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“WISDOM. JUSTICE AND PD E.RAT.I/O N.”
—— - 1 ' ' -
=5^S= = ? = =
ROME, GA., WEDNESDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 3. 1-873. NEW SERIES-NO. 1
Butler.*;
KtiilVOl *■ ---
\Yore<ri ( -' r (Hass.) Gazelle pub-
11 on. Geo. F. Hoar,
voluminous document
i t . salary grab recently
,.;,. it. F. llutler. Mr.
•salaries.
I. ami lh<
.lit.
,.-es bad many times
making tbe increase
: men who bad voted
h compensation for
] l; .d been sustained and
,'v tile people with full know
'•j lU fact. The confidence
(*.I'lv't'cs- bv the Constitution
,. juVl al'snlute. But the
exercise of the power so
iKallcd for. so extreme as to
an abuse oi' the confidence,
rutlv oil the passage of the bill I
'l not to receive the money,
; llv mine, it was placed by
ere to remain until
cm- way.
"a 1 of the leaders of
measure what they
iva- informed that
;r die money, and
cci. reduced they
, and they saw no
ml not receive the
.li a]'priivcd of the
anco.- it seemed ti
nst that while tliii
,1 its -hare of the
was drawn by the
er districts, the sum
,r put in die treas-
die benefit of the
representatives had
-.itiiin ten minute
. and not then hav-
diat a single other
cl to decline his
n think, nor do I
n v w as stolen or
f a contract. i
h was a very ob-
me exercise of
Earth and Air.
How bountiful, how wonderful
Thou art, 6Weot air !
And yet, albeit thine odors ho
On every guBt that mocks the eye.
We pass thy gontlo blessings by
Without a care!
How bountiful, how wonderful
Thou art, sweet earth!
Thy seasons changing, with the sun,—
Thy beauty out of darkness won !
And yet, whose tongue (when all is done)
Will tell thy worth ?
The poet!—he alone doth still
Uphold all worth!
Then, love the poet—love his themes.
His thoughts, half hid in dreams,
Which make thrice fair the songB and Btreams
Ot,air and earth.
Harry Cornwall.
i:.al power.
•rui Butler to be in-
lii.-viiig or tinderstand-
in do anything in thi
In- thinks it is right
- Ili-h. personal end.
idi a desire to buy
til" oniin-v to “ dec-
■ to. llow I could
et I" gain glory or
over this sum to one
i-diier. or what elec-
lie attained by adding
e fluid of a school for
. comprehend.
1 grief arises from the
encountering in his
ion of die Govern-
-ct;-- bv a fraud on
e iioldei- of feeble virtue,
-Cii-ei edeil in persuading
in danger from his re
in r.ot k-ml themselves to
ii.vidi expenditure of the
•riv.it, fortune" — these
lneiitalitics by which he
tin- Ih jiuhliean voters of
out of the honest expres-
wiil. i think Governor
.ir. abler and fitter
i’.| i - r;...e at the press, the
os', of tin- prominent men
i- not strange. It is
ry "f great malefactors
1 i.i league against
,d k
lh-
i whose life is
vith his associ-
1 commend to
vhetlier the
an in them,
proposed to
ht in irredeem-
silenced him
c ni his mau-
.""i’i tliat no re-
: of our public
i public place,"
-■ was trying to
ipe from a hur-
• act.
ms done, unless he
P"scd upon us, two
•'■it blackguarded a
''' •" l' 1 ’!. and. with n
puny at his hack, he kept
! ty in Imjl 1 . Massachu-
i' -." '""U to stand in need
processions. But he
"’■upk'hrd anything else
iotaio.•• when his point
1 arrie-'l by sheer bluster-
'■'' r . v oi ail his other at-
"c coinj.ri.sfd in three
• ‘pianx-l, failure.
'c hard to find a leading
'■•■i nil Butler who will
:i ; s . u -‘ honest, truthful,
. ; >aapahte of using
'iiV. 1 ,i: ‘ 'hs amhition and
1 he in,-n wlium General
", 11 ' ’hen whom he
support litni.
V Cum n
•Mt’cIk
e-pondi-nt says: One
winch it is well to be
ucatli ,ii the German
[n . elisions uh ou t ],i s
,fhiuch lrotn specific
•' -i' irum various signs,
i'-4Vv c taken apart, but full
"fh grouped together,
"eg .n .''-"ipation of the St.
t .. 1 d •''hah arrived and
■•!,,, f V.iy-'ie of his host was
■ l j hg brought on by
!... y’ 'j; : that guest. It was
i r.h"!■ t" !lb * 3 illness was
! ..escape further inter-
c ( . ' c k 'ng of kings.”
' r. 11 tttre of the Shah the
ned to Potsdam, where
knvar t"" 10 fain ted, falling
'it,. ] < ' 11 . floor; an liour
in, ’ "Ught to consciousness,
i L, !’ ls l'hfulant and vacil-
iXi: V 10 ? drta <l of being
aliimt ,1 r Je< ?’ Ert >' 3 the corres-
Jt me extent to which Ids
^^mvolvcdinthe
•tthi''h,.!!V h ca storm
^ hr ak of day. Thestorm-
1s Pi. ; 1V-S : sometlmes feels
-tn,.•>'Vu 0n T dMk and
it all „ lm . bo of good cheer
■y^oyc7lX Up ** brighter
latinii w,: of l aul > and the aid
already see its
IDA DEL ZON S.
CngiriEr. VIII—G’oxtixukd.
Tlie abruptness of tire question and
the earnestness of the mahner surprised
and embarrassed Pat. He hesitated an
instant before he could answer.
