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C|j£ <6a%ette. PUBLISHED WEEKLY, BY J. T. McCARTY, Editor. —— SUBSCRIPTION: 0i Ysit $2 00 Six Mouths 1 00 In Advance §utoUsita (tmh. W. JB. VAIL, WITH KEAN & CASSEL.S, Wholesale and retail dealers in Foreign and Domestic Dry Goods 309 Broad st., lat stand of H. F. Russel & Cos. AUGUSTA, GA. J. MURPHY & CO. Wholesale and retail dealers in English White Granite & 0. C. Ware ALSO, fUmi-China, French China, Glassware, &c. No. 244 Broad Street, AUGUSTA, GA. T. MARKWALTER, MAZBLE WORKS, BROAD STREET, Near Lower Market, AUGUSTA, GA, THE AUGUSTA Gilding, Looking-glass,Picture Frame FACTORY. Old Picture Frames Regilt to look Equal to New. Old Paintings Carefully Cleaned, Lined and Varnished. J. J. BROWNE, Agent, 34G Broad st., Augusta, Ga. E. H. ROGERS, Importer and dealer in RM, GUNS PISTOLS And Pocket Cutlery, Ammunition of all Kinds, £45 BROAD BTREET, AUGUSTA, GA. REPAIRING EXECUTED PROMPTLY (glberton Business Cards. Has received a STOCK OF FURNITURE and is constantly adding thereto, which he will sell at the LOWEST CASH PRICES UPHOLSTEBINGANO REPAIRING and all work in his line done in a neat and workmanlike manner. Satisfaction guarantied. Order? filled for Sash, Doors and Blinds. My22-ly LIGHT CARRIAGES & BUGGIES. J. TV. A I I.I), Carriage toanufact’r ELBERTOK, GEORGIA. BEST WORKMEN! BEST WORK! LOWEST PRICES! Good Buggies, warranted, - $125 to $l6O Common Buggies - SIOO. REPAIRING AND BLACKSMITHING. Work done in this line in the very best style. The Best Harness My22-1v T. M. SWIFT. MACK. ARNOLD SWIFT & ARNOLD, (Successors to T. M. Swift,) dealers in DRY GOODS, GROCERIES, CROCKERY, BOOTS AND SHOES, HARDWARE, Ac., Pablie Square, EEjBERTOIV GA. JOHN H. JONES & CO., From this day, will sell their stock of WINTER DRESS GOODS CLOTHING, CASSIMER-ES, HATS, RIBANDS, NOTIONS, Ac., AT COST FOR CASH. H. K. _ CAIRDNER, ELBERTON, GrA„ DEALER IN MY GOODS. GROCERIES, HARDWARE, CROCKERY, BOOTS, SHOES, HATS Notions, &c* THE GAZETTE. fjttmsrt of (greats, |adepeadeut ga fdl Sbings-fcrotrd Exclusively to the fntmsf# of the ffioauauaita. New Series. What A Sermon Should Be. It should be brief, if lengthr, it will step, Our hearts in apathy, eyes in sleep; The dull will yawd, the chapel-lounger dose, Attention flag, and memory’s portals close. It should be warm ; a living altar coal To melt the icy heart and charm the soul; A soulless, dull harangue, however read, Will never rouse the soul, or raise the dead; It should be plain, practical and clear; No fine-spun theory to please the ear; No curious lore to tickle lettered pride, And cleave the poor and plain unedified. It should be tender and affectionate As his warm theme who vyept lost Salem s fate; The fiery laws, with words of love allay'd, Will sweetly warm and awfully persuade. It should be manly, just and rational; Wisely conceived, and well expressed withal, Not stuffed with silly notions, apt to staiu A sacred desk, and show a muddy brain. It should possess a well adapted grace To situation, audience, time, and place; A sermon form'd tor scholars, statesmen, lords, With peasants and mechanics ill accords. It should with evangelical beauties bloom, Like Paul’s at Corinth, Athens, or at Rome; While Ep'cturus or stern esteem, A gracious Saviour is the gospel theme! It should be mixed with many an ardent prayer, To reach the heart, and fix and fasten there; When God and man are mutually address'd God grants a blessing, man is truly blest. It should be closely well applied at last, To make the moral nail securely fast; Thou art the man, and thou, alone will make A Felix tremble and a David quake! In and Out of Love. How did I know that she was a wid ow ? Don’t you give me credit foniny common sense or discrimination at all ? # How dci you know that a rose is r.cd ? How do you know lobster sal.id from sir. dines ? Jd I knew she was a widow from the very moment I took the corner seat in the car, opposite to her little black bonnet with its fluttering wreath of crape vail, and the As trakhan muff that held her two tiny, black gloved hands. How I envied that muff. Don’t tell me of your Venuses, your Ma donnas, and your Marys, Queen of Scots — they couldn’t have held a candle to this de licious little widow. I never did believe in grand beauties ! A woman has no business over-awing and impressing you against your will. And she was one of your dimpled, daisy faced creatures, with soft, brown eyes, long lashed and limpid, and a red mouth, which looked as if it was just made to be kissed. And then there was a tangle of golden spirals of hair hanging over her forehead, and braids upon braids pinned up under her bonnet, until a hair-dresser would have gone frantic at the sight. Just as I was taking an inventory of these things, in that sort of