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PUBLISHED WEEKLY, BY
J. T. McCARTY, Editor.
SUBSCRIPTION:
One Ybak $2 00
Six Months 1 00
In Advance
gUtgusta Cavite.
W. B. VAIL,
WITH
KEAN & CASSEES,
Wholesale and retail dealers in
Foreign and Domestic Dry Goods
209 Broad t., late stand o H. F. Russel & Cos.
AUGUSTA, GA.
J. MURPHV & CO.
Wholesale and retail dealers in
English While Granite & C, C. Ware
ALSO,
Semi-China, French China, Glassware, Sto.
No. 244 Broad Street,
AUOUSTA, GA.
T. MARKWALTER,
MARBLE WORKS,
BROAD STREET, -
Near Lower Market,
AUGUSTA, GA.
THE AUGUSTA
Gilding, Looking-glass,Picture Frame
FACTORY.
Old Picture Frames Reijilt to look Equal to
New. Old Paintings Carefully Cleaned,
Lined and Varnished.
J. J. BROWNE, Asent,
34G Broad st., Augusta, Ga.
E. H. ROGERS,
Importer and dealer in
RIM, GOBS PISTOLS
And Pocket Cutlery,
Amm lnition of all Kinds,
245 ROAD STREET, AUGUSTA, GA.
REPAIRING EXECUTED PROMPTLY
tfUifvto i’.usiuess Cavils.
Has received a
STOCK OF FURNITURE
and is constantly adding thereto, which he will
sell at the
LOWEST CASH PRICES
UPHOLSTERING AND REPAIRING
and all work in his line done in a neat and
workmanlike manner. Satisfaction guarantied,
Orders filled for Sash, Doors and Blinds.
My22-ly
LIGHT
J. F. A I'Ll),
Carriage MI AINIJFACT ’ R
ELBERTON, (GEORGIA.^
BEST WORKMEN!
BEST WORK!
LOWEST PRICES!
Good Buggies, warranted, - $125 to $l6O
Common Buggies * SIOO.
REPAIRING AND BLACKSMITIIING.
Work done in this line in the very best style.
The Best Harness
My 22-1 V
T. M. SWIFT. MACK ARNOLD
SWIFT & ARNOLD,
(Successois to T. M. Swift,)
DEALERS IN
DRY GOODS,
GROCERIES, CROCKERY, BOOTS AND
SHOES, HARDWARE, &c.,
Public Square, ELBEiRTOIV GA,
JOHN H. JONES & CO.,
GENERAL
VARIETY STORE,
Always on hand a complete stock ot
DRY GOODS, ?ANCY GOODS, HARDWARE
CROCKERY, GROCERIES, BOOTS,
SHOES, &c., &c.
A Specialty of Silver-tipped Shoes
My22-ly ___
H. K. CAIRDNER,
ELBERTON, GrA.,
DEALER IN
]l¥ (IDS. CIDCIIM.
HARDWARE, CROCKERY,
BOOTS, SHOES, HATS
Notions, &o
THE GAZETTE.
af Cvvitte, f mtc|jcdicut gw gift (Bxdteivdtj to the gntmste of tlrt Cummunito.
New Series.
THE STONECUTTER'S SIX WISUES.
A JAPANESE FABLE.
Once upon a time there was in Japan a
poor stonecutter, a simple workman in the
quarries. His life was rude, he worked
much, and gained little, and was uot at all
contented with his fate.
“Oh, if I could only be rich enough to
rest, to sleep on thick matting, wrapped in
a kinnion of soft silk !”
Such was the sigh he breathed to heaven.
An angel interrupted it.
“It shfD'y' -’#io*jording to thy desire,” said
the angel to him. And he at once became
rich, and he rested, slept upon a thick mat
ting, und wrapped himself in a kirmion of
silk.
It happened that the Emperor passed by.
He was preceded by heralds on horseback,
followed by a brilliant escort of cavaliers,
and surrounded by persons who held over
his head an immense parasol resplendent
with gold.
“What good does it do me to be rich V’
murmured the man, “as long as I have not
the right to go out with an escort, and have
my head protected by a golden parasol.—
am I not the Emperor ?”
