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t <6as*tte.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY, BY
J. T. McCARTY, Editor.
SUBSCRIPTION:
Oki Yi* $2 00
Six Mouths 1 00
In Advance*
Augusta Susintss Cards.
r wl ZB- VAIL,
WITH
KEAN & CASSEES,
Wholesale and retail dealers in
Foreign and Domestic Dry Goods
*O9 Broad st., lat stand of H. P. Bussel & Cos.
AUGUSTA, GA.
J. MURPHY & CO.
Wholesale and retail dealers in
English While Granite & 0. C. Ware
kl, so,
Somi-Chma, French China, Glassware, &c.
No. 244 Broad Street,
AUGUSTA, GA.
T. MARKWALTER,
MARBLE 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,
346 Broad st., Augusta, Ga.
E. 11. ROGERS,
Importer and dealer in
RIOT, GUNS PISTOLS
And Pocket Cutlery,
Amm mit ion of all Kinds,
240 BROAD STREET, AUGUSTA, GA.
REPAIRING EXECUTED PROMPTLY
(glbcvton §siu(.sa Cnvrt^.
lOT,
Has received a
STOCK OF FURNITURE
and ii consianllj adding tlierto, wilkli he will
sell at the
lowest cash prices
UPHOLSTERING ANO REPAIRING
and all work in his line 4one in a neat and
workmanlike manner. Satisfaction guarantied.
Orders filled for Sash, Doors and Blinds.
My'22-ly __
LIGHT CARRIAGES & BUGGIES.
,i. k. Ai r.n,
Carriage M^audfacfr
ELBGRTOX, GEORGIA,
BEST WORKMEN!
BEST WORK!
LOWEST PRICES!
Good Baggies, warranted, - $125 to $l6O
Common Buggies - - - SIOO.
REPAIRING AND BLACKSMITHINGL
Work done in this line in the very best style.
The Best Harness
My 22-1 V
T. M. SWIFT. MACK ARNOLD
SWIFT & ARNOLD,
(Successors to T. M. Swift,)
DBALEBS IN
dry goods,
GROCERIES, CROCKERY, BOOTS AND
SHOES, HARDWARE, &c.,
rkli Square, ELBERTOI GA.
. JOHN H. JONES & GO.,
From this day, will sell their stock ot
WINTER DRESS GOODS
CLOTHING, OASSIMERES, HATS,
RIBANDS, NOTIONS, &c.,
AT'COST FOR CASH.
H. K. CAIRDIMER,
elberton, ga„
DEALER IN
in hik min.
HARDWARE, CROCKERY,
boots, shoes, hats
Notion*, &C-
THE GAZETTE.
;i(mnt itt of (gircitK if it dcptutf cut i/o (Tltutfjs— jPwutcit (6,YchtouTlu to the ijfitfiTOte of the Cotunutnity.
New Series.
MANS PL A CE IN NA TURE.
I.
They told him gently he was made
Of nicely-tempered mud;
That man nolengthened part had played
Anterior to the Flood.
'Twas all in vain : he heeded not—
Referring plant and worm,
Fish, reptile, ape, and Bottentot.
To one “primordial germ.”
11.
They asked him whether he could bear
To think his kiud allied
To all those brutal mrms which were
jn structure pithecoid ;
Whether he thought the apes and us
Homolgous in form ;
He said. “Homy and Pithecus
Come from one common germ.”
111.
They called him “atheistical,
Sceptic, and infidel:”
They swore his doctrines witbou fail
Would plunge him into hell :
But he ir proofs in no way lame,
Made this deduction firm,
That all organic bcißgs caine
From one primordial germ.
IV.
That as for the Noacbin flood,
’Twas long ago disproved ;
That as for man ceing made of mud,
All by who truth is loved
Accept as fact, —what, malgre strife,
Research tends to confirm—
That man and everything with life
Came from one common germ.
JANETS DECISION.
BY MARY S. LADD.
“I shall •never many,” said Janet Strong,
gravely. ‘‘l shal* not become an author, I
am not ambitious; neither am I benevolent
enough to pass my life among the sick and
needy—and what a wearisome life iies be
fore me ! Mv ideal mao A* oble courtly
and chivalrjc, w.'iit r-.* M y,:!—bah Iwe
w : ll uotsfli. . „j .ut a creature so
commonplace.”
This was given in the form of a soliloquy,
but in the presence of her cousin, Philip
Hamilton, who hud often listened to similar
sentiments trout the same bright lips.
He looked amused now, and perhaps a
tiifle hurt.
“Preseut company excepted, I must flat
ter myself,” he remarked dryly.
“Always in your case, Philip. You know
I am so proud of you for a cousin.”
Janet was always bringing in the relation
ship, ho thought. But he had concluded
long ago that his suit was hopeless; yet he
led her away from this pet theme of hers,
for it was distasteful to him.
“Mrs. B.’s reception will be the party of
the season, it is said. Do you go, Janet ?”
“Yes ; these great parties are great bores,
but Mary i:, to be at borne purposely to at
tend. She returns next day, and has writ
ten that I must surely meet her there. I
have not seen her since her marriage. Her
coming gives the affair new coloring, you
see. I expect to enjoy it.”
Very simply and tastefully did Janet at
tire herself for the evening. She met her
old frieud, and, seated oeside her in the li
brary, she almost forgot the glare, and mu
sic, and murmur coming from other parts of
house. But Miry must move around among
her mother’s guests; so after awhile she
arose; and as Janet preferred obscurity and
quiet, she remained where she was. In
passing her, Mary swept her handkerchief
to the floor; it was hauded to her by a gen
tleman who had by chance become seated
near her. She had noticed him before, that
evening, and he bad impressed her as pos
sessing character, and his square jaws cer
tainly indicate that a purpose once fixed in
i his mind was not easily abandoned. He
l was one of those people who do not seem to
1 need the ceremony of an introduction, —
They carry about them, in their presence or
personality, the assurance of the reliability,
j And notwithstanding Janet’s admiration of
high seutiment ami chivalry, she had an ap
preciation of such a character as this. And
not being conventional by nature, she fell
eapily into conversation with him. In that
short conversation, so different did she ap
pear to him from the ordinary fashion
able young lady, that he almost believed he
had found his ideal woman—while he did
not appear to be her ideal man at all.
In the drawing room there was music and
dancing, and after awhile Janet stopped
talking, and looked away at the gay ccm-
I pany.
! She was as fair as the f airest of them, but
she could not be flattered into assuming a
position as belle. She was proud enough to
I shrink from the notoriety.
Perhaps he may have wondered a little
:at her retirement, for, following her eyes,
ELBERTON, GA., WEDNESDAY, APRIL 2,1873
he