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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 ?”