“Thou shalt be,” said the angel.
And indeed he became Emperor. He
had an escort of cavaliers before and behind
him, and people who held above his head
an iimneuse parasol, all resplendent with
gold. .
However the sun with its ardent beams
dried up the country, and the dusty road,
quivering with its brightness, fatigued the
eye.
“It is a great advantage to be Emperor,”
cried the man, “when the heat of the chiy
exhausts you, and the sun never ceases to
make you feel its power ! But if oue could
UHfethe sun !”
■“Behold ! Are you satisfied ?” the angel
Bked For he had become the sun, and he
■rt< and his beams up, down, right and left,
■d all arouud him. And he scorched the
Brbage of the earth and the faces of the
Prince upon the earth.
But now a cloud thrust itself between the
eatth and him. It held hack the rays of
the sun, and prevented them from falling
upon the earth’s surface.
“There is strength ! cried the sun—a
cloud capable of resisting my power, it would
be better if l wei’e a cloud.”
“Very well,” said the augel.
And the transformation was at once ef
fected. The new cloud placed itself haught
ily bcttvecn the sun and the earth, and so
thoroughly intercepted the rays of the sun,
that it soon saw the earth covered with its
shadow. Then it caused big drops of rain,
and pouring showers aud water-spouts to fall
on the land, so that the torrents burst their
bounds and the rivers spread over and de
vastated the fields.
Nothing resisted the force ot inundation ;
only a rock defied it, perfectly motionless.
In vain the bellowing waters beat it in their
fury —the rock yielded not, but the foamiug
waves died at his foct.
“A rock then is my superior,” said
the cloud. “I think I would rather be a
rock.”
“You shall be,” said the angel.
And he was transformed into a steep un
shapen rock, insensible to the rays of the
sun, indiffeient to the torrents of rain and
the shock of tumultuous waves. But he
distinguished at his feet a man of poor ap
pearance ; hardly clothed, armed with a
chisel and a hammer ; and the man, with
help of these, struck off pieces of the rock
which he dressed into stones proper for cut
ting.
“What is that ?” cried the rock ; “has a
man the power of rending pieces of stone
from my base ? Shall I be weaker than he ?
Then it is absolutely necessrry that l should
be the man !”
“Have your will ?” said the angel: and
he became again what he had been—a poor
stone-cutter, a simple worker in the quar
ries. His life was rude, he worked much
and gained little, but he was now contented
with his lot. —lllustrated Christian Weekly.
An Axe Story.—Wal, I reckon about
the idlest chap I ever knowed was a chap
they called Long George, down to Red
Pine.
He had had a bit of ground allotted him
that was some timbered.
I was running a post at that time on a po
ny between the mines and the post-office,
and so I passed his location every now and
theD, and noticing that he always sot on a
log doing nothing, l hailed him, and asked
him why he didn’t begin to clear his
patch.
Wal, he said, he hadn’t nary axe, but
that an old mate of his had got the next lot
ELBERTON, GA., WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 12,1873.
and he reckoned he’d loan him his when he
cauie.
Time went on, and as be still sot doing
r othing about three months more, I asked
if his mate had come.
He said Pete had arrove about a month
ago, but as Pete had his own clearing to do,
he had made up his mind not to ask for the
axe till it was done.
Next spring when I come by, I asked if
Pete hadn’t done his clearing yet, and 119
said, with a mournful shake of his head,
that he guessed ho had for a bit, for he had
took very ill.
So I said I reckoned he could have the
axe now, but he said he didn’t want to both
er Pete while he wasn’t well. The autumn
when he passed again, I asked how Pete
was, and he said he reckoned he was pretty
well now, for they’d buried him about a
month ago.
“How about that axe?” said I.
He up and said as Pete has left it him,
but he wouldn’t go sloshing round about a
trifle like that while the widow was just in
the first bust of her bereavement.
The following summer when I saw him,
he was still setting on the log.
“Been for that axe yet ?” said I.
