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XKW SERIES. BROOKHAVEN. MISS., THURSDAY. JULY 15. 1880. VOL. 9.-WO. 51.
(The groDhUawn pdgrr. Established in 1840. It. h. 1IENUY, Editor *«d Proprietor. 82.00 pbb teas; 81-00 rob six months. TUB LEDUKB HAS AB80RBBD TUB SOUTH BUN JOURNAL AND WEEKLY CITIZEN Job Work of .Every Description Done in Best Stylo and at Lowest Prices. _. NEW ORLEANS_ The Cheapest House IN THE CITY. THE most STYLISH & DURABLE Furniture OK ALL KINDS PARLOR. BEDROOM A DININGROOM SETS AT A I K) 1.0**’ FIUI KFA — And all warranted to be of.tlie— BEST M ATERt ALfc WORKM AN SHIP CALL AND SEE Several splendid sets of bedroom lurmture for SALE AT COST. You will save monev by doing so before buying Special attention paid to Country Customera. W. K KIAGKONE, No. 172 Camp Street, New Orleans Jan. 2M«lyr. Men’s, Youth’s, Boy’s and Children’s Clothing, FURNISHING GOODS & HATS, —FOR— Spring & Summer. The Most Complete Stock in the City —AT— Popular Prices. Leon Godchaux’s, ''l and S3 Canal Street, NEW ORLEANS.-LA. march-18-lvr WILLIAM MEHLE, Successor to Hay Jfc Afehle, COMMISSION MRCHANT For tlib Purchase, sale. For wan Hug and Shipment of HIDES, WOOL, LEATHER, FURS, Beeswax. Tallow ami Tanning Materials. 40, 42 A 44 Commerce .St., New Orleans. La. oiiice 112 and 114 Peters St. aprl-ly GREGG’S Sewing Machine Depot. 154 Canal Street, NEW OELEAN81 Machines of all kinds, both new and second Hand, at reduced prices.. Machines repaired under Guaraated. Plaiting ma chines for Sale. Attachments, oil, needles etc., for all kinds of machines. Mrs. Ada Gregg, Manufacturer of Ladies’ and Children's Clothing of everv style and fashion, PLAIN AND FANCY STITCHING DONE TO OEDEB, patterns of all kinds 154 Canal St., NEW ORLEANS, La Feb-19-6m Hartwell & Chambers, WHOLESALE GROCER8 ANB Importer* of Wine* Sc liquor*, 36 Tcboupitoulas Street, & 34 New Levee, Between Natches & Gravier NEW ORLEANS. mar-27-12mo. D. MORI ARTY, No’S. 249, 251,253, 155,257 Poydras-st, New Orleans, WHOLESALE GROCER, RECTIFIER, —ANI)— WHOLESALE LIQUOR DEALER. Has constantly on hand A Full Stock of Fine Old Rye. —and— PURE BOURBON WHISKIES. The largest stock of Liquors ol ANY IN THE SOUTH. Also headquarters for all goods In th.e Grocery Line. aprl-ly LEON - MYERS WITH Jno. I. Adams & Co-, WHOLESALE CROCERS, and dealers in Wines and Liquors, 43, 45 and 47 Fetere Street, a29 NEW ORLEANS. MABOAKET liASUHERY. KBNAKD KLOTZ. Margaret Haughery and Co. MARGARET’S STEAM AND MECHANICAL BAZEE7, Nos. 74,|76 & 78 NEW LEVEE STREET, Jan-29 m New Orleans, La. LA TEST SI YLES IN M IL LINER Y , II DKI.I > ZKPHVK, Etc. Mme. Rosa Reynoir, NO. 9 CHARTERS STREET. NEAR CANAL NEW ORLEANS, Begs to inform hei erous patrons, an ladies in general, ill lias returned frou North with a large ment of the LATEST NOVELTIES IN DM ILLINBB. Y which she will sell at her usual LOW PRICES. Her Stock of BERLIN ZEPHYR, the largest in the city, is offered at 10 cents. Personal attention given to orders, and goods cheerfully exchanged when not en tirely satislaciory. till sent. 4 lsso C b a f fe .Hamilton A](P ow« I' AND < «MIniKNIOt llEKCHAVIH, No. 36 Per ddo st, P. O. BOX 602 NEW ORLEANS, LA. Oct.lU.iv WINTELER RICK.% DEALERS IN LEATHER A SHOE FINDINGS. tools, mis, Klc., MwttufHOtnr-r* of Hunt* Goiter* otoi Shoe U/>i>er» Special attention paid to country < rdera. 160 POYDHAS ST. NEW ORLEANS, Jan. 22-6m, * ' * > NEW ORLEANS. LA.. 1 April, W80. \ To HIT < «HBIrr I have the pleasure to inform you that I have effected suoli arrange ments with the beet manufacturers. that I will be euable to sell goods in New Orleans at the regular Boston and New York prices, I am now ready to fill country orders to any amount at figures that will convince all, that they can buy in New Or leans as cheaply as at the North, or East. Purchasing goods at close figures, and in large quantities, I can sell at a small advance and thu give my customers a better chance to make a profit. My establishment is heavily stocked, and a greater variety of shoes of all grades can not be found in any Southern City. Hoping to be honored with your visit, or your orders by mail. I remain, yours truly, ARTHUR DURIEU, The Bed Star ('anal and Barroaae Street NEW ORLEANS. UK fW»l*-ly lifcrayg. llemoeratic Campaiga Moag. Sods of sires, whose names immortal ’Round oar country's altar ahine, Sires who fell at freedom's portal, Leaving you the gift divine. Gathering from the past it’s glory, Learning from the past its woe, Rise as freemeu, write your story, Write in characters that glow. This is time for strength and action, Men of courage, tirm and true. Let no blind, insidious faction All your mighty works undo. Send to front n » heart that falters. Trust no voice that bids you stay/ He who paths straightforward alters Leads you far from victory’s way. Shall we be one glorious Union, State respecting sister Suite? Equal, each, from full communion, Dare one think or hesitate? Shall we as a mighty nation. Weakened, bow to party force? Shall the sovereign people's station Re usurped by cunning course? Lo! the graves are torn asunder! Forth our hero Fathers stand, Echoes far, like rumbling thunder, Censure o'er the recreant land. Trace with awe each ghastly Huger, Pointing there to blood and team. Her o’er Seventy-six to linger, Fixing wrath of hundred years. Democrat*, from snow-capped mountain" Democrat", from Western plains, See have dried war’s bloody fountains, Hark! re-echo friendliest strains. PeTrtrfcmts^fVom palni-crowiied riyers, Democrats, from sunny skie-*, Lo! the nation throbs and quiver". Evermore dissension die*. Through the coming campaign ticket United rise in might to