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DEVOTED TO RELIGION, LITERATURE, COMMERCE, AGRICULTURE AND INTERNAL IMPROVEMENTS.
VJLIIME IX
BAINBRIDGE, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, JUNE 5, 18G9.
NUMBER 35.
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THE DAUGDTEtt-IN-LIW.
A CAPITAL STOBY.
Sal.*’* °f !-»»>«• f
hixtv Itov*’
Six >1 iliiU.'' , N°ti |
Ton Dap*’ **"*''*"
SlU-HU tV S\LK
|250.
I never, never willforgive him,” said
old Mr. Remington, solemnly depositing
his great gold spectacles in their green
leather case.
“Nor I, either,’ sobbed Mrs. Reming
ton, heedless of the unwonted disorder
of her cap-strings. “To marry that
bold, dashing city girl without so much
os waiting for my permission.’
“But yon know, my dear,” suggested
the old gentleman, “we shouldn’t have
given it to him if he had waited half a
century.’
“Certainly we should not,’ said Mrs.
Remington emphatically. “To think of
our only child treating us so cavalierly.
Abel tlie only one we have got in the
world.’
“Ho has made his bed and must lie
on it,’ said the old man sternly. “I
will never receive his gay-city bride
here, and so I shall write to him imme
diately. We are scarcely fine enough
for a Fifth avenue daughter-in-law.’
As he spoke, the old man picked np a
crumpled letter that he had thrown- on
the floor in the first paroxysms of his
anger, and smoothed out its folds with
a mechanical touch.
“Why, only think of it, Abel,’ said
Mrs. Remington, “MahalaBuckley serv-
iderv of yours, Abel, in sending for Lot
Chauncey’s orphan to adopt. I’ll teach
Charles and hisstnek-up wife that we’re
in earnest about what we wrote, and
Marian Channcey won’t have any city
airs nor graces. I’m dreadfully anxious
to see her. Lot was a lively looking
fellow, and my consin twice removed,
and folks did say his wife was a regular
bnilt beauty. I guess likely she’ll come
by the stage to-night.’
I guess likely there she is now,’ said
prepared to descend in obedience to
Mrs. Remington’s call of:
“Marian, Marian, come down and see
my son.‘
Charles Remington stood in the
middle of the floor with one arm
around liis radiant little mother, while
the old gentleman, from his big, easy
chair delightedly watched over the
tableau, as Marian slowly advanced.
“Charles/- said Mr. Remington, beam-
Abel, who, sitting by the open window, ing overi < t kis is ogr.new daughter,
caught the first glimpse of a slender j
figure coming up the path, and carrying had spnlB g forward and
J**
come the new-comer. .ram, while the g»Md hat loud u.
Marian Channcey was exceedingly pret-j peifect cascade of curls over his
ty—Mrs. Remington -soon discovered shoulder,
Obit u;
4 00
5 00
5 00
7 00
10 00
,if Kiii-h pr. 2 fl £“ C fi for six weeks in this—this girl’s cou-
' sin’s family, and she says Evelyn Sayre
could smoke a little paper cigar just
like a man, and used to go skating with
her dress tucked np to the top of her
boots, and drove a baronch, with the
groom sitting behind—and
•Kor tln’Ho .<alen, for every
\f irt.ras.iU'n, per nquan’, $•*» 00.
Morti*. • I. —j f or tbo H a m c as other
[For the Argus,
the goi.dex h eddiso day.
The German* have a ' cry pretty custom of
rclrhralinf. the urenty-RHh anniversary of mat-
n, ra »< the •‘Silver Wedding”;
anniversary as the “Unltlon Wedding.’
1V e || t Mary ; Tears have passed away
8iiKc first I ipucil upon your brow ;
An I life was in its blooming May.
hut then I loved you uot as now.
I lionght I loved yon, whoa your eye
Was bright as twilight's evening star ;
I deemed it iti« to linger nigh.
Or e'en to watch you from afar.
Those eyes arc note to mo as bright;
sparkling not with mirth they seem ;
l-’.ir nr. tlicv glow with holy light ;
I,t vc s own eternal, daialing beam.
And whilo in age. as once in youth.
