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"TT77lV COCRIEB is issued
SxESDAY MORNING
23 Bri ' ad StrCet '
TmHit and Proprietor
Associate Editor.
. si»w
CT7 SCB3CBITIIONS.
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bly iu advance.
r more, one copy will be
SOUTH KAILROAD.
„<ttttcrfrotii Superintendent
' " ( liiplej*
y, lU K. August is, IS'
i. j,.-„ Latitinge:
ml .,rfuvor of'the 14th in-
i , m [ for its contents I
"n;,i; Such kind expres-
" v TurVflf and oilier friends
' 7,«dinelv. 'J'lie feeling
; .-Yol. McDougald to you,
to the presidency,
| ^.,;ure ton, hv Cap't.
11,• never thought of be-
riadidate for the position
7. u .,l it. and allowed the
/‘une at last at my request.
. 1.7. been selfish in desiring
!,.7ith another labors which
, became onerous
J Shoe,!
•O]
2N!
iNEIil
Mod
but I he-
ausc was not this,
[deemed*to be the interest of
\\'e acted under a perfect
dina. and I would he glad to
r friends understand it.
’ 1,1 bnvccause for discourage-
i wi re correct in your im-
. | bavu been hero so long
, .-.iations commenced by
: -..'hi in March last. When
j7 I had the negotiation
m.v list. It was a written
7:ale from Columbus by
,•, ,f tlio road. Vet it took
b- of my time to obtain the
,n of this oiler,
afar losing so much time,
1,/, These iron men do
,, r , tium one question a day,
uin.s time to meet all their
,,!,iid to this. 1 am forced to
:;i. tl." absence at the water-
. „f many persons whom I
..s', adv shipped an engine
: .: due sense of our obliga-
.. named ‘-John King.” I
j.uniiased fish plates, bolts
't and some iron. I have
arances of the rest of the
c, a, certain parties can be
i ven without these I would
discouraged. Before twenty
■ miles were graded I, as the
- acT.t. without even a refer-
u],on the company’s cred-
.- mile? of iron, and the same
iequipped upon the same
,-pt two persomd endorse-
-e endor-ed by the presi-
a note for SdoOd, intended for
John King hut it was not dis-
The other was a note for
i o- d jointly by the presi-
tny-elf. -1 made tlie trade in
p:k jeqt’.iring the endorsement,
I pr, -id,-lit generously sustained
K-,;.al endorsement was only re-
•ompany's bonds
H'ked up by the
'WISDOM. '.TtfSTIOiE^ AND MODERATIO N.’
tv v. t.-• • :: •. •
VOLUME XXVIII.
Love and Melanclioly.
When Nature, to her comely plan,
Had first begun to fashion,
The elves and sprites to govern man,
And hold the reins of passion,
Mischief, who was her 'prentice work,
A poor misshappen creature,
Stood by, with many a wicked smirk,
To lend a hand to Nature.
And when, in the old mother's hand
Love’s perfect, true ideal
Began, obedient to her wand,
T* assume a shapely roal,
Pert Mischief, the designing maid,
In frolic or in folly,
Into Love's sunEhine threw a shade
Reserved for Melancholy.
And so it is the trick was done:
Nature could not undo it.
And, since, the light of Love’s pure sun
Has h*d a shadow through it.
And so it is, the muses tell,
Through wicked Mischief’s folly,
The twain arc now inseparable—
Love walks with Molancho’y.
—A. Ii. ira/.sou.
ROME. GA., WEDNESDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 10, 1873.
wiltf
NEW SERIES—iNO. 2
::n! tune
i:imn
A,lv
■c? in money to
my Were entirely from its
;::,iii' (Irilfeth. Blanchard
!:. and would not aggregate
i'l 4>,liar?. These embrace
actio:, lor material, cquip-
operatien of the road, not
, upon the credit of the com-
v it \va- a railroad or had a
ii'in these facts to show you
■ acadcr it will be to repeat
■ mml sec tion what was done
irit. nnw that the company re-
: - jt ,liii- a l.-,nn fide invest-
S 1 ,.'ohio wit], twenty miles in
i to this real basis of credit we
unqualified endorsement of
T Innn whom 1 bought our
N; ■ releror.ee could he high-
lire section: are no longer
t'n . .. rails, hut have sold me
: and twenty tons—all they
.. liiey would have shipped
: ; • our ability to pay for
- :•■! on the completion of
■t’d, twenty miles, I have de-
-aqunent until my arrange-
1 :,•■!, wed. thereby avoidingany
"volvine them in any delay.
- -uch triends through all our
j a matter of congratulation, and
1 ' 1 purchase, especially pleas-
; tlii-r subject of encourage-
-• i- the very small lloating
■ wipr cviiled for by the bonds on
;I1 7 ll: a fourth of this is due
' t til,- ecjinpany, for none of
• er enforced the payment of
•• taking what the company
tie'iigli several had no other
t u livelihood, their entire
■urn' employed by their duties.
show
i disposition to
O'tiipanv, though some of them
’“-" in its service.
| 'ahmee of this debt must he
‘' :lI) d when this is done I can
hlny immediate coinpletiou
• Once there, the company
it-ii.-taiiiing, and can build the
" , i 1 ' 1 the valuable con-
j lt ll >nt point the “push
mud hoover, and the company
realized
f ’nvaril t,, hi
"ait until the
people on
,• will
letr true iuterest aud
1]' an enterprise whose
enjoy.
