nioj /»»»!*' 11 ! IIA All 1 A? I that nnrober. Hi is a Urge man of l about middle age, of agreeable manner, and handles very smoothly the weapon he uses. His average time iu shooting 100 balls was between nine and ten ! minutes, using but one gua and load ! ing it himself. Like Carver, he shoots with both eyes open. A Good Story. I was looking over the stories that were sent in last wees for the prize, and I wonder that the editor did not iusert this one, which is really too good to be lost. “There is a curious duel now pending in Boston, which began several years ago. Mr. A., a bachelor, challenged Mr. B., a married man with one child, who replied that the condi tions wore not equal—that he must necessarily put more at risk with his life Ilian the other—and he decliued. A year afterwards he received a chal lenge from Mr. A., who stated it lie> too, had uow a wife and child, and he supposed, therefore, the obj -tion of Mr. B. was no longer valid. ' r. B. replied that he now had !«• hildreu, conseqmniHv the inequality still subs mated The next year Mr. A r newed his challenge, having now two child eu also, but his adversary had three. he matter, when last beard from was (ill going on. the number bein s- to seven, mul the challenge - y re newed. MJisiclhtiift. For tH© Ledger.] The Tobacco Chewar in Church. BY VALENTINE VOX. You always know him at a glnnci! Ho or.tia with a sneaking, hang-dog exprei- on on his face, and his entire appem'ituoa leads you to believe that lie was one of the foremost cou spirat i in the A. T. Stewart vault robbing affair. He l ikes his sent as if ho were half afraiddo so, and he imagines that every i an, woman and child in the house ; : perfectly uwnre of his filthy habit. Watch him now as ho thrusts his hand into his pocket—looking around r.•■anwhilc like a chicken thief on a mu ' .glit night—and draws from its capacious depths enough toil tecoj to kill five hundred cats and enough to J produce about it quart of the nauseat ing juice. This he transfers to his ciatt r like mouth at the first opportunity, and then the work of desicratiug and pels luting God’s holy sanctuary brgiues! He spits on the bench—over the bench—under the bench—all around the bench, he pits ou his neighbors clothes—oil his own clothes, and into the eyes of the small boys. He takes particular pains to overwhelm every i stray tly or bug that meets hia vision, I with a discharge of the disgusting stuff He looks, ns most tobacco ehowers j do, with supreme disdain and utmost; contempt upou a spittoon, he scorns to | .. . f Kit linticr Itonil /1-urn- i ward to the top of Bunker Ilill Mouu- j ir.eut than to nso one. A tobacco chewer never knows when ] or where to stop spitting, not only does ] he do it in the church, but also in the theatre, in the hall, on the cars, every where! that's his business; be seems to, think that God created him for the sole purpose of spitting, and he is de termined-to make a good job of it. Oh, that the earth would only open and swallow them, or that a big moun tian would tumble down upon them, or they would emigrate to Africa! But our indignation and scorn is two deep for words. Taking the Census. The following items of interest, nil i der Ithis head, are called from the i Washington Republican: The law nil do i which this work is to be carried on provides that t he Secreta • ry of tlm Interior, on or before the 1st ii;t> of M«iv.ii, ISttO, «haU appoint ono j or more supervisor of census lor each j Stale, but the whole number in j tlm Territories shall not exceed one! hundred and fifty. These supervisors shall appoint the enumerators for the various comities, and the counties ex ceeding four thousand in population shall be divided into districts, so that no district contain more than four thou Sami inhabitants. These enumerators shall begin their duties on the first j Monday in June, thus requiring the woik to be done in ie.33 than thirty] days. The compensation will be two! cents for each inhabitant, and HI teen cents for each establishment of produe live industry. Application for appoint m at as ('numeral* rs must bo adresaed to the supervisors of tuo State, when appointed. Loaf Cake. Weigh out four pounds of flour, two pounds of sugar, and two pounds of shortening, (one-half butter and ones half lard), atid ouo pound of raisins, then take your tl >ur and one quart of milk; one pint of yeast, one-half of your shortening, and one-half your sugar and wet ail together over night, (before dividing your sugar and shorts ening, rub them well together,) in the morning add the rest of