We tread life’s journey side by sido
I’U own the lmet sin-ke the truth
•'Th- ml IS ucivci am - ;
ISol.lWE.
Valdosta, <Ja.
that—a bright, little,' winsome creature,
with gold-brown hair that would curl,
in spite of the restraining net, loving,
hazel eyes, and tremulous red lips.
“Oh, Abel!’ quoth the soft hearted
old lady, at the end of two days, ‘why
didn’t Charley wait until be had seen
Marian Cliauncey? Is she not sweet—:
don’t it seem like a gleam of sunshine
in the old honse when she is tripping
around ?’
“She is very pretty,’ said Mr. Reming
ton.
“And then,’ pursued the old lady,
‘she’s so handy. She knows just whero
everything is, and she does up my caps
“Evelyn ! my wife !’
Mr. Remington stared at his wife—
Mrs. Remington stared at her husband.
“He’s mad,’ whispered the old man;
‘Charles/ he added aloud, ‘you are mis
taken, this is Marian Chauncey, onr
adopted daughter/
“No, sir, it is not/ faltered the young
lady in question; ‘I atu Evelyon, your
son‘s wife. I have stolen into your
hearts on fa! se pretenses—but I did so
long for your love. And when you
sent for Marian, who is one of my
dearest school friends, I persuaded her
to remain nt home and aHoW 1he to
exquisitely, and you should have seen ,
how skillfully she drove me to meeting personate her just fora few weeks,
yesterday. j Father, mother, you will not turn me
Oh, Abel, if Providence bad only out of your affection now P
THE WAY IT HOES,
do.flip One t» Gossip Two
•• White ..flopping in the town,
01.1 Mr., l’rv t me remarked— (
.Smith 6on•jilt his good, of 15.own.
S:,v« t; ,s,-ip Two to Gossip Three,
iVh . rust her eyelids down, _
.■I-vc heart it said to-day my friend.
Smith got his goods trum Brown.
Says Gossip Tt.ree to Gossip Four,
With smoothing of a frown. .
•T'vc heart str ange news, what do you think.
Smith t>’ik his goods from Brown.
Says Goss p Four to Gossip Five,
Who hlaied it 'round the town,
.*I’ve heard, to day. such shocking news—
Smith stole his goods from Brown.”
A I.1TTLK oosey.
The chili November day was done.
The working world home faring ;
The wind came roaring tbrougu Abe streets
And sot th-s gas-tights flaring ;
And hhpolessiy and aimlessly
The seared old leaves were flying :
Vfhen mingling with t re soughing wind
1 heard a small voice crying
And shiver ng on the corner stood
A child of four or rver ;
No cloak or hat her small soft arms
And wind-blown curls to cover.
Her dimple face was stained with tears ;
Her round blue eyes ran over ;
She cherished in her wee, cold hand,
A bunch of faded clover;
And one hand round her treasure, whilo
She slipped in mine the other ;
Halt scared, half confident'at, said
“Oh '. please. X want my mother."
“Tell ntc your street and nnmhcr, pet:
D n’t cry. I’ll take you to it.”
6obhing she answered. “I forget;
The organ made me do it.”
“He came and played at Miller's steps:
The monkey took the money,
And so I followed down the street,
That monkey was an funny.
I’ve walked about n hundred hours
From one street to another;
The monkey’s gone. I’ve spoiled my flowers—
Oh, please, I want my mother.”
“But what’s yonr mother's name, and what
The street ?—now think a minute.”
”M» mother's name is mamma dear—
The street—I can't begin it ”
“But what is strange about the house,
* Or new. not like tho others ?”
“I guess yog mean my trundle-bed,
Mine and my little brother’s.
“Oh dear ! I ought to be at home
To help him say bis prayers,
He’s suoh a baby he forgets.
And we are both such players—
And there's a bar between to keep
From pitching on each other,
Fo- Harry rolls when h >’s asleep ;
Ob dear ! I want my mother.'*
The sky grew stormy, people passed
AH muffled, homeward faring;
“You’H hare to spend the night with me,”
I said at la«t despairing.
I tied my kerchief round hue neck—
“What ribbon’s this, my blossom ?”
“Whv ! don't yon know ehe smiling asked
And drew it from her bosom.
