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% 1 / Volume 3. Number 14. THE 18 PUBLISHED WEEKLY -A T (>llic« on Mon*our »t- op|»o*ito Ijutheru * Wmkiu*. WILLIAM H. ROYAL, EDITOR 4 PROPRIETOR. C. 8. Du BOSE, Awoiiite Editor RATE8 OF* 8UB8CrTpT 10M~ VT TERMS CASH Ah One copy 14 month* fS 00—6 month* $1 Ou RATES OF ADVERTISING. Tranol«nil Advertinemont* will be ohargod aud at the rate > f cue dollar par iqunr« for the fir*I *ov> > n»y five cent* for each eubeequent insertion, for one month or I«m 1 equnr. .1 mouth-, $10 -----6 month* $16 : 3 ; 16——6 : * 2 . r , : 3 : as—« : 45 r 3 : 35-6 : 55 4 c'dninn 3 t 45-6 i 75 3 1 50-f> 41 1,50 All adyortwemonta from a distance, must be paid for quarterly iu' adyanoe - or with aatiafactory rt f, i - •nee, may he paid at the eud of each quarter, by the addition of 5 per cent ter indulgence Ten ItiMM • f iIlia lype fill one nqunro. CHAS. 8. DuBOSE. ATTORNEY AT LAW. ”W ARREN'TON, O A.. Will practice iu all the CuuuUcn of the NORTHERN CIRCUIT; FRANK L. LITTLE, fAVir®lBB!l(SV A? (LAW* SPARTA, GA HIM III lata building Weal of Court llouee. O AMAK HOTEL Haiti 76 emit a Meal—Lodging 60 cents - PASSENGER* ’oh the Maroaand Augusta Rail load arWI And thle b*u»e Hie pl..c,o for a Good lire.k fa« R t. SEAY, Proprietor. "f 1STB-W 8ALOON JND roterg-§»iow I «MKA A. ACUDOAY take* Ihia method of in •mag rhe put the that hie new • SALOON & GROCKRV STORK ia now in fall bWt Hh cu«*omete atteet that hi* IV'iitfa, Urunhita, fivt ttftiiBkiro, TOBAOO Sc OA.3XTXYV' of ali grade* cannot excelled for quality and pnee g*r far MiOJt Va ntiy kept on hand, aud for aale* I« the Family Grooory line, FLOUR. MEAL, BVCoN fco. and all kind* of Groceries will he m*W on reason¬ able tetfrt*: Call and got a Ba. aiti. Store in Scudday'* new buildnif, June 9, tf 'RTA GEO* ICE Received Eve ry Pa y. POLLARD, COX & GO., .GENERAL d80<’EKY AND ^ Merchants', Gerrtmission t l f| 979 BROAD STREET,, (A A. ms&sssr^ V HEP countMitly on hnnd « large and wall circled IV .took of Urooeriee of every deacnBUon.uiclud.ug a fiat atemtmewt of Whiakw", B-audie*. Wlnea, Ac The iutoraft, rgH, of the firm will bo mpreaoated by . la gaHeU FiUpatnok of Warrau oouuty| W.M.WARR8H, A J. UANB, J. W. W ARCG Angumn Han*** Co- Au^^. Warren, Lute Ilenry'Watimil & Jl On. * nbcomare to #. CL): COTTON "° FACTOR! v WaKKHOUHE AN1> ■ 1 COMMISSION MERCHANTS. 185 aud 177 Broad street, , AUGUSTA, GA. CASH ADVANCES mad* at ahipmonte of Colton • Now York and Liverpool. 4 ilh ii ,in' We are agent* ,or (ieorgia and South (‘aroltn* Vo; the celebrated ••« * 1 * • * KtUlcwcWs Manipulated Guanos, Ober's •«dthe ARROW TIE, Phosphate «nd Patent , Iron Band . Balhjl tor Caitoa. IMF* The internet* of the Aria will ho represented in tlaaeork county by J. CLARENCE SIMMONS Eoq, Sparta mug 10 Cabinet-Shop r ] 1 HR & Upholstering A WWendfitod take* th* method of romiudiug Public that h* in still carrying on the CABARET AND UPHOLSTERING BUSINESS at tea (hop son door to the Journal Office, awd i* ▼Miag prepared old, to . xerute all order* for Repairing, Retie kinds Cabaret «nd Making Ur w Furtntsm, amt all of Work, at short ao’ic* Md U at*.. prepared for all sort* of GIN repairing •lhag Jun* Bruahca 4c 83 fm S’) i-TUABT. ^WEEKLY 04 IR ktllanj). Birih for Breakfast. A Talk OF Til* SKTTI.'II»'T of ARKANSAS Westward ho ! A party of hunters had brought back marvellous reports of the fertile prairies on the ban&s of Red River, aud in less than a month—I be¬ lieve in August, 1820—a long train of Conostoga wagous had crossed the Mis¬ sissippi on the way to the land of prom¬ ise. They were under the direction of Squire Frierson, a wealthy old planter, who had grown rich by land specula¬ tions, and now hoped not only to ‘lo¬ cate’ some rich tracts for himself, but to get mortgages on the farms of his associate pioneers. Stalwort sons of toil, they had little idea that they were in reality but serfs, and indulged in high hopes of future prosperity, as they goaded along the sluggish oxen, or kept together the herds that grazed as they journeyed. The wagons, generally speaking, would rumble over about ten miles in a day, and when the sun began to decline, they were so halted as to form a square, within which the camp¬ fires were lighted. The cattle were ‘carolled,’ supper was prepared, and then groups would gather round the files to listen to the maryellous tales of frontier life. As the fires burned low, the groups would diminish, and soon the watchful guards would have the lights in the tents extinguished, one