I don’t know. Miss Ida,” lie said;
11 if we could always be children and
didn’t care how we went I would be
sorry. But as we can’t be that, and
you will be getting to be a grand young
lady, and will be ashamed of my shab
biness, I expect that it is best for you
to go.”
“ Pshaw, Pat! that is all fal-dal! Just
what mama has been preaching to me
and to papa. 1 wonder what's put it
into your heads that I am getting to be
a grand young lady'? I haven’t grown
so large as that, I know. 1 feel younger
to-day than ever. You don’t think me
so grand, do you, Kitty?”
*■ Oh yes, Miss Ida; I think that it is
you who should be the princess 1” an
swered Kitty.
■\Veli, well; suppose that I were:
isn't a princess to do as she pleases, eh?
and if i am to do as I please, whose
business is it if I don’t go away to
France to be hid away in that convent
and be fed on tittlebats? Pat, I am
mad at you for wanting me to go
Pat knew very well that the pout
upon the pretty lips did not mean
real anger; and ho answered,
"Yes, but a sure-enough princess has
something else to do than to spend her
time in running wild in these river
swamps, catching butterflies, hunting
bird’s nests and wasting her time fool
ing with such poor tackies as Kattic
and me. Princesses were made for
something better than this!”.
‘Were they, Pat? Then I am glad
that I am not a sure-enough princess,”
soberly answered Ida.
You are high above us, Miss Ida,
and it is best that vou should go,” said
Pat.
“And you are not sorry, then, that I
am going?”
Yes, I am sorry; for you have been
very good to me, and I was so glad
when I could he of use to you,” an
swered Pat. “ But it don't matter now;
you won't need my help any more.”
Pat, I don't love to hear you talk
I wonder where you got such ugly
notions. You know there was no one
else couid help me as you helped me.”
“I was only glad to Help you, Miss
Ida,” and the words were full of liquid
feeling.
-Vnd who will you get to scold you,
Pat, when I am gone?" asked the inaid-
'Oh, never mind that,” smilingly an
swered Pat. “1 can find plenty to do
that. But none so kindly as you,” he
added, witha slight husk in his voice.
I didn't mean it ill, Pat,” she re
plied.
Oh no, I know that you meant it for
my good. I was such an awkward boy
that you couldn’t help it. I only won
der how it was that you come to bother
with me at all.”
•' Oh, I have to have some one to scold,
you know. And you were sucli a good
natured fellow, Pat, that I wasn’t a bit
at raid to scold you. Ileigho! I wonder
ho 1 can have to scold away out yon
der! *
You can scold me, Miss Ida, ’ said
Kathleen.
No I won't, Kitty! I can't scold
you: you are too good for that. No, no!
I will take it out in scolding the sisters
to vou, you know, when we are shut up
to ourselves.”
And will you ever think of me?”
asked Tat, the question welling up un
awares.
Yes, I will think of you, Pat, and
will wonder if after all my scolding,
you haven’t gone back to your old way
of walking with your toes spraddled
out, and wearing your shirt collar
open!”
Pat grinned a rather sickly grin as
he answered,
And suppose I were to, woujd you
care?”
Of course I would care! I would be
mad enough to box your ears.”
Then I will be careful how I walk,
and be sure to button my collar.”
Would you'? That’s a good boy 1
But no—I forgot, Pat. Since you all
have made me out such a grand young
lady, I suppose that you will bo want
ing me to make you out a great young
man. Is that so, Pat ?”
“ Oh no, Miss Ida, I would want you
always to think of me as I am—a poor
hoy who as a kind hearted little girl
you were good enough to notice.”
Pat’s heart and his voice were full,
and the words were spoken as if they
were meant to put away forever a dis
embodied joy.
There was a something in them that
went to the heart of the giddy maiden,
and dwelt there for years after.
‘ But you will be a brave man too,
Pat, as you have been a brave boy?”
she said.
“ I don’t know. I suppose that I
might It seems that a man ought to
be braver than a bov,” lie answered.
, “Why?”
“ Because lie is samucli stronger, and
better able to do tilings. If I was a
great strong man I wouldn’t be afraid
of no dog—and wouldn’t mind how
many boats got swamped. I could
haul a half dozen out.”
“ Oh, Pat 1 do you remember the
time you hauled me out'?” asked Ida.
“Yes, I remember. You liked to
have been a gone sucker I”
“Yes, I was nearly gone, Pat, and
you saved me. That was so good in
you!”
“No, it was nothing but right. I
have seen a dog that would have done
as much,” answered Pat.
. “ I don’t love for you to talk so. It
is not polite. A dog will go in after a
stick as well as after me. Didn’t you
care no more for me than a dog cares
tor a stick ?” said Ida, with a little un
steadiness in her voice.
“Yes, I cared, Miss Ida; and when
I saw your hands held up for help I
would have been willing to drown my
self to save you!”
There was no ungallantry in this
speech, and Ida’s bright, eyes were
brimming with grateful feeling.
“ Then you must never say again
tliat it was nothing, and that I must
not thank you for it,” she said.
“ No, I will not”
“ And do you know, Pat, that some
how I don’t like Eugene for shoving
me away from the boat and leaving
me to drown like a kitten ?”
“ I reckon he was scared, Miss Ida,
and didn’t know what he was doing,”
said Pat.
“ Yes, and if you had been scared
too, Pat, what would have become of
me ?”
“ Oh, if I had been ducked like Eu
gene I would have been scared too,
maybe; but I wasn’t ducked, and I
had time to seo and to think. So don’t
blame Mr. Eugene too much.”
“ Pat, you are a first rate fellow, and
I am sorry that I have to give you up.
But never mind, I will come back by
and by, and then we can see fun to
gether again. Can’t we?”