your sugar and shortening, two eggs, your raisns; cit ron, nutmeg, salt and one teaspoonful of saleiatus and a little more yeast, if you think necessary. Let it rise again until light, then pour into basins with out stirring it down. In making the yeast for this, if yon nse distillery yeast, take one and one-half cups of flour and scald with boiling water; when cool add two cents worth of yeast and let it rise. The King of Denmark was the other day driving along a seaside roan, wnen I suddenly his carriage came in collision with another carelessly driven hy a I well known young actor. The King ! was unhurt, hut his vehicle was so in | j a red that he was obliged to finish the journey on foot. The aclor was so con fused when he recognized his sovereign that he was unable to give utterano to his feelings. Nor was ho less perplex ed when the King turned and said to him; “My dear Mr. A-, I would really suggest-to yon tho propriety of studying your part, as coachrnau, a lit tle better next time. If you had not prepared yourself more carefully for your previous performances in which I have s 'on you, I am afraid I never should have had the pleasure of wit | liss-iug your performance at all; and if | von continue to appear in the role you ; have now taken np with no better suc cess tlinu has attended you to-day, 1 fear that that may happen which will effectually deprive me of tho pleasure of ever seeing you again!” A woman my be brave enough to re fuse a trump a piece of pie, and yet at | tho first flash of lighting in an approach ; ing thunder storm go into hysterics i of fear. We don’t blame her much; ! lightning is so apt to he in a hurry. ] Chbrokbe county,-N. C., has forty one different kinds of marble. Goad Talkers. The first requisite of a good talker is genuine social sympathy. A man may not say, out of sum ■ selfish motive, or some motive of personal policy, “Go to! I wilt become a good talker.’’ He must euj >y society, an l have a gen uine desire to serve and please. We have all seen the talker who talks foi his own purposes, or talks to pl ' isi himself. Ho is the well- kuown charac ter—the talking bore. The talk- r who gets himself up for show, who plans his conversations for an evening, and crams forjthem, becomes intolerable. He lentil res: ho does not con vers; foi there is no power of a talker so delight ful ns that of exciting other to talk, and listening to what his own inspiring and suggestive utterances have called forth. Genuine social sympathy and a hearty desire to please others are ne cessary to pro lu :e such a talker as this mid no other is tolerable. Social sym pathy is a natural gift and there is a combination of other gifts which con stitute what may be called esprit, that are very essential to a good talker. This combination includes individuality, tact nnd wit—the talents, aptitudes, and peculiar characteristic charm which enable a man to ms the materi als of convention in aa eugaging Vay, entirely his own; for every good talker has his owu way of saying good things, ns well of managing conversation based on his esprit. Yet it is true that there are no good talkers who depend upon tliier natural gifts and such material ns they get in the usual interchanges of society. For the materials of conversation wo must draw npoa knowledge. No man can be a thoroughly good talker who does not know a great deal. Social sympa thy and “the gift of gab” go but a short way toward pro lacing good con versation, though wo hear a great deal of this kiud of talk among the young Sound and exact knowledge in the very basis of good conversation. To know a great many tiling* well is to have in baud tljo boat and most reliable mater ials of good convorsation There is nothing like abundance and exactness ofkcowlelge with which to furnish a tilker. Next to this, perhap*, is fam iliarity with polite literature. The faculty of quoting from the best auth ors is a very desirable one. Facts art' valuable, and thoughts perhaps are quite as valuable, especially as they are moro stimulating to the conversa tion of a group. The talker who deals alone in facts is quito Iik■ -1 _y to have the talk all to himself, while tire man who is familiar with thoughts and ideas, as he has found them embodied in literal mo, becomes a stimulator of thought and conversation in those around kirn- Familiarity with know l.iige and i.’itli the products of literary art cannot bo too much insisted on as the furniture of good conversation. Beyond this the good talker must be familiar with the current thought and events of his time. There should be no movements in politics, religion and socity that the g rod talker is not famil iar with. Indeed, the man who under takes to talk at all must know what is uppermost in men’s minds, and bo able to add ti) the general fund of thought and knowledge, an 1 respond to the p > pillar enquiry and the popular dispo-b turn for discussion. 