A eart, with number, street and name;
My eyes as'or.ished met it;
“For.” said the little one, “you sco
t might sometimes forget it;
And so I wear a litt'e thing
That tells you all about it;
For mother says she’s eery sum
I would get lost w : tbout iL”
Bless my soul!’ interrupted the old
nd the fiftieth gent i cmanj his breath nearly taken away
by the catalogue of enormities. “Bless
my soul, yon don’t say so. And Charles
is married to sncli an Amazon as this.
So the couple sat in the roomy porch
of the capacious old farm house, with
the Michigan roses tossing little billet-
doux into their laps in scented showers,
and the delicious odors of the fresh
mown hay coming np from the meadow
flats by the river, as miserable an old
couple as you want to see.
Menu while Mrs. Charles Remington,
Niagara. She sat on a log, among the
delicious shades and seclusions, of Goat
Island, that bright June day, with the
1 lights and shadows chasing each other
across her lovely face, and turning her
long cbesunt cnrls to coils of gold.
Dressed all iu white, she was fastening
a wreath of wild flowers into a ribbon of
her coquettish little hat, and singing
some old badad softly to herself.
Evelyn Remington was very handsome
—neither blonde nor brunette, she con
trived to unite the charms of both in
her rose-leaf complexion; bright hair,
and misty brown eyes, and the smile
that dimpled her fresh scarlet lips, were
messengers straight from the heart.
Presently she was joined by her hus
band, a tall, handsome young fellow, in
a white linen suit and graceful hat.
“Two letters, Evelyn,’ he said lightly,
and bad news in both.’
“Bud news? Oh Charley!’ and the
roses faded suddenly away from the
bride’s cheek.
“Well, not so very bad, and yet not
pleasant; Read, carissima mia /’
He tossed into her lap a stiffly written
letter, on one page of blue paper, signed
‘Abel and Mary Remington,’, a keen ex
pression of their disapproval of the mar
riage he had contracted, and an asser
tion of their determination never to
receive his wife as a daughter.
Evelyn looked into her husband’s face
with her bright eyes.
“Oh, Charley, lam sorry.’
He langhed, and quoted to her the
Scripture phrase: ‘A man shall leave
his father and mother and cleave unto his
wife.’
And now don’t you want to see the
other letter, Evelyn ?’
It was a summons from the mercan
tile firm with which Charles Remington
was connected, an earnest entreaty that
he would visit Central d^j^ica, in their
interest, immediately.
“Cool, isn’t it, to request a bride
groom to walk off in that sort of way
for it is too rough a voyage to ask yon
to share it, dearest. I leave it for you
to decide—shall I go or stay
“Go by all means. Should I ask yon
to linger by my side, when duty calls
you away, a poor wife I should be.
He kissed her flashed cheek with ad
miring tenderness.
“And where shall I leave yon, my
bonnie bride V
“Oh, I will make a brief visit home in
the mean time. It cuts onr wedding
tour short, but then yon know we have
a life time to finish onr honeymoon in
So the WVief Niagara sojonra caipe to
an end, and Mrs. Remington for the
season was a widowed bridge.
“He will be back soon,’ she said to
and in the meantime, oh, I
seen fit to send us a daughter-in-law like
dear little Marian Channcey. ’
Mrs. Remington’s speech was cut
prematurely short by the entrance of the
object of it, with her apron full of eggs,
and her hands full of wild flowers.
“And you knew nothing of this !‘ de
manded old Mr. Remington, of his son
“Not a worrit is Evelyn's own
idea.*
“And Evelyn, half laughing, half
iLiiiiK iuu vi wiiu uuncio. . , . , . » .
^ • . , . , y crvinor, stole into ber mother-in-law*®
“Mrs. Remington,’ she began, and ( “‘•’"’o’ D
then checking herself with abruptness— extended arms.
‘Oh, I cannot call yon by that long, for- “It don‘t seem possible that she is
mal name—may I call you mother?’ the Fifth avenue girl !‘ said tlie old
“Of course yon may, my darling,’ gentleman; ‘come here and givs me a
said the enthusiastic old lady. I only kiss, Mi—Evelyn, I mean.*
wish yon were my real daughter.* “No, she is onr real daughter after
Marian had laid down her flowers, all!“ said proud Mrs Remington. Evc-
and deposited her store of peaily white ]yn had conquered their prejudices with
t2<r* in a basket on the table, aud then the enchanted wand of love,
to Mrs. Remington, kneeling j
own household—and how can it give it
undue importance to ask for it daily ?