unobservant way that I flatter myself belongs to a man of the world, she dropped her muff, and, of course, it rolled under the car seat. “Wasn’t I down on my knees at once af ter it? I rather think so.” “Thank you, sir,” said the delicious little widow. “Not at all,” I replied. “Can’t Ido any thing more for you ?” “No, thank you —unless you can tell me what time we get into Glendale.” “Glendale,” I cried. “Why I am going to Glendale.” Of course we were friends at once, and the daisy-faced enchantress made room for me beside her, “lest,” as she said, “some horrid, disagreeable creature should crowd in and bore her to death,” and I stepped right out of the musty, ill-ventilated world of railway carriage into an atmosphere of Eden. When a bachelor of forty falls in love at first sight—oh, what a fall is there my coun trymen. No half-measures, I tell you. Before we bad been speeding through the wintry landscape an hour I had already built up several blocks of chateaux d'Espagnc, in my mind. I saw my bachelor rooms brightened by her presence. I fancied myself walking to church with her hand on my arm. I heard her dulcet voice saying, “My dear Thomas, what would you like for sup per to-night ?” I beheld myself a respect able member of society—the head of a fam ily- What would Bob Carter say now—l meant then ! Bob, who was always rallying me on my ELBERTON, GA., WEDNESDAY, MARCH 26,1873 state of hopeless old-bachelorship, who sup posed, forsooth, because he happened t(T be a trifle younger and better-looking than my self, that I had no chances whatever. I’d show B b ! “What did we taik about?” The weather of course, the scenery, the prospects —all the available topics, oue after another ; aDd the more we talked, the deep er grew my admiration. She was sensible, and so original, and so everything else that she ought to be ! I discovered that she preferred a town life to the seclusion of a country residence—so did I. Who would stagnate when he.could feel the world’s pulses as they throbled ? She loved the opera —so did I. She thought this woman’s suffrage movemeutall ridiculous—with a bewitching little lisp on the last syllable—l agreed with her. She thought a woman’s true sphere was home ; my feelings surged up too strongly for utterance, and I merely bowed my as sent. Here was a delicious unanimity of soul— a mute concord of sympathy. What would Bob Carter say when ho saw this beautilul little robin lured into my cage How I would lord it over him. How I would invite him to “happen in at any time.” How I wonld—figuratively, of course —hold up Mrs. Thomas Smith over his envying head. I uttered an audible chuckle as I though of these things, which I had some difficulty in changing into a cough. “You’ve got a cold,” said the widow, sympathetically. “l)o, please, have one of my troches; they are so soothing to the throat.” I took the troche, but I didn’t swallow it. 1 would as soon have eaten a priceless pearl. I put it iu my left-hand breast pock et, as near my heart as practicable. Her first gilt I “A bachelor like me is used to such things^said, in an off-hand manner. " ec^ m y traveling com p.li{bo. s ?7©oar me, then you arc not mar “Unfortuiiatei_.n*qjo.” “It’s never tod 1 late to mend,” hazarded the widow, roguishly. “That is my sole consolation,” I answered gallantly. “There is nothing like married life,” sigh ed the widow, with a momentary eclipse oi the limpid, biown orbs, beneath the whitest of drooping lids. “But what’s the use of my talking about it to you ? You can’t un derstand.” “I can imagine,” I replied modestly. “You must find a wife as soon as possible,” said the widow, looking intently at the hem of her pocket handkerchief. “You’re only living half a life, now. Ah, you caunot think how much happier you would be with some gentle, clinging being at your side — some congenial soul to mirror your own.” Instiuctively I laid my hand on my heart. “Du not fancy that I shall lose an instant in the search,” I said. “I have already pictured to myself the pleasures of a newer existence.” “Have you ?” The brown eyes shot an arch, challenging sparkle toward me. “Tell me all about her.” “Do you really wish to know ?” “Of course I do.” 1 congratulated myself mentally on the fine progress l was makiug, considering the small practice in love-making that I had had. Bob Carter himself, with all his rea- dy tongue aud good-looking fare, could not have carried on a flirtation more neatly. “Is she fair or dark ?” questioned the widow, itith the prettiest of interest. “Neither —about your complexion ” “Oh !” laughed my interlocutor, with a charming pink suffusion over her dimples. “Is she young ?” “Yes, about your age.” “Pretty ?” “More than pretty—beautiful.” The widow arched her perfectly penciled eyebrows. “What a devoted husband