“Well, I guess,” said he, “the widder’s
married agaiD, and I ain’t been introduced
to the new boss yet, and he mightn’t like
my going for the axe just now,”
About the beginning of winter, as I was
returning from the mines, l ov rtook a little
party going East, and fell into conversation
with them ; and one woman said to me as
we were parting:
“Say, stranger, when you go back to the
mines next time, will you just stop at Long
George’s? I forgot to tell him as the axe
my last old man left him is lying at Jem
Brown’s store.”
So next time I passed I told the erittur.
lie said he’d go and fetch it in a day or
two, but bless you, when I passed again,
there he was on the log.
“Wal,” says I, “whar’s that axe ?”
“Why, at Jem Brown’s” said he.
“Thought you’d been to fetch it ?” says
1 J
“So t diu,” say, he ; “but ye see as Jtwn
Brown had had the trouble of keeping it for
me, I felt it was only proper to make him
some return; so—wal, we drank tlat axe
between us.”
I larfed some, and the next time I passed
I brought liim a youug oak sapling and
planted it. Says I :
“That’ll be just the size for an axe-helve
by the time you have g >t a head for it.”
“Thank ye, stranger,” says he, quite sat
isfied ; and it’s my belief he’s a-setting there
still, watching the darned thing grow !
Life and Death.—We die daily. With
each new section of our moral history we
give up something that belonged to the sec
tion preceding. We are losing continually
a portion of our being, we suffer ceaseless
dissolutions. Let the mature man compare
himself with the budded boy, and see how
much of death he has already experienced.
How much of what he was has perished in
him and from him, never to be restored !
Where now is the careless mirth that lit
upon the boyish eyes ? Where the sunny
peace of gushing joy of the boyish breast ?
Where the boundless expectation, the im
plicit faith, the indomitable hope, the bouy
ant uature, the unshadowed soul, the exu
berant life ? Is not the loss of these as
truly death as the putting off ot the fleshy
tabernacle ? It is not as much dying to lose
the splendor and joy of our young years as
it is to be divested of mortality ? The vet
eran, however blest with ‘that which should
aecompauy old age/ looks back upon his
youth as a paradise lost, never in this world
to be regained
“Oh man! that from thy fair and shining youth
Age might but take the things youth needed
not!”
This ceaseless death would make existence
intolerable were it not balanced and com
pensated by ceaseless new births. The true
soul gains as fast, or faster, than it loses. —
Life is constant acquisition as well as con
staDt waste, a series of resurrections as well
as deaths. If we die daily, we are also re
newed dayby day. If we lose in bouyancy we
gain earnestness; if we lose in imagination,
we gain in experience; if we lose in fresh
ness, we gain in weight; if we lose in fer
vor, we gain in wisdom ; if we lose in en
joyment, it is to be hoped we gain in pa
tience. If we gradually die to the world it
is to be hoped that we more and more live
unto God.
“Cast iron sinks, all sizes,” is a legend a
Hartford plumber inscribed on his outer
wall. “Well, who in thunder (hie) said it
did’nt ?” was the inquiry of an inebriated
man, who happened to embrace a lamp-post
A SWAMPVILLE PEDAGOGUE.
A gentleman from Swavnpville was tell
ing how many different occupations he had
attempted. Among others he had tried
school teaching.
“How long did you teach ?” asked a by
stander.
“Wa’al, I didn’t teach long—that is, I on
ly went to teach.”
“Did you hire out?”
“Wa’al I didn’t hire out —I ouly went to
hire out.”
“Why did you give up?”
“Wa’al, I give it up for some reason or
nuther. You see, I traveled in a deestrict
and inquired for 'he trustees. Somebody
said Mr. Sniekles wks the man I wanted to
see. So I found Mr. Sniekles, named my
objie, intedaeeing myself and asked what he
thought about lettiu’ me try my luck with
the big boys and unruly girls in the dees
trict. He wanted to know if I raaly consid
ered myself capable, and I told him 1
wouldn’t mind his asking me a few easy ques
tions in ’rithmetic or jography, or my hand
writing. He said no, never mind, he could
tell a good teacher by his gait. ‘Let me
se.; you walk off a little ways,’ says lie, ‘and
I cau tell jis’s well’s I heard you examined,’
says he. iio sot in the door as he spoke,
and I thought he looked a little skitish.—
But I was eonsid’rable frustrated, and didn’t
mind it much; so I turned about aud walk
ed ou as smart as I kuowod how. He said
he’d tell me when to stop, so I kep’ on till
I thought I’d gone far enough. Theu I
s’pected Bathing was to pay, and I looked
round Wa’a—thc door was shet aud Snick
les was guae.