by one, until the sileuce of night reigned. One morning, three young men who had been patrolling through the night, lingered behind the train, to cook some fine birds that Hal Harson, the young¬ est of the trio, had shot at early dawn. Ilis compauious, gauut and weather bronzed, were veteran hunters, but Hal. was a tine looking fellow, ruddy witu health, aud having oVM ry pioneer attri bute. Evory one wondered he should have left a good paternal farm in Ten¬ nessee, to be a hireling guard on Frier sou’s train ; yet he was the favorite of the party. “Now for a breakfast,” said Hal. as he approached the fire. “WKell, bird-meat’s better nor deer meat,” replied Jim Long, who had just succeeded in resuscitating the fire.— But here comes old Frierson on his fa¬ vorite pacer, biting the stem of his pipe. Hu be dogged. What does he want V The leader of the train, who now rode up, had that cramped, heartless, cold expression of countenance, pecu¬ liar to those who make Mammon their god. In his opinion, men were good or had according to their means, and he especially disliked poor young men, re¬ garding them as adventurers, who tried to deprive capitalists of wealth. Per¬ haps, too, he feared that some one might woo and wed his niece, whose property had been of such essential ser¬ vice in several speculations. Left an orphan at an early age, Mary Friersou had been brought up ou her uncle’s farm in wild independence. She could shdot, fish and bunt like Diana, yet as she ripened into womanhood, her feelings became chastened. An unde¬ fined yearning took possession of her. She fell in love with Hal. Harson, and soon discovered that he loved her, and ss the wagon-train moved slowly along it was her delight to have him join the merry group of girls, for she felt that she, of all others, was first in his mind. And he, though sensible that there was a great gulf between the n, which nothiug but a bridge of dollars could span, lived in the intoxication of her presence. To enjoy that, he felt that he could endure any privation, face any difficulty—nay, even bear tbe insulting manuers of her uncle. * H’hat’s this ?’ exclaimed Frierson iu an insolent tone. ‘Who shot birds?’ . •I did,’ cooly replied Harson. ‘You did, ha ! I was fool enough think the Injuns would trouble us, so hired you lazy fellows as a Sparta, Ga., July 28 , 1870 . But I didn’t buy powder for you to kill birds with. 9 ‘The birds were shot with my own ammunition, purchased at Memphis, look !’ And as Harson . spoke, he ex¬ hibited a small canister of ‘Dupont,’ with a leather bag of shot. ‘I have done my duty, sir,* ho continued ; ‘and if you think there are do Indians about I—’ • „ ■ ‘Humbug !’ inrerrupted Frierson. ‘Yon bad better look stricter after the cattle.’ ‘Look a here,’ grumbled Bill Long, ‘if you think you can put on your airs here, old hose, you’re a cave-in. We was hired to guard the camp at night; we’ve stood our guard—Hal, here, more than we two—but we ain’t your slaves, no 8ir,-ree. So &eep civil, or dry up.’ ‘What!’ exclaimed Frierson, turning purple with rage. ‘But never mind.— in a week you can all travel. But do not loiter here, or the wagons will get out of sight.’ Ere Harson could reply, he bad turned his horse, plunged in the spurs, and was hastening after the train. ‘I would like to send a bullet after him,’ said Long, kicking apart the blaz¬ ing wood. ‘Never mind, never mind,’ said Hal. Harson. ‘He’s a crusty old fellow; but after all, it wasn’t perhaps right to lin¬ ger behind. So I’ll carry along the birds and we’ll have them for supper.’ ‘I’m amiable,’ laconically replied the third member of the party, and they walked along in silence. Overtaking the train, the hnntere joined a party of young men, who were ever ready to lis¬ ten to their yarns, while H#)/Ijforab 11 bashfully approached a wagon in which the girls of the party were riding, hav¬ ing rolled up the eanvass covering at either ride. Prominent in this galaxy of rosy beauty was Mary Frierson, who welcomed Hal. with a meaning smile. Untutored in those arts which refine¬ ment has adopted to conceal the wild¬ est passions of the soul, there was, in. the glance that beamed from her flash¬ ing eye, an assurrance of regard which made her lover’s breast beat high with hope. But another saw that glance, and Hal. was roused from his dream of bliss by the voice of Frierao n : * ff'ell younp man, having finished your game breakfast, you are now making morn ing call, / Oo book and mind the oat tie, sir. This is no place for you.* Harson trembled and nervously grasped his rifle, but a look toward his insolent employer, caught the eyes of Mary. Her look was more eloquent than weeds, mingling entreaty and re¬ gret H wall RB k>Fe. Passing bis hand across his forehead as if to banish the scene, he slowly moved away. ‘A pretty guard,* growled Frierson, eyeing his niece. ‘I don’t see what bu¬ siness a penniless fellow lUe that has hanging about you girls. You ought to know he is after your money;* • Mary’s lip quivered, as sbe spoke an¬ grily to her .uncle;. I * • 1 •Iff* !> /i fVe girls know where our money is, and who tries to keep it’ The old man started iti his saddle, and then gave Mary an earnest look, as if to read her thoughts. ‘You are sharp,’ he said, with a faint smile, but it could not mas* his vexation, and then mak¬ ing some remark about the road, he passed on to the next wagon. Night threw her sable mantle over the prairies, and Harson agaiu found himself oo guard. At first, the young sentinel felt sad. Affection for Mary, aud resentment agaiust her uncle strug gled for the mastery. But as he paced t>is round, his spit its rallied. His im¬ agination soon began to revel in lighter scenes. Hark ! be heard a rustling.- - Cocking his rifle, he brought it to his shoulder, but then the familiar tones of her whom he loved echoed through his heart. In a moment she stood by his side. ‘Mary,* exclaimed Hal., offering his hand, ‘Speak lew!’ replied tbe excited girl, cordially returning bis grasp. Then, with a slight tremor in her tone, she said, ‘I could not sleep, Hal. Harson, without thanking you for the manner in which you received my uncle’s insulting remark this morning. It stung you to the heart, I saw, but—but—” ‘But lo.ve for you chained my temper,’ interrupted Harson. ‘Hear me. Mary Frierson; you are far my superior, but I can but uiore you. Can I hopo .or a return of my love? can you share my bumble lot ? elm you become my wife?’ Mary looked earnestly into the anx¬ ious face of her lover, but her heart was too full for utterance. Yet she suffered Hal’s, arm to steal around her waist, and when he imprinted a deep kiss upon her lips, it was returned—she was his own. Justthentho moon shone ap¬ provingly forth, and .sentinel stars wit¬ nessed this union of two fond, loving hearts. ‘You will be mine, then, Mary?’ ‘With all my heart and soul,* replied the true-hearted girl; but*at that mo¬ ment the well known figure of her un¬ cle approached them, and he shouted, ‘Mary Frierson, leave that beggar, or—’ A hundred hideous yells interrupted him, and a cloud of arrows whistled through the air, as a large party of dians dashed into the camp. They pas¬ sed the lovers, but two sprang from their saddles as they approached Mr. Frierson, who was soon levelled to the ground by the heavy blow of a war club. In an instant an Indian grasped him by the hair, and drawing his scalp¬ ing kuife, was about to seize his fatal trophy, when a shot from Hal Harson’a rifle laid him low. Confusion now reigned; the sharp cracks of th« rifle and curses of the whites mingling with the yells of the Indians, and the shrieka of the women aud children. * Leaving Mary to attend to her sense¬ less uncle, Harson dashed into the thick¬ est of the fight, and by his bravery the tide of battle was soon turned. - The warfare was waged with fury, but soon the Indians, uttering a whoop of de¬ spair, abandoned the strife, whiioa loml cheer of victory U P from thc 8UC ‘ cessful' whites. hastened to the spot where Hal. now be had left Mary Frierson and hor uncle, where he arrived just in time. One of the Indians, mounted on a fine horse, had fled from the scene of contest in that direction, and was in the act of throwing a lasso over the poor girl, who was kneeling by her uncle’s side. Just as the rope had tightened, and she was expecting to find herself dragged over the ground, a bullet from Harson’s rifle passed through his heart, and ho fell dead. She was safe. Need we say, that for once, Frierson was sensible of the kindness he had re¬ ceived, and hailing Hal. as the preser¬ ver of his life, he told him that he was at liberty to claim Mary as his bride. They were married on the broad pra ries of Arkansas, just as the sun appear¬ ed above the eastern horizon. There, surrounded by the stalwort pioneers and their delighted wives and daughters, they took each other for husband and for wife—pledging a mutual vow which angels might have witnessed and heaven sanctioned, although there was neither priest nor license. The doubt and fear of love was over, and the two, hearts united, looked forward to the future as they did on their pathway—a pleasant journey to be taken in company. The only ones who appeared at all to regret the happy eveut were Hal’s comrades on guard duty, and as Squire Friersou was gaziug with some pride upon the newly wedded couple, Bill Long came up, bearing the game which Hal shot the previous morning, and asked, in a malicious tone: ‘Well, Squire, hadn’t you better let him eat birds for breakfast, arter all/’ And . . whenever , Mr. and Mrs. now Harson travel that road they are sure to turn wide to revisit the scene of the r g Bnr k ’ : c#n at the t 1 .t by Bill Long, who is sure to ask if they will have “Birds for Breakfast.” p‘ { Li l- L . I f v' Terms Two Dollars Cash Faded Flotvers* Hnw keenly ye recall to me Those hours of joy that knew no care, Of which alone in memory The sweetness still is there. Faded tokens of the past, hraqiaut still, though dim and sere ; True, thy freshness could not last, But thy sweetness still ia here. So with her who gave me these, Freshness from her cheek oo fair Has passed away like summer leaves, • But the sweetness still is there. Thu* transcieut beauty takes its flight, Aa fragile as the flowrets fair; But lovely souls aie ever bright— The sweetness still is there. Love. Who in journeying through life, has not felt its rapturous pleasures, its men¬ tal torturing pains, for love has pleas¬ ures, and love has pain—pleasures the most deeply thrilling—pains of deep¬ est anguish* What a powerful thing is love! How it stirs up all the secret springs of our being—rouses into action energies and passions that we knew not were in us. neutralizing at the same time, and sometimes almost completely destroying others All that love! wo deemed all powerful. realm potent monarch of the mental ; to which all high or low, rich or poor, are forced to bow.— Confined to no grade or clime, it sweeps through the universe, and is felt in the •oft airs of Italy—in the frozen regions of Lapland. It stales through the palaces of the rich in finance, it lingers in the hovel of the peasant and the outcast— it softens the hearts of Emperors and Kings, and bends them to its will. It elevates, transquilizes, and ma£cs con¬ tentment often in the souls of the loWly born. It abounds in savage as in civi¬ lized life; the untutored out-pourings of the artless Indian of the forest are as sweet to the ear of the savage maiden ; as the most refined and flowery phrases of the courtly lover to her who is pol¬ ished by the arts of civilization. Ah, Who can withstand it? It warms into new life the heart of the stoic, it de¬ stroys the seeming eternal reason-raised fallacies of the great philosopher : as one by one his self conquor*' J g theo ries melt away before nfui, he a1 g ha to that is bis master, and thus own frail piece of mortality. proves himself a Al) pervading love! who has not felt its presence ? Oh ! it is sweCt to love, to gaze upon some gentle or noble being, and feci all the deep of emotions, all the secret sympa¬ thies our nature centered there, as if it were a nucleus to our own vitality ; and theu to-ftfel that that love is return¬ ed, to know, to realize a spontaneous unity, a sympathetic yearning of soul for soul, that there is in this cold and selfish world, a heart, a being on whom we cau lely to stand by us, let good or evil betide. Oh/ how sweet I imagine this to be. But love without hope, love without a reciprocity of feeling— Oh! there’s tho pain ; to love and not be loved again, to foel your whole life and soul centred on a being—a btinig very worthy, but one who in turn is fixed upon another, and sees you uot— knows you not save as a friend; who respects you as a brother or sister, aud, dreaming not of a warmer feeling . in your breast makes you perchance a re¬ pository of confidence, and paints in glowing Oh how colors tins your rival to your face. how . can wring the heart, make bleed, heave and palpitate, aud burn and ache, and the brain, too, grow hot and seethe and wither and strain, and reel with this one mighty truth sapping at length all the foundations of an otherwise steady intellect, wrecked and destroying the system, and the vassal of love’s cruel mandates often terminating their own existence, and sending a shrieking ghost to join the mournful throng. We may talk of the rack, and all the damnable inventions of fortune for the physical man, but what are they compared with the rac& that rends tho soul—that deprives wealth of its luscious pleasures—home of its attractive loveliness, and man of his moral sensibilities? Let those an swer who have experienced it, for wheth er we be one of those happy beings, who pass through on a road of beautiful flowers our soul wafted on the ethereal wings of bliss to love's extent, or fall a victim to its most ragged and thorny destruction, is left for time to decide An Irish — girl -» Erie, ♦. —--- day two at a or ’ «'‘8 ht a "“ ther S irl °“ .Tt , l ; compelled them off and her to take sur render them then and there. How to Win Success, We wish every boy and young man who reads our paper to grow up a use* ful, intelligent and successful member; of the society of mankind, Every boy, ‘ no matter how poor and humble he may be, can, by industry in seeking in¬ telligence, surely succeed in life, for there is a demand for intelligent labor throughout this great nation. ’ Don’t try to make money at first—you will waste valuable time in doing so; hot try and gather all the information pos sible from the fount of knowledge, and when you possess this the walks of Ufe will bo open to you and money will find its way into your pockets in generous sums. i i Those who start in life with the sole idea of making money quandsr valuable day8, and while they may acquire it,yet pass down to honored graves. Let the world be benefitted by your residence in it, and every man can do this bystart* ing aright in seeking knowledge first, and wealth afterwards. Never get ruf¬ fled if you meet surly people ; and you will be the victor by being courteous and affable under all circumstances. Occupation.— Ocupation ! What a glorious thing it is for the human heart/ — Those who work hard seldom yidldf themselves up to fancied or real sorrow. When grief sets down, folds its hands, and mournfully feeds upon its own tears, weaving the dim shadows that exertion might sweep away into a funeral pall, the strong spirit is shorn of its might, and sorrow becomes our master. When trouble flow upon you, dark and heavy, toil not with the waves—wrestle not with the torreut—rather seek oooupa tion to divert waters that threaten to overwhelm you in a thousand chanc»% which the duties of life present. waters Before you dream of it, those w jll fertilize the present, and give bfrth to fressh flowers, that they may bright¬ en the future — flowers that will become pure and holy in the sunshine which, penetrates ter all, is but the path selfish o^auty. feeling, Grief, and most af¬ a 4 selfish is he who yields himself to the indulgence of any passion that brings no joy to his fellow men* Tiie Idle Man. —The idle man is an annoyance—a nuisance. * He is an in¬ truder in the busy thoroughfare of eve¬ ryday life, lie stands iu out path and we must push him contemptuously aside. He is no busy advantage lie to anybody. He annoys men. makes them un¬ happy, and is but a cipher in society.— He may have an income to support him in idleness, or he may sponge on his friends, but in either case he nr despised. Young men, form habits of industry; do something in this busy, wide awake world. Move about for the benefit of mankind, if not for yourself. Do not be idle; God’s law is, that by the sweat of the face we shall earn our bread.— This is a good one, aud the bread it sweet. Do not be idle. Minutes are too precious to be squandered thougbt le88l y*________ , . Dabk h 00m ._t 0 every man thorn are many, many dark hours, when ba fee| s inclined to abandon his best en terprise; when his heart’s dearest hopes appear delusive; houw whei he feeis unequal to the burden, when all aspire fcj ons gce ni worthless , Let no one im a gine that he alone has dark hours. It ig the common i 0 t of all. They are tho touc h 8 toue to try whether we are ourren t coin or not. . ......... , One mistake in principle is worse than a thousand errors in opinion. of It is hope that writes the poetry the boy, but memory that of the man.— Man looks forward with smiles, but backward with sighs. Such is the wise providence of Gud. The cup of life is sweetest at its brim ; the flavor is im paired as we drink deeper, and the dregs made bitter that we may not strau gle wheu it is taken from our lips. —- + -- . A Chinese maxim We require says : •* ‘four things of woman—that virtue dwell in her heart; that modesty play on her brow; that sweetness flow from her lips, aud that industry occupy her j ian( j 8 » 1 _ 7---TT- Coun ; ' 8W i c * Railroad, are becoming burden ( some and sluggish iu Macon. -