bear, Safe the Democratic ticket. Trusted in your honor's care. May the God of out ions dneld you. Daughters of the nation pray: Mavvour faithful courage yield you Laurels of victorious day. Firm of heart, in full reliance In the justice of your cause Bidding every foe ■ietiance, forward now! nor re*t r.or pause. .lOniiuien: oouui uieu. uimni, Be as one unbroken band, Tl'ia ballle-cry your faith has plighted, Hancock, English. and Our Band' —• «»—— la it I'inii' «f Trouble An an .eagle, from the height, Looking down upon the lamia, On forecasts black as night. Fair fields and desert Hands, See the traveler below Losing heart, as, league ou league. Long wildernesses show No end to his fatigue, So faith, amid her stars, Beholding far beneath The bright and gloomy bars In the web of life and death, Sees weary hearts that deem The dark breadth is the whole, Sees happy hearts that dream The bright rays all their goal. Ah! let this faith be ours— That even 'mid the pain, Above the present towers. And sees the neariog gain; While, breadth by breadth, appears, As from the weaver's hand, The pattern of the years Wbteh God Himself has planned. ForTsrLssen.j Asgrv Words. Angry words, oh! let them never From thy tongue unbridled slip; May thy heart’s best impulse ever Check them ere they soil the lip. Love is much too pure and holy— Friendship is too sacred far, For a moment’s reckless folly Thus to desolate and mar. Angry word, arc lightly spoken, Bitterest thoughts are rashly stirred; Brightest links of life are broken By a single angry word. Florence. Jackson, June 1880. THE ENGINEER'S STORY. On a sunny October day, accord ing to instructions I had received from the officers of the railroad com pany, I handed the engineer of En gine No. 32 a letter from his chief, requesting that I accompany him upon the engine, as a better post for the observations along the rails I had been commanded to make. After reading it he touched his bat, and respectfully bade me wel come. arranging as comfortable a seat for me as he could provide for the long ride which lay before us. It was a novel experience for me, an«l a highly exciting one, as we seemed to cleave the air, the train thundering along behind us; and I could but Jook admiringly at the man who stood so unflinchingly at his post, and in whose hand lay in reality all our lives. He,was a tall, handsome fellow, whose keen gray eyes never stirred from his post, either to right or to left, but whose cherry laugh often rang out on the clear morning air as we chatted together. By noon we had become friends, at which hour we stopped at a small station, where there was a delay of tweuty minutes, to take on coal and water. As we slowed up. I noticed standing on tne piatiorm a young woman, holding a neatly-covered basket, and clinging to her skirts a little child, some three years of age. “Papa! papa!” the little one screamed, in delight; and, glancing at my companion’s face, I needed not to question if he were tha one thus called. Another moment, we had stopped, and wife and child were pressed to his breast, while a look of wonderful tenderness crept into his eyes. “My wife and child, sir,” he said, turning to me. “I have only one day a week oil' with them; but Mary always meets me here with my din ner, and now and then I get an hour or two with her.” “It is a hard life,” I said. “You must miss them sorely.” “No matter where I am, sir,” h« replied, “they are with me. I hear the little oue’s voice above the loud est wind, and I see my Mary’s smil* in the darkest night, although 1 stand alone on my engine, with m3 life iu my hand. It’s a hard life, maybe, sir, but I ought not to com plain. It gave me tuy happiness since it won me my wife.” • Wheu we were on our way again and I had seen the tears fill thi wife’s bright blue eyes sb she fond ly kissed her husband good-by while I had slipped into the littl oue’s chubby hand a golden gif i from the strauge geutleman ridiaj with |«pa, I asked my companioi what he meaut. “I don’t know as you’d care t bear, sir, and there’s not many a I’d care to tell. Y«4|' *0 «MRj book-stories of th t people who make up your world, that you have not much time to loo i down to mine. There are people who think such as we have no time to love, but you have seen Mary a id my boy, and— you’ll tell me if I tire you? “I was a careless fellow enough six years ago, not neglecting my du ty when at my post, but fond of a good time with my companions when off duty, always ready to ac cept a friendly glass, and sometimes with my head not quite steady when I mounted my engine, though the air always set me right before we had gone far on our way. “One eveuiug, at a dance. I met Mary Morton. She was the pretti est girl in the room, sir, and a little bit of a coquette in 'those days, though no more than natural, with all the young fellows trying their best to turn her head. “I was not long beliiml the rest I couldn’t get her -Out Of my thoughts,"hut it did not take me a great while to find out the truth o: the matter. 1 had lost my heart. The only question was, would she turn me adrift, or give me hers for that she had stolen? It was many « week before 1 got up my courage enough to determine to ask her to be my wife. Every moment off of duty I would spend with her, until 1 grew to fancy she used to watch and wait my coming. “But I was not without my jealous hours, for all that. How did 1 know how she spent the time, 1 was so constantly away from her? •-.-it last 1 heard of another dance, to be given on the night 1 would be off duty. I could not see Mary un til theii, but I felt sure she would know I would come for her aud would go with no one else. . . . •.! . 