Newspaper Page Text
YOL. I.
<£lje (Georgia UJeckly,
DEVOTED TO
Literature and General Information
WM. HENRY PECK,
Editor and Proprietor
PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY, BY
PECK & LIN ES .
TERMS, INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE :
One copy, per annum , 3)2.(
Single copies, 5 cents.
Advertisements inserted at $1 a squai
i*f 12 lines, for one insertion, and 50 cents f
each subsequent insertion. A liberal deductic
made to those who advertise by the year.
FIBST SONG OF MAY.
I.
Softly, softly, go to rest,
April, of the tender breast 1
Well amid these sprouting bowers
Thou did’st cradle thy young flowers,
Still baptized, as in old years,
By thy rapturous diamond tears.
Cradled and baptiz and for me, •
Oh, so sweetly, tenderly :
For no selfishness was thine—
In thy nature too divine,
Softly, softly, April, fade 1
Over thee thy children bow—•
Boses, violets, eglantine
Veiling their dead mother's brow I
11.
Softer it is mine to sweep
Over odorous land and deep;
For the good God loves to smile
Gentler still in forest-ais'e,
While He bids me wake to mirth,
More ecstatic, sky and earth ;
W eaving woofs of finest beams
Over all the shouting streams ;
Brighter charming still the moon
for the birth of golden June;
Softer, softer, it is mine;
But for that I should be proud ?
No ! beneath her richer sheen
I must also take the shroud!
111.
Yet, no thought of coming death
Lesser mukss my joyous breath;
Change the soul of life that fie
Carries in His ministry !
■With me sing aloud, thou bird!
Breeze, to ecstacy be stirred,
But, O little children, ye
Dance and sing and laugh with me!
Dearest still of ail ye shine
By my sdn—erchanted shrinel
O, my angels, shout aloud!
Pluck the flower and drink the ray
Ip these crocus cu,pa
W f r?(iarl;liog in the hands of Slay!
“PLUCK.”
BY J. C. H.
There has been a merry Christmas. I
The weather was clear and calm, and
Jack Frost had been urging every
body to make up great roaring fires,
that sputtered and crackled till they
settled down to a bright steady glow,
making the rooms they warmed just
as comfortable could be.
Then, when all was right inside,
Jack had taken to drawing all kinds
of frost-flowers on the window-frames,
for this was something he understood
exactly. But better than that—so
the boys thought—he had covered all
the ponds with good thick ice, smooth
as glass, over which the skates bore
their burdens as swiftly and merrily
as if they had been wings.
One can’t be always skating, though.
Too much even of a good thing gets to
be a little tiresome, so there was not
much sadness, when, old the last day
of the old year, the clouds came up,
and the air grew chilly, telling, as
plainly as if they had spoke, of snow.
Sleds were brought out and carefully
examined; old ones were touched up;
a nail driven in here ; to make the seat
firmer, or there to fasten an iron more
securely, while the new ones were ten
derly handled and honestly admired.
The boys were all in bed—the “Ar
row,” the “Snow-king,” the “Hard
to-heat,” carefully hung up ready for
use, when down came the snow. First,
in great broad flakes, as if the woman
at the North Pole were picking out the
big feathers first, and then coming
thicker and finer, till you could see
she had reached the down, and was
making her fingers fly, and no mis
take. Faster and faster it fell, cover
ing up all the little piles that spoiled
the look of the street, just as if it
meant the New Year should come to
New York, as all visitors to the great
city do, with a clean shirt and collar
on, looking like a gentleman at least
6nce in his life.
I don’t think the boys thought much
about that, though. They lay not
very quietly, for dreams filled their
heads with all sorts of strange fan
cies, while the snow fell and fell, till
it covered the earth two feet under its 1
white blanket; and then the wind
blew all the clouds away, and left the
stars winking and laughing at the
pleasant change.
Bless me! what a sight New York
was that New Year’s morning. There
was not a man in the whole city.—
Something had come in the night
bringing a wonderful supply of youth,
and they were all boys—boys of
thirty, fifty, sixty years old! And I
am sure I saw one boy, with grey
hair, seventy years old, pretending to
shovel the snow off his side-walk; but
only pretending as boys will do—for
he would drop his shovel, and go to
gektefr to §btt%rtt fitmito, fta, (Enteral Information.
work pelting other boys like himself
with snow-balls, laughihg with all his
might, and caring nothing for the
cracked voice whose tones rung out so
gleefully.
