- > JJk i • , , . ;
p U. II. MILA. I-IM'IDI, AND PROPRIETOR. _ The Constitution, the Union, and the Enforcement of the Laws, $2 PER ANNUM, IN ADVANCE.
V()L- L_ DES ARC, ARKANSAS, FRI DAY, JANUARY 25, 186L NUMBER U.
I Ike tfonotitiitioucU Pinion,
PPM-ISBEU EVERY WEEK, AT
Dcs A !•«*, A. i* 1-. a n s> is s ,
■ EDITED AND PUBLISHED BY
AV ESTOX II. RIIEA.
Office on corner or Biuna Vista mid Ijon Streets, over
John Jock son A Co.
|
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cordingly.
OFF1CI.11 j I>l l i ICTOKV.
I< LBS OF PR 4JO! \ i l .
—
COUNTY \Nl> I U.OBATIDUDGE,
Jame8 J^. Hunt,
C li E 11 K ,
WILLIAM GO CD RUM.
s ii e r i r r.
WILLIAM A. PLTXKETT.
T K K A S l K K K ,
WYLIE LANK/0HD.
C 0 R 0 X K I! ,
LEVIN II AKllS ON.
KfIt.Vr.Y01!,
13. A. HOW'LL.
COMMON SCHOOL COMVISION Kit,
w. r. phes'on.
IVTi: V, N A L IM PI* O V K M E N T'" M MITTE E,
B E N J A M I N FV W 0 E T.
JI STICKS «F TIE PE ACE#
1’rairG—15. F. Coulter, C. LJeard, B. V. Smith,
Janies Glover.
(' • Hi — (J. AT. Connor, W*l\. Dobbins. James
Knight, Wta. Donnell, S. Coz4. W-,C. Robinson.
1‘rj'oa R-.-xt—Vser l’i|'kiuj'. i>. Robinson,
if —II. P. Y&ugbl, T. B. Kent, L. C.
Rcmbert, I). P. Black.
<—S. C. Paine. B. Dorfuss.
iVa t n.itiu;—V«. A. W. M irit \V. J. McCombs.
Haiti1 ''mi—T, M. Gra v. J. I’ ker.
—T. F. l'idc:. \*!I. Bren.tly.
(V. ,tr l.ul—Guinn Barber,aim-' T. N!<-rris.
La Gnu—T. .M. Belcher. Tanas Ilarville,
C li A S T \ 15 E S .
Prairie—Q. T. Webster: Oiler—J. I). Steele:
( — Jt. II. Kreeling: 11 Iton—K. Jarvis;
j ■, a , 1—W A. Harper; Vkile River—C- T.
oil!..::,: /. \l ivi—W. A. Biker: IFo/fc./, mu-—
John Gales.
( nstables of ( ’ ■ r Lake a.1 La Grew Town
skips Tailed to till l heir bonds.
8TEA M l',(R rI’ S.
LEAVES MEMPHIS LVLF TUESDAY,
Memphis. \\ hile am Little Ited
River l’atte,
A. dmiral;
ELIAS TIIOMASSOX, - - - - Master,
mills FINE FREIGHT AN PASSENGER
I steamer, having been tlnMighlv repaired,
will rfln r< uniarly between Meinj s and ihe vari
ous points on White river thrni%mt the season,
arriv ie at lie. Are on Thur-d-iyven:ngs on a-r
up trip, and down on Friday even rs. I or lreiglit
or passage, apply on board. janll. ',l-t!
LEAV ES MEMPHIS E\ ER V AT 1 RDAY.
Memphis, White andLittle Red
River Pack*,
Gr©:oNL I=»l5.G,
FETE FLEMMING, - - - - Master.
rnillS STEAMER HAVING F.EN TJIOR
1 otnrhlv relit ed. will malt-regular trips
throughout the season, leaving,••mphis <’• r>
Saturday, arriving at !)••< Arc <|-.v Moitd- . •«
her r.p trip, and down every TueA,-. For l're ..
or passage, apply onboard. jy 11, <> 1 -11
Kt";ii!ai' \evt ((ileans, !ii‘e aistl
Little Red River lcket,
Iside-Wlieel Steaer
T A *27 A 1ST ;
H. S. EATON,.Master.
mills FINE FREIGHT ANflPASSENGER
JL packet having been furniflE will. cotton
guards. and otherwise repaired, it run between
New Orleans and the various pits on White
river, during the season, as Menu-monthly
packet. nov 23-tf
Li tig MEMPHIS EVERY I1S0AY.
Memphis aud White Riv l»ac! £t.
O <31.1 )EN ST.TE,
IIICKS KING,.Master
J. B. Russell, ... Clerk.
mills SPLENDID PASS FACE STEAMER j
1 will make regular trips from lEiphis to Des
Arc, Augusta and Jacksonport, oto Lite river, j
For freight or passage, apply on b»d.
t OLRC IO* OR WOT C Osii lOA !
fpiIlS IS TO INFORM ALL T110 WHO ARE
L owing me, either by note or ncint, to come
forward by the 28th of February xt and pay
up, or they will have to pay the saao an officer.
Money I must have to pay my deb A word to
the wise is sufficient.
jan!8-tf] JN'Qt. FRITH.