Two Pictures—The Contrast. —
Pictures themselves sometimes have a curi
ous history. The story of the two pictures
at Floreooe is old, but not worn out. An
artist at’Rome saw often, playing in the
street near his window, a child of exquisite
beauty, with golden hair and cherub face.--
Struck with the loveliness of the boy, he
painted a picture of him and huDg it up in
the stuilio. In the saddest hours that
sweet, gentle face looked down upon him
like an angel of light. Its presence filled
the soul with gladness and longings for
heaveu, which its purity symbolized. “II
ever I find,” said he, “a perfect contrast tc
this beauteous face, I will paint that also,
and hang it up on the opposite wall, and
the one 1 will call heaven and the other
hell,”
Years passed. At length, in another
part of Italy, in a prison he visited, looking
in through the grated door of a cell, he saw
the most hideous object that ever met his
sight —a fierce, haggard fiend, and cheeks
deeply marked with the lines of lust and
crime. The artist remembered the promise
he had made himself, and immediately paiut
ed a picture of this loathsome culprit, to
hang over against the portrait of the lovely
boy. The contrast was perfect; the two
poles of the moral universe were before him
Then the mystery of the human souls gain
ed another illustration. He had two pic
tures, but they were likenesses of one and
the same person. To his great surprise, on
inquiring into the history of this horrid
wretch, he learned that he was no other
than the sweet child with the golden ring
lets whom he once knew so well and saw so
often playing in the streets of Rome.
The Old Woman. —It was thus, a few
days ago, we heard a stripling of sixteen
designate the mother who bore him. By
coarse husbands we have heard wives so
called occasionally, though in the latter case
the phrase is more often used endearingly
At all times, as commonly spoken, it jars
upon the ears and shocks the sense. An
old woman should be aa object of reverence
above and beyond almost all other phases of
humanity. Her very age should be her su
rest passport to courteous consideration.
The aged molher of a grown up family
needs no other certificate of worth. She is
a monument of excellence, approved and
warranted. She has fought faithfully “the
good fight,” and came off conqueror. Upon
her venerable face she bears the marks of
the conflict in all its furrowed lines. The
most grievous of the ills of life have been
hers; trials untold, and known only to God
and herself, she has borne incessantly, aud
now, in her old age, her duty done, patient
ly awaiting her appointed time, she stands
more beautiful than ever in youth, more
honorable aud deserving than he who has
slain his thousands, or stood triumphant up
on the proudest field of victory.
Young man, speak kindly to your moth
er, and ever courteously, tenderly of her.
But a little time, and ye shall see her no
more forever. Her eye is dim, her form is
beDt, and her shadow falls graveward.—
Others may love you when she has passed
away —kind-hearted sister, perhaps, or she
Vol I—No. 42.
whom of all the world you choose for a part
ner—she may love you warmly, passionate
ly ; children may love you fondly, but nev
er again, never, while time is yours, shall
the love of woman be to you as that of your
old, trembling mother has been.
A Lost Boy.—A correspondent sends us
the following, and the reader will see there
is more truth than poetry in the following
lines :
tie was the pet of the family, residing
far from La Grange stieet, aud has receutly
passed his fifth year; and having just don
ned his first jacket and trowsors, is attend
ing a primary school. The other afternoon
he failed to come home at the usual hour,
much to the alarm of the household; aud
after a long search he was found, a good
while after dark, near the Providence de
pot.
He was sent to bed without much expla
nation, though it is possible his treatment
was what Solomon would have recommend
ed iu such an emergency.