1 scrape you have got-
•"ii.U a . JOU Ii;l
“■’king for a full and frank
"e situation. I hope you
: ... " r, ’ u 4h it, as you say the
l,.." 11 ** :uv calculated to con-
. ■‘^nurage our friendi
,' gj 1 n ’ u?t excuse my dwell-
Present status ut such
ul : ' iu ?h rather long, it is
oi a,-q . 1 '' ."hat I feel. I hope
:„ r Jg ' " ,l " me that it presents no
■' uurag cment _
' ours truly,
W. D. Ciupuey.
’ i : I,1 dh, wife of Frofessor
i. 7V" ^“e University of Vir-
•■vVr Warded the prize of
gbah'ern Methodist Pub-
kiiipi,
•'C, lor writing the best book
schools, entitled “ Heirs of
attorney of the Chicago & Alton
ml- paid to the heirs of four
kill *, s .P ri ngfield, Illinois, who
’“Utof s-,'(7r ‘ C ^T° nt
to „ r , 0 ?' 1 ', boln S th c max-
L',; r .pJl xedby tlie laws ° f this
•images in such cases.
I jiW? 1 tbat Speaker Blaine
Ration, lim" t ; am - nd?lent l ° the
- t r, riu of a’.
"x years.
the Presidency to
IDA DELZONS.
Chapter IX—Tiie Last Visit.
The taste of Mama Azelma, if not as
extravagant was yet as refined as that of
the most exquisite modiste, and this
taste was never so happy as when em
ployed in the loving task of dressing her
fair young mistress. On this particular
morning her deftest skill was brought
in play, and the brightest colors of her
wardrobe were brought out to set off the
peerless beauty of the girl.
If the simple beauty of Ida had sur
prised Gilbert Delzons, as she appeared
in her somewhat najVujc costume on the
lawn, that surprise was heightened into
a wonder of delight as she entered the
breakfast room in an airy flutter of
tarleton, ribbons, and roses. An invol
untary expression of gladness fell from
his lips, and the Marquis’ critical eye
grew bright in its admiration of the ex
quisite loveliness of his neice.
“Genevieve,” he cried, turning to
Madame Delzons, “I must congratulate
you! I see in your daughter the revi-
viscencc of the glorious beauty of your
own golden girlhood.”
The mother’s eyes sparkled. Her
heart was full, not with the vision of
beauty that was once her own. but the
rich legacy of beauty' that had been
transmitteel to her daughter.
“Such beauty, Victor, must not be
wasted here. It is fitted to adorn a
court. A princess might envy her!”
continued the Marquis, turning to his
brother.
“ Ah! but far better to gladden a home
our home! Think what it will be
without her,” answered the father, step
ping to meet Iris daughter and leading
her to a seat.
“Ah, Gabriel, you need not argue
with Victor; home is all the world to
him,” smilingly said Madame Delzons.
“ Yes, home is my kingdom; for at
home I am a king,” answered Major
Delzons.
“ And no court can boast a prouder
array of beauty,” pleasantly added Gil
bert.
“ None, at least, can be sure of such a
loving fealty—such a gentle, glad, and
sweet allegiance,” replied tlie father.
“ And what think you of it, mn pe
tite asked the Marquis; “ wouldn’t
you like to be a princess ?"
“ With papa for a king and mama
for a queen, I wouldn't mind being a
princess,” replied Ida. “ Indeed,” she
added, “I often play at princess with
my pets; and only yesterday' evening
had a little princess—a real little
princess, and I crowned her with water
lilies, and her cheeks were as red as
roses, and made an oriflmne, and we
laughed and said it was all in honor of
France.”
“ And that was very pleasant, I am
sure,” smilingly answered the Marquis.
“ And I,” said Gilbert, “ am not at
all surprised at your finding a princess.
The grounds here are lovely enough to
shelter any number of princesses—beau
tiful fairy princesses. Do you know
that this morning I expected at every
turn in the path to surprise one of the
little ladies in their morning dance
with the butterflies ?”
• Olt, I have no doubt but what there
arc fairy princesses hero as thick as
hops, only I have never seen one yet.
There are any number of rings, though,
on tlio lawn. But Pat says it’s all a
humbug about their rings; and he says
the fairies, too, are all in my eye, and
he wouldn’t give a good nimble grass
hopper for all the fairy princesses that
ever danced upon the green."’
“The profane fellow! And pray,
what would he do with the grasshop
per?” asked Gilbert, with a laugh.
“Oh, bait his hook with it, to he
sure,” answered the girl.
“Ah! that would perhaps bo well;
for catching trout a grasshopper would
be better than a fairy, even though that
fairy were a princess,” laughed Gilbert.
“And who is this phdospher Pat,
who would play' such rude havoc with
your little fairy folk?” asked the Mar
quis.
“ Oh, Pat is—”
“ Ida, Ida!” reprovingly interrupted
her mother.
Ida blushed and hung her head, while
Gilbert laughingly came to her relief,
“ Oh, Pat is a character; I must cul
tivate him. Ma clicrc cousin has al
ready told me about him, and I am
quite interested in him.” .
“ The intolerable yarcon! Ida, how
could you?” and the mother’s voice
was almost bitter in its reproach.
Poor Ida hung her head still lower
in her shame.
“ Victor, that boy must not he allowed
to put his feet upon the premises again.
I am mortified beyond all endurance
at this exhibition of Ida’s low taste,”
continued the lady.
“ Oh, never mind, Genevieve. It is
nothing. Gilbert will readily' excuse
her when he considers the circum
stances, and understands that we are
under deep obligations to the boy' for
timely help in more than one great
peril,” softly answered her husband.
And then turning to his brother he con
tinued,
“ This boy is a rude uncultured fel
low, but with a brave manly' heart, and
I do not think him really bad. He
has twice, at the peril of his own life,
rescued my child from a gaping death;
and naturally Ida, in her gratitude, ad
mits him to her friendship.”
“And Kitty, papa; please speak a
good word for Kitty' I” cried Ida, start
ing up from her confusion and forget
ting lier reproach in a gentle thought
for her little friend.