1 T nilL mini me a-*.., * found, when I called for her, that she had already goue. Perhaps, sir, in your rank of life, you know, too, what it is to he jealous, aud how a man destroys his future happiness by it. ‘‘ My first words to Mary were those of reproach, while her smile at my entrance died away, and her face grew white.” “I did not know you were coming John. How could I?" “You might ha\e waited, then!” 1 exclaimed. “Aud stayed at home, perhaps, to have had you 1: ugh at me, with the rest. Besides 1 cm quite satis fied witli my escort, aud believe I am the only perso i to he consulted in the matter.' “As you will,” 1 said, turning on my heel, muttering the word Co quette! between i ty teeth, and un heeding the little pleading glance she sent from time to time across the room to where I stood.” “She was not without pride, and if she suffered from my coldness, she only smiled the brighter on oth ers, until I grew mad with jealous auger. That night began a series of dissipations with which I em ployed every leisure moment. I drank more deeply than I had ever done in my life—not as before, for so-called good will and good fellow ship, but to drown memory. “I did not go near Mary for a month. To me it seemed a year. Once, after a night’s carousal, I pas sed her on the street; but not until long after did I learn of the bitter _ _ 1. w. 1 nrt/) .1 i an) no bvai a uij uurp^w*'.. ^ ----- -1 ted air had cost her. Finally my better nature triumphed, and I went to her, repentant, to ask her forgive ness, and perhaps her love. “On a long, lone night ride I made up my mnid to do this,though like a thousand devils, memories of the moments I had spent in the last few weeks crowded around men, as though taunting me in contrast to her purity; but with God’s help I would make myself worthy, I said aloud, and thought the hours would never drag along until I could find myself once more in her presence. She came in to see me, holding out her hand with a sweet smile of wel come, as though we had parted yes terday, and yet—and yet there was a change. Ah, I learned it, all too soon! In those first few moments I told her the story of my life for the past few mouths, of what it had been before I knew her—of what it should be if she would give me the assurance and promise of tier love. Then I paused. For a monient si lence fell between us; then she spoke. A bright flash was in her cheeks, her lips trembled, her lash es veiled her eves, but her lips fal tered not.” “John,” said she, “I am only a girl, it is true, but the man I marry must be a man. Perhaps I might have loved you”—here a little trem ble crept into her t me—“but I have almost ceased to respect you. Were you my husband, 1 would fear for you, and fear and love cannot go hand-in-hand.” oOi 111 T it TV. iirnilt fIV ‘ ~ J drive me back to t ie life I had hop-. ed to have left behind me? O, Mary do not be so cruel. Be mv wife, and let me prove the stuff that is in me.” “No, John,” she answered, softly; but the blue eyes now raised to mine were swimming in tears. “If you have seen the wrong, surely you will not return to it. Rather, if you indeed love me, prove your self a man. It does not take a bat tle field to make a hero.” “Prove yourself a man.” These were the-words that haunted me in the weeks that followed, saving me from ruin I would else have drifted into, but torturing me with their hope lessness. What hope had I, in mv rountiue of duty, of changing Mary’s mind? Yet, spite her words, some thing in her eye had told me that she loved me, and that something gave me strength to live and to withstand the daily temptations of my life. “No six months passed, when one morning I mounted my engine to take the express train to C. We were going along at the rate of thir* ty miles an hour, when suddenly, , right ahead of us it seemed, a tiny i speck of red fluttered on the track • “I strained my eyes—I blew my , whistle. What could it be? Merci i ful heaven! Another instant it wai t made clear to me. It was a littli t golden-haired child, playing in th« i very face of the huge monster oi death, my hand was guiding to its j destruction,” s . “I whistled ‘down brakes,’ but, at f I did ao,knew that it was of no avail Before the order could be obeyed it would 1m rendered useless. Then something within me said: “Vour life is worthless. Give it for that innocent life if it must he, but save it at the peril of your owu. Hail you been a better man, you might have had a little child like that praying for you at home.” “It takes a long time, sir, to tell all this, but in reality not one sec ond had paaaed. At such times men think quickly. One bitter sigh rose in my breast. I would never have a chanoe of proving to Mary my manhood by some great deed in the fiiture, or long years of penance. But it did not make my duty any the less clear. Bill, the fireman, was behind me. ( “Take the engine! I screamed to uim. “Good-by, Mary,” I whisper ed low to myself, “The uext minute, hardly con scious of what I was doing, I was down upon the cow-oatcher of the traiu. Clinging by one hand, the other outstreacheil to grasp the child, now paralyzed with terror. Then we were upon it. It was kil led, crushed, mangled? No! 1 looked lowu. It was safe, held within one stroug arm, its golden head close pressed against ray shoulder. How was it done? I can not tell you, sir. God, they say, does not let the spar row fall. “Then the train checked its speed, stopped; the passengers came crowding about us, men grasped me by the band, women cried over me, and I—stood dazed, bewildered, iu their midst, the child tight-held within mv arms. It was such