you will make ! And when are you to be mar ried ?” “As soon as 1 can induce her to name the day.” “That’s right,” said the widow, clasping her hands over the Astrakan muff. “Be cause, you know, you’ve no time to lose.” I sighed ostentatiously. “I am quite aware of that. You will let me call on you in Glendale?” “Oh, certainly, if she don’t object ” “She’ll be willing, I guarantee. Where are you staying,” I asked, eagerly. “I shall be Mrs. Alvern’s guest. Do you know many people in Glendale?” “Only a few. lam going down on some legal business for one or two of my cli ents.” “Are you ?” “Yes.” And then there was a brief silence. “Are you acquainted with Mr. Carter, Mrs. Alvern’s brother?” asked the widow, presently. “Yes,” I answered, with a little grimace. “A self-conceited, disagreeable puppy.” “Do you think so?” asked the widow, doubtfully. “Of course, as does everybody else. So will you when you meet him.” “Shall I?” “A man who thinks because he’s got a handsome face and a smoothe tongue, that ! nobody else has any business in creation.” “Dear, dear !” twittered my companion ; ‘ that’s very bad indeed.” “Of course, he will pay a good deal of at tention to you, it yo#are to be his rister’s guest,” I pursued “but it won’t do to en courage h ; tn.” “No!” “By no means. He’s a professional flirt.” “Is it possible?” lisped the widow. And l mentally shook hands with myself for having thus deftly put a spoke in Bob’s wheel. First impressions are everything, and I certainly had been beforehand with the pret ty widow. Neither had I any compunction of conscience, for hadn’t Bob been playing pntetu:!.jokes of all styles and complexion on mi, ever since we entered the bar side by side ? “Stupid Tom,” that had been his pet name for me, always; but this wasn’t so very “stupid” a game after all. While i was thus metaphorically hugging myself, the conductor bawled out, “Glen dale,” and I sprang up to assist my lovely companion out of the car, cheerfully bur deuing Thyself with bags, baskets, parasols, and bulky wraps. As we stepped upon the platform, I near ly tuoSbled into the arms of —Bob Carter. •‘Hullo, Tom !” was his inelegant greet ing; “You don’t grow any lighter as you grow older.” I was about to retort bitterly, when a sud den change came over his face, as he beheld the pretty widow behind me. “Gertie !” he exclaimed, clasping both her hands in his. “Yes, Robert,” she answered, with spark ling eyes aud flushed cheeks. “That gen tleaan has got my parcels; he has been very kind to me.” “Oh, has he, though? Well, we won’t trouble him any further. I am much obliged to you, Tom, and we’ll seud you cards to the wedding.” “To what wedding?” I gasped. “Didn’t you tell him, Gertie ? Why, to our wedding, the tenth ot next month to be sure. Au revoir. Tom, be careful of your self for my sake.” Aod that was the last I ever saw of my daisy-laced-widow. lor if you think I was mean-spirited enough to go to that wedding you are mistaken in my character. “ DIED POOR." “It was a sad to me,” said the speaker; “the saddest I have attended for many years.” ‘U'i hat of Edmonson ?” “Yes” “How did he die?” “Poor —poor as poverty. His life was one long struggle with the world, and at ev ery disadvantage. Fortune mocked him all the while with many golden promises that were destined never to know fulfill ment. “Yes he was very patient and en during,” remarked one of the company present. “Patient a3 a Christian—enduring as n martyr,” was answered. “Poor man ! He was worthy of a better fate. He ought to have succeeded, for he deserved suc cess.” “Did he not succeed ?” questioned the one who had spoken of patience aud endur ance. “No, sir. He died poor, just as I have stated. Nothing that he put his hand to ev er succeeded. A strange fatality seemed to attend every enterprise.” “I was with him in his last mo ments,” said the other, “and thought he di ed rich.” “He left nothing behind,” was the reply of the first speaker. “The heirs will have no coucern as to the administration of his estate.” “He left a good name,” said one, “and that is something.” “And a legacy of noble deeds that were done in the name of humanity,” remarked another. “And many precious examples,” said a third. “Lessons of patience in suffering, of hope in adversity, of heavenly confidence when no sunbeams fell upon his bewildered path,” was remarked by another of the com pany. “And high truths, manly courage, heroic fortitude.” “Then he died rich,” was the emphatic declaration. “Richer than the millionaire who died on the same day, miserable in all but gold. A sad funeral, did you say ? No, my friend, it was a triumphal proces sion ! Not the burial of a human clod, but the ceremonies attendant on the translation of an angel. Did not succeed ! Why, his whole life was a series of successes. In every conflict he came off the victor, and now the victor’s orown is on his brow.