11m man who u:: dertakes to be a good talker should never bo caught napping conn Tiling current topic of immediate p lblic in terest. Now to carry and convey superiority of knowledge and culture without ap pearing to be pedantic, how to talk out of abundant stores of information and familiarity with opinion without seem iug to preach, as Coleridge was accus ed of doing, belongs, with the ability to balk well, to “the art of conversa tion.” It has seemed to ns that if vonng people could only see how shal low and silly vary much of theic talk is, and must necessarily be, so long as they lack the materials of conversation, they would take more pains with their study, would devote themselves to I he best books, and that, at least, they would acquire and maintain more fam iliarity with important current events. To know something is the best cure for neighborhood gossip, for talk about dress, and for ten thousand frivolities and silliness of society. B'sides, a good talker need an audience to under stand and respond to him, an 1 where is lie to find one if there is not abundant culture around him? A Rich Find of Silver. Home time ago a report was circulat ed throughout Independence county, that 830,000 in silver had been found by an old men and bis son, living mar Batesville. Reports of this kind always excite people. The impression that more money exists where some is found lias caused a great deal of unnecessary digging in this world, and, true to the impulse, digging was done in this case. The old man and his son gave very lit tle satisfaction in regard to inquires, and the matter died away like the sharp Iring of a silver dollar. Several days ago the old gentleman to whom the report pointed, went into Batesville, and making purchases displayed a lot of Spanish silver dol lars, dated lSll. Around the edges 0f some of the coins were traces of dirt. A short time afterwards the old man’s son came in with a lot of similar coin. This began to confirm the report that a large sum of money had been found, especially as the old gentleman and his son had been, previous to the report, in almost indigent oireumstances. It in now believed that the money has actu ally been found. The money was, of course buried there, as silver mines r-,relv “pan out” that way.—Little Liocic Gazette. JT\\t ^preside. Life a:id Imnortalily. What seems probable m the dim tight of nature, is in ide certain iu the clearer light of revelation. Life is hut the intro taction to man’s ; ‘rulin'id existence. Christ has brought life and immortaility to light through th’e Gos pel. “If we heli-ve tint Jesus died mid r ise again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God tiring with Him. if Jesus did not rise from the dead, there is no light in the world, find no hope for mail. If Jesus rose from the dead, His r urrecii ill wa, a part of u diven scheme, involving the redemp tion, of His disci pies .Hid he rise from the dead? In all the history of the world, there is no fact so fully authen ticated ns the resurrection ox Jesus The most astute and skeptical men be lieve and stake th.dr interests on facts vhich have not u tithe ot the proof in their support which confirms that oveut It was testified by competent witnes ses, who could have not been deceived, and who furnished the mist illustrious evidences of their sincerity. It gained credence in spite of all the prejudices ! arrayed against it, among Jews and Geutiles, and in deft nice of the bitter | p ‘rsi cmions of priests an 1 rulers, with intelligent '1 peop’e, in the very land and in the very age of its occurrence. If • Christ was not raised j from the d-ad, the triumph of Christi anity in the ltoman Empire was a m ire wonderful ami inexplicable mystery than the resurrection of Jesus itself. I "believe that Jesus died and rose | again.” Hero I rest my hope. 11ns : f.