Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

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