a simple thing; yet, sir, they gave me this,” throwing back his coat, and showing a gold medal. “I wear it iu thanksgiving for the little life I saved. They raised for . ..in u l.ifnra amAiinL p,-... O - lint the gift which seemed to cleanse mv heart was the poor mother’s grateful tears. “The papers rang, next day, with the storv. You sec, sir, it seemed more to them, looking at it, than to me. who had no time to stop and think; but something more was in store for me. I was off of duty, the next night, alone in my lonely, des olate room, thinking it all over, when some one whispered my name. In another moment some one was sobbing in my arms—some one who from that moment, has been the sun shine of my home and heart. “That is all. sir. It i* a simple story. I trust I have not tired you.” But I, as I grasped the noble fel low's hand, whose speech had so unconsciously betrayed the grand true heart within, could only echo his Mary’s words: ‘‘It does not take a battle-field to make a hero.” A Girl’i Diary. March 15.—I must buy to-day: Some cologne. Some hair pins. Some ruche lace. .dome satin clogs for shoes. March 16th.—Dear me! I'm al ways out of something! To-day / must Zook for material for spring dress. Pair of-. Bottle of vaseline. Tooth-powder. Face-powder. New tooth-brush. la addition, I was tempted into buying two of those beautiful new bows and a new penknife. March 17th.—Zve nearly decided on the material for one dress, /t’s more expensive than I expected. But I must have it. Bought to-day: Four yards of ribbon. Two pairs of four-button kids. Pair house slippers. Pair new corsets. Celuloid comb for front hair. Tortoise-shell pin for back hair. Two pairs cufTs. Three collars. One paper pattern. One paper pattern for jacket. Leather belt and pocket. Needles and thread. Worsted for fancy work. Two lace ties. March 18th.— I don’t think I want anything to-day. I'm just go ing out, though, to look at the goods in the shop windows. Bought, un expectedly, Material for three spring dresses. Lining for ditto. Persian trimming for ditto. Pair of rubber overshoes. Pair of scissors. .New leathers for hat. . New hat. New traveling bag. New clasp for ulster. Bottle of smelling salts. Three pairs of cheap gloves. Two lace ties. Sinrincr nni-nsnl March 19th.—It's time / ordered another pair of shoes. My best silk is really getting shabby. And / must go out to-day, for fm out of pins. The St. Tammany Farmer men tions a report that the Chicago. St. Louis and New Orleans railroad contemplate building a railroad from Brookhaven to Meridian. The dis tance is 115 miles and it would run through a good section of country. This is the first that we have heard of the new road. --- There were only' two ballots in the St. Louis Convention in 1876. On the first ballot, Tilden had 417$ votes; Hendricks, 140$; Hancock, 75; William Allen, 56; Bayard, 35, and Joel Parker 38. On the second, Tilden received 534; Hendricks, 60; Hancock. 59; Allen, 84; Bayard, 11, Parker 18, and Thurman, 2. He ate ten slices of bread, four potatoes, three quarts of cherries, ten cents’ worth of peanuts, two cream cakes, a quarter of a mince pie, half a pound of caramels, two apples, a cocoanut and six bananas. He is net an ostrich. He is only a boy, and is already asking for some thing to eat. Mrs. Elernor Shermau-Thackera is a wise young lady. <$hp declared that her trousseau and her wedding gifts were her own private property and she wouldn't allow them to b« paraded in the newspapers. Queen Victoria has completed the forty-third year of her reign. She has reigned nearly as long as Queen Elizabeth. jffliscclhmj. GARFIELD'3 RECORD. What His Neighbors Thought in 1876. The Buffalo Courier recalls the fact that the independent republi cans of Garfield’s Congressional dis trict held a mass meeting at War ren, September 6, 187(5, and adopted the following stinging resolution: Resolved, That it is useless and hypocritical for any political party to declare for reform in its plat forms, papers and public addresses while it insists on returning to high official place and power men who have been notoriously connected with the very seliemes and fraud which render reform necessary; offi cially connected with administra tion of the national government against whom are justly preferred more and graver charges of corrup tion than are publicly made and abundantly sustained against James A. Garfield, the representative of this congressional district and the nominee of the republican conven tion for re-election. That since he first entered con gress to this day there is scarcely an instance in which rings and mo nopolies have been arrayed against the interests of the people that he has been active in speech or vote upon the side of the latter, but in alraosteveryca.se he has been the ready champion of the rings and monopolies. That we especially charge him with venality and cowardice in per mitting Benjamin K. Butler to at tach to the appropriation bill of 187:5 that ever to be remembered infamy, the salary steal, and in speaking and voting for that meas ure upon its final passage. 