-.ot sheds light upon the condition and destiny of man. It, solv-s u thousand questions otherwise unanswerable. It | is an unfailing source of consolation, : amid all the toils, sorrows and disap j pointments of life. It imparts sigr.ili cance and grandeur to lifa. It stieds a 1 lustre ou the otherwise dark and dismal I tomb. It lifts the curtain that cons j ceais eternity, and gives us glimpse of its ineffable glory, and of its unmixed and unending felicity. Life,is a blesss ;ed thing, anj inestimable poss‘ssion to them that wisely use it. It is a birth of immortality—the dawn of a day ■which will be darkened by n« clouds, disturbed by no storms, and succeed 1 by no night. Surely every Christian may join in the apocalyptic d .ecology: “Uifto him that hath loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood, and hath made us kings and priests unto God and his Father; to him be glory and domination forever and ! ever. Amen.” - • -» -qO ►- • Prayer. “What a priviiage to carry evrey thing to God in prayer.” Only think of it; not a fewjthings, but everything There is nothing so small, so trifling, that God cannot stoop to hear about it. There is nothing of so great impor tance that we cannot trust it to him. We can carry it all to G od, knowing that ho doBth all things well. How good he is to give ns the precious privi lege, and how many blessings he be-! at /.vs upon us daily. How much we ought to bless and praise his holy name for his goodness to ns poor, sinful, crea tnres. But although wa are so poor 1 ■ f .1 _ l ...... -I nil trials andjsorrow3, an 1 tell him all our thoughts, hopes,.pud desires. He will always lend a sympathizing ear. The blesssu Savior knows all about us. Ho taught his disciples bow to pray and promised to scud the Comforter when lie was gone. It has been said that prayer is the golden key with which the Christian unlocks the great treasure house of his Master's wealth; and is iu not true? Oertrinly earnest prayer will bring down the richest blessings th it Heaven can 1 give. It is also the Chrtstian’s armor ; When he gets npon his knees Satan’s darts will not harm him. He will go away with his temptations and say “it ; no use while he prays so much. Wait i until ho neglects prayer and th# I will , try him,” Yes, when we begin to neglect pray er Satan will be ready for us, and will rivet his claims about us almost before we think of it. Oh, let us make the most of this privilege. Let us press onward to the eud, praying often by the wav. We have not long to wait be fore wo shall meet our dear Savior face ■a t i . ... f -4.1. j ill IUUf, mill 11 Iinvo J wo shall have a groat and glorious re ward. Habit. “I trust everything under God,” said Lord Brougham, to habit, upon which, in all ages, the law giver, n« i well as the schoolmaster, has mainly placed his leliauoe; habit which makes everything easy, and casts all difficul J ties upon the deviation from a wonted ooarse. Make sobriety a habit, and m teroperenoe will bo hateful; make pru dence a habit, and reckless profligacy will be as contrary to the nature of the child, grown or adult, as the atrocious crimes are to any of your lordships. Give a child the habit of sacredly re garding the truth; of carefully respeet the property of others; of scrupulously abstaining from all acts of improvi dence which can involve him iu distress — and he will just as likely think of rushing into an element which he can not breathe, as of lying or cheating, or swearing.’' How much better were it that tbou shouldst even lose something for thy self and win others thereby, than thou shouldst temiiin oil thy height, aud let thv brother perish! Like tho servant who hid his Loid’s talent, though fastest, sleepest on the earth, strewest thyself with ashes nud ever mournest, if thou art of no use to others, Iboa doest nothing great. &\\t 5'v->ohh;ufn jfetyfr. Artvcrll.slne Kale*. S;mco i tlrac l mouth B mos A mo* l* mo 1 inch * 1 no * :i ,K) * c no IIO 00 | is so 2 inches 2 oo noo s in is no 2* so 3 “ 8 00 7 50 12 S:l 20 00 301 400 10 00 |« 40 *5 Oil 37 00 8 ‘ 8 oo 12 50 21 OO 30 00 45 00 8 * 00 15 00 25 20 35 00 52 50 '* 12 00 *j 01) 3A 00 66 00 *5 81) 24 24 00 40 00 A<l 00 loo 00 ISO 00 Marriage not ices nml death*, pot ex ceeding six line*, publish-d free. All over six lino* charged tor at regular ad vertising riles. A Wcrd to Fatter*. Make op your minds yon most work, i hut if you consider yourself a fellow* I member, don’t work alone. Help your church, but don't carry it! If yon find middle emu busy bodies, givie them pi, uty to d ■ ; they hate real work as a mosquito does smoko, Your mini business is to preach; but to do tliis you must know your peopio and ascertain their wants. Don’t visit just to please, bat to help on your work. Some families will need six visits to another’s one. G » where you cau hurt the devil m ut. Be governed by men’s wants—not their complaints. Breach not as others do, but as yon and G >d can