“Oh no, Miss Ida; the difference
will be between us then,” said Pat, with
a dreary sinking in his voice.
Ida felt the desolate chill of Pat’s
meaning, and she could not answer.
“ There is your girl waiting for you.
Must I land the canoe?” asked Pat, a3
they neared the point whither Cosette
had preceded to meet her mistress.
“ Yes, land and let me off. I am
much obliged to you for the ride. Kitty,
you must come to see me.”
“ Would you mind coming to see me,
Miss Ida'?” timidly asked the little girl.
“ We have a nice little home now—so
much better than the old hut down the
river.”
Yes, yes, I will come. And wo
will have a long ride in the boat. Will
you paddle us, Pat?”
“ Oh yes,” replied Pat, who was ut
terly incapable of refusing the slightest
demand of the little lady.
“ Then look out for me to-morrow.
Goodbye 1” and the little lady tripped
lightly on tho bank.
' Pat turned his craft again in tho
stream, and continued his course, Kitty
chatting gaily all the way, and only-
wondering now and then at his sober
silence.
That night the good steamer Bienville
passed up. It touched at Bellemont to
land a couple of passengers. That
couple was Gabriel Delzons, Marquis
de Maisville, and Gilbert his son.
The arrival was a slight surprise to
the inmates of the chateau, but it was
cordially welcomed. The two brothers
held each other long in an affectionate
embrace. It had been their first meet
ing since long years ago, when Victor
Delzons left his native France, a politi
cal refugee, to find a home in the wil
derness of the New- World. That in
terval of long years had softened the
political asperities that had divided
them, and now there was nothing be
tween them but fraternal gladness.
The Marquis was a pleasant old gen
tleman. It was a heart of almost wo
manly kindness that beat in his breast,
and a soul of the gentlest meanings
that beamed in his eye. His broad
manly brow was fringed with locks of
snowy whiteness and silken softness.
Gilbert Delzons was a manly youth
of twenty summers—handsome, bright,
joyous. Life to him had been without
care, and the native gladness of his
nature had never been soiled by the
breath of evil passion. It was a pleas
ure to contemplate,that fine old gentle
man, whose every look was a look of
kindness; and that noble youth, whose
every look was a look of gladness.
“ Gabriel, you are blessed 1” cried
Victor, as he turned from the son to the
father.
“ In my son, yes — supremely bless
ed,” answered Gabriel. “ Gilbert is a
noble boy, the son of my heart 1”
“ And I, too, am blessed in my
father,” dutifully said Gilbert; “ the
father of my life—my loving father!”
It was ever thus. There was a con
stant harmony of affection attuned be
tween them.
“And your child, Victor; where is
she ?” asked Gabriel.
“ She is asleep. She is such a little
hoyden all the day that she sleeps like
a chick all night. We will not disturb
her to-night.”
“ No, no; let her sleep. But I am
anxious to see her. So is Gilbert.”
“ She is a precious child, my own
beautiful daughter,” said Madame Del
zons. with all a mother’s love filling
her voice.
“ I can readily imagine that, with
such a mother,” gallantly said the Mar
quis.
“ Yes, Ida sweetly resembles her
mother,” fondly added Major Delzons.
“ With the added graces of the Del
zons,” said his wife.
“And something of his impulsive
democratic spirit,! opine,” suggested
the Marquis.
“ Only enough to make her enjoy the
wild life tliat she has been inured to
here,” she replied.
“ The little puss! I fancy that she
is as shy as a gazelle,” said the Mar
quis.
“ Not more so than I would have
her,” answered Major Delzons; “ and
her shyness has the rare merit of being
unaffected. No court finesse about it”
“ Ah, still cynical, Victor! But come,
we must ignore all such subjects. Do
you know that I am half afraid for
Gilbert already? You must not be
making a democrat of him,” smilingly
answered the Marquis.
“ Oh no, I am apart from politics
now. I will leave Gilbert with Ida,”
replied the Major. .
<■ i have read M. DeTocqueville, his
admirable treatise upon your institu
tions,” said Gilbert: f ‘and I find much
in them to admire.”
« Yes, any subject which can claim
the thoughts of such a profound scholar
and philosopher as M. DeTocqueville
would be likely to be interesting,” an
swered Major Delzons.
“Ah! apropos of M. De Tocqueville.
I had the pleasure of meeting him,
and he spoke very pleasantly of his ac-
quaintance with you, Victor, said the
M ThTl feel honored by his kind
ness. During his stay in America Be,
with M. de Beaumont, honored my
house with a visit It was very pleas
ant to us, and I am glad to know that
he also remembers it pleasantly. You
remember them, Genevieve? -
- “Oh yes; we were charmed with
their society,” answered the lady.. .
« Gilbert is quite enthusiastic in his
admiration of the samn,” said the Mar
quis.
“Ah! then I must compliment Gil
bert upon his taste; for I fell quite in
love with him myself,” smilingly re
plied Madame Delzons.
“I was charmed no less with the
pleasantness of his manners than the
beauty and force of his writings,” said
Gilbert
“ Both are very fascinating. But the
night is far gone, you must be fatigued.
Pierre and Etienne will light you to
your rooms.”
“Yes, I can sleep. Bon soir, ma chere
scenrl” said the Marquis, kissing the
cheek of his sister.
“ Good night. Good night, Gilbert
“Good night, my dear aunt . Tell
ma petite cousin to warble a reveille in the
morning to waken my drowsy slum
bers.”
“ Eh, she is always up with the lark,
and just as merry !”.answered the lady,
as the gentlemen bowed themselves out
of the room.