TAKE WOTIcrf
THOSE indebted to me will calhd pay;
As I am obliged to collect want delay,
To meet many pressing denial,
In many hard dunning hands
ianV61-3w. J. H. QUflNLLRRY. 1
>
9
Iti'si > i;ss CA.BDW,
J. M. GOG GIN. V. C. TRADER. B. \V. L.IIOLT.
GOGGIA, TRADER & 1I0LT,
Cjtton and Tobacco Factors,
<• It O C K H S,
FOBWABIHNG AND COMMISfsiOV MKRCH.IN'TS,
!Vo. 16 Front Row, MEMPHIS, ?ENN.
WEEKLY ACCESSIONS RECEIVED tl rough
" * out tlie season to their already huge and
desirable stock of Tobacco, Ragging. Rote, Su
gar. Coffee, Molasses. Bacon, Salt. Whisky Flour,
and Plantation Supplies generally. WiL Store
1 "'ton, Leaf Tobacco and other 'Produce in out
commodious Warehouse on Union Street, it sight
< f their business house. No. It; Front Row. We
Store and Sell Cotton at Toe per bale. m 30-3m
ievui;lstou stove avoeks:
GILES F FILLET,
MANUFACTURER OF
1 carter Oak, Plynioth Hock, &, Valley Forge
^ ' ° o It i it o- ^ f oves!
Also, every variety of
PARLOR, ISO A & t .4 TOO*' STOVES, '
1 and 1»j7 3riiiji ^(rcot.
dec 7-tf_ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI,
HOFFHEIIVSER BROTHERS,
IMPORTERS AND DEALERS IN
Brandies, 'Gins, Wines, Cigars, &r.,
A ISO,
DISTILLERS k MANUFACTURERS OF
Domestic W ines a n tl liiquors,
-II Second St., betw. Main & Sycamore,
3 if._CINCINNATI, 0.
r. KLEIN.
LEPTIEN & KLEIN,
DEALERS in
CLOCKS, WATCHES and JEWELRY,
Buena VLtu Street,
DES ARC, ARKANSAS.
Having on hand \ new and selected
stock of Clocks, Watches and Jewelry, we
respectfully solicit a continuance of the kind pat
ronage ol the people of Dos Arc and surrounding
country. We are also prepared to do all kinds of
v-nfi i;. ( jock and .Jewelry work with care and
despatch. All work warranted. dec 7-tf
It. I). PERRY, - - J. M. PETTEY.
PERRY & PETTEY,
ututli si<!t* of Etwirna % i*,<a Street. 1
DES ARC, ARKANSAS,
nF.AI.EE* IN STAPLE, FANCY. FOREIGN
and Domestic Dry-Goods, Ready-Made ('lo
ll,if.' Hats and Caps, Roots and Shoes, Hardware
>tid Cuttlery. Queensware, etc. Also, a complete
I.-.-,'!; tnent >,f Fancy Silks, Riljl>ons. Trimmings
ind f ancy articles of every description.
All kinds of goods, by the piece, at wholesale
I't'icc'. dee 7-tf
EES ARC HOTEl7
BY J. I . TVHHINTON,
DES ARC, ARKANSAS.
T T \ VINO LEASED THIS WELL-ARR ANGED
£ i Hotel, the proprietor re-peetfully informs
• \ elers and the i.ublic generally, that lie has coui
[ ■ !y ;• ■ '.at,.-! tlie premises, and is prepared
:■> a commod.-ue all who may favor him with their
patronage. If unremitted care and attention will
secure the favor , f all. lie is determined to please.
CHARGES REASONABLE.
I The Bar attaehedto this House is supplied
ivith the best of Liquors and Cigars. nov
E. O. NORTON, - - F. A. PRAGUE.
E. O. X O RTO \ & <
[onvardin:; & Commission Merchants
AND DEALERS IN
FLOUR, GRAIN and PRODUCE,
No. Ni<> Front Row,
d< ■ 1 f-2m MEMPHIS. TFNN.
F*. >1. ROBINSON, ------ «. J. BRANCH.
ROBINSON & BRANCH,
(Successors to G. W. Vaden,)
WHOLESALE AND RETAIL DEALERS IN
(i ropoeies anti 1 ‘roduce,
r;i ! LIVING, FORWARDING A COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
DES UP'. ARKANSAS.
M L \REX. ------- S. N. JACKSON.
MXAREN &l JACKSON,
Successors to G. & J. McLaren & Co.,
DES ARC, ARKANSAS.
n TALERS IN STAPLE AND FANCY DRY
Goods, Ready-Made Clothing, Hats and
l»oi!t.t*tlioors an«l .Shoes, Hardware ana
’uttlery. Hook*. Stationery, etc. Also, Receiving,
[•'»r\v;irfling an«l t’ornmission Merchants, nov •>.
GARVIN, BELL & CO.,
IMPORTERS A WHOLESALE DEALERS IN
roll :IGX & DOMESTIC DRY-GOODS,
AXI>
M imfaetun rs oi'( lot hint?.
Xom Jiff aud 444 Main Street, north side,
nov lO-Cm. LOLISV ILLE, K\.
A. ST It WART, WM. STEWART, H. STEWART.
STEWART & BROS-,
5 f eoeivingr, l^oi*WMi*<lingr
U1I CO.tl.UISSIOV 3IERCII 4YTS,
g ARC, \ 1: KANSAS.