— Any grasping, soulless, selfish man, with a moderate share of brain may gather money, and learn the art of keeping it; but not ODe in a hundred can conquer bravely, in the battle of life as Edmonson has conquered, and step forth from the ranks of men a Christian hero. No, no; he did not die poor, hut rich—rich in neighborly love and and rich in celestial affections. And his affairs. A large property has been left, Vol I—No. 48. heirs have an interest in administring his and let them see to it that they do not loose precious thiugs through false estimates and ignorant depreciations. There are higher things to gain in this world than things that perishes. He dies rich who can take his treasures with him to the new land where he is to abide forever; and he who has to leave all his treasures behind on which he placed his affections dies poor in deed.” For the Gazette.] A SHORT SERMON. BV A. C. “Honor the Lord with thy substance and with the first fruit3 of all thine increase.”—Prov., ill., 9. We receive all our substance, and all our increase of substance from the Lord. Should we not then consecrate it all to him ? Let us write upon everything we possess, This is from God. He. gave it all to us. It was intended to make us holy and happy. If every mercy comes from God, should it not lead us back to God in gratitude and praist? We caunot honor God by a miserly hoard ing of our substance, nor by a wasteful ex penditure of it. But in the fear ot God we may enjoy its use, and at the same time em ploy it for God’s honor and declarative glo ry. We can do this by the practical ac knowledgment that God is the author of all we have, and worthy of our praise for all we receive. We should endeavor to employ our property in his service, for the relief aud comfort of his poor and the extension of his truth. We should separate and set apart a good portion, according as God ha prospered us, and write upon it. This is for the Lord. Let this be done regularly and systematically, and it we have never done it before, and possess the true Christian spir it, we will be very apt to be ashamed of our former penuriousness. God loveth a cheer ful giver, but he hates covetousness. When we give let our motive be to honor God; let our object be to do good, then we will not fail to be blessed in giving. If we would reap a bouDteous harvest of good things, let us not sow sparingly, but liberally. Let us endeavor to have faith in God, and never be fearful of taking large stock in his cause as far as we arc able, for it is the surest and the best to be found, yielding a good divi dend in time, aud securing an interest in a bountiful inheritance in the future. The teachings of the Bible is surely safe and true. “He that soweth bountifully shall also reap bountifully; and he that soweth sparingly shall reap also sparingly. There is that withholdeth more than is meat, (more than is fit and proper) and it teudeth to poverty.” While there is that scattereth, (in benev olent and charitable deeds) and yet increas eth, the liberal sower reaps a fat and bounti lul harvest; and he that waters others with the streams of his diffusive benevolence, shall himself be refreshed with showers of rich blessings from the returning clouds of God’s mercies. Then let us “sow to our selves in righteousness,” that is according to the directions of the righteous God in his Holy Word, and we shall not fail in due time to reap in mercy. He that serves the Saviour, aud honors Him, with his natural substance, God will honor, if not with an increase of natural substance, yet he will give him a more substantial and enduring possession. Let us be rich in good works, even ready to communicate as God has blessed and prospered us, then we shall lay up a good foundation for the time to come. BAD SPELLING. Among samples of bad spelling furnished the Cincinnati Times by a correspondent, are the following : Occasionally cases of bad spelling crop out among the professions, and some la mentable instances of weakness in this respect come to light among the “humani tarians.” For instance, a young lawyer in an interior city one morning early, locked his office-door, and left upon it this rather mysterious legend : “Gone to break ius.” In a small New England town a druggist was surprised and disturbed to receive at the hands of a dirty looking customer the following prescription : “Please give the bara sumphin to fisich him fifteen cents worth.” During the war, a letter written by a sol dier to his sweetheart, was captured, wherein he said : “We will lick the confeds tomorrer if goddlemity spurs our lives” Rufus Choate, or somcoody else, said the ways of Providence and the decisions of a pettv jury are past accounting for. We may safely say the same t of the spelling of thrir letters, since a Pittsburg jury handed to the Judge a communication endorsed : “To the Cash Bates of Advertising. lyr. 6 mos. 3 mos. 1 rao.ll time 1 column, $l5O S9O S6O $351 $25 J “ 80 . 