It hardly required tbe flute-lika voice
of Ida next morning, as she came sing
ing on her way from the chapel, to
awaken the dreamy senses of her cous
in. His fancy was too full of fairy
pictures to be soundly dead to waking
objects, and the flood of golden sunrise
that streamed into his room through
the wide opened window had opened
the dreamy ear just as the bird-like
carol came rippling in.
Without waiting for a servant he
arose and hastily made his toilet, and
hurried down to meet her. He had ex
pected to see a very pretty little girl
something like a fawn, or a bright col
ored bird, or a wildwood flower. But
for such a radiant burst of glad young
beauty—ser much of maidenly grace,
and fresh roseate life that ran almost
plump in his arms before she noticed
his presence, was a surprise that thrilled
him with a strange joy. . j
“ And this is ma fictile cousin, is it?”
he said, smilingly offering his hand.
The roseate beauty flushed still more
radiantly as she timidly lifted her eyes
to his. ■ !,. ■
“ If you are ma grande cousin Gilbert,
it is,” she answered.
“ Your cousin Gilbert, certainly,” he
replied, catching her plump little hand
which, despite sundry red flecks of
briar pricks, was almost lily white and
lily soft. “I heard your merry song
and came out to find you. • You are an
early riser. ' . ••
“ Oh no. The mornings are so fresh
and glad that I cannot waste them in
bed. Everything is so fresh, so bright'
you know. But I am sorry I disturbed.
vou,” she answered, drawing back a
little shyly. -i ::
“ No, no; I am glad you awakened
me. For I, too, love the brightness of
a summer’s morning. And your morn
ings here are so bright, so beautiful.
And your grounds — the trees—-the
grass—the flowers—really it seems as
& I had been sleeping and awoke in;
fairyland! How splendidly beautiful
everything is!” And the refined senses
of the young man were all aglow with
the loveliness of the scenes. “I had
•not expected to find such a beautiful
world out here.”
“Yes, our land is beautiful,” an
swered the girl, with a flush of patriot
ism that well became the brightness of
her beauty; “ very beautiful, and I love
it But it is not near so beautiful as
France, is it?”
“ There is nothing in France to com
pare with the exquisite harmony and
beauty of this scene,” he replied. “ And
yet,” he added, after gazing around in
fascinated silence for a moment, “ and
yet this does not appear altogether
new to me. I have a dim remembrance
of seeing something like it before.”
“ Oh, I tell you how it is. Papa bad
the houses and the grounds fashioned
like the old home in France,” said Ida.
“Yes, yes that is it—Maisville—I see
it now; excellent, admirable, only it is
far more perfect—more lovely than the
original, just as its glad young mistress
is far more beautiful than any that ever
reigned at Maisville 1” he said, bending
his admiring eyes upon the blushing
girl.
“ I am glad that you like Bellemont,”
she answered. “But please, ma cousin,
put away your court politeness, and
don’t try to flatter me. I am unused to
it, you see.”
“And so peerless in real worth you
Ti
need it not!” he answered, pleased with
his cousin’s manner. “ I will try to re
strain the ardor of my admiration, and
be more discreet in future.”
“That will be well. I do despise a
spooney I”
The young gentleman opened his eyes
in astonishment. He had not the most
remote idea in the world what a spoon
ey was. Ida noticed his confusion,
and it tickled her.
“ I am afraid that you will find me a
very naughty-a very rude cousin,” she
said, after enjoying his confusion until
the heightened color began to suggest a
displeasure; “but you mustn’t mind
me. I have yet to learn your court
manners.”
“Oh, as for that,” he smilingly an
swered, “it don’t matter. You have
time enough yet; and as for me I am
by no means as polished as a diamond.
I suspect we are to have many a pretty
quarrel yet. Do you ever quarrel ?”
“Don’t I though! Ask Pat,” she
laughed.
“Pat! who is Pat?” asked the young
gentleman, with another little shock.
“ Pat! Why, he is a wild Irish boy,
that runs in the woods—walks sprad-
dle-toed, and goes with his shirt collar
wide open. He combs bis head with a
hand rake, and used to say ‘ fetch’ and
‘cotcli’ and ‘tote’, but I have broken
him from that now. He is a first rate
chap, though, and is tbe only one who
has sense enough not to mind my quar
relling at him 1”
“ An 1 you quite interest me. I must
try and make the acquaintance of this
accomplished young gentleman,” said
Gilbert.
“ You won’t find much polish about
him, but he is true grit, every inch of
him,” she replied, piqued just a little
at the uncertain tone of her cousin.
“ Yes, I will be glad to see all of
yoor associates. Tell me of the others,” |
he said.
“ Oh, I haven’t many. There is Tom
Fletcher and Eugene Noltrieb—pretty
good fellows, but rather spoony.”
“ Ah I And your lady mends—what
about them?”
“ Oh, I haven’t any. Miss Epone is
away at school, and there are no others
here except the young ladies, the
Misses Fletcher; and they are quite
grown up, and a little stuck up too.”
“ And are you left alone to run wild
in all this paradise of woods and grass
i- no one to associate
t except ibis; wild Irish hoy ?” ask
ed Gilbert.
“Oh, I had KfeJ to forgot! Kitty—
there is Kitty.”- •* *< ! ■
“ Who is Kitty ?’f
“Kitty is Pat’s sister—one of the
sweetest little girls y9U eyer saw.”
“'Ah! and does she walk spraddle-
toed too; and comb her head with a
rake like Pat?” asked' Gilbert with a
smile.
“ Qh no; she is as ladylike as a little
queen, and so gentle ana so sweet! Oh,
I know you will love her! And she is
going with ine too—to school, I mean.”
“feat will be-nico.”
* Don’t say nioe, cousin: it sounds so
titsty?’
Gilbert laughed. The arch frankness
of the giri pleased him.