This self forgetful appeal to the gen
erosity of her father in behalf of the
poor and despised, touched a tender
cord in the heart of the young gentle
man, that set his soul all atremble with
Fweet emotions. The aristocratic ideas
of his father were not so tenderly at
tuned—they coincided more readily
with those of his sister-in-law; and
with a gravity which quite awed Ida
into another great shame, he said,
“ Ah, well! gratitude is a lovely trait
in the disposition of the young. It is
pleasant to see. But still it cannot
completely overstep the barriers of pro
priety.” I-'--' t .
“Yes, that is what I tell Victor,
would not have my daughter without
gratitude, nor am I unmindful of the
services of this boy. I would pay him
—pay him liberally—pay him in the
gold his squalid poverty so greatly
needs,” said Madame Delzons, aroused
to earnestness by the words of the
Marquis.
“Pay him? I offered’to pay hint
hut he repelled the offer with such a
manly dignity that I absolutely felt
myself humbled by the presence of the
boy’s nobility. I could not so debase
myself as to repeat the offer,” replied
Major Delzons.
“ I have even offered to take his sister
as a companion for Ida,” said Madame
Delzons, rallying to an effort of self
justification. For she felt in the depths
of her better heart that the case was
strongly against her.
Yes, that was generous in you, Gen
evieve,” said her husband, as if he too
would vindicate the better nature of
his wife. “The companionship will
be a world of benefit to the girl, and to
Ha.”
Tlie entrance of Father Chalon ar
rested the subject, and in the mutual
greetings of the two old gentlemen,
who had been friends in the years gone
by, it was forgotten.
Breakfast was now broughtin, and a
delightful party they made—Ida. so far
recovering her lost prestige as to ven
ture a jcu d’esprit with her uncle.
After breakfast, Ida' was remanded
to the music room for her morning les
sons ; Major Delzons’ overseers claimed
his attention for an hour; and the Mar-
uis and Gilbert had leisure for a stroll
own to the grassy banks of the river.
“ Well, Gilbert, tell me now what do
you think of the maiden?”
“ Oh, she is' charming—charming
beyond my most ardent fancy!” he an
swered, with enthusiasm.
“ And will make a glorious woman,”
added the Marquis.
“ Worthy the honor of any home,”
replied the son.
“ And you are quite willing for the
fi'mccr to proceed ?” asked his father.
“Yes—yes!” he eagerly answered;
“ I would want no greater fortune on
earth than the hand of such a bride as
Ida Delzons will make. Her beauty is
perfect!” '.
“ And yet it is but tlie promise of a
glorious perfection — the forecasting
flush of a golden sunrise.”
“ Yes, I speak of her budding prom
ise. And her mind is rich—simple
and artless now, but full of splendid .
capabilities.”
“Ah! I am glad to see you so en
thused,” replied the father. • “ But sh£
requires culture. Some of her expres
sions were shockingly vulgar.”
“ That is because of her vulgar asso
ciations. She will soon forget all of
those.”
“ Oh, yes; in the refining influence of
Maisville, and under the excellent cub
ture of Madame Serrac, she will soon
develop her true womanly' grace. We
have come none too soon, though, she
is wonderfully grown."’
“ Yes, almost a lady in stature, but a
simple child yet in heart.”
“ Your aunt Genevieve is particular-
anxious for the alliance,” said the
Marquis, after a moment’s silence.
“ And uncle Victor—does he seem re
luctant ?” asked the young man, with
a shade of anxiety' in his tone.
“ Not reluctant, but indifferent. You
know that lie is a great democrat, and
even in Ills matters of household econ
omy lie insists upon the utmost liberty
of thought and of action. He adores
his daughter, and in the matter her
wish will be his law.”
And I myself would have it so.
When matlamoiselle Ida is ready to
wed, I could wish to claim her only as
my willing bride.”
“Yes, I understand those-matters,
and with Victor and Genevieve I will
arrange it all,” answered the Marquis.
That evening, after dinner, Ida stoic
up to Gilbert and whispered,
“ Are you still of a mind to go with
me ?”
“ Oh yes, cheerfully. Go where?” he
answered.
“ Don’t you know that I told you
this morning that I was going to see
Pat and Kitty this evening?”
“AH. yes, I remember,” he replied.
“ But, cousin, do you think it quite
right to go when you know your good
mama disapproves of your intercourse
with these people ?”
“ Yes, and that is just why I am
going—not to displease mama, but to
tell Pat good bye; and to tell him that
he mustn’t never again speak to me.”
The voice of Ida was almost touching
in its plaintive earnestness. Gilbert
hardly suspected that she was mistress
of so much feeling and so much deci
sion.
“ That is well—that is spoken, my
cousin, as it becomes one of your, sta
tion to speak. Your position in life is
high above his, so high that it would
be a debasement in y T ou to stoop to
notice him. You must renounce such
low associates, and look to higher and
better circles for your companions.”
“ I don’t care how high I look, I can
never find a better friend than Pat.
“ Oh, you will find friends wherever
you go,” he assuringly answered.
“ Maybe I shall, if I deserve . them.
But come, will you go with me?”
“ Oh yes, gladly.” *
“ Then wait a minute until 1 run m
my room and put off some of this tog
gery. The path is right briery, and it
would tear this dress into gibblets.
And, cousin, let me advise you to swap
those slinners for a pair of boots. You
those slippers for a pair o
might tread on a moccasin."
“ A very good suggestion, and j tv ill
improve it. But are you not afraid for
your own feet?”
« Oh, I will show youl have a jaunty
pair of boots too; and besides, you will
have to go ahead and clear the way for
IRQ* 1 <
“Very well, get ready and I will be at
5 °Afewmomentssufficed for the change
of dress, and Ida app^red looking as
well in her woodland habit as she had
looked in all her flutter of tarleton rib
bons and roses. . „
“Whv, Ida! what do you mean?