7'liat, we further arraign and de nounce him for his corrupt connec tion with the Credit Mobilier, for his false denials thereof before his I Constituents, 111 cuuuiiniug among them a pamphlet purporting to set forth the finding of the said commit tee and the evidence against him. when in fact material propositions theieof were omitted and garbled. That we further arraign and charge him with corrupt bribery in selling Ins official influence as chairman of the Committee on Appropriations for $3000 to the De Golyer pavement ring, to aid said ring in imposing upon the people of the District of Columbia a pavement which is al most worthless at a price three times its cost, and in procuring a contract to procure which it corrupt ly paid $97,000 for “influence,” sell ing his influence in a matter that involved no questions of law upon the shallow pretext that he was act ing as a lawyer, selling his influence in a manner so palpable and clear as to be so found and declared by an impartial and competent court upon an issue solemnly tried. That we arraign him for gross dereliction of duty as a member of congress in failure to bring to light and expose the corruption and abuse in the sale of the post traderships, for which the late Secretary Belknap was impeached, when the same was brought to his notice by General Hazen, in 1872, and can only account for it upon the supposition that his manhood wasaenaucneu uy the corruption funds then by him just received and in his own purse. That neither great ability and ex perience nor eloquent partisan dis cussion of the dead issues ot the war will excuse or justify past dishones ty and corruption or answer as a guarantee of integrity and purity for the future. That, believing the statements in the foregoing resolutions set forth we cannot, without stultifying our manhood and debasing our self re spect, support at the polls the nomi nee of the republican convention of this district for re-election, nor can we, without surrendering our rights as electors and cittz ns, sit silently by and see a man s1 worth}- again sent to represent us 1 the national legislature. The strong in the conviction of rig (,all upon the electors of this di» . irrespective of former or present i arty attach ment, who desire honest government, to unite with us in an earnest, faith tul effort to defeat the re-election of General Garfield and elect in his stead an honest and reliable man. Mrs. Mackey’s Banquet. The beautiful host ess herself was attired in white brocade, trimmed with maguificent point lace, white satin and pearls. A high ruft, em broidered with pearls, rose from the buek of her corsage and set off the graceful carriage of her head. Miss Hitt wore a Worth costume of white satin and voile rie relujieuse, trim med with point d’Alencon. The arragement of the draperies on the skirt was singularly graceful. Mrs. Noyes was in green satin. Mrs. Downing’s dress was in pale lilac brocade, of a new and exquisite shade. She wore a full set of dia monds, and a bandeau of pearls and diamonds was placed in her hair. Miss Downing was array ed in pale blue silk, trimmed with Valenciennes lace and crushed crira son roses. Miss Eva Mackey s toi let was composed of pale bine Pekin and pale blue silk. Miss Lostei wore white silk trimmed with lace. Mrs. Hudston’s dress was of white crape and white silk, beautifully embroidered in a pattern of shaded gold and garnet beads, representing feathers, and she wore a. set of dia mond ornaments. The Duchess d« Bojano, was attired in pale blue sat iu elaborately embroidered wilt flowers in their natural hues, sue her hair was adorned with pale bhu feathers. Miss Reynold’s dress wai of pale pink satin, trimmed with plaitings of tulle, and her mothei wore black satin and jet, with dia mond ornaments. The Baroness Kes ler was arrayed in a black satin bal dress, ornamented with many-color ed roses. Miss Hooper's dress wai composed of black satin and Pekin trimmed with lilac and purple dais ies. Mrs. Fairmen Rogers wor white silk, trimmed with lace, era broidered with pearls. Mrs. Beeb was in dark blue satin, with skir frout of cream-grounded Watteai brocade, richly trimmed with poin lace. In all respects the entertain ment was oue of the most brilliau that has taken place this season ii the American colony. Hancock » Boyhood. R E. Chain, acbum of Gen. Han cock in hia boyhood, says: I have known him for over forty vears, and boy and man am glad to claim him as a friend. In 1828 he came from Montgomery township, near Montgomeryville,, about ten miles from here, to this town, with his father and mother and twin brother Hilary. He was then about four years old. The family went to live in a two-story stone house, still standing, but very dilapidated. This house at that time was one mile west of town, on the old Ridge pike. It is now in the city limits, near the cemetery. He first went to school to Eliphalet Roberts, in the acade my, which then stood where the present market house stands. From my earliest acquaintance with him we boys acknowledged him as a kind of leader. He was quiet bnt firm in all he undertook. I remem ber that his tastes early ran in a soldier direction. 7/e used to get us boys back of the academy, and, improvising cocked hats of paper and guns and swords of sticks, pat ns through all manner of manuvers, that to our boyish ideas were the acme of military perfection. At that time Benjamin F. Hancock, his fa ther, was in poor circumstances, and it was a struggle for him to gain sustenance for his family. As business improved in his profession as a lawyer, he moved into town and occupied a three story brick house nu Swede street olose to Lafayette street, having his office in a small brick building adjoining. Winflfild and his brother, Hilary, at that time looked so much alike that it was hard to distinguish one from the other across the street. His father and mother were Baptists of the strictest school and kept their chil dren in their earlier years under the must ri trid moral trainin'?. The consequence was,'that up to the time Winfield went to West Point through the appointment of the Hon. Joseph Fornanee, he had no vices. He was then *in his seven teenth year, was