“-Well, what should 1 say — how
would Pat express it?”
“Oh, Pat looked very 'solemn and
sad, when we talked about it, and said
it might be a fine, thing for Kitty, but
it would he a woful time for- him.”
* Pat is not without feeling, then ?”
“Oh, he is as sensitive as a marmosa.
Yon wouldn’t think it, though, to look
at Mm.”
“I must see Pat .1 dare say that I
will find him a character.”
“Very well, l am going up there to
day—that is, if I can steal away" from
mania, and I will fetch him home with
me” .. ~ *
“I had rather go with you.myself.
‘ And you wouldn’t mind the walk 7”
“Oh no; I am fond’of walking.”
“Then we will slip off after dinner
and go.: ,lVc are going to ride in the
came—dCitty'and Pat and I!' Do you
lovf to ride in a boat ? Can you pad-
dleBcande?’-’
“Oh, yesy I think: it fine sport row-
ingon the river.” , •
“.Well,.we will have it this evening,
arid Pat will paddle us hack home.
But Come, I have kept you standing
( on there all this- while. Let’s go in the
ihM&luw tadi ■■ r. 17 til bod-ic.:; j .
i, na;-1 would much prefer walk
ing- througli -the grounds.,,'Wilt you
shov them to ni'e ?” "
“ Oh, yes.” And jhe two—that young
man and the gladnfaiclen—went stroll
ing trough thb giqun'ds as joyous as
(he lirds that flitted out of their path.
j(h! my triftttrls !. yori have come
at lait,'” smilingly cried Madamie Del-
zons, as after, an hours’ walk they re
turned, to thehouse. “Gabriel, this is
my daughter. "KJsa'y"our uncle, Ida.”
IdSput her hands up to the oldgeri-
tldmil’s shoulder ana tiptoed up to
lass Km. He drew- her to his heart
dttft hfld her there for a moment; while
the- fullness of his -soul hashed his
word*
“T.iere, bless you, my child! God
lAess'lfon!” he murmured after awhile;
and lien, kissing her again, he released
her from his clasp.
“JTiere^the breakfast
You ia-o hot ready for’
berf? Etienne will attend yon; You
will find him a useful servant, some
what awkward, but good humored—
faithful and ever willing,” said Madame
Delzons, turning to her nephew.
“ Thank you, aunt; I do not deserve
this favor. I ought to be compelled to
serve myself for my obstinacy in in
sisting upon leaving my own void at
home. But the truth is, I fancied that
a little roughing it in the world would
be useful to me, and it was with some
thing like the self-denial of a pilgrim
that I undertook the voyage.”
“ Well, I hope that your self-denial
may be pleasantly rewarded,” said the
lady.
' “ Oh, yes; the paradise I have al
ready tasted more than repays me for
my ficticious self-denial,” he replied.
“Well, well; hurry off now, and get
ready for breakfast. Ida, run to your
room. Mama Azelrna wants yon,” said
the proud mother; and the party dis
persed for breakfast.
We yesterday saw at the commission
house of Mr! George A. Kinnear a quan
tity of books, pictures, etc., belonging to
Mrs. General K. E. Lee, which u^re in
badly damaged condition from having
been sunk in the canal.
They were aboard the freight boat
Cadet, Captain Hicks, belonging to Mr.
R. E. Staten, of this city, for transpor
tation to Lexington, when by encounter
ing a snag, the boat was sunk in
Judith’s pond on Wednesday night.
The cargo was recovered and brought
down to the city, much injured, how
ever, by its submersion.
The articles belonging to Mrs. Lee,
consisted of oil paintings, engravings,
books, etc., and are pretty thoroughly
soaked. We suppose they have reeent-
ly been recovered by her from Arling
ton.
In one of the books, a school geo-
! nraphy, we noticed the inscription: “ R.
E. Lee, Esq., 1818, Alexandria Acade
my,” Which was evidently the boyish
chirography of our late illustrious,
chief.
Mr. Kinnear, under direction of Mr.
Fisher, the artist, is doing all that he
can to restore and preserve the pictures
and books. One of the former is a
portrait of Colonel Daniel Parke, aid
to the Duke of Marlborough at fhebat-
tlc of Blenheim.—Lynchburg Republican.
How the British Government Fosters Its
literature.
The proud eminence attained in Eng
lish letters may be partly due to the
liberal manner in which the English
rovemment rewards the services of its
iteratewrs. At any rate, it is a pleasant
thing to see a great people so mindful
of the services of those who by their
silent efforts in the closet contribute so
much to the national greatness:
The following is the list of literary
pensions granted during the yearendea
the 20th of June, 1873, and charged
upon the British Civil last:
Miss Eliza Keightley, in considera
tion of the valuable assistance which
she rendered'to her brother, Thomas
Keightley, in the course of his histor
ical studies, £50; -Miss Martha Charters
Somerville, in consideration of the em
inent services rendered to the natural
sciences by her late mother, Mrs. Som
erville, £50; Mr. Edward Masson, in
consideration of his services to classical
literature, £100; Mrs. Elizabeth’ Wil
liams!, widow of the Rev. J: Williams,
formerly rector of Uanyiuowddevy,- in
consideration of the value of her hus
band's'Cdtic and. archroological re-,
searches, £50; Dr! David Livingstone,
Consul in the intetiinrpf AJnca,' etc.',
in cdriffldfenition a of tiro'^ue of his
discover^Tn Central Africn/£300.'
Bearing legitimate Fruit.