More than this the objection assumes
too much. If it is improper to pray for
oar bread day by day, it is certainly im
proper to ask a blessing upon it three
times a day at our meals. This would
be giving it more importance than
simply praying for it twice a day. To
say that the duty of praying for tempo
ral food is tanglit elsewhere in the New
Testament, does not relieve the difficul
ty, nor strengthen the objection—indeed
it really neutralizes the objection. If
every creature is good—and is to be
sanctified by the word of God and prayer
—there surely can be no harm in pray
ing for daily bread for the body—of
conrse we do not mean for superfluous
luxuries.
One more objection, and we'are done.
He affirms that the ordinary interpreta
tion “conflicts with the widest scopes
and designs of this petition.” But we
cannot see how snch is the case. If the
Lord’s Prayer is thejeonstitution of all
prayer, it certainly includes temporal as
well os spiritual blessings in its range;
and there is no other portion thereof
that can be applied to this end- And
if its gran lest scope is to benefit man in
the largest nDd highest sense, it must
include bread for the body. A religion
that is so spiritual as to ignore the body,
is a superstition—and not of Christ. To
limit the petition to spiritual bread
alone, is to curtail rather than conflict
with its grandest scope. The Brother
says much that is good, but it is in the
wrong berth—and is likely to do much
harm, if acted upon. And we would
simply exhort him to come back and en
quire for the old paths—not because
great men have walked therein, or the
majority of Christians believed therein;
but because truth and safety lie therein,
and all is dark, doubtful and dangerous
beyond.
If he wishes to set us right, the way is
open—we will think it no hardship if he
use the cudgel with vim. Bat we think
he will give in at once.
In kindness to all,
Old Foot.
The FomHrFfmion,»c.
the old lady’s check apron. j Argus .—Your worthy corres
“Mother,’ she murmured, sol’tly, ‘you p 0ndol ,t i ias presented some very objec
do not know how sweet the word t j ona bl e remarks, in hia exposition of
nd«. And will you always love me t h e fourth petition of the Lord’s prayer, common
and cherish me, and let me be a real And as he has made his opinions public
,, ! property, he caunot consider anything
dangier o hard-heirted old said against them, as of a personal char-
l should be a hard hearten o acter .° If he will alIoW himself to look
cormorant if I duln t, pci , salt 1 ftt the quest ion from another standpoint,
lady, her spectacles dimmed with tears. ^ ^ donbt , ess see his err ors; and we
In short, Marian Channcey became ftre per8ua ded that no one will be readier
the light of the farm bouse; the bright than he to correct an error when made
little guardian genius of its ceiled rooms to gee it j n a proper spirit. If his teach-
and wide, airy halls. She read the ; ng8 were not calculated to do evil, they
naner to farmer Remington; she com- should pass by unmolested—but as t ley
P L?cake iellv and syllabubs to ; contain dangerous doctrines, they need
pounded cake, jelly, ana *>y , ^ . q ^ lighh of rea son
the astonishment and delight of the oiu ,
lady—she kept the two old china vases that «. tll e generally re-
that this petition has
[Correspondence of the Bainbritlgo Argus.]
LETTER FROM/TALBOT.
Editors Abgus:—The misfortunes
vat ions the same ahdflie'geneTaTTl? 1 '
Conscience dies not with the body, bnt
accompanies the sonl in its upward herself ,
flight, to add new zest to tho pleasures most do so much. ,
of Heaven, or in its downward plunge \ “Yes’ **&
to give intensity to the pains of koll. placently, ‘I think that was a sp en
on the mantle brimm-ng with a rain cf
roses; she knew by instinct just when
to darken the rsom for tho old man’s
afternoon nap on the wide chintz sofa
and she was better than ten doctors,
when Mrs. Remington had one of the
bad, nervous head-aches.
“I really don’t see how we ever con
tinued to* live without Marian,’ said
the old gentleman.