J. H. QUISEIJBERRY,
AUCTION, COMMISSION MERCHANT,
A X l>
Jfceal Estate Agent,
n0T ;>. I)ES ARC, ARKANSAS.
R^C IHCCARLEY & CO.,
DKS ARC, ARKANSAS.
Dealers in staple and fancy dry
Goods, Ready-Made Clothing, Hats, Caps,
Joots, Shoes, Hardware, Queensware, Etc., Etc.,
’ortvarding and Commission Merchants, nov3.
I>ISSOLI TIOY YOTICE.
rHE PARTNERSHIP HERETOFORE EXIST
ing between the undersigned in the practice
>f medicine, has been dissolved by mdttial con
tent. T. Jefferson Woodson is alone authorized
o settle the business of the late firm.
J. J. LANE.
W. 11. CHAMBERS.
bes Arc, Jan. 9, ’Gl-4t. __
COOK SII4RIM
A LL PERSONS INDEBTED TO ME. EITHER
l\ by note or account, will come up by the 1st
jf j;i rv next and pay me, or they will be put
in he , nils of an officer for collection.
'__GEO, w. VAPEN. j
SEEDS! SEEDS!!
• T AGE LOT OF FRESH HUNGARIAN
, V • ••USB Seeds, just received and for sale by
40:. " JOHN JACKSON & CO >
,r J • ,
profewsional cardm.
T. J. JOBE,
Attorney at I^aw,
DES ARC, ARKANSAS,
TVTILL PRACTICE IN PRAIRIE AND T1IE
v T adjoining counties. Particluar attention
given to Collections.
Reeeiiences.—T. J. & C. Powell, Knoxville,
I’enn.; Thos. H. Callaway, President of Ocoee
Rank, Cleveland. Tenn.; Moore & Marsh, Chatta
nooga. Tenn.; Hon. John 11. Lumpkin, Koine, Ga.;
Hon. William Daugherty, Columbus, (hi.; Hon.
Joseph T. .McConnell. Ringgold, Ga.: William H.
Inman, President Northwestern Bank, Ringgold,
Georgia._ nov 3.
T. B. KENT,
Attorney at Law,
DES ARC, ARKANSAS,
YyiLL PRACTICE IN THE COURTS OF
TT Prairie, White, Monroe, Arkansas, St.
Francis, Jackson and Independence counties. All
business intrusted to bis care shall meet with
prompt attention. Office on Lyon street. noL'3-tf,
J>i*. .1. J. LANL,
Resident Physician,
DES ARC, ARKANSAS,
rTlENDERR IIIS SERVICES TO THE CITIZENS
_L of Des Arc and adjacent country. From
his experience, he hopes to share at least a por
tion ot the patronage of the public. Office on
Ruena A ista street, tit Ralsly’s Drug Store, jy-y
r. SANDERS, ------ - - J. E. NEEL.
DES. SANDERS & NEEL,
It e si 1 tie n t, 1* hysieiuns,
DES ARC, ARKANSAS.
Having formed a partnership in
the practice of their profession, tender a
continuation of their services to the citizens of
Des Arc and adjacent country. (tiiice, up stairs,
corner Ruena Vista and Woodruff streets, nov3
E. T. SWEYER,
3 )entisf ,
DES ARC, ARKANSAS.
VtriLL CONTINUE THE BUSINESS IN ALL
i t its branches, including continuous Gum
Work. Office on Ruena Vista street, up stairs,
Jackson’s new building. nov Hi-tf.
RUSS EVANS,
REAL ESTATE & GENERAL LAND AGENT.
DES ARC, ARKANSAS.
¥ Y P / lA f DT lTTl.’VTTtiV At' T T r TH.’ mi’l'Y (PA
1. all business entrusted to him in his
line. nov 3.
J. T. PARHAM,
Architect un«l litiildcr,
DES ARC. ARKANSAS.
SOLICITS CONTRACTS FOR BUILDINGS OF
> ’ every style. Jle is also prepare I to furnish
Designs, Estimates and Drawings of all the mod
ern orders of architecture: build, superintend
uid furnish working plans for building at mode
rate prices. Orders left at the “Citizen Office,”
will receive prompt attention. nov 3-y
DR. H. ARMISTEAD,
H aving permanently located at
DES ARC, offers his professional services
n the citizens of the town and adjacent country.
Iffice on Lvon street. nov 3.
T. J. WOODSON,
Attorney at lanv,
DES ARC, ARKANSAS,
A AT ILL PRACTICE IN THE FIFTH JUDICIAL
TV Circuit, and the counties of White, -lack
mu and Monroe. All business intrusted to his
rare will be promptly attended to. . nov 3
C. A. JUBSON,
C'arpenter nn<I Joiner,
1)ES ARC, ARKANSAS,
Dealer in sash, doors, mantles,
Window and l)f or Frames, etc. Shop corner
Erwin and Park Streets. N. B.—Coffins made to
mler. on short notice. nov 3-y
A. W. MCNEILL,
Attorney nt Law,
DES ARC, ARKANSAS,
I)RACTICES in the courts of prairie
and adjacent counties. Office, corner Erwin i
ind Lyon streets. nov 3 |
E. S. HAMMOND7
Attorney a t I^a w,
n~ FF1CE: TELEGRAPH BUILDING, NORTH
Side Court Square,
jay 18-tf. MEMPHIS, TF.NN.