“ The number of little boys, between
the ages of ten and sixteen years, who
daily frequent the recorder’s' court has
grown to be a subject of remark. They
go early, and occupy the most promi
nent seats, and eagerly gather in all the
rascality and obscenity which is daily
exposed there. Parents would do. well
to enquire into this matter, as the police
have under consideration the propriety
of excluding this class of visitors from
this court”
The above paragraph we copy from
the local department of the Atlanta
Herald. Perhaps it has never occurred
to the local editor of the Herald that
the attendance of those boys on the
police court has been mainly (and per
haps entirely) caused by himself.
Every day he attends this court, and
in his paper next morning appears a
full and minute description of “ all the
rascality and obscenity which is doily
exposed there.” Not only so, but it is
evident to all readers of his paper that
he labors hard to moke attractive “ the
rascality and obscenity” with which
the recorder has to deal. He lugs in
all the doggerel he can command, and
does all in his power to convert the
E roceedings of a court of justice into
uffoonery.
He wants to make it funny, and
doubtless it is funny and attractive to
the boys. He has familiarized the boys
with vices and crimes of which they
most probably knew nothing, and now
he complains that they should be at
tracted by that which he daily labors to
make attractive.
“ Parents would do well to enquire
into this matter,” says the editor. So
they would, we think; and if they en
quire closely, we venture the assertion
that their boys will say they were first
attracted to the police court by the
abortive attempts at humor which they
saw in the daily papers regarding that
court.
Here we might stop; But we. feel-
inclined to go further and enter a gen
eral protest, for the Atlanta Herahl is
not alone in this matter. It is a com
mon practice of the dailies, at least in
this section, to moke police court reports
q staple article in .their local catanmejo
gather at those places, and present it to
their readers as something worthy of
their consumption.
What Interest, we would ask, -have
the decent people of a community in
the- vagabonds and criminals that
figure before the police courts? What
do tlife respectable readers of a paper
care about the drunken brawls that are
ienacted in the shims and by-ways of
their city?
Does some abandoned wretch get in
toxicated and disturb a whole neigh
borhood by his drunken orgies ? The
next’day all the boys in the city have
an account of the affair, with all its
disgusting details burlesqued in such a
style as to deprive it of its heinousness,
Land cause it to excite laughter instead
of abhorrence.
Is some rile street walker caught
while plying her infamous avocation ?
Next morning, at the breakfiist table, a
minute account of it is laid before the
pure wives, mothers and daughters of
the city, and thus they are brought face
to face, as it were, with crimes the very
thought of which should cause tlie
crimson blush to mantle their cheeks.
It is time that the young and pure of
our people should have removed from
them the corrupting influences which
the daily press is constantly sending
forth.
A fother cannot be too careful in
keeping from his children those papers
which make crime a staple article of
news; and, we regret very much to say
it, those which do not are the exception
and not the rule.—LaGrange Reporter.
France—Henri V.
The wisest and best men in France
are looking for speedy return to the
throne of his fathers, of Henry, Duke
de Cambord, grand nephew of Louis
XVI, and head of the House of Bour
bon.
Some are so foolish as to think that
the powerful body of the best educated
men in France who look for his return
as the harbinger of new glories for
France, consider that he has a “di
vine right” to the throne, irrespective of
the wifi of the French people.
Nothing in the world is more ab
surd. The Legitimists support Henri
V on altogether other reasons, based on
principles of human law. It is that,
centuries ago, monarchy being the
natural form of tlie French nation, and
that nation not wanting to be torment
ed by wars of succession, laid it down
in their constitution, that the succession
to their throne should be by heirs male,
and next in the oldest branch of the
royal family.
This was agreed to by France, when
she was a self-governing nation—a na
tion sui juris. Legitimists hold, and in
perfect accordance with facts, that
France has not been a self-governing
nation, since the execrable murder of
Louis XVI. They hold that, since then,
France has been governed by jadions
and ixniies, never by her own quiet and
strong autonomy.
The brief reigns of Louis XVIII and
Charles X offer no exceptions to this,
because each of those monarchs had
the weakness to accept the Revolution,
that had dislocated France, as the source
of their authority. Louis XVIII had
the weakness to accept the throne, not
by right of the ancient and unabrogated
contract and agreement with the fami
ly of which he was the head, but as the
choice of a committee of an unorganized
rabble. So he only represented France
upside-down. And his brother, Charles
X, following in his steps, and trying
to sit on the breakers was, very legiti
mately, pitched into the sand!
Henri V, the grandson of Charles X,
has been reared in exile, and in adversi
ty. He is believed to represent a prin
ciple. That principle is the ancient
constitution of France.
An unwritten constitution, as all real
constitutions are.
He is understood to have learned how
badly sundry of his ancestors abused
their power, and that the death of his
grand uncle, and the humiliation of his
house for nearly a hundred years, have
been the result of the forfeits of Louis
XIY and Louis XV—to say nothing
of earlier wrongs committed by the
Bourbon princes jon the French people.
These have been bitterly revenged,
and-Henri V stands the heir ofoun^
preparation of his mind to atbne fo the
generous French people for the wrongs
of his too proud ancestors.
The following beautiful verses are
well known as the product of Judge A.
B. Meek, of Alabama, published some
years ago. The rhythm and sweetly
flowing smoothness cannot be surpass
ed in our language.
Come to tlie South.
Oh, coma to the South, sweet, beautiful one.
*Tis the clime of the h art, His the shrine of the
sue;
Where the skj ever shines with a passionate
glow.
And flowers spread their treasures of crimson and
snow;
Where the brazo, o'er bright waters, waft incense
along.
And gay birds are glancing in be&nty and song,
Where the summer smiles ever o'er mountain
and plain,
And the best gifts of £den, unshadowod,remain.
Oh, come to the South,
The shrine of the sun;
And dwell in its bowers,
Sweet, beautiful one.
Oh, come to the South, and I’ll build thee a home,
Where winter shall never intrusively come.