tall for his age, but very slender. He never forgot his old friends, aud after he had gradu ated he would visit them at times, never assuming any superiority, but on the footing established in the boyhood days. His life after leav ing West Point has become histori cal and needs no repitition from me. With regard to his religious predi lections, he is not connected with any denomination. While the Gen eral was quite young his father and mother connected themselves with the Baptists in this town, and the General, then a small boy, attended the Sunday-school of that church, his father being the superintendent. -- The Republican Nominee*. What Mr. Garfield swore to: “I state, explicitly, that no one ever gave or offered to give me any share of stock in the Credit Mobilier or tThion Pacific Railroad. I have never received or had tendered me any dividends in cash, stock or bonds accruing upon any stock in either of said organizations, I never received a dollar in bonds, stock or dividends.” What a Republican Committee said: “He (Garfield) agreed with Mr. Ames to take ten shares of Credit Mobilier stock, but did not pay for same. Mr. Ames received the eighty per cent, dividends in bonds, and sold them for ninety seven per cent., and also received the sixty per cent, cash dividend, which together with the price of tlitf stock and interest, left a balance of three hundred and twenty-nine dollars. This sum was paid over to Garfield by a check on the Sergeant-at-Arms.” What President Hayes said of Chester Absalom Arthur: “With my information of the facts in the case, and with a deep sense of the responsible obligation imposed upon me by the Constitution, to take-care that the laws be faithfully executed, I regard it as my plain duty to sus pend the officers in question and to make the uominations now before the Senate, in order that this impor tant office may be honestly and effi ciently administered.” What Secretary Sherman said of the Republican nominee for Vice President: “If it is to be held that, to procure the removal of Mr. Ar thur, it is .sufficient to reasonably establish that gross abuses of ad ministration have continued and in creased during his incumbency; that many persons have been regularly paid on his rolls who rendered little or uo service; that the expenses of his office have increased while col lections have diminished; that bribes, or gratuities in the nature of bribes, have been received by his subordinates in several branches of the Custom House; that efforts to correct these abuses have not met his support, and that he has not driven to the duties of the office the n . . «... * . A requisite uiuguuuc aun nvreuuuu, then it is submitted that the case is made ont. This form of proof the department is prepared to submit,” - amrnm* The Thistles of Scotland. Thethistle is the national badge of Scotland. How it came to be sc is told in the following story: Once during an invasion of Scotland bv the Danes, they arranged to sur prise the Scottish army. At was not considered fair or warlike to at tack an enemy in the darkness ol the night. So they resolved tr march barefooted that their tram) might not he heard. Silently, slow ly, but steadily they drew nearer anc nearer to the Scottish camp. An i few minutes the surprise would havi been complete. Suddenly a louc cty of pain rang through the air startling both invader and invaded The Scots sprang to their feet, seiz ed their weai>ons, charged upon th< , foe, and defeated them with grea slaughter. The cry that saved then came from one of the Danish sol i diers, who with his bare feet hai trod on a thistle. i The Columbus Dispatch makes , capital suggestion, one we heartil - second. At is that Lamar, Hamp > ton, aud the “battle-scarred” Goi - don, shall canvass Pennsylvania fo > Gen, Hancock. 7f these gallao t and eloquent gentlemen should cot i elude to engage in a canvass of tb t old State for her peerless son, the - will make the mountains and tb t valleys echo with such strains < i eloquence as Pennsylvanians hat rarely heard, 'grnsidt. The Youngest People. Who are the people who grow old the earliest? Not those who work hardest, sutler most, or feel most passiouately, oue would suppose. Their faces may he worn, their beau ty may depart, hut there is a linger ing touch of youth in all who live, however sadly, to the last—in all who work with liands or brain, in all who feed their emotions and keep the fire of thought alive. <S’troug feeliug, and much brain work—burning the candle at both ends—may drive men mad; hut it is the vacant life, the purposeless existence, the absence of emotion, that plunges them into that condi tion of old age known as childish ness. The people who, to many, repre sent old age, are mummies still above grouud. They care nothing for those about them; *hey do not remember their past. They regret nothing, hope for nothing. Physi cal pain aloue can awaken them to interest in themselves. But such old age as that never comes to those who have lived ac tive lives, who have lived and work ed for others, who have been inter ested in the great subjects of the day, or in the humblest affairs of humanity. The idle rich woman who had nothing to do in her youth, the stu pid poor woman who toiled grudg ingly, who married without love, and to whom a husband was only a master and children a burthen. these make the weary, wrinkled, soulless old women of the world. And younger people looking at them say “Poor humanity! it must come to this!” while all around them are women who have lived many more years, who have toiled, who have suffered, who should be worn out, but who are young at heart still, who