The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1877-09-06

Nonsense.
Mr.. Editor, by the nails of Moses,
the wart of Confucius, the pug nose
of Socrates, and the tub of Dioge-
mes, if you send this letter to the
waste basket or cheese it, we will
put our former threats into execu-
ton. We have your epitaph ready,
to see how you'll like it after you
are dead:
Here lies the editer of the CITIZEN, by jabers,
His life is ended and all its labors,
For g choosing, scribblers he had no equal,
So death and damnation is the sequel.
OUR NEIGHBoRHooD
is remarkable for its rural scenery,
its mimic mountains and crystal
fountains, its vine-clad hills and
babbling rills, its smiling waters
and laughing daughters, its charm
ing bellies and dandy swells, its
fowery wales and woodland dales,
its warbling birds and lowing herds,
its failing hogs and big bull frogs,
its proud pea fowls and big eyed
owls, its cackling geese and sheep
without fleece, boys that are men,
the lordly cock, the growing hen
and their little flock, presents a pic
ture that makes existence enjoy
ment.
"Here indeed within these dells
There dwells enchantment With its spells"
Here are subjects for Byron's
themes and Guido's dreams, for
Millions sonnets and milliners' bon
nets, for Raphael's brush and
Moore's gush, but pshawl Oh hush!
TEXAS FEVER.
The health Of the community is
good. The Texas fever is raging
and threatening to depopulate us.
Messrs. ReasOnover, Edwards and
Harvey have returned from their
explorations in the Lone Star State,
and are well pleased. They report
land cheap and fertile, crops album
dant and fine, people prosperous
and happy, cattle fine and feshy,
and girls fat and sassy" and to be
had for the asking. They think it
good country for a young man
single or married. The probability
is that they and others from this
neighborhood will to this poor
mans paradise. Giles will lose
and Texas will gain men who are
useful and ornamental in the public
and private walks of life. We hope
they will realize their fondest wishes.
SINGING.
We have had a gala day at
Blooming Grove. There the young
and the old, the gallant and the gay
assembled to study and hear the vi
brations of a wave of sound, the
sweet concentration of melody.
Music is the soul of song. Song
and its soul, music and poetry, are
one and inseparable. Here all that
is sublime and beautiful, lovely and
delicate, tender and sweet, is melo
died into harmony and harmonized
into melody, yielding rareness,
richness and delicacy of expression
that thrills like a kiss from the lips
to the heart-a FERTILIZATION of some
thing heavenly, making melody IN
the soul. Prof. Mcfarland seems
to be an adept in this soothing SCI
ence. Those who will take the time
to study its principles under this
eminent teacher will be amply re
paid in retdrn for their time and
trouble. The exhibition OF the class
was creditable to both pupils and
teacher. Another class was imme-
diately organized. Our young folks
have both beauty of person and
sweetness of voice, the latter
"Bells can't ring it,
Birds can't sing it,
bought can bring it,
Not angels wing it,
So sweet they fling it
To the breeze"
A CURIOUS MACHINE.
A nrOnOs Of inOinO n vOuno man