Where are you going?” asked the moth-
? v©h, cdffiittGQtertlord TajegOiflgto
have a ramble in the woods. We
be gone all the evening, and maybe wilf
take a ride on the river before we geti
back.” . ’>
. “Oh, be careful, Ida. And Gill
do take good care, of my giddy t. .
Where is Cosette? she ought to go with
yon.”!.dihr
“Oh ho;, mama, cousin Gilbert is-,
gallant enough to take care of me.withe i
out the help of Cosette.” . i r " • f
“Yes, aunt, I promise you to; takiy
good care of her, and to brihg hqr hack
safely,” said Gilbert, as he .offered:his-
hand; and the two cousins startedon.
_ “ What a glad couple! I am real],
proud of them,” cried the mother, as the "
two went gaily on their way. “Yes*
they are in truth a happy pair.. Hot<
well suited they, are to each othdrl.
■Victor, I .am sure, can hesitate no long J L
er to ratify our Jiancef.” " ,
Victor did hfesitate, but his hesitaiio:.
was overcome by the earnestness of hia
wife; and while the cousins were walk
ing hand in hand under the gr
trees of the river forest, their,
were drawing up the details of a union
to unite, them hand in hand for life.
The French have a matter of fart
manner of arranging the marriages of
their children,'but little in keeping
with the general character they bear for"
chivalric sentiment. Tlfeparents mate
their children often without consulting
the j'oung people in anything, assum
ing that they,.whose judgment of pro
priety is more mature, have a better
right to choose for them than the warm
blooded children can possibly liave to
choose for thef tselves.
This system may not be altogether
wrong. There is a quiet happiness, a
French
iend good bye, and I am proud of
du for feeling it. But cousin, life is
ill of its changes and we all have to
encounter them. It is true you will soon
t-j , *oe a little girl nn longer; jbutyon know
that maidenhood and womanhood have
pleasures, more enduring, more. solid.
The iovs of girlhood are-the joystof A
the joys that await yotParb
ng, the joys of a whole strih-
H Aitd.Pat, tooq,frcrwilFbe chnng-
W>g)will soon-feep. man,andin his
ivork will soon forget all about you.”
11 Do you tliinlc that ^^aiiickly asked
flda. - vm ■- : - •"
C To be continiicd.) ■’
genial home aff ection, pervading 5
home life, that can hardly he found in
any other people. THs hlippy feat
in their home cconotay may be due
the sober loving caro",token: by tlie pari
qnts to suitably mate their children;
Ambitious mamas and papas there
found in other lands, who, with" map
riageable daughters bn hand, are-des-
lerateschemerain ajhatrirnohial game;"
ut with them thesink qm rum of mat
rimonial eligilrility is; a fat purse—
golden dollars and broad acres,., A;-"
Not so with the French. TJic dosve
is.a consideration, to be sure, but iti
a minor one.. The temperament, tni
taste, the mind, the heart, the family-
are considerations- which! outweigh the
one of money. * ■ ; , 7 foa-
“Will M’Ue Amie make puir son a
good wife—a' happy, loying, pretty
wife?” is the question uppermost ra
the hearts of the one party. " “WiU
Louis bring a joy and a perpetual-gladj
ness to the heart and the -home of "our
darling?” is the affectionate query of
the other. These satisfactorily anstvereij
the matter of settlement comes After. 1 -
Thus were the matters so anxiously"
debated by the Delzons this afternoon,
and so pleasantly decided between
them—Major Delzons only saying, af
ter the compact had been affirmed,
“ As for my part, I would ""p:
waiting until Ida is ready to be t
ried. before concluding the matter. She
lias five years to wait yet, and maybe
in that time she might have a wish
that should be consulted.”
“ Oh, well! Victor, we will see. The
five years of mental discipline and of
social training that Ida has to pass
through will fit her mind and her heart
for a ready acquiesence in the judg
ment and the wishes of her parents,”
answered his wife.
“Ah, yes; with Gilbert’s ready de
votion to plead for himself,” said the
Marquis.
“ Gilbert, I have no doubt, will make
a ‘braW wooer,’ as our Scotch neighbors
would say, and will doubtless success
fully plead his own cause. Yet I
have an idea—”
“ A democratic idea?” smilingly in
terrupted the Marquis.
“ Yes, a democratic idea, if you
please—that itwould perhaps be best
to let the girl choose for herself. Gil
bert himself would perhaps love her
the better for it.”
“ Fie, Victor! Do you love me any
the less for being given to you by my
parents?” askel his wife, with a smile
of loving triumph.
“What-a charming advocate you
are?” smiled hor husband, tapping her
chin.
“Yes, but your answer—I want your
answer,” she said, with a coquettish
smile that was really pretty, well know
ing what the answer would be.
“ This is my answer,” he said, drawing
the happy face to his heart and then
kissing her smiling lips.
And that kiss sealed the covenant;
and henceforth Gilbert and Ida were to
be considered children of one common
household.
And Gilbert and Ida went chatting
gaily through the tangled forest, up
the river, the young gentleman fondly
watching the various flashes of spint
and gleams of character that so ingen
uously played upon her fair young face.
Those flashes and gleams had all been
sunny and bright; but now all at once a
cloud fell upon her spirits, and her
voice, before so merry, becime soft and
low, and her steps listless. Gilbert no
ticed the sudden change and he said.
“Cousin, you are not glad as you
were. What is the matter.” .
“Yes, I am sad,” she frankly an
swered. I don’t know what has come
over me, but somehow I feel just like I
were going out to bury something that
I deariy loved—like I were going to a
burial.”