W. B. CROCKER & CO.,
WHOLESALE AND RETAIL
Or r o c e r s ,
First door West of J. II. Quisenberry's Store.
OKS 4 U < , 4 SI Ei 4 X S t S.
I
I
rMAKE PLEASURE IX ANNOUNCING TO j
I the citizens of Prairie and adjacent counties, ,
hat they are now in receipt of a large and well
selected stock of
c; j;oceeies ax r> nardwarj-:.
'’onsisling in part of Sugars, Molasses, Coffee,
'undies, Cheese, Vinegar, Salt, Whisky, Rice,
Pickles, Sardines, Flour, Fish, Raisins, Figs. Cit
•cins. Alntonds. Candy. Soap, Starch, Soda, Crack
>rs, Tobacco. Cigars, Nails. Castings. Iron, Steel,
Log Chains, Ox Chains, Pole Axes, Spades, Shov
Is, etc., etc., with all other articles usually to be
ound in a similar establishment. All of which
hey are now selling low' for cash. nov 3-tf
STOVE AND TIN SHOP!
I
IV. II. 15 ix r It
HAS REMOVED HIS TIN SHOP TO THE
house recently occupied by J. W. Wallace,
in Buena Vista street, opposite the Nucleus
House, where he is prepared to accommodate the
public with the best articles of
COOKING STOVES, TIN-WARE,
md all other merchandise in his line, ever
Drought to this market.
My cooking stoves are immediately from alarge
- . ■ uis establishment, and I feel confident that
:b .-<• who want these convenient articles can suit
h' : -eHe- from my large assortment. Give me
i and examine before purchasing el»e
wLvre. nov3 P
1 It'.-lS DREAMING OF THEE.
BY HARRY TWIST.
I was dreaming of thee, love—
An angel’s dream was mine ;
Methought 1 clasped thy hand, love,
And thou didst whisper, thine.
TVe stood beside the gate, love,
And not a soul was seen
To listen to our vows, love,
Beneath the moon's bright sheen.
I was dreaming of thee, love;
My heart beat high with pride,
Arrayed in purest white, love,
Thou stood'st, my lovely bride.
A joyous throng was there, love,
And music echoed free;
But. none so soft, so sweet, love,
As our heart’s minstrelsy.
I was dreaming of thee, love,
And thought that long, long years
Traced the rude lines of care, love,
And furrows for our tears;
And yet as true as e’er, love,
Thy heart—my heart in bliss
Lived but one hope, one joy, love,
Our mutual happiness.
1 was dreaming of thee, love—
Alas! 'twas all too fair!
I ’woke to find a blank, love,
A picture drawn in air.
This world to me all dark, love,
Hath yet one gentle gleam—
It is that 1 may dream, love,
Of thee I e'er may dream.
I was dreaming of thee, love,
1 am dreaming of thee now:
And busy thoughts will write, love,
That dream upon my brow.
’Tis said. “.Some dreams are true,” love.
Oh! grant that this may be,
And 1 will spend this life, love.
In one sweet dream with thee.
--
* A E1 C T U R E.
BY CARRIE A. CLARK.
Twas of a aaiden, wondrous fair,
With wildering curls of raven hair,
That draped her snowy nook ami arms,
Aud kissed her bosom s dimpled charms,
let through whose meshes, dark as night,
Came glimpses of her beauty bright,
As sometimes, through a cloud afar,
On mo glimmerings of the evening star;
One snowy arm across her breast,
The silken bodice tightly pressed,
And nestled 'mid the laces tight,
v^.... >1 r....#*• _i ._r:_
As though before the mirror's face
With careless and bewio- '. : grace,
>Sho dressed her sway • . j erehnnee,
To glide through som ••tinirr dance.
And then her eyes, s . -o bright,
Gazelle-like ill tlicir r. ;,il tight,
Beneath whose darkly fringed lid
1 oung Cupid kept his arrows hid,
And sent with swift unerring art
’I heir stinging points to many a heart,
The lids v re closed, yet all the while,
Half trembled twixt a sigh and smile,
For love, the rogue, though unconlessed,
Had stolen coyly to her breast,
Illuming with his tender rays
The picture lair, that those who gazed
Might drink -omewhat from that sweet face,
An angel’s purity and grace,
.1 T THE '.in. i /' MILE8TOS /..
Life has often been called a way. a journey,
a pilgrimage, and all mortals are pilgrims.
To-day the W andering Jew (who in our nine
teenth century may be a pedler with a pack
or a patent on his restless shoulders.) alter all.
stands by the wayside and reads upon the out
worn face of some stone image—tin old man
with a child’s dreaming eyes resting under
the snow vail ot his bosom: *• The Great |
Milestone—I am the Past—Weep.” But
th ere seems a soul blossoming into a smile on |
tlic marble lips ot the dreaming child—dream
ing in marble—and a whisper grows into the
heart of the pilgrim : 4i 1 am the Future—
Smile.” Then tiie stone image of the old
man and the dreamimg child vanishes and
there is a lonely heart beating in the solitude,
and it whispers, ■’ Itegret not—the old vear
takes the mortal. Memory, hut the new year
gives the angel, Hope.”