The uext morriicg he was down to the
breakfast table, evidently none the worse
for the lesson, and perhaps the wiser. Tak
ing advantage of the lull in the conversa-
tion customary at the morning meal, he
turned his grave countenance toward the
head of the table, and giving full vent to
his overcharged mind, he exclaimed :
“I’ll tell you, mama, how it happened.
After scho 1 l went part of the way home
with Mary . aud at the corner of the
street where slid left me, I kissed her, and
then she kissed me, aud then I found 1 was
lost.”
There was an explosion round the table
just about that time. And it is suspected
that this is not the first young gentleman
who has been lost under similar circumstan
ces.
Stranger than Fiction. —There is
now in the State penitentiary, at Fort Madi
son, lowa, an ~ aged couple who are serving
out a term for the crime of incest, they be
ing brother and sister. The story is this,
which is true:
At the age of twelve years, the male left
his father’s house tchscek his fortune and no
more rtiuiu. He, in time, came West,
grew to manhood and married, raised a fam
ily of children. and finally his wife died.—
His sister grew to womanhood, was marri ’d
and with her husband came West, and to
lowa. Her husband died, and in time she
received an offer of marriage from a man
who was a widower.
She accepted the offer, and they were
married. Her husband was wealthy, and
after a time one of his sons wished the fa
ther to give him some property, but the
lather refused to accede to his demands.—
The son one day, while looking over the
family record of the stepmother which had
been laid aside and forgotten, discovered
that there was kinship between the families,
and a f irther investigation proved that his
father afld stepmother were own brother and
sister. To avenge himself for his father's
refusal to give him the bulk of his property
he brought suit against them both for in
cest. They were both convicted and sent
to the penitentiary for oue year. They are
both over sixty years of age, and as innocent
of intent to commit crime as the new-born
babe.
Bill Arp “Hangs His Banner on the
Outer Wall.”—The following plum we
pick from Bill Arp’s columns:
“fluriak for women ” —We love wornon
—old or young-—simply because they are
women. Our mothers spank us ; our sweet
hearts spoil our joys by flirting with our ri
vals ; our wives read us a genuine or moder
ate Caudle lecture which we unusually de
serve. Women has laughed at woes when
indulging in the tender passion, riddled our
hearts with Erosian arrows, depleted our
pocket-books, disturbed our slumbers, spoil
ed our coffee, rumpled our starched linen
bosoms, hung to our arm with her whole
precious weight when our corns hurt us
most; danced us into a perspiration, and
caused us to buy lozenges for a cold ; but in
spite of all these things, we love her. We
set her upas an idol, and prostrate ourselves
before her as before some divinity. We
don’t care a copper what dry goods cost so
she loots sweet. We will fight for her like
a Prussian soldier. Let Mr. Holland say
what he will to derogate from the sex, we
shall hang our banner on the outer wall and
ciy hurrah for women !”
“John” of the N. Y. Sun tolls how he
heard about Ann Street in his travels. He
says:
In coming from Syracuse I met with a
contretemps , or rather a country-temps.
Says he, “Be you from New York ?”
Says I, “I’m your viuegar.”
Says he, “Much acquainted down there?”
Says I, “That’s me exactly.”
Cj \t (ia^tte.
Cash Rates of Advertising.
lyr. |G mos. 3 mos. 1 1110. I time
1 coluiud, $l5O S9O SOO $35 $25
£ “ 80 00 40 23 15
5 inches, 50 35 25 12 6
3 “ 35 25 15 7 4
2 “ 26 15 10 6 3
1 inch 1 time, $1.50
Says he, “Do you know Ann Street?”
Says i, “Unusually so.”
Says lie, “Well, l declare, l want to know
if you really do know Ann Street?”
Says I, “Sure as a pickery.”
Says he, “Well, how does she get
along ?”
Says TANARUS, “She is flourishing.”
Says he, “l suppose she is growiug fiue
'y f” _ '
Says I, “Growing ? I suppose she is
growing! They are putting up a building
seveu or eight stories high on one of her
corners for the Herald.”