respond to a word or a glance as quickly as in early youth, and who will be active human be ings while they live, because they have nourished their souls. Women who are prominent in their professions do not break down with their toil. Nay, there are old washerwomen who. from helping their neighbors, keep ing up their own independence,their religious feeling and their pride in their work, are bright and busy in extreme old age. No woman need fear that feeling or occupation will make her grow old early. A lack of interest in life, a want of something to do, the rust ing of emotions will age her earlier than any toil or suffering. And a woman who loves—whose children are dear to her, who has frieuds who need her and whom she needs, never falls into that condition of old age from which we shrink with horror. Disease will do its work of course; but given health, any woman may keep her heart young while she lives. The Two Paths. An English lady having been ask ed as to the propriety of attending on Sunday au exhibition of Bible pictures, replied with an illustration which illuminates a wide range of , duties. She said: Along the South Downs are two ( paths, one a very few inches from the edge of the cliff, another about two yards off. Many have walked, i and walked safely, along the first ' path, but it was dangerous. One step to the left, and they ] would have fallen perhaps, several ( hundred feet into the sea below; or. i if a piece of loose rock suddenly i separated from the other parts, it ■ would have carried the person who chanced to be treading it. down, dowii with it into the abyss. Many toe, and I am among them. , have trodden the path farther in; we had as pleasant a view, with this great distinction from the more dan ger-loving passengers, we were safe; if we took a step to the left, wo were still on solid ground; if the edge were jagged, or even a huge mass of rock fell, we only saw unevenness, or felt a slight shock. A gust of wind could not hurl us over, neither would sudden giddi ness send us rolling down the prec ipice. Which path was best, was wisest, was safest? “The last,” you say? Yet both have been walked without accident. I do not lay down a rule that every one would be doing wrong in going to see a collection of pictures illustrating the bible on Sunday, but I do say there is a South Down call ed Sunday; it is high above the six miles of the country surrounding it: along the edge is written: “Remem ber the Sabbath day to keep it holy.” There are two paths, one called “religious pleasure,” the other, “hours for God alone.” Which is the happiest, the safest, the wisest, the best? God Will Know My Same. A poor Irish woman went to a venerable priest in Boston last week, says the Pilot, and asked him to for ward to Ireland her help for the famine sutferers. “How much can you spare?” ask ed the priest. “I have one hundred dollars sav ed,” she said, “and I can spare that.” The priest reasoned with her, say ing that her gift was too much for her means, but she was firm in her purpose. It would do her good to know that she had helped—she could rest happier thinking of the > poor families she had saved from i hunger aud death. The priest re i eeived her money with moistened eyes. “Now, what is your name?” he * asked; “that I may have it publish t ed.” • “My name,” said the brave soul ■ counting over her mouey; “dou’i l mind that, sir. Just send the help. and God will know my name.” i --- • ' * f Good intentions are the seeds o - good actions, and every man ough - to sow them and leave to the soi r and the season the duty of growtl t and perfection. Then the old prov - erb would prove untrue that “hel e is paved with good intentions." y - e Tsmptatiom is not sin, and n< if man need be defiled by it excep e through his own yielding and fail ure to turn aside from it. (The grooktotVftt JeHrjcr. Advertlalng KalM. „ I 1 1 » it a is Hpacb ; Time Mon. Mon's MonM Mon's Mont i inch' "i‘oo "i‘an "aco "gAA ij’ao Via* 9 UtcHea 900 8 oo 9 oo u AX id oo 2a oa * “ 3 00 7 00 19 110 la DO 94 Oo sa w 4 “ 4 00 9 09 15 00 91) ao 90 00 44 0a B “ s 90 11 00, IS UO 94 ao 34 00 59 oo « “ I* 0 IS 001 91 OOl 98 OO 49 00 «« 00 Marriage notice* and deaths, not ex ceeding six lines, published free. All , over six lines charged for at regular ad vertising rates, A Beautiful Incident. Not many rnooths since I heard a gentleman make a Hunday-eehool talk, in which he related a beautiful little in cident that f am inclined to repeat for your benefit. A gentleman was riding through a forest when he uoticed a bird near by in great excitement. He atopped to find out the cause. Looking in some bushes he saw a snake gliding from branch to branoh in the direotion of a bird's nest. He watched and suddenly saw the snake drop from bis position near the nest to the ground. But in a moment it regained its place and ex tended its tangs to poison and kill the sweet, innocent little birds, who were almost unconscious of their fate. Again it dropped. This was repeated several times, and the gentleman grew curious to know the cause. He approached and killed the suake; then advanced to learn the canse of the queer actions of the snake. All around the birds nest he saw fresh, green leaves that he knew to be poisonous to snakes. The bird had followed the instiuct God had given it and placed around her young true safe guard against its natural enemy. The make was powerless to injure the young birds until it had crossed the leaves ipread around for protection, and which t knew were death to it. Shall I tell you the meaning of thia itory? The little birds are the count ess numbers of little children born in o a