Gilbert smiled at her earnestness,
and answered,
“ Perhaps it is the thought of telling
your friends farewell. It is always a
sad thing to say good bye.”
“ Yes, I think jthat is it This going
away—this leaving off the old life as
you say, and putting on a new. Ever
since mama first told me of it, it has
been choking me. I haven’t been the
same girl at all since then. It seems as
if I had grown three years since four
weeks ago. I almost feel like a grown
up woman. Why, only yesterday it
was that Mama Azelma let out three
wide tucks in a dress, and still it was
too short then. Ugh! it scares me to
thinji of it!” and a little shrug of the
shoulders waked up the listless inac
tion of her body.
“ To think of what?”
“ To think of being a grown up some
body; of being no longer a child; of
putting away my girlish joys—follies
you will call them, but they are joys
to me; of gitpng up my girlish friend
ships ; and oh, I could almost cry when
I think of telling Pat what I nave to
tell him 1”
-. Her cousin thought the sentiment a
charming one, and he softly answe
| “ Yes. it is a sad thing to tell n g
Georgia Press Association.
Our friend 'Charlie Willingham, in
is excellent,pap^r the Griffin. Nfqr, of
ie"29th, gives the following sensible
Criews: " ■ -• •• •• • oTBaBinanaa
The-executive committee of tife as-
iation met in.Maehpahfst week to
.ashler violations of Jqgal advert’ "—
■ 6tc\, and adopted the following :
“Resolved, That it be the duty of the
executive committee to examine into
all reported violations of the associa
tion, and that it. is. the. duty of every,
member to report all instances, of vio
lation coming to.their knowledge, and
the executive committee shaft report the
result of such investigations at the first
meeting thereafter.” - ; :
It ig stated that there lutve been de
cided violations, of. the association’s
laws concerning legal advertising, and
we know of some here at liome, says a
contemporary, that blight to and • prob
ably will be brought before the associa
tion at the proper time.
One of the most damning evils of the
press is the want of-the courage on the
•part of its members to condnct their
Lusinfess on strict, business: principles.
They can’t be, brought to understand
that more money exm he made by ad
hering to fair and honorable prices for
their work.
This evil has sent more newspaper
men to the-grave poor and penniless
than any other. The. idea -seems to be
to work at cheap rates, do a great deal
of work and—dose money! . .
; ' Webelieve We can speak advisedly;
after nearly a quarter of a century’s
, connection with the press, .when we as-
ri sort that papers, with, fewer well-paid-
"f for advertisements bring "far "better, re-
'■* turns to the toiling patient publishers.
In our earlier career, it was our mis
fortune to be rmfined' with thc idea that
cheap printing'"v/aS the"-way-to make
money; and it was Jibt until we biid
the courage to establish.a foit scHedule
of rates for advertising, and to “stick to
them,” that we saw the impolicy of the
old policy. ’ ■“
We lost patronage occasionally, hut
got all that was worth having and made
more money-by; so doing. The public
soon learned to,.appreciate a correct
-principle in regard to the subject, and
:ew attempted to “ beat” us down in
our own prices.
‘ fhe great sectet of newspaper success
lies in doing business on correct prin
ciples. There are several points to be
observed with great strictness. The
first is to be pretty certain of the ability
of the community in which a paper is
published to sustain it, and to print it
the size the patronage will warrant
The next is to print it well and make
its columns live with interesting mat
ter.
This requires constant labor and
mental application. Don’t fill up with
mere stuff, because it does fill up, or
because the editor is too lazy to make
better selections or to write up what is
necessary to be written. Well filled
columns of such matter will attract
subscribers; and when a paper liasa
good circulation, tlie public is certain
to find it out, and the public will natu
rally advertise in the paper that is read
and known of all men, without being
“ drummed.”
A good paper is its own solicitor
for advertising; and when advertisers
seek its columns they expect to pay its
published rates. "Whenever a newspa
per becomes a beggar for patronage, at
'mo rates, it is the best evidence of its
worthlessness as an advertisingmedium,
and the business man who allows him
self to be duped by being induced to
advertise in it at starvation rates, he
thereby shows a great want of business
ese are points every newspaper
man should remember:
1. Publish a good paper;
2. Retain no dead advertisements to
“ fill up;”
3. Fill up with good, live matter;
A Adhere strictly to advertised rates;
because, 1, Everybody will read a good
paper; 2, “ Dead advertisements” con
stitute so'ntuch fungus eating upon the
vitality‘of a paper; 3, Live matter and
good reacting secures a good circulation;
and 4 ; A good circulation , secures ad
vertising patronage at good prices with
out begging for it
Two men had a fight in Providence,’
the other day, and one of them got
knocked into Massachusetts.
The St.' Louis Dispatch is going; to
publish an edition on ■ Sunday after
noon, a novelty in newspapers in this
country, j ~-
The editor of a Nevada newspaper
gives notice that he cannot, be bribed
with a five-ccnt cigar to write a five-
dollar puff.
It costs 810,000 to bore an oil well.
So, unless it produces over half a mil
lion gallons of oil, the owner wishes he
hadn’t
Notwithstanding all they sav against
it, there is notan editor in the State
who would refuse to accept “back pay”
—from subscribers.
Two couples in Kansas entered into
a courting match for the championship
of the Stafo, and the victorious couple
sat up forty-nine hours.
Miag Eliza J. Buchanan, the Repub
lican nominee for superintendent of
schools in Jefferson county, Iowa, is
just of age, a bright, cultivated woman,
and weighs over 300 pounds.