Somehow, it did not last long with
these old boys. The years came back,
and hung out the signs % upon their fa
ces again, and in an hour or two there
were just as many men in New York
as ever. One thing was gained, how
ever—they were the better looking for
the morning’s frolic, arid, I dare say
the ladies they went to see liked them
nothing the worse for their pleasant
countenances.
But the real boys came out in force;
boys in caps and mufflers, thick gloves
and snow-boots; boys with bare necks,
bare hands, and nearly bare feet; all
of them working like beavers, and not
one out of the whole lot caring a snap
of the finger where the thermometer
went to. Coasting swiftly down a
hilly street, or toiling laboriously up
the incline, taking “back-handers”
or “belly-busters,” pulling others or
being pulled, the New Year’s sun
shone down on the happiest set of ur
chins on the continent.
“ Come, sis,” said Charlie Ray
mond, bursting into the room where
his mother sat knitting by the fire,
while his sister Nell knelt on a
chair, looking wistfully out of the win
dow—“ Come, sis, let’s have a sleigh
ride. It ain’t cold a bit, and the
snow’s as slickery—” There was no
adjection in the language strong
enough to fill up his idea, so he left
the sentence unfinished.
“ Oh, Charlie! I should like to sq
much. May I go, mother ?” And
Nell slipped down from her chair, and
looked coaxingly into her mother’s
face.
The mother hesitated a little, for
Charlie was only fifteen years old;
but she could not resist his pleading:
“ Oh, do let her conje mother- I’ll
take just the best kind of care of her.”
And his bright face fairly glistened
with his earnestness.
“ Well, well, children,” said Mrs.
Raymond, rising, and muffling up lif
tle Nell to protect her from the cold.
“ Don’t stay long.” And as they
went out, she stole quietly to the win
dow, looking aftor them, a tear of
pleasure trickling down her cheek as
she watched how tenderly Charlie
cared for the delicate little girl in his
charge.
“ A good boy,” she murmured—
“just like his father!” And the
tears fell unbidden from her eyes ; for
Mrs. Raymond was a widow, and Char
lie and Nellie orphans. Her husband
had not left her destitute, neither had
she riches; but with close economy
she could live comfortably, though
plainly. Still, the time drew near
when her boy must go to some busi
ness, and many an anxious hour did it
cost her. As they turned a corner,
she went back to her quiet seat by the
fire, and took up her knitting again.
“Hurrah, Nell! ain’t it jolly?”
said the boy to the little girl, at the
end of an hour’s ride. “ You ain’t
cold, are you, Nell ?”
“Oh, yes, it’s real nice, and I’m as
warm as a toast,” said Nell, answer
ing both questions in one breath.
“Now then, for a good run,-and
then we’ll be going home, or mother
will be wondering. Hold fast, Nelt!”
and Charlie took a double turn of the
cord around his hand, and set off at
full speed.
Nell took a long breath, shut her
eyes, and clung tight to the sled, /or
Charlie was a good one to run,- and
she felt a little afraid. Whiz they
went along the path, passing foot pas
sengers who smiled cheerfully on the
happy children, when Charlie felt his
load suddenly lightened, and a sharp
quick scream struck his ear. He
turned, and there was Nell lying in
the street, her little head close to a
pile of stones.
He wasn’t long in picking her up,
his heart sinking lest she should be
hurt, and you may guess how glad he
was glad to find her only injury was a
little scratch on the face.
All this was done very quickly, for
Charlie did not deal in slow motions.
Tfce next impulse was to know how it
happened. A glance at the smooth
sidewalk him nothing; but as he look
ed up, he saw a boy laughing —not a
good, honest laugh, but a laugh, a
leer, a scowl, and a sneer, all rolled
up together; and he made up his mind
he did it.
“ What did you do that for ?” said
Charley, fiercely, leaving Nell on the
curb-stone, and drawing very near to
the fellow.