world full of evil influences and vicked people, who delight in pleading hem astray. The mother-bird repre ieuts the Chrietain parents, Sunday ichoot teachers and all good people who ire trying to shield the little ones from langer. The leaves are the leaves of ilio uiuio wo wuuiu piauc ou/uuu, mil wliicli have a deadly effect upon ivil. The euake is the evil oi», wbo in he days of Adatn took that form to ;empt the womau. There is no surer xi.sou to him than the precepts and ionnsels learned from God’s word. Dear cousins, so long as you are con ■eut to rest behind the promises of the Bible yon will find it a strong defense igamst all evil. Should the devil ap proach you the mmnte he touches a leaf !rom the Bilde, spread so oarefully tround yon, he will know it to be poi lon to him and drop away as suddenly is did the snake when it touched the leadly leaves. So keep close aronnd pon the saving leaves and rest assnred 10 harm can come to you. —- _ Swapping Homes. A little brother and sister were talk ing about their home, and tb6ir love for it. " “I wouldn’t swap my home for any ither in the world," said the sister. ‘‘Oh! I don’t feel so,” was the boy's £ •espouse, ‘‘I think that Willy A-’s i , louse is as pretty as onrs. It s bigger; 1 f ind it’s got more things in it, I think - I'd like to swap ours for that." ‘‘But would yon like to give up your 'ntlias nn.l u.oii mnlhup f hia?'1 uuL-ml lie sister. “Aud. would you rather lave his sister than yours?” “No, I wouldn't want that,’’ said 5 he boy. “Well, to swap homes means that,” mid the sensible sister; “for a home tself isn't a home. A home is your father and mother and brothers and siss ;ers, and everything you have m the louse.” Wasn't that well said? Isn’t there a ruth iu those words which is hid from nauy of the wiae.and prudent and re pealed unto babes? A well famished muse is not a home. A home is the ife and love which the family in the J louse represents Who would swap | lis home for a rich neighbor's? Sympathy. M One of the principal charms of wow neu lies in their quiok sympathy^; riiev are pre eminently gifted with thfp* ■apid impressionability that puts the® iu rapport with their r surrounding. Hany Hi us endowed, however, lack the ms’ained fore* that gives cohesion to iharaoter. The influence withdrawn hat called forth emotion, the purpose >orn with it begins to flag. These mpulsive sympathizers rejoice with the isppy and mourn with the sad; they five smile for smile and tear for tear; mt the moment you leave them they orget you, and the object of your joy >rof your pam is as nothiug to them, *\jr the time being they are entirely uneere; hypocrisy or affectation has not intered into the tokens of feeling yoir lave shown; they have simply been sompelled by the impression of the noment. This kind of sympathy inswera ueiier uj uie iieuuauou oi rue nodern philosopher than that which napired the injunction of the wise man •sorrow is better than laughter, for by he sadness of the oonntenauce the leart is made better.” • ••^'-. A Beautiful Thought. When the summer of youth is slowly wasting away on the night-fall of age, ind the shadow of the path becomes leeper, and life wears to its close, it is oleasant to look through the vista of time upon the sorrows and felicities of ■arly years. If we have had a home to shelter, and hearts to rejoice with us, and friends have gathered around onr fireside, the rough places of wayfaring will have been worn and smoothed away iu the twilight of life, and many dark spots we have passed through will grow more bright and beantifnl. Happy, in deed, are those whose interoonrse with the world hasn’t changed the tone of their holier feelings, or broken those musical chords of the heart whose via Orations are so melodious, so tender and so touching in the eveuing of their lives. ■-— The following incident is said to have occurred at Cape Oiraddeau, Mis* gonri. A character noted for frequent* ing bar-rooms was sitting in his usual place of resort, with several companions about a card table. Suddenly bis wife entered the room, bearing a oovered dish, which she deposited on the table with the remarlt, "^resuming, nns baud, that yon were too busy to come home to dinner, I have brought yours,” aud departed. The husband invited hia friends to share his meal, and re moving the lid from the diah, found only a slip of paper on which was writ* ten; “I hope yon will enjoy yonr dinner It is the same kind yonr family has at home.” --• • A wise man will never rust ont. As long as he can breathe he will be doiug for himself, his neighbor, or prosterity. Who is old? Not the man of energy, not the day-laborer in science, art or benevolence, but he only who suffers his energies to waste away, and the springs of life to become motionless, on whose hands the hours drag heavily, and t« whom all things wear the garb of gloom. Every failure is a step toward success; every detection of the false lesds to the true, everv trial exhausts some temp ting form' of error. Scarcely any at« tempt is entirely s failure; scarocly any theory, the result of steady thought, is altogether false, and no tempting form is without some latent charm derived ■ frora troth. Men iuutely love troth and despise falsehood, aud yet they praotioe what they despise in their hearts. An exhibition has been opened st Vienna by the well known African trav l eler, Ur. Holub, who has thousand of of objects brought by him from the South Africau tribes. The articles are , arranged in groups and classified sa . zoological, botanical, miueralogical, archeological, ethnographical and oomi mercial, the collections being rare and of great value.