He looked at me amazed, and says ho,
“Putting up a building on one oflurcor
ners ?”
Says I, “Yes.”
Says he, “Look here, stranger, there’s
some mistake. I guess the Ann Street I
mean and the Ann Street you mean are two
different people. I was talking about a niece
of mine who went to Now York a year ago
to learu the millinery business.”
Says I, “Why iu thunder didn’t you say
so ?”
Says he, “I did.”
A Joke on a Doctor. —A few nights
since, at a late hour, the speaking tube at
the office .door of a popular physician in
New Haven was used by some midnight wag
to the following effect:
The Doctor was in sornd sleep when 110
was partially awakened by a“halloo” through
the tube, when the following dialogue took
place:
“Well, what do you want ?”
“Does Dr. Jones live here ?’’
“Yes; what do you want ?”
“Are you Dr. Jouos?”
“Yes.”
“Dr. Simon Jones?”
“Yes, yes ; what do you want ?”
“Why, how long have you lived here?”
“Some twenty years ; why ?”
“Why? why in thunder don’t you
move !”
“If you stay thereabout ten seconds more
you’ll find I am moving I” and he bounced
out of the bed ; hut the patient was heard
“moving dowu the street at a rate that de
fied pursuit.”
In a small town on the Sohuykill River
there is a church in which the singing had
run down. It had beeu led by one of the
deacons, whose voice aud musical powers
had been gradually failing. One evening
the clergyman gave out the hymn, which
was in an odd measure, and rather harder
thau usual, and the deacon led off. Upon
its conclusion the minister rose and said :
“Brother B please repeat the
hymn, as I C!inno|fj||§y astr such singing.”
The deacon very composSny pitched into
another tunc, aud the clergyman proceeded
with his prayer.* Having finished, he took
up the book to give out the second hymn,
when he was interiupted by the deacon
gravely getting up and saying in a voice
audible to the congregation: “Will Mr.
make another prayer ? It would
be impossible for me to sing after such a
prayer t.s that.”
Enquired About Him.—Hans W. is a
good natured German, who resides in a large
Mass. town. Recently Hans wished to rent
a house, and called upon a weulthy landlord
who rents a good many houses.
“The house is to let, certainly,” said the
owner, and if, upon inquiry, L find you to be
a responsible and a suitable man for a ten
ant, you shall have it.”
“Very good, Mr A , you make just as
many questions as you mind, I takes the
house when you gets ready.”
Two and ys afterwavds the house owner
called upon the German. “Well,” he said,
“I’ve inquired pretty generally concerning
your character and means; and as every
body speaks of you as an honest, reliable
man who has abundant property, you can
have the house.”
“Veil, den,” said Hans, “I takes de
house. Aud I wauts to tell you l’vo asked
all about you among de peoples, and dey all
say that you is the meauest landlord in de
town ; but I takes de house all de same.”
— ♦ ♦
A Neat Hit.—Two well-known clergy
men were conversing when one startled the
other by abruptly asking :
“Brother G., is it possible that you chew
tobacco ?”
“I must confess I do,” the other quietly
replied.
“Then I would quit it, sir,” the old gen
tleman energetically continued, “It’s a very
unclerical practice, and, I must say, a very
uncleanly oue. Tobacco! Why, sir, even
a hog would not chew it.”
“Father 0.,” responded his amused listen
er “do you chew tobacco ?”
“I ? No, sir!” he answered, gruffly,
with much indignation.
“Then, pray, which is the most like tho
hog, you or 1 ?”
The old doctor’s fat sides shook with
laughter, as he said :
“Well, I have been fairly caught this
time.”
A skeptical young collegian confronted
an old Quaker with the statement that
lie did not believe in the Bilfle. Said the
Quaker:
“Post the believe in France?”
“Yes; though L have not seeu it, I have
seen others who have; besides there is
plenty ot proof that such a couutry does ex
ist.”
“Then thee will not believe anything thee
or others have not seen ?”
“No; to be sure I won’t.”
“Did the ever see tby own brains ?”
“No.”
“Ever see anybody that did ?”
“No.”
“Docs the believe thee had any ?”