The boy was a coward, and, like all
cowards, he liked to bully when he
thought he could. Charlie was young
er and much smaller—why shouldn’t
he bully him ?
“You just keep off the side-walk,
or I’ll doit again,” said he, threaten
ingly.
Charlie forgot all about poor Nell,
who sat wonderingly on the curb-
GREENVILLE, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, APRIL 10, 1861.
stone. “You will, Will you ?” and his
Clenched hand came againt the other’s
face.
It was not ft Very long struggle. —
The big boy struck a few heavy blows,
one or two of which told on Charlie’s
cheek, but he could not stand the per
fect rain of strokes that fell upon him.
He began to whimper, and then Char
lie,* fairly maddened, tore him down,
but did not strike him. He rolled
him in the snow, stuffed his nose,
mouth, eyes, and ears full of it, and
then left him. The fellow crawled t 6
his feet and sneaked away, to think
twice before he tripped up a little
girl’s sled again.
The whole thing was over in less
time than it takes to write it, but it
was long enough to frighten little Nell
terribly, and when Charlie turned
round to look for her she was crying
as if her heart would break. He kiss
ed away her tears, and, putting her
on the sled, started for home, going
very quietly, however, for he knew his
mother would be grieved at the
scratch Nell had got, and a little
doubtful as to how his own bruised cheek
was to be received.
Whatever Mrs. Raymond might
have said was checked by the appear
ance of a gentleman who followed
Charlie to the door, and whom she re
cognised as a merchant and friend of
her husband.
“ I saw it all, Mrs. Raymond,” he
said, extending his hand to her, “and
the boy is not to blajne. I don’t like
fighting, but I would flog my own boy
if he did differently.”
Mrs. Raymond invited him in, and
said she was glad to hear it.
“ I was looking for you,” he said,
“when I fell in with the boy, and I
thought I could not mistake poor Ray
mond’s features.”
“He is very like his father,” said
Mrs. Raymond, looking proudly at
him.
“ I have a place in my store for
him, if you will let him come. I was
looking for you for this purpose when I
saw him.”
He spoke quickly and as
if he wanted an answer. She. knew
his character well, and she said—“ I
shall let him come, ami many thanks
to you. When do you want him?”
“ Come here, sir !” he said to the
boy, while Nell looking on wonder
ingly. “ Let me see your face. A
black eye, eh? Tut! only a bruise.
Send him to-morrow, Mrs. Raymond.
I knew your father, my boy,” he con
tinued. “He was a good man—try
and be like him. I think you will—
you seem to have pluck about.”
When he left the house, Charlie
looked into Mrs. Raymond’s eyes. —
“ What is pluck, mother ?” he asked
earnestly.
“ Pluck ?” she thought a moment;
then she said: “ Pluck, my boy, is
having the courage to do right and
not being ashamed of it.”
11.
Very different were the views taken
of this important step Mrs. Ray
mond and her son. To the mother,
it seemed like the unclasping of ten
drils that hitherto had fastened them
selves only about her heart; and,
while she was glad her boy had so
good an opportunity given him, she
could not keep down the fear that
forced itself upon her lest he should
prove unequal to the task, or fall be
fore the temptations the world offers
with such profusion- to the young.
• 'As, for. Charlie, he was delighted,
and he thought about it the
brighter grew his anticipations. The
sled was- neglected the remainder of
the day, and the time was passed be
tween caring for his bruised cheeks,
long consultations with his mother
about business, and little confidential
chatting with Nell, in which, to the
child’s eyes, Charlie was a prince set
ting out on his travels, only to return,
after a few years, laden with riches,
and covered with honors which she
should share.
All days come to an end, and so
did this. To Charlie, eager and anx
ious, the hours had dragged themselve3
wearily along; to Mrs. Raymond,
they had rushed past more swiftly
than usual. When night settled down
upon the great city, and the children
slept, Mrs. Raymond went in and
looked at them.