All of us are that pilgrim ; humanity is the
homeless one—ever on a threshold hut never
passing over it We all stand at the great
milestone of time; we see the marble image
—the old man with the child nestled in the
snow of his dead bosom, asleep; we read all
the traceries of the wrinkled face, li I am the
Past—W cep”—and translate the marble
dreamer's soul: •• 1 am the Future—Smile.”
And so on the great highway of the world we
pass the old life of the dead time—always the
Present lighted with the soul of the Future.
Are there toiling bells, are there funeral
trains, are there open graves when we come
to the Great Milestone? The year's closing
is the type of a great death : the air is full of
tolling bells; the darkness is thronged with
funeral trains of the vanished hours ; the open
grave of the year shows tlie coffins in the
vaults of our lives where the holy dead lie beau
tiful. And from them arise—for the beautiful
faces are only dust—like exhalations, phan
tom-likened and ghostly, the souls of the Past.
When we pause at the Great .Milestone and
read the inscription, I am the Past—Weep.”
these are the sounds we hear, or rather the
ghosts of sounds, for they are echoes of bells
Thai distance of recognizance bereaves;
these spirits of the vanished hours, some with
asphodels and some with amaranth-bosoms,
the forms that follow the year whose Memory
is an old man with a child’s head in the drift
ed snows of his bosom; the open grave we
see are in our lives, and from them the silent
companions of thought arise on the hushed
stairways of our hearts.
Death hears the Angel Life in his arms
asleep—the marble Memory of the old hears
the marble Hope of the figures that make the
pilgrim linger at the Great )i lostone. He
pauses and lingers and listc: - '.u
Looks before and or,
And pines for what is not.
He asks stern questions—hut the angels will
not answer; and the grave only echoes them.
Behind him is the way he has come; before
him is the way liis footsteps were going. And
he bends down and kisses the marble child
and whispers into his ear—“ Winter ?” And
the child seems waking from its marble dream
and smiling. And this is all; but this is the
assurance—“ I am the Future—Smile.” Then
the restless world goes on, “ toiling, rejoicing,
sorrowing.”
We have all passed the Great Milestones
before. All of us have seen the old worn
face with a snow-fall of Time upon his bosom,
and the child that dreams of Spring under
that snow-fall of W ter; he whose voice is
silence—“ I am the Past—Weep”—and he
whose smile is language—“ I am the Future
—Smile.”
In the Roman Forum there was a gilded pil
lar called the .1Iiiliarium Aureum, from which
every distance was measured in all directions
from this heart of the Empire. And, some
times, looking hack, we see the Great Mile
stones transfigured in some holy light—
The light never was on sea or shore,
The consecration and the poet's dreim—
and the marble image has a halo about its 1
brow and is a divine form of immortal youth
and glory : these are golden Milestones in our
lives, and all our dusty paths lead backward
to them, and from them the distances are
marked upon our brows and hearts; they are
crowned with the transfigured Past—the angel
and not the mortal Memory.
But when wc have the Great Milestones with
their stone images of age and weariness and
decay, the child that we leave, sleeping and
smiling marble in the snow of the old man’s
bosom, steals from the arms of each and leaps
before us, and presently we see far oft’, where
the sun touches some hight whence the breath
of morning brings us the souls of diviner flow
ears, the true Golden Milestone of our lives
standing; and the the marble child, gleam
ing witli a glory and crowned with a sun
wreath and lifted with wings, from the Great
Milestone that marks “the bettes years.”
Ah, the better years! We the Milestones
of the mortal ebb and flow of Time—we “let
the dead Past bury its dead;” we put our own
dead beautiful and loved in that dead Past’s
hearses, and still we move on and trust the
smile and lorgct tears; and still
“ On the soul
Bright from the hill-tops of the beautiful
Burst the attained goal’’—
the Golden Milestone of our longing. And
we learn the lesson that between Here and
There is life, and that the Great Milestones
are but devices of the Way. We are pilgrims
between
HERE AND THERE.
Here the weariness and pain,
The sultry toil, the dragging chain ;
Here in funeral array,
1 n his coffin, goes To-Day ;
There, unknown of night or sorrow,
Coffin-cradled smiles To-Morrow !
The Meninon-life, so dumb to-night,
Sings against that .Morning-light!
Here the toiling feet, the eyes
Blindly fueling for the skies ;
Here the mountain paths of ice
Crawling round the precipice ;
Here the Endeavor of the Soul;
There Aspiration and the goal;
The Ideal from the sunny slope
Like an angel kissing Hope!
Here November bears the bier—
There May goes singing the Green Year!
Here the statue carved in stone—
x ueru ciiiJ'jis iiuan r vginanuu :
Here the tears—the Rainbow There,
Taking all this rainy air ;
Here the slough—the angels wait
There at the Lost Edens s gate:
Between, how halts our Lite's despair!
Jlrre the Earth—and Heaven There!
“ I am the Past. Weep. lbtjU.” “Iam
the Future. Smile. ISOl.”
--— m O -ce—
110 ir TO KEEP THE BA B Y Q UIET.