“But she shall never leave us,’ said
Remington, decidedly.
“Marian; little bright eyis, I’ve got
news/ called the old gentleman one
morning, through the hall; ‘leave those
honeysuckles for some one else to lie
up, and come in here. Charles is com
ing home.’
“To stay, sir ?’
“No, not to stay—of conrse his fine
city wife is his permanent devotion. Mr.
Remington could not help speaking
with a sneer, ‘hot he will spend the-day
here, on his way to New ’i ork. I
should like you to see Charles—and I
should like him to see you. Don’t
blush—if yon are not better looking cease
than his Fifth avenue wife, she mnst be
a paragon among the women, thats all
I’ve get to say.’
“When will he be here, sir ?’
“In about en hour, I should judge
from his letter—Charley always did
write an awful scrawl—m’s and n’s just
half alike, and half the time forgets to
cross his t’s; but I suppose that’s the
fashion now-a-days.’
Marian Chauncey crept away to her
room to brush oat the red-gold curia,
and adjust the b»ae ribhon aa she
thonght, and wondering shyly to herself
wbat ‘Charlie’ would say, when he saw
the new element that had contrived so
to interweave itself into the old borne
ceived opinion is, .
a two-fold meaning—daily supp les o
food for the body, and daily supplies of
grace for the soul. To the first I mnst
object.” One objection is, That food
for the body is not of daily growth
and that he is “compelled to object to
that interpretation which makes one
pray for what he will get anyhow, and
in just as rich profusion as if he were
not to ask for it” But this objection
seems to ns to be very fallacious. In
the first place, only a small portion of
the human family receives bread by ag
ricultural labor in large annual install
ments; andwhere this is the case, the
daily providence of God is necessary to
preserve such supplies from the ravages
of fire, insects and rogues—and also to
adapt snch food to the daily strength and
health of the body. Hence, such food
becomes the daily gift of Providence-
and therefore the proper subject of daily
prayer. In the second place, Infidels and
Christians are in the daily receipt of the
general benefits of the atonement-and
Jrill continue to receive them whether
they pray for them or not-and most we
suits affected us alike. We have a
deep interest in each other, then, a
fate and destiny, which
should bind us closer than ever. We
aro desirous of hearing from each
section of our State, what are the
prospects—what arc the hopes upon
which the prosperity of the country
must be founded ? These are grove
questions, and yet every year we are
told, the failure of a single cotton
crop would overwhelm us in rum.
There never was a country, that pros
pered depending upon a single ar
ticle of production, to supply its
wants. We cannot rely on cotton to
purchase everything else we <
Our Church in Washington.
We have already called the atten
tion to the efforts of onr brethren in
Washington to erect % suitable church
in the Federal City. They are deter
mined to have one, convenient, com
modious, elegant, a credit to the Con
nection. They are deeply earnest—
and we are disposed to help those
who are doing all they can to help
themselves. We do hope that their
agent will find favor with the people
wherever he goes. We call the atten
tion to the following communication,
which fairly sets forth their wants and
claims :
To the Ministers and Members or nil
M. E. Church South ':
The prospects and necessities of
our common cause in Washington
City, D. C., induce as to invite your
special attention to the statements
and request which we shall make in
this paper.
Before the war a lot had been pur
chased in an eligible locality for the
erection of a Metropolitan Church of
our name in that city. The splendid
building of the Young Men’s Chris
tian Association now strnds upon
that lot, and our former house of wor
ship on Eighth street, is a synagogue
of the Jews. Both these pieces of
propety have been inevitably sacrific
ed, and are lost to us.
Our Society, decimated by the for
tunes of the war, was reduced to less
than fifty members. It now numbers
over 250 members, nearly a hundred
per cent more than it numbered at any
former most flourishing period.
Our pe. pie there did not inquire,
before undertaking the enterprise to
which we are about to allude whether
the Church throughout the Connec
tion would aid them in their under
taking ; but absolutely certain that
they should need ouch assistance,
they counted upon it with equal cer
tainty, and are now in the most try
ing crisis in the erection of any
church-edifice, i. e., within four or six
weeks of its completion.