The queen-like catalpa, the myrtle and pine,
The gold-fruited orange, the ruby-gemmed vine,
Shall bloom 'round thy dwelling, and shade the*
at noon,
While birds of all music keep amorous tune;
By the gush of glad fountains we'll rest us at eve,
No trouulo to vex us, no sorrow to grieve.
Oh come to the South,
The shrine of the sun;
And dwell in its bowers,
Sweet, beautiful one.
Oh, come to the Sojlh, 'tie the home of tho heart:
No sky like its own can deeppassionj impart;
The glow of its summer Is left in the soul.
And love keepeth ever his fervent control.
Oh, here w'<uld thy beauty most brilliantly beam,
And life pass away like some delicate dream
Each wish of thy heart should realized be,
And this beautiful land an Eden to thee.
Then, come to the South,
The shrine of the sun;
And dwell in its bowers,
Sweet, beautiful one.
Professor Wise’s Air Voyage,
The preparations for the ierial trip to
Europe (says the Springfield Republi
can) are able to see the beginning of
the end. These preparationshave been
conducted with the minutest attention
to details, so that when everything is in
readiness the hour of departure 1 cart be! hear.
KnU9J)Allflar c ~-
lir.7
Mtt i
ItTiHesilf as would ba after sindine
W&£Xi$S£S£S2tz
rying on ogricuUnsiLpeHwts and its
various branches, togatner wid tin ives
lift*—is-gifleriy bizy
wiil-tha cattle; pooltr; and. odder stock,
Jiddy, me dariint, ginerly tinds to the
baeB, nate and.docent qs iver a ladys
own band in a jiffy.
had^m?Me^!fitBlck^iv^andfoff
in the : donger pf loosing the swarms,
after consultin wid ache odder, pitched
iritdthinrto swarm the last'one of thim
oursilves, and save the trouble of run
ning away and living in a hollow log,
or some sich places.
So haring arranged ould things and
matters, ba making mesilf an illegant
bae hat, ba sowing the lower ind of
Jiddy’s undercot to the tprp of tlie
ould sive and taking Jiddy’s ould stock
ings for me gloves, wae completed me
toilet Thin by the hilp of Jiddy’s
own hands, wae pnt on tbe ould gar
ment, wid the sifter before me eyes, and
the balance hanging down, like Jiddy’s
own nose.
And what would yer ba after think
ing, Mr. Editor? Jiddy was saying a
fine jintleman that I was, I looked swate
indade, in bur ould coat. Thin wae
went into the ives.
And what do yer think would ba the
grating of the illegant jintleman wid
the swate little creatures ? Jiddy was
houiding the ould basket, to recave the
honey. As I opened the door evry. has
in the ould ive sit up r the gratest whaz-
zin" tliat was iver heard of, and kiv-
ered Jiddy and mesilf entirely, and
stingin us evry where ould over, from mo
fate to me hid. Jiddy commenced
scraming and rowlinground and round
on the ground, and rowled hur head up
in the coat tail, exposing a portion of
hur fate and ankles to the mercy of the
little creatures.
And, Mr. Editor, would.' yer ba after
balarin me? We both got stung jist
ould over, Jiddy, poor crature, could
do nuthing but' lay on the broad of hur
hack: ana mysilf nuthing but lane
over nur, for two long weeks.
Yer see, Mr. Editor, the baes got un
der me shirt and under me hat and in
me hare, and Jiddy’s likewise the
same; and me shirt had to be pulled
off to git rid; of the critters; and yer
may depend upon it, evry- bae was
stinging me twice ini the saine place.
As I was howlin away at me ould shirt,
Jiddy was screamin, and mesilf was
fifing with awl me mite till some of
me naybors came np, but niver came
fixed beyond fear of postponement A'
false start wonld be an evil omen in
such an enterprise.
The Graphic announces that the word
signal Service at: Washington will be
called upon to promise favorable mete
orological conditions, and when it can
assure a probability of good weather
for twenty-four hours, everything else
being in readiness, the air ship will be
inflated.
■Prof. Wise and his friends will quiet
ly embark, waring their hats to the
crowd, and be off. Sunset will be the
E robable hour, but no attempt to pubf
c display will be made; it is a rather
Will, after a few dayes illiness, me-
rilf and Jiddy feeoygjelj pur hoes
rommencedpwpimingonthe ould phm
by thimsiratorTnie .firet_ swarm (hat
jamc wAs^arriHigant Vue, I till yer.
But having '&> recently bad such a
scrape with thim, yer see, I hired a
colored jintleman to hive thim by giv
ing him a- pair of ould stockings and
tilling him that young baes niver had
iny stingers until they was two wakes
ould. And shore enough, Mr. Editor,
ting thim in the hive, whin I expected
to see him kivered with the whole
swarm. But what do you think? not
bae sting did "he ever get
Will, after having me own correct
unlay. It is 14 feet long, has 28 inches
breadth of beam, and though the “skin”
is less than three-eighths of an inch thick,
the boat is almost indestructible, and so
constructed that it cannot be swamped.
In case the balloon should lose its sus
taining power through the inevitable
leakage, the party will take to the large
boat except Mr. Donaldson, who will at
tempt a landing with her, for they consider
it a sin and a shame to abandon the bal
loon, except under the direst necessity.
Failing in this, he will crawl into his
little boat, and, with the ropes of its three
sails in his hand and the paddle under
his arm, will play the bold mariner.
In such a contingency, he will have
the success of “Rob Roy” in crossing the
Atlantic as an encouraging precedent,
and hti boat is superior to the “Rob
Rov,” too.