See that the mother hits a contented mind, j
That the best receipt I know off. Always j
meet her with a smile which the immortal |
“Guide to Wives” recommends them, under ,
mountain loads of perplexity and provocation,
to keep on hand for their husbands. Don’t
imagine, because home looks cozy and com
fortable when you return at night, that it is
well either for the baby’s sake, or its mother’s,
that you should never take the latter out of it
for relaxation and fresh air. Oh. if you knew
how a woman loves a man for occasionally '
thinking of these little things—little to you 1
—great to us. 1 know it is less trouble, if |
your purse is well lined, to step into a milli- j
tier’s and order a new bonnet, which so many [
wives have wanted to throw out of the win
dow for very bitterness of spirit, had they
dared. A bonnet! which vour ostrich hus
band fancies will cover till his conjugal sel- !
lishncss and sins of omission, lie had rather
give her this than draw his boots on his slip
pered feet alter tea, and take the weary wife
and mother out for the fresh air; and then
he wonders why the baby worries,” and
keeps both awake all night, and why its
mother’s eyes look so rayless, and why she
heaves that little sigh when he sits down to
read his newspaper; and then he settles down
to the comfortable conclusion that, “ after all,
there is no understanding women.” and reads
on. Sometimes he says, “ah,” knows wheth-'
or a steamboat is burned up, or fifty people
have been made mince meat of by a railroad
accident, or Bonner has got another illustri
ous contributor.” or the tail of the comet has
swished through the milky way. He is too
lazy even to talk about it.
Now, •• bonnets” don’t cure the heart-ache;
and all the rings and bracelets you could toss
into a woman’s lap (1 speak of a true woman)
are not worth one clasp of your arms round
her neck, when you come home from your
place of business. We don’t want forever to
take it tor granted you love us. We are de
monstrative, we woman. There is no need of
your breaking your backs to pick up our
handkerchief as you used, in the old courting
times; (heavens! how you stepped round
then)—neither do we want you after hanging
up your coat and hat in the hall to sit down
in the parlor and cross your legs, without ever
coming up stairs to give us the return kiss,
which is so potent to make us forget all the
little musquito stinging household annoy
ances, which are but a feather’s weight when
our heart’s are light and happy; for it is not
work, but worry, which make leaden hearts
and footsteps. Besides, under the discourag
ing circumstances to which l have alluded, it
is quite impossible to keep up that stereotyped
••smile,” to which the “Guide to Wives” so
touchingly alludes.
Guide to Wives! As if all wives were
alike, or husbands either; as if a doctor had
but one kind of pill for all his patients; that’s
an unfortunate figure of speech, 1 know; still
there are good doctors, and as a class they are
much handsomer than any other profession,
though 1 have seen some editors—but that
is neither here nor there. Ah—now you
listen. You have a family doctor; and you
you and you. Very good. See to it that
you are as agreeable and gentlemanly as he
is. lie don’t go to sleep the minute your
wife comes into the room; or turn his back
upon her and sit down and read vile politics
all the evening, with an occasional grunt of
assent or dissent, to some invisible person.
Nor—does any other gentleman who visits
your house. Perhaps now you may think
the subject worth considering. I shouldn't
be surprised. Fanny Fern.
- m • m
A Nut for Lawyers to Crack.—A
case of the following kind came up recently
in Pennsylvania :
A. B. married C. D.’s sister. His wife
died. A. B. then married C. D.’s daughter;
she died. C. D.’s wife died C. D. married
E. F. and died. A. B. then married C. D.’s
widow, and had children by each wife.—
What relationship exists between all the
children of A. B'(
- ^ m ^ -
Count De Flahault, the new French
Ambassador to London, was the bearer of the
letter of surrender from Napoleon I. to Cap
tain Maitland, of the Bellerophon, in which
ship he was so treacherously and cowardly
conveyed to perpetual exile on fc:t. Helena. ^
CLOSING SCENE OF THE FALL OF
JERUSALEM.
FRO^I SAI.ATHIAL.
The fall of our illustrious and unhappy
city was supernatural. The destruction of
the conquered was against the first principles
of the Roman policy, and to the last hour of
our national existence, Rome held out offers
of peace, and lamented our frantic determi
nation to be undone. Rut the decree was
gone forth from a mightier throne. During
the latter days of the siege, a hostility, to
which that of man was as the grain of sand
to the tempest that it drives on, overpowered
our strength and senses. Fearful shapes and
voices in the air—visions startling us from
our short and troubled sleep—lunacy in its
most hideous forms—sudden death in the
midst of vigor—the fury of the elements let
loose upon our unsheltered heads—we had
every terror and evil that could beset human
nature, but pestilence; the most probable of
all in a city crowded with the famishing, the
deceased, the wounded, and the dead!" Yet,
though the streets were covered with*the un
buried—though every well and trench was
teeming—though six hundred thousand
corpses lay flung over the ramparts, and naked
to the sun—pestilence came uot; if it had
come, the enemy would have been scared
away. Rut the “ abomination of desolation,”
the pagan standard, was fixed, where it was
to remain until the plow passed over the ruins
of Jerusalem.
On this night, this fatal night, no inan
laid his head on the pillow. Heaven and
earth were in conflict—meteors burned above
us ; the ground shook under our feet; the
volcano blazed; the wind burst forth in irre
sistible blasts, and swept the living and the
dead, in whirlwinds, far into the desert. We
heard the bellowing of the distant Mediterra
nean, as if its waters were at our side,
swelled by a new deluge. The lakes and wa
ters roared and inundated the land. The
fiery sword shot tenfold fire. Showers of
blood fell. Thunder pealed from every quar
ter of the heavens. Lightnings, immense
sheets, of an intensity of duration that
turned darkness into noon-day, withered eye
and soul, burned from the zenith to the
ground, and marked its track by the forests
on flame and the shattered summits of the
hills.