They will finish it by manage
ment, but in expectation of contribu.
tions from all the Churches, without
which they will be embarrassed be
yond hope in the payments yet to
be made. ,
dimensions and cost'"; 'its s'te being
The C&ptian stammered oat that it
was—“Yea.”
“Well, air, yoa have a watch and *
chain on yoar person that belongs to
me.*- Yon took it from me daring the
war by force, threats and violence.
Now I want it back again.” .
With these bold remarks she ac
companied the same with a dexterous
movement of her hands, and the gold
watch and chain, valued at two hun
dred dollars, was removed from the
bosom of the Captsln, and transferr
ed to the rightful female owner.
The vanquished Captain bowed re
tired from the table and.left the ho
tel and the city of ChjurlottavUle.
ike most eligible one in all that
sec lion of the city in which it stands,
and that also being the most improv
ing section of Washington City.
It stands, representative of an
evangelical Methodism, and an object
of the deepest solicitude to the few
earnest hearts who have undertaken
its erection, with trnst in God, and in
reliance, through him, upon the sym
pathy and assistance of their broth
ren everywhere.
Alone, they were unequal to the
task. They partake, in common with
the other citizens of Washington, of
those disadvantages which always be
long to a commercial city. But they
have stood nobly in their lot for the
interests of Southern Methodism in
their community ; they have stood
A Half Married Infliriflnai.
A peculiar incident occurred a
short time since in the vincinity of
Hackney, England, worth recording,
from the fact of its being'ona of'the
rarest escapades in matrimonial his
tory. An aged gentleman, not of very
prepossessing appearance, but never
theless a perfect Croesus, was leading
his bride a girl of sweet sixteen, to the
hymeneal altar, under the circum-*
stances of having purchased her hand
(but not her heart) by assisting her
father when in peenniary difficulties.
Six handsomely dressed bridesmaids
and a host of friends attended the
conple to the ehnrch. The bride was
decked out in nuptial splendor, the
roadway was lined with carriages and
grays, the whole presenting an im
posing effect; the venerable gentle
man led his bride up the aisle and the
ceremony of coupling then began.
All went quietly enough until the?
clergyman came to the sentence, “Will
you take this man for your wedded
husband ?” when she, in a load and
solemn manner, exclaimed, “I won't.**
She rose in an excited manner and
started oat of the chtirch, jumped in
to a carriage awaiting her outside, in
which was seated the idol of her choice
and off they went to a chnch not a
thousand miles away, were married
borhood, and the interest has not yet
abated.
of hw boybuod.
“But I don’t think he will be angry,
svd Marian in a half whisper as she
pinned a white rose in her breast, and
We have got to fall back on the old
plan. I am glad to see that Decatur
is diversifying her productions. We
will be prosperous when we raise all
we require at home, and can export
cotton, rice, tobacco and sugar cane
as nett profits. Out of these profits,
let it be the pride of every farmer in
our State, to save one, two or three
thousand dollars to start a new fac
lory _to build a railroad and to in
crease production of his farm or plan
tation. These should be reduced in
size and increased in productive ca
pacity. This is the true policy—this
will make the South wealthy and pow
erful again. Her.inflnence will, once
more, be felt in our national councils
for wealth, makes power and poverty
makes subjects. I am glad to see Geor
gia is taking the lead. I feel a deep
sense of pride and pleasure when I re
view her boundless resources, yet un
developed. She is bound to outstrip
all the other Southern States in agri
culture and manufacture. The scar
city of labor will insure us high prices
for cotton, rice and tobacco. \ e
will have a monopoly in the cultivation
and production of these great staples.
Let ns take courage for the future
there is still a brighter morning to
up against reproach and persecution
,u that center of political prejudices,
such as, in its peculiar stress, perhaps
our people nowhere else have been
to nrav for these things because
* «*•»-*
who objects to praying for daily bread
objects to praying for
hence his opinion is a mere worthless
fallacy. But the Brothers position
!^e are not to pray for that we will
receive anyhow, concedes half that the
recel , i nppAg but one step dawn upon us.
/“I prayer is nsetera i.ordaboal Mbol-TUbo*co«l-
because God knows what we need before ly £3 one e f the best m our • a e.
we ask him, to complete the round. The For health and a variety of prodne-
Brother’s exposition is based in that tfae climft te cannot be excelled
philosophy which assumes that God has ^ wheat ia headed out and doing
nothing to do with affairs of the physical good ; bnt most too early
world. for oats—they look well however.