Nell lay peacefully slumbering, a
smile resting on her face half-shaded
by curls. She turned to Charlie’s
bed, and could bubmarked the change
that had come over him. He slept
quietly enough, though a flush was on
his cheek; but there was a look of
determination about his mouth and
firmly-clenched hand that told how
the boy, young as be was, had been
nerving himself for the strife. Then
reverently kneeling by the bedside—
ah ! boys, if we only guessed how of
ten our mothers did that—she poured
out her heart for him, and when she
rose, the little hand was unclenched,
the grim look had passed from his
lips, and in its place a smile of confi
dence and courage lighted Up the
sleeper’s face. Did the angels do
that, knowing how mtlch comfort it
would bring to this poor mother, who
felt as if she were about to be bereav
ed of her boy ?
Next morning, Mrs. Raymond,
with Charlie by ner side, set out to
find Mr. Walton’s store. The streets
they went through were narrow and
dirty, lumbered with boxes, barrels,
and bales, the side-walks often ob
-Btraoted%y carts loading, while every
body they met was bustling and busy.
If Charlie had come from a country
town, he would have likely become
bewildered, but, as he was a New
York boy, he entered right into the
spirit of the thing, and kept his wits
sharply about him. Why shouldn’t
he ? Was he not almost in business
already ?
At last they reached the door.—
Not a very inviting place, one would
suppose—a deep, dark building, filled
with half chests of tea, bags of coffee
and spice, hogsheads of sugar, tierces
of molasses, and what else could not
be seen at the first glance ; from all
of which came an odor so pungent
and peculiar, so redolent of business,
that Charlie felt at once he was in an
other world.
“Is Mr. .Walton in?” asked Mrs.
Raymond of a young man busily en
gaged marking packages.
“ Up stairs, in the office, ma’am,”
he answered, respectfully enough, but
scarce looking up from his work.
Mrs. Raymond followed the direc
tion indicated, and found Mr. Walton
writing at his desk. He met her kind
ly, and, after a few words of greeting,
said:
“ You have brought the boy, I see.
Well, we must do the best we can for
him. He isn’t afraid of work, is
he?”
Charlie blushed up to the eyes at
the imputation.
“I hope not,” said his mother, look
ing at him lovingly.
“ You’ll leave him, Mrs. Raymond!”
An*lj|§gjr>iner«eh»nt bowed her out of
the office.
“ Come here, sir,” he said, as he
returned to his seat, nodding to the
boy.
Charlie walked over to his chair,
looking very red, and fumbling with
his cap.
“ What’s your name ?” said Mr.
Walton.
“ Charlie, sir.”
“ How is your cheek to-day ? Ah,
I see, nearly well. You’re not quar
relsome, are you ? No, I think not.
You don’t look like it. I don’t like
fighting, Charlie—not that you didn’t
do just right yesterday. Try peace
making first. Did the little girl get
over her fright?”
“ Yes, sir.”
This was the first question he had
let Charlie answer, and the boy felt
relieved that it was so easily disposed
of. _
“ Come,” he said, putting on his
hat, “I must get you to work.” —
And he went out of the office, down
stairs into the store.
“Is Mr. Jones here ? Ah, yes, I
see him. Mr. Jones, I wish you
would take charge of this boy. Put
him to work and keep him at it—l
want him to learn the business.”—
And paying no more attention to poor
Charlie, who stood hat .in hand, he
went up stairs. ». ■
Jones did not look ,qs if he much
liked the task. He was' a stirring
fellow who thought boys more in the
way -than anything else, but a good
souLai the bottom, as all found out
soon enough.
“ Come, youngster, put on your
cap.- - You ain’t in the parlor now.—
What“shall I call you ?”
“ Charlie, sir.”
“ Let me see how you write>” said
Jones, and Charlie, stepping to the
desk, wrote his name in a large round
|hand.
“ Fairish,” he said, looking at it
sideways. “ Take that bill and copy
it.”
There was not .the least necessity
for doing it, but Jones had received
orders to set him to work and keep
him at it, and he intended they should
be obeyed.
As he sat drawing his pen so labori
ously over the paper, the boy grew
lonely—how could he well help it, in
that great gtore, with the light strag
gling through the begrimed window,
and only Jones for company ? But he
forced it down, and determined not
only to do his work, but do it cheer
fully.
When the bill was copied, a carman
brought an order for some goods. The
porter was turning them out, when
Charlie asked Jones if he might help.