The next Mardi Gras carnival at New
Orleans is to be conducted on a much
grander and more brilliant scale than
ever beforA and the festivities will con
tinue two "days. y
Confederate officers now semng in
the army of the Kedive of Egypt, are
Generals Loring, Colston, Sibley and
Reynolds; -Ur. Warren, surgeon in
chief Loringj 'CoJston and Dr. War
ren, from North Carolina, Reynolda^
from Virginia; and Sibley from Mis
souri. " “ ...
The" Southern Confederacy and England.
A Virginia gentleman write from
England te the Kichmond^Dwp<rtc/i, and
bf prominent EngfisllAeri > during the"
UtCcttar..:«HAsays:
!, I have,, seen, several gentlemen who
nreremHupi ‘positions during our war
ibjl'e^l^btne members of'Parfiament and
Sonic members of the government—and
.they ail Uniterm saying that Lord Pal-
merston- WaS our tcarm and ardent friend,
and that his refusal to recognize our
independence arose from the highest
idea3.of statesmanship and friendship.
He believed that we never could occu
py that high position among nations that
we ought to occupy unless we won our
own independence with our own swords,
and he . was certain that we would do
that.
Had ho known how near to exhaustion
,we were he would have recognized us at
once, despite slavery, which was the great
bar in his way. Consideration for our
foture- position among nations until we
had shewn our' ability to win and main
tain our independence by arms was one
reason, and the radical English objection
to slavery the other.
A gentleman of ability and well
known (not Mr. Beresford Hope) told
me that in the fall of 1864 he prepared
a memorial to the government showing
that the Confederates must be utterly
exhausted; that all the signs of their
struggle were the signs of the spasmodic
effort, and urging the government to
send a messenger to President Davis
with the proposition that if we would
provide for emancipation, however
gradual, and however remote, so that it
was definite and final, then Great Brit
ain would at once recognize the inde
pendence of the Confederate States.
He showed this paper to Lord Pal
merston, informally. It was intended
to be signed by Confederate supporters,
nobles and gentlemen, and Palmerston
said:
You take the desponding view of
matters. The South will certainly pre
vail, and by making that paper official
and public you may do them great
’njury.” Accordingly the paper was
tot presented.. I put the categorical
question, as to. whether tlie British pol
icy -was not actuated by a desire on tlie
part of the government to see both sides
nchaust themselves and thus break the
oreslige of American institutions, and
especially give Great Britain control of
the. cotton product. The answer was
emphatic,
“No; our people took sides fairly
and honestly. The Luge majority sym-
pathyzed with you because you were
right legally, politically, and historical
ly, and were contending for principles
of civil liberty dear to all Englishmen;
because you were doing so with a gal
lantry and chivalry that did honor io
your blood, and because you were es
pecially English. Your difficulty was
slavery, and added to it the desire of
the government that you should win
your own nationality' by vour own
swords.”
I am satisfied on this point as I nev
er was before.
Tbc Colored Element and tlie Granges.
Under this head the Herald of Satur
day has the following Washington
special:
The question of color is about to an
noy the Patrons of Husbandry. The
colored element heretofore lias not been
known to the order. The constitution
ignores politics and religion, but says
nothing about color.
Should the requisite numlter of col
ored people apply for a charter it would
be issued; but* whether the State
granges would permit a colored master
to affiliate is a question of local jurisdic
tion entirely.
In the South, where the order is
flourishing, no application has been re
ceived for a charter for a grange com
posed of colored people, but in Arkan
sas and Missouri the impending crisis
is at hand.
The order now numbers upwards of
6000 granges, having increased over
800 during the month of August From
this time until December it is expected
the increase will not fall short of 1000
per month.
In Pennsylvania a State grange will
be organized on the 10th of September.
It has taken root in Massachusetts, and
iromises to spread rapidly in the other
'Jew England States.
Virginia and Kentucky appear to be
nentral ground, there being but three
granges in tiie former and one in the
latter State. The clerical force at head
quarters in this city has been increased.
All the elements of a lively political
campaign enter into the business of the
order. Cartoons illustrating the farm
er’s position with monopolist are being
prepared for general circulation, songs
well adapted to the object of the order
Tlie Song In tbe Dark.
Iksnrd m little bird ring out, one morning,
Wkile jnt the Sarkneen orenprend the iky,
And not» single stroke.of rote care warning
Thai day was nigh;
It sang with raeh a sweet and jojfol clearness.
The ailence pierced with a note so fine,
I started, thrilled with radden sense of nearness
To lore divine. •'
Gad I
The day i
i message to you in my song;
coming, though the shadows darken.
And night is long.
The sorrowful tears that make their brightne
dim,
And alLfonr patient prayers—no man can ma
her—
Are known to him.
(( The day shall come, yonr darkness dispossess*
ia*!”
And while ihe bird sang, on my eyelids prest
A* weight of sleep, the weary brain cam sing
To happy res!._
I slept as children sleep, tired out with crying,
God knows, not I, when I had slept be f ore!
I waked to find the gracious sunshine lying
Along the floor.
And in its blessed light twsee returning
The face of one that was th-s world to me ;
The fare ray heart, with bitter g.ief and yearn
ing.
Had ached to see.
_ tinted in New York by thou
sands, and a book called “Songs of the
Grange” cannot be printed fast enough
to fill the orders.
The packages sent out from Washing
ton have the following pasted on them,
“ Compound extract of nay seed, an ex
cellent mental invigorator, warranted
to cure itching for office, political trick
ery, and sure to remove unfaithful ser
vants from office.”
Conn, and Delaware, Florida, Maine,
Nevada and Rhode Island are the only
States where a grange has not been es
tablished. New York has at present
only nine granges.
In explanation of the present pil-
rimages in France to the shrine of the
acred Heart, it is related that a Jesuit
father told Marie Akcoque to visit
•Paray. Here she supposed herself to
"be visited by the Savior, who gave her
incommunicable secrets of the divine
heart Through the wounds in His side
she saw His heart, like a flaming furn
ace, and he then placed the same with
in her breast, appointing her heiress of
his heart through time and eternity.