The carrier pigeons which have been
detailed to accompany the expedition,
and bring back occasional tidings, have
been in active training for weeks, and
have become pretty familiar with the
geography of the Atlantic coast; they
will be instructed to make for the Graph
ic building, with all haste, the instant
they are dropped from the car.
There have been divers rumors as to
the persons who would accompany the
two professional aeronauts, but their
names have not, as yet, officially been
announced; application are understood to
be in excess of accommodations, however.
The Washington Gazdte, of Friday,
says:
We learn that a very serions diffi
culty occurred on last Saturday at Eber-
hard’s store, in the Goosepond'districtof
Oglethorpe county.
The facts, as we learn are about as
follows: A large body of negroes were
collected at a celebration or examina
tion. On breaking up in the afternoon,
a negro leaving drove over a young man
named Stribling, who was nding along
the road.
Stribling, very much enraged, drew a
pistol and shot the negro through- the
arm. The rest of the negroes immediate
ly rushed upon Stribling, knocked him
from his horse, and cut and beat him
very seriously.
Two negroes who lived near him res
cued him, or he wonld have been mur
dered on the spot His skull is frac
tured and on Sunday, his recovery was
considered doubtful.
solemn venture, in fact, and the huzzas idayes, I thought abonght the baes not
of a crowd, guns and mnsic would be stinging the negro. I concluded to con-
less appropriate than the uncovered jnlt me dadin Jiddy that I had prob-
head and bated breath and a fervent bally discivered an item, as mesilf was
prayer for- the -safety of the men wlur ibout to tell a small chinek of a'stary
are tbcstb tnriTtliemstdves tbTlfe gdtkF —telling the colored jintleman that I
nature of the elements. relieved there was no stings in young
In addition to the large boat which baes—-Jiddy said, I was mistaken, and
will be suspended beneath the car, a paid she further, .
Waters paper life boat will be taken, j “ My dear Mister OTonls, yer must
This craft has just been completed,'and hiver go near thim again.”
Prof. Donaldson made a trial trip : Me mind was not satisfied. The
from New York to Long Branch on Sat- nixt day, whin Jiddy blowed the ould
The Utica Herald, Conkling’s home
organ, says that “ civil service reform,
like every other reform, must work its
way slowly. It is a plant of slow growth,
and is secretly hated by all the powers
of hell.”
We were well aware that it is secret
ly hated and opposed by the leaders
and managers of the Republican party
as well os thd national administration. , , . , ,, ,
This may be the reason why the late was lately sold at Selma in one day for
horn for dinner (Hiven bliss her swate
soul!) for mesilf and the colored jin
tleman, our baes was swarming again.
So sez I to the nager,
“ Yer woolly headed jintleman, yer
hive the baes while I go for something
to put on.”
Jiddy and mesilf gracefully wint up
6tairs, to watch through the window to
see him, and sich luck as attinded him
again was niver heard of. Niver a sting
did he racave.
So bearing this in mind, I was shure
Jiddy was mistaken about young baes
having stings like ould ones. So upon
the above reason I determined to tist
the matter, and immortalize mesilf
mearley as a bae keeper. So the Sun
day morning following, in the presence
of me most highly esteemed friends,
Mr. George Seward, Brad Howell, and
G. Lannel, who owl told me niver give
tlie dirils up, and warenteed me succss
the advintnre.
And Mr. Editor, what do yer think?
I made me intrance intq the midst of
the hives, when oh! the infernal and
Mike OToule! every one of them lay
ered me owl over, and stinring me like
tlie very divil. Jle friends kipt clear
away, tilling me to hould on, honld on
to tlie infernal rascals. Well, Mr; Edi
tor, the way I run was the most illi-
gant a race of all me life. But Jiddy,
poor crature, and me friends rubbing
mesilf wid medicines, I was soon able
to attind to business again. Me friends
congratulated me, and assured me that
owl new business was gincrally attind
ed with more or less misfortunes. But
it’s mesilf that’s done wid bae keeping
for the present.
Nowj Mr. Editor and jintlemin, you
may owl float in honey and whiz ar-.
round, hut for mesilf I have got enough
of them, and so has me darnn Jiddy;
and if yer please you may give mesilf
and Jiddy’s experience in toe keeping
to the public.
Yours truly,
Indiana M. OToui.f..
The New York World, alluding to the
fact that of the one hundred and sixty
vessels which arrived at New York
from foreign-ports.during three days of
last week, thirty-six'’ came, in ballast,
while outward hound vessels are loaded
to their utmost capacity, remarks upon
the falling off of imports, and sityB:
“ If we should- be so fortunate as to
have a crop of four and a half million
hales of cotton, the importation of gold
ih the coming crop’ year codld hardly
be avoided.”
ijh ,.B_
The vogue into which Paris grten
and flour has lately come as a- cotton
caterpillar destroyer.'ha3 developed a
suit in the United States District Court
of Alabama for infringement of a pat
ent More than a ton of Paris green
— mtaaahjm ;—
Senator "Lane, in a purported spirit ^is usc^
communication, stated that Satan nad ,,
miriehis headquarters at Washington. XdLs not
to all ot£er acquisitions that refine the
riBnabifitiea4mfflpqMgefffroatae«atig
flat the is
[Uth;'and whoever does less; stops
being a sphere of liquid fire, ihr
ly solid. This is the view.ffiflb uu; l - • ,..
Professor Dana; irffhe AmeiMri ‘Journal- 4®* dt its diyme source.
of Philosophy, mfd.the-tlifedrylias fouBd: i
many endorsers- smea-it^was first ad- : “If George had not blowed into the
' '
a sofid, underdnyAcceptelcHi^dtii-j squirrel^ if wnssuch a good day for
esis of the methoft of creatibn. '' I tjiem.”