Out they put them on the sidewalk
-—boxes, bundles of cordage, kegs,
till at last Charlie got hold of a keg
of tobacco, and was rolling it out of
the door. It slipped out of his grasp,
and vras hurrying down the decline to
the gutter when he put out his hand
to stop it.' He had no sooner touched
it than he felt a sharp pang shoot
through his hand—but he stopped it
for all that.
A nail in one of the hoops and en
tered his hand, and, as he took it off,
the blood dripped sloVrly on the ground;
He turned pale, for the pain was se
vere ; but he said nothing till Jones
noticed him.
“ Why, what’s the matter, Charles?”
he said, almost tenderly.
Chatiie held up his hand ; jt was a
sufficient answer. Jones got sugar
and put to the wound, and after pour
ing brandy on it, bound it carefully.—
Luckily, it was the left, so that the
right hand could be used. During all
which, though it smarted a good deal,
Charlie did not wince nor whimper,
and Jones’s heart warmed toward
him.
“ You’ve got some pluck, young
ster, anyhow,” said Jones, admiringly.
Charlie was pleased. He thought
a moment. This word “ pluck ’’ both
ered him. Jones’ “ pluck ” and his
mother’s “ pluck ” were two different
things—both good, perhaps, though
he liked his mother’s best.
The clerks came in one by one, all
of them quick active young fellows,
who looked curiously at the new
comer, but each had a kindly word
for him, especially when they saw his
hand bound up, and learned how it
happened.
And so the day wore on, pleasantly
enough, after all, to Charlie, till the
evening came. Some who read this
know just how he felt as he trudged
homeward—how proud of his position,
as he joined the hurrying throng—
how keenly he enjoyed the comforts of
his home, as, seated by the fire, Nell
on one side and his mother on the
other, he told how he had spent the
day. His hand was nearly well now,
thanks to the sugar and the brandy,
he slept soundly.
There is not a great variety in bus-'
iness, and Charlie’s chief interest was
found in the progress he made. He
began id he quite useful, a mb', it Mas
Charlie here and Charlie there, till
the boy would have been as much
missed as any of the older ones,
though of course his place would have
been more easily supplied.
Jones, however, rather astonished
him one morning. Charlie did his
best, but, somehow, nothing pleased
him. Perhaps Jones, had a touch of
dyspepsia, or his landlady had given
him cold biscuit for breakfast, or he
had missed a sale—a thing that wor
ried him wonderfully—at any rate,
Jones was cross, and that tells the
whole story.
“ Look here, sir,” he said, angrily
addressing him, and pointing to an er
ror Charlie had innocently -made,
“What does this mean?”
Charlie lookod at it—“ Why, I
thought ”
“ Thought!” roared Jones. “ Who
told you to think ? I’m put here to
think. All you have got to do is to
work right.”
It was anew phase of things, and
Charlie had no answer to make. •/.-
Half an hour afterwards Jones
cried out again, another blunder ap
pearing. “What in the world did
you do that for ?”
“ Why,” said Charlie, hesitating,
“I didn’t think ”
f ‘ Why don’t you think, then ?” said
Jones. “What on earth do you sup
pose you’re here for?”
'Charlie rolled up his eyes and said
nothing. I fancy Jones saw the fun
niness of the thing, for he grew good
humored directly,'and explained mat
ters so that Charlie never fell into the
fault again.
He grew a general favorite.. Come
what would, he never shirked his
work—his pluck wouldn’t let him.—
He was willing, and capable, and
could be trusted. It soon came to be
understood that he worked just as
well out of sight as when others were
watching him—it could not be other
wise, honest as he was.
“ Charlie,” said Mr. Walton to him,
one evening as he sat in the office
waiting for the letters, “ be thorough
in all you do. Never forget it. Don t
slight your work. Be thorough.—
There,” he said, as he gave the le-ter
to him, “my love to your mother,” —
And Charlie went up to the post office
pondering a lesson that was to last him
through life.
It was a proud moment for Charlie,
when, at close of the year, Mr. Vi alton
gave him a check for fifty dollars—a
present; for he was to get no salary
the first year. Still prouder
when, the next day, Mr, Walton call-"
ed on his mother, and, after the New
Year’s greeting had passed, banded
her a check for a hundred and fifty
dollars, saying' M Charlie has been so
useful, Mrs. Raymond, I insist on
paying his board.”