She had other visions, and soon a
special dedication to the “Sacred Heart
of Jesus” was instituted. In 1635
Marie Alacoque was canonized a saint,
and to Paray-le-Monial the pilgrimage
is now made.
It is proposed to reduce the Atlantic
trip by making "Whitehaven or Louis-
burg, Nova Scotia, the starting point for
European steamers. On the other side
Yalentia, in Ireland, would be the ter
minus. By this route the ocean voy
age would be reduced to six days.
There have been many definitions of
a gentleman, but the prettiest and most
pathetic is that given by a young lady,
who says: “A gentleman is a human
being, combining a womanb tenderness
with a man’s courage.”
The duj had com i, indeed! O. emeteet ringer 1
The eong you enng me in the dark was true,
And wjuid that r coold be >o ewift a bringer
Of jry to you !
Yonr neat should rock the greenest branches,
truly;
And there, your ahy brown mate and downy
brood
Should chirp to you, and spread their wingiele
duly, .
Nor lack for food.
No cruel rportepian ever should beset you,
No rtiddan tempest ever cause affright,
Nor any ill, that birds are heir to, fret yoe.
By day or night.
Vain wish! and valueless completely;
For whether it wai blackbird, wren or lark,
Of silver throated thresh, that all so iwoetly
Seng in the dark.
I never knew—yon nevermore came neer me ;
But I can trait yon, clearly, to Hie care
Wlioie tender pity sent your song, to eheer me
In my despair.
—The Aldinc.
An Essay on Apiculture — The Profile of
lice Keeping.
BY A. F. MOOS, ROME, GA.
7b the Dee Keepers’ Association of the
Cherokee Country of Georgia and Ala-
bamai . , .„ { r .
A few facts connected with tbe his
tory and cultivation of the honey bee
willnotbenninierestingto the members
bf the association, and others that feel
interested in tlie cultivation of the hon
ey bee.
First, we arc an agricultural people;
our habits, our dispositions are rural,
while our country embraces almost
every variety of soil, is capable of pro
ducing great and abundant crops, both
of gram and honey; and witnasuitr
ahle application of science to the rais
ing of bees, and a wise division of la
bor, we can make bee culture one of
the most successful branches of rural
industry; which would enable us to
compete with almost any nation of the
civilized globe.
Tlie true system of apiculture is now
being taught, and much of its progress
in tlie United States is the result of in
dividual enterprise aided by the encour
agement of the press, together with the
benefit and information we receive
through our county and State organi
zations. We are prepared to enter
upon and reap a greater profit than
any other branch of rural industry.
It should be the object of apiarians
to teach apiculture in its most simple
form. In this way knowledge is gained,
the wisdom and experience of each be
comes the property of the whole. There
by the people is benefited.
Let us seek to understand the nature
as well as the history of the honey bee,
which has excited the admiration of
the scientific observer.
The history of tlie honey bee, as first
known to the people of this country, is
that of George I’elton, of Virginia, who
kept them in the year 1648, being up
wards of 220 years ago. Bees are also
mentioned by" Beverly as being com
mon in that country previous to the
year 1720; and according to Ulloa,bees
were carried from Florida to Cuba by
the Spaniards in 1754. The first men
tion of the honey bee in history is near
ly 4000 years ago. Since that time
they have spread over most of the hab
itable globe. As early as 1755, we
find the agricultural reports of this
country give the State of Georgia cred
it as being one, if not the first, that ex
ported the products of the honey bee.
In 1755, Savannah, Georgia, exported
960 pounds of beeswax; in 1760, 3910
pounds; and in 1770, 4048 pounds.
The amount of beeswax exported from
Philadelphia in 1767, was 35 barrels;
and in 1771, 29,261 pounds. It has
continued to increase to the present
time, atiding millions of dollars to the
wealth of our country.
According to the national statistics,
we exported, from the year 1820 to the
year 1849, 11,503,899 pounds of wax.
The valuation of that amount was
83,609,886. The amount of honey and
wax reported in the Department of
Agriculture as per returns for the year
18-50, was 14,853,790 pounds. In 1860
it was 1,357,864 pounds of wax, and
25,028,991 pounds of honey; showing
an increase of about 77 per cent
In the census of the State of Iowa
for the year 1863 we find reported
88,731 swarms of bees, which gave
1,052,685 pounds of honey, and 40,762
unds of wax. The returns from
assacliusetts, for 1860, gave as the hon
ey product of that State, 59,125 pounds,
valued at 823,223.
Statistics snow that Austria, in the
year 1857, produced 66,000,000 pounds
of honey, and 6,000,000 pounds of wax;
valued in the aggregate at 87,000,000.
The production of wax in Russia is
estimated at 85,142,000 per annum.
The reports show, since the year 1869,
a heavy increase, greater than ever be
fore, which is evident that a more ex
tensive cultivation of the honey bee
would not only enrich the scientific ob
server with lessons in natural history,
of a highly pleasing, instructive and
elevating character, hut would undoubt-,
cdly result in the addition of millions
of dollars annually to this nation; and
true, the honey
attracted the attention of ei
minds of all classes—the naturalist, the
moralist, and the divine as well as the
laboring man. Like the greater num
ber of domesticated animals and cul
tivated plants, we find the honey bee a
companion of man in the earliest pe
riods of history.