Defense was unthought of. for the mortal
enemy had passed from the mind. Our
hearts quaked for fear; but it was to see the
powers of heaven shaken.’' All cast away
the shield and spear, and crouched before the
descending judgment. We were conscious
smitten. Our cries of remorse, anguish, and
horror, were heard through the roar of the
storm. We howled to the earth to hide us;
we plunged into the sepulchres to escape the
wrath that consumed the living—we would
have buried ourselves under the mountains.
1 knew the cause, the unspeakable, and
knew that the last hour of crime was at hand
A few fugitives, astonished to see one man
among them not sunk in the lowest feeble
ness of fear, came around me. and besought
me to lead them to some place of safety, if
such was now to be found on ea’th. I told
them openly that they were to die, and coun
selled them to die on the hallowed ground of
the Temple. They followed, and 1 led them
through the streets encumbered with every
shape of human suffering to the foot of
Mount Moriah. Hut bevoud that, we found
advance impossible. Piles of cloud, whose
darkness was palpable even in the midnight
in which we stood, covered the Holy Hill.
Impatient, and not to be daunted byanvthing
that man could overcome. I cheered my dis
heartened baud, and attempted to lead the
way up the ascent. But I had scarcely en
tered the cloud v en I was swept downward
by a gust that tore the rocks in flint}' showers
around me. Now came the last and most
wondrous sign that marked the fate of re
jected Israel.
M bile L la}- helpless, I heard the whirl
wind roar through the cloudy hill, and the
vapors began to revolve. A pale light, that
of the rising moon, quivered on their edges,
and the clouds rose, and rapidly shaped
themselves into forms, and battlements, and
towers. The sound of voices was heard
within, low and distant, yet strangely sweet.
Still the lustre brightened, and the air}'
buildings rose, tower on tower, and battle
ment c battlement. In awe. that held us
mute, we knelt and gazed on this more than
mortal architecture, that continued rising and
spreading, and glowing with a serener light,
still soft and silvery, yet to which the broadest
moonbeam was dim. At last it stood forth
to earth and heaven, the colossal image of the
first Temple, of the buildings raised by the
nr l C AO t ol* n>on I .11 . . w.isitn.l l.i- tli a
glory. All Jerusalem saw the image; and
the shout, that in the midst of their despair,
ascended from its thousand and tens of thou
sands, told what proud remembrance were
there. Rut a hymn was heard, that might
have hushed the world beside. Never fell
on my ear, never on human sense, a sound so
majestic, yet so subduing; so full of melan
choly, yet of grandeur and command. The
vast portal opened, and from it marched a
host, such as man shall never see but once
again—the guardian angels of the city of
David ! They came forth glorious, but with
woe in all their steps; the stars upon their
helmets dim; their robes stained; tears flow
ing from their celestial beauty—“ Let us go
hence,” was their song of sorrow. “ Let us
go hence,” was answered by the sad echoes of
the mountains. “ Let us go hence ” swelled
upon the night to the farthest limits of the
land. The procession lingered on the summit
of the hill. The thunder pealed, and rose
over the expanse of heaven. Their chorus
was heard still, magnificent and melancholy,
when their splendor was diminished by the
brightness of a star. Then the thunder
roared again—the cloudy temple was scattered
on the wind and darkness, the omen of her
grave, settled upon Jerusalem.
-m m ^ -
An Infant’s Sleep.—Dr. James Wilson,
in a paper upon “ Affections of the Heart,”
read before the Royal College of Physicians,
in London, indulged in the following sweet
strain, in speaking of an infant’s sleep : “So
motionless is its sweet slumbers, that, in
watching it. wc tremble, impatient for some
stir or slumber that may assure us of its life;
yet is the fancy of the little sleeper busy, and
every artery and every pulse of its frame en
gaged in the work of growth and secretion.
Though his breath would not stir the smallest
insect that sported on his lip—though his
pulse would not lift the flower-leaf of which
he dreamed, from his bosom ; yet, following
the emblem of tranquility into after life, we
see him exposed to every climate—contend
ing with every obstacle—agitated by every
passion ; and, under these various circumstan
ces. how different is the power and degree of
the heart’s action, which has not only to beat,
but to “ beat time ” through every moment
of a long and troubled life 1”
*
SINCERITY.
We are always being exhorted to be sin
cere. The minister tells us to be sincere,
books tell us to be sincere, and parents and
teachers tell us to be sincere. l?ut what if
we were really to become so ? In sober earn
estness, would it bo right and best never to
“ put the best side” on anything, but always
to speak the exact truth, according to the
thoughts and feelings of our minds?
W hen we are requested to confer a favor,
and don’t want to do it, ought we to so, in
stead of politely^and cordially conseting?
When a friend asks us how we like his ser
mon, or lecture, or book, or new mustache,
ought we, if we feel so, say we don’t like it
at all, instead of turning the matter off in
some pleasant way ?