Another objection made by him to the , Vg have B splendid stand of cotton
rrp-TiMrmllv received opinion i»—“That it an d corn nearly knee high, "shave
™due importance to bread.” Bnt .^excellent mineral springs known
f ln thrsW’ God made the body M the Chalybeate, just over the moun-
who will not provide such things for
called upon to suffer; they have de
termined to give our Church a po
sition there that will command re-
nnect They deserve to be sustained.
They must have at least $30,000 from
^Wtftherefore recommend and re
quest that, on the first Sunday in
Juiv next, a special collection in aid
of the Washington Church be taken
up throughout the entire Connec
tion, and the proceeds thereof be
forwarded, by draft or P. O. order,
to Rev. W. V. Tudor, Washington,
D C who will acknowledge receipt
of the same in the Baltimore Episco
pal Methodist, and in any other pa
per that the parties sending may
indicate.
Jambs O. Andrew,
H. n. Kavanaugh,
R. Paine,
W. M. Wightman,
G. F. Pierce,
D. S- Poggett,
H N. McTyeibe.
Bishops' Meeting, St. Louis, May 10^ 69.
Califonia’s Big Trees.—The majes
tic body of the Father of the Forest/
which lies half buried in the, earth is
110 feet in circumference at the base,
and 200 feet in length to the first
branch, and being hollow, a person
can walk that length erect. The Esti
mated height of this tree when stand
ing is 400 ft The “Burned Tree,”
prostrate also, is hollow to the height
of 60 feet, and persons can ride on
horseback theongh it; for that ais-'
tance it is 97 feet in circumference/
and stood 330 feet high. There are
several other trees of immense size,
and variously named—Hercules, Bn’*
cle Tom’s Cabin, Pioneer Cabin,
Three Sisters, Siamese Twins, Twin
Brothers, Lone Widow, Widow and
Son, Beauty of the Forest, Pride bf
the Forest, etc.—From Phrenological
Journal.
‘Occasional.’
Served Hem Right.—A few days
ago a Capt. Harrison, the agent of
the Freedmen’s Bureau at Scotts-
ville, Virginia, called to Charlotts—
ville by business, was dining at one
of the hotels in that town. A young
lady,‘one of the heroines of the war,
whose name we omit, having scruti
nized the Captain for a moment,
arose from her seat deliberately, and
approached him with the firm tread
of a woman who was not afraid who
knew her honest “rights and dared
maintain them.”
Said the lady, with a stamp of her
beautiful foot, which subdued the
Yankee Captain at once :
“Is this Capt. Harrison, of the Yan
kee artnv?”
Scoffing. To a young infidel who
scoffed at Christianity on account of
the misconduct of some of the professors.
Dr. Mason said: “Did you ever know an
uproar made because an w « nt
astray from the paths of morality ? The
infidel admitted that he had not.—
“Then,” said the doctor, admit
Christianity ia a holy religion, by ex
pecting its professors to be holy; and
thus, by your very scoffing, yon pay it
the highest compliment in yoqr power.
S’eat!
Two old Tom Cats—'
One iu rr*j, and «o wa» t’other—*
Forgetting rat*.
Began to squall at one another—
Mc-auow! Me-aouw!
With IiUlc spine arehed, and raised Uf,-
Extended maw, malignant far—
With quivering tails, receding ears,
Exciting one another’s fears—
Arc nod and ’round
They paced the ground,-
And each cat’s ire
Blised higher,
Until at length, with dreadful welts,-
They sprang at each other’* pelts,
And fought and fit.
And gouged and bit.
And struggled in the mod,
Until the ground, .
For rods aronnd.
Was covered with their Wood ■
Me-anow! Me-auow i
Another eat soon after P
And at the sight apraag back
For naught was left bnt tufts erhasr.
And their two taiia lay qntrenng there •
Home!—Is there a word that we sot
cling to, a memory so dear to n»? to no
the heaven we are looking for a home
where love reigns, blessed with the full
ness of joy and peace ?
jf3ffa«ftss*tas
Tiinimcn*.