We find the'ancient records mention
her presence even on the islands and
coasts qf the Mediterranean; speak of
theTiee as being almost universally dif
fused on the continents of Europe. Asia
and Africa. It will also be seen that
so far as the travels, the trade and the
military expeditions of the ancients
extended—as in lEgypt, Syria, Greece,
Gaul, Germany, ana many other places
—the bee is spoken of os indigenous
in those countries; and nowhere in the
annals of antiquity can we find, that
the honey bee was transferred from any
country to another by hnman instru
mentality. •
We may go back in the dim dawn-
ings of history, partially in the era of
the Sagas, and we are assured of the
existence of the honey bee. Even in
the Golden Age, in the mythology of
the Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans,
the bee occupied a distinguished place.
We find traces of the bee almost
everywhere hack in the Saga periods—
yes, further hack in the prehistoric
times, from which -no written records
date, we have the reports of the honey
bee. One very eminent professor has-
said that we may go back in the abysm
of time, in those remote eras in the
progress of the development of tlie
earth which preceded the , elevation of
the Alps—which, by their various fossil
organism, demonstrated that a sub
tropical climate, with a medium tem.--
perature of 66 degrees, did "prevail in
what is now Switzerland—a fossil honey
bee was found. It was recognized n*s
an apis.
We thus find the honey bee existing
geologically os an inhabitant of our
earth, ages before the appearance of the
human race; and through sacred his
tory we have a complete history of the
honey bee.
It i3 claimed that it was the common
food of the ancients. Even with many,
honey and fruit composed their food.
At the table of the Persians, Grecians
and Romans, it was very prominent,
and was used in great quantities both
in food and drinks. The Greeks and
Romans brought honey as an offering
to their gods. It was used in various
ways, such as sacrificing on the altar;
also as embalming tlie dead. Among
the Hebrews honey was used in large
quantities, with flour and milk, as one
of the chief necessaries of life, and was
likened to the bread of heaven, manna,
etc.
It formed a huge portion of their
natural wealth. The Israelites showed
the wealth of the land of Caanan by
declaring that it “ flowed with milk and
honey.” John the Baptist fed himself
in the wilderness on wild honey and
locusts. It was often placed before
strangers as a sign of welcome in Mo
ravia and Silesia.
The history of,the bee dates hack
to the year 1581, to 1630; showing that
bee culture has kept pace in many lo
calities with the improvements of the
day. "While the iron horse has spanned
the continent, and the. electric wire
bound hemispheres together, the honey
bee has gone in advance of civilization,
until it reached rocky mountains, and
in the rocks found a domicil.
The object of bee keeping is profit.
Yes, the ultimate end of all the varied
pursuits in life is profit. For this man
toils, the farmer tills the soil, and the
mariner braves the dangers of the ocean.
Were it not for profit, the roar of the
iron horse would soon be silent and
the sails of commerce that now whiten
our mighty waters, would be furled.
The Jram of business would soon be
heard no more.
As the true system of bee culture is
being taught in its most simple and
easiest manner, let us strip it of all the
errors and superstitions that have been
hetmed upon it for post generations,
d let tins branch of industry stand
forth, disrobed of the superstitions
that have been handed down from gen
eration to generation. Let us carefully
examine all its claims, test all its theo
ries, that we may practically lead the
novice in the right way to success.
Apiculture is moving onward with
great rapidity. The immense profits
tiiat have been reaped from a practical
knowledge of the honey bee, and the
improvements of the day, have placed
bee keeping upon a basis that gives a
larger profit, for the capital invested
than any other, occupation before the
people.
Apiculture is a subject that opens one
of the grandest and most pleasant occu
pations ever given to man or woman,
and no nation can occupy it alone. It
is a vast subject, world-wide in its bear
ings.
A kind regard to the success of the
Georgia and Alabama Bee Keepers’ As
sociation. Long may it live, to teach
the noble science, adding wealth to the
country.
Gail Hamilton on Clerks.
A plainly but perfectly dressed lady,
with thfi best blood of tlie world in her
veins, and—what is more imposing to
the liaberdashing heart—with plenty of
money in her pocket, went, not long
since, into a shop to buy napkins. The
potentate of the counter showed her
such napery as he thought suited to her
social position.
“ These are rather coarse,” she sug
gested. “ Have you none finer?”
“Oh, yes,” said the gentleman, “but
they are more expensive.”
It is ever tobe regretted that the lady
turned in silence and left the shop, be
cause that clerk will never know that-it
was his own idiotic effrontery, and not
the expense of the napkins, which lost
him the customer.
A lady who never mode any great
figure in the world, and not in a water
proof cloak on a rainy day, was seeking
a parasol. The clerk showed her some
very common, not to say shabby, speci
mens, which she declined.
A little further down the counter she
bought a whole piece of fine and costly
linen, observing which the knight of
the parasol came down and begged her
to re-examine his assortment of which
he had contrived to unearth an altogeth
er different and better collection.
She, too, fell below the requirements
of the occasion, and bought her parasol
without enlightening him upon her dis
covery of his stupid mistake.
Happy those merchants who can se
cure the right sort ofclerks-for a right sort
there is. I bought a table cloth of him
yesterday. I had forgotten to take the
size of tlie -table or a pattern of the
color to he matched. Patiently he
evolved my probable needs from my
fragmentary facts, discussed pleasantly
the presumptive evidence, and seemed
as much interested in the harmonies of
my dining room as if he had expect
ed to eat there thrice a day during the
remainder of his natural life.
Did he deceive me? Not a hit I
know of a surety that my dining room
was no more to him than the peanut
stand on tbe common opposite. Me
and it has he already alike forgotten.
None the less was his momentary and
friendly, but not familiar, assumption
ofinterest in me and mine altogether
sincere.
TTi« sympathetic and refined nature
does unquestionably arid spontaneous
ly ally itself for Succor and good cheer
to all who appeal to him. May his kind
heart, his welcoming face, and his en
gaging manners he a mine of wealth to
himself and all his employers and de
pendents. _
A square inch bar of iron will sus
pend 27 to 30 tons.