When we feel lazy, cross, or selfish, ought
we to act out those dispositions, in order that
we may not play the hypocrite and seem bet
ter than we are ? If we don’t like a person,
ought we to exhibit our repugnance ? In so
ciety people are frequently compelled to shake
hands with, and talk and laugh with, those
whom they neither respect nor like. What
should they do ? offend and mortify one who
after all, may he, on the whole, morally bet
ter than they are, by refusing to exchange
with him the amenities of life ?
Then how often do you have company when
it is a perfect bore? Now then, to be per
fectly true, would be to tell your visitors that
you are sorry to see them, and you wish that
they would go directly away. Would that be
true ? Is it wrong, then, to behave as though
you were glad to see them, and to try to ren
der their visit happy? Is it possible, would
it be even decent to he alwys sincere ? and
where is the line to be drawn?
There was once a gentleman who, through
the effects of a terrible fever, became perfectly
open-hearted, lie never said or did anything
that he did not feel like saying and doing,
and he seldom thought anything that he did
not saw All the disguised thoughts of other
years were now spoken—he told people just
what he thought of them, and just how ho
felt towards them.
For him there was no more conventionally
—he had forgotten that there is a use as well
for the quality of secretiveness as for that of
candor, and out came his ideas very truthfully.
He mortified and offended nearly every friend
he had in the world ; for few people eau endure
to be •• twitted on facts,” before others espe
cially, ana our sincere map naa no regaru ior
the number of his hearers when he spoke his
mind. He broke the heart of the young lady
to whom he was engaged by telling her of
things that were her misfortune, not her fault,
and by stating that it took him ‘‘ a great while
to learn to endure thought of marrying her.”
He added that he never should have loved
her if he had not seen how d( 'otedly she was
attached to him ; and that even now he some
times thought “ it must be from a sense of
duty” that lie was goiug to wed her, People
called this man insane; but why? He at
tended properly to all his business, he was as
competent as ever to take care of himself; all
that indicated insanity was his frightful sin
cerity.
Alter many months this gentleman recov
ered his natural state of mind; and then he
wonderec at the manner of all his friends.
Several of them he never could regain; and
the lady of his love, proud and sensitive, and
fully believing in the truth of what he had
declared to her. refused utterly to see him;
and in a few months she died, leaving him
to mourn her loss ; which he did deeply and
long, for he truly loved her, though his can-'
dor caused her death.
We are all imperfect creatures, and in many
Ways we render ourselves disagreeable the one
to the other; probably those that love each
other best often have thoughts and feelings
towards each other, momentary, perhaps, if
they last no longer, that would cause deepest
pain were they expressed. Wives and hus
bands, even parents and children, have some
times felt an emotion of repulsion and disgust
towards each other, Would it he right ever
to let such emotions shape themselves in
words ? Disguised, choked down in silence,
they soon die and are forgotten ; hut he sin
cere and own them, and they will live forever
in the wounded heart and memory of their
object. Eternity could not cause them to be
forgotten. We must hide ourselves. Wo
cannot always be sincere, if by sincerity it is
meant that we are never to subdue our feel
ings or restrain our emotions^ assume good ••
people would have us believe. The truth is,
we should he honest and good-hearted, and
should understand that where no principle,
or question of right and wrong is concerned,
it is our duty to repress nil sentiments which,
if expressed, would cause pain to others or
ii-avI- inicnlnnl' Am* nnurli^Aro nr BAnmtr
------- -
- —• m --—-——
A SKUL EM ASTER WANTED.
Coox Creek, June 25, 1889.
Our committy of five men lias just adjourn
ed. They hav bin for nine days a tryin’ to
argree on what kind of a skule master they
wanted. Ther was about as much difference
in their views as there is betwixt Ginny nig
gers and pintcr dogs. One man wanted him
to teach the Dolby system in writing. Anoth
er man wanted him to know all abont talkin’
Indun and surveyin’. The next man who
was a grain the peartest individual in makin’
moves, said that a skule master ought to sifer
to t’other side along divishun, spel Constino
ple without lookin’ at the word, and turn sum
ersetes. This would have passed as slick as
ridin but they chairman objected, and swore
he’d be dod durned if he would go in. for a
man without he could tell by geegrafy when
Genncy Lind the signin woman was born,
how much Louisiana cost us in clean slugs ;
how much the interest will be on the Union
Bank bonds by the time we pay up, and what
a spotted circus hoss is worth accordin to the
last statistics. This brought the meetin to a
pint—two in favor, and two agin it, and one
astraddle the roop. They argued it three
days, never stoppin only to likker. The
third day, late in the evenin, the question was
voted plum down. One feller sed it would
take a pese of paper as big as a section of
land to count up ihe interest of the bonds}
and such bein the case it was agreed to drap
it. All hands then agreed to have a teacher
that could spell, read, rite letters, and nowhere
to back ’em to that he should kno how to
make washin machines, bottom cheers, and
nit with a bone.
Now, mister editur, cf you no enny man in
your eend of the woods that’ll fill the bill,
send him along middliu quick, as their is sev
eral a watin to get the job. N. B.—-We’d
rather he had but one leg, so he couldn’t run
away. Tourn til deth.
JULIOUS WIGGERMAN.
- ■■ ■ m -
Tiie Indianapols Journal says there a
scheme on foot to separate southern Indiana
from the rest of the State, and join the South
: ern Confederacy.