60 40 23 15 5 inches, 50 35 25 12 6 3 “ 35 25 15 7 4 2 “ 25 15 10 5 3 1 inch 1 time, $1.50 onorable gug.” The proprietor of a country store once worked himself nearly into a train fever endeavoring to make intelligible the follow ing note baud him one day by a boy who was without shoes, the son of one of his customers : ‘mister Grean, “Wund you let my boay hev a par of Esy toad shuz !” However, he was probably 'ess horrified than the teacher who received a letter from a man who wrote : “I hav desided to inter my boy in your scull.” The letter which some person wrote to an editor, when discontinuing his paper con tains iuternal evidence of the truth of. its assertions: “I think folks otteDt to spend their mun ny for paper, my dad diddent, and every body sed he was the most intelligentest man in the whul country, and that he had the smartest family of boize that ever dug ged taters.” “This house for sail,” was the announce ment a traveler saw nailed over the door of an humble dwelling in New Hampshire. He called the proprietor to the door and gravely inquired, “When is your house go ing to sail ?" “When some feller comes along who can raise the wiud,” responded the man with a sly twinkle in his eye, and the traveler moved mournfully on. Sensible Words About Advertis ing.—The following is from a financial arti cle of the Journal of Commerce, New York ; People who sit nervously in counting houses or behind their goods, waiting for customers to take them by storm, and mak ing no effort to let the world know the bar gain they have to offer, will find the seasons very unpropitious. Many of those who have spent large sums in hiring drummers, and paying for other well known appliances of trade, have effected large sales, but swal lowed up too large a share of the receipts in such enormous attendant expenses. The best remuneration has been found by those who have returned to the more legitimate, old-fashioned methods of pushing their busi ness. We say it, not simply because we are interested in this line of expenditure, but as our best advice to all who wish to be enter prising, or to secure a large custom, there is nothing now so effective to this end as judi cious advertisiug. We do not believe that any one who has valuable service or desirable property to offer, can fail of a rich harvest by continuous advertising on a largo scale. A Curious Climate. —The climate of Peru is set forth by a correspondent as ex ceedingly peculiar and strange. It never rains there, we are told, but during certain seasons, and when the atmosphere is filled with clouds, a ‘dew falls so thick heavy and continuous that it will saturate the heaviert clothing in less than hall an hour.” The coming and going of the clouds that distill this dew is another strange thing with Peru. The changes are reported so rapid and vio lent as to startle the stranger. One may be walking along the street, glorying in the rich warmth of the sunshine, and admiring the deep, clear blue sky, when suddenly, and al most imperceptible, a change takes place, “and from the southward a mass of dark clouds come rolling swiftly across the firma ment, and soon the blue sky is replaced by a sombre pall, and to the glorious sunshine succeeds a drizzling, penetrating mist.”—■ And this is as suddenly changed again, even while one is preparing to guard against the mist, the sunlight and sky reappearing in all their brightness and beauty. The Arab and the Infidel.— A French infidel, a man of some learning, was crossing a desert in Africa, called the great Sahara, in company with an Arab guide. He noticed with a sneer that at certain times the guide, whatever obstacles might arise, put them all aside, and, kneeling on the burning sands, called on his god. Day after day passed, and still the Arab never failed to do this; till at last, one evening, as he arose from his knees, the would-be philosopher asked him, with a contemptuous smile : “How do you know there is a God ?” The guide fixed his eyes upon the scoffer for a moment in wonder, and then said solemnly : “How do I know that a man, and not a camel passed my hut last nisrht in the darkness? Was it not by the print of his feet ? Even so,” said ho, point ing to the sud, whose last rays were flashing over the lonely desert, “that footprint is not of man.” Fact. —A contemporary puts the matter which it wishes to enforce in the following neat simile ; “You might as well attempt to shampoo an elephant with a thimbleful of soapsuds, as to attempt to do business and ig nore advertising.”