best airange it. Fill your hcares with sound reason, then cork them tightv with sound application; bind Un-la tightly with a •‘Thus saith the Lord.” Be sparing, if not a little stingy, in u*itig sermons. Remember when the stream of study stops flowing, the pulpit pond lowers Givd no cen* snres, unless there is love enough to prevent their drowning in hatred. It requires much love to praise, more to reprove. Attack m insures; "hit" people only when they stand between you and the devil. You must begin in time, and not be too long iu uttering what you have to say—if if you would have this busy age stop au 1 lisfo l. If you would preach the b“st sennous, practice them faith* fully biforehaud. Endeavor to be the greatest m an in the parish, and that by being the servant of all.* Be childish enough to think you never cau be loft away from Christ. Bn i to show Him all you have, and ask Him for all von want. Wasting Tims. When Jesus w as up an eartft H> said to His disciples, “Gather up the frags rnouts, that uothing be lost;" aud al though tlii3 was sp >k«u of food, it may be applied to time. What a vast amount of time is wasted! We stand, as it were, half wav up a m mutain, an 1 turning to look back, what do we see? Far down at the begiuing of the ascent, all the way up, till we reached the place where Jesus streached out His hand to save, we see opportu litios goua time wasted, and what sad regrets fill the miud at the sight! Oh, if we had only known how to live rightly from the beginning of our lives to the present! The other half of the mountain is yet to be climbed, and, and there are clouds above ns so thick that our gaze cannot penetrate them; but with our knowl edge of the past we ought to profit for tlia future. Lat us uso the remnant of our time rightly; consecrate ourselves and all that we have to Gjd; tear every idol from our hearts, whatever it may be, and be free to Christ. Let us live by the moment and venture out upon the promises of the Lord, knowing that tie !irs uoc promised nuytmng tliat tlo will not perforin. An Arab philoso pher one.) said, ‘‘I shall never pass this way again; if, therefore I would do any good, I must d i it now or never.” Wo are living for eternity; our influence af fects somebody every day of our lives. It has been truly said, “Oxs cannot live a stronger, purer life without helps , ii'g to make another's stron.er and p irer. Color a drop of water, and put it in conta >t with other drops, and soon all will be colored.” Passing Clonda. A faithful minister of Christ one day overtook an aged saint, who, in reply to a question regarding his wel fare, said: '•I kuow not how it is, but I have been much disquieted of late. It is now nearly sixty years since the Lcrd Jesus found me in my sins and spoke pence to my son!, and then I had such an questioning repose in His love, such a snrance of hops, and such joy in be lieving, that it seemed that heaven had begun on earth. B it now such dark ness has come over me tliat at times I am tempted to doubt whether 1 ever knew Him in ttntb, and that it was all but a pleasiug dream iu whioh I had deceived myself.” ‘‘And the reason of that is,” replied the minister, ‘‘that sixty years ago, when the Lord found you, you knew yon never though of finding any good in yourself, but you looked away from your sinful self to Christ, and you found all that you needed in Him. You were satisfied with His finished work; His blood spoke peace to you. You saw Him as made unto you God's wisdom, even righteousness, sanctifica tion, and redemption. But now you ar ‘beginning tosav with yonrself, ‘If I am a child of God'—and there is dark ness in that ‘if’—‘if I have been a sub. ject of divine grace for sixty years, then surely there ought to be abundant fruit to His praise and great spiritual attain ments. And you have turned away from Christ, to seek satisfaction in yonr life, or iu yonr own heart, and all is darkness; for (lie earth does not become a luminous body, however long and clearly the sun may shine upon it. The Lord is dealing mercifully with yon, »ud will not permit you to find rest in self. He will have yon to turn to Ciiirsf again ns ever, and will have you end where yon began, rejoicing iu Christ Jesus, and having no confidence in the flesh; at the end, as at the begin ing, a sinner paved by grace.” Wiiev great reverence is shown to the rich and onr poor bretheren are under competent, as if unworthy onr company or converse, we pass by the appearance of God in tliemwitliont any mark or no tice. Surely this is a sin aad a temp tation of SSutau.