And so the first year of business
ended. ‘
NO, 10,
111.
Mr; Walton’s business though hot
so extensive as sdme others, was still
large enough to employ several clerks.
To all of whom* Charlie, as the last,
comer, was subordinate. But, while
it was necessary to begin on the first
round of the ladder, Charlie could not
see the necessity of remaining there,
and, as he was determined to reach
the top, if possible, he was soon urg
ing his way lip.
Now, if there is a city 'Mv-the wqtfcj .
where honest persistent’effort is more
likely to gain its ends than any other,
that city is New York. It is a wretch
ed place for milksops—psrsons who
go dawdling through life, waiting for
something or somebody to come along
and force them into good positions.
The strong human current rashes
fiercely on, sweeping them off their
feet, and they float helplessly into ob
scurity. But when one is found who
fairly breasts the tide, struggle against
it, and will not he put down by it,
rarely does it happen but he finds his
foothold growing firmer, till at length
nothing moves him.
Charlie was not a milksop. The
reader knows as well as I do he was
anything but that. And, as the years
rolled by, this determination became
more and more fixed, that let what
would come he would deserve success.
Whether he could accomplish it or not
was hedged with doubt; but there
was no questioning the ability of de
serving it. Charlie made up his mind
that there were to be no “ ifs ” about
it—whatever else happened this must
be done.
One by one, little duties, trivial to
be sure, and neglected by his fellow
clerks because they were so, but yet
indispensable to the proper conduct of
the business, .fell into his hands. To
everything he ’did he gave his whole
attention ; whether packing a keg of
pepper, running an errand, or making
a bill, he always aimed at doing his
best; and when once a duty fell into*
his hands, somehow it never left
them.
Jou cannot gues# how useful he be
! came. Was a bill to be got ready in
double quick time, Charlie was called.
In a special message was to be sent,
Charlie was selected, because there
was sure to be no loitering on the way.
Did Mr. Walton want to know r just
how much stock of a certain article
there was on hand, Charlie was the
boy to ask, and he always Jknew. —
And as he grew useful, he grew val
uable. *.
Perhaps some of my readers think
this boy made a slave of himself,
working late at night, injuring health,
and all that sort of thing. Not a bit
of it. He was as cheerful and merry
as a cricket—a little too ranch so Mr.
Walton thought, when word reached
him sometimes ot his jokes. And, as
for night work, except ’at the busy
season, none were more punctual on
their homeward journey. Well he
might hurry home, for while he had
been growing up towards manhood,
Nell had not remained a child, and
was becoming quite as pretty a girl of
fifteen as any you’re likely to see, my
fine fellow* reading this, in all your
New Year’s visits. Then, his mother,
more matronly ’ than she used to be,
make his home ' the same cheerful
place ; only he was looked up to al
most as the master of the house, ta
king the head,..of the table,' and car
ving with a dignity of twice his
age.
Almost before they suspected such
a thing, his fellow clerk# found-he hack,,,
elbowed his way right past them, and
Jones felt he was treading hard
on his heels. Still be worked on,
neglecting nothing bq6anse it was
small, shrinking from nothing because
it was large, winning and wearing a
character for promptness and accura
cy that carried him high in Mr. Wal
ton’s estimation. He had been in the
business about five years, when a cir
cumstance occurred worth while nar
rating.
Among the duties that had natu
rally drifted into his care was the
keeping of a. stock book or memoran
dum. This book was an idea of Wal
ton’s originnally, but Charlie had so
enlarged upon and improved it that he
had made it quite his own.
He entered, under their various
headings, all the goods bought, and in
another place all that were sold, so
that in case of necessity the amount
on hand could be told in an instant.—
Not only were the sales entered,
as original packages were constantly
opened for putting in smaller shape,
these too Were noted. At first Char
lie’s pertinacity in the matter Was an
noying, The porters disliked the
.trouble of reporting every sack of
pimento or hogshead of sugar opened,
and even Jones', SI rimes, pooh-poohed
I it, but Charlie it out.
All this was done very quietly, and
not much notice,was taken of it, Mr.
Walton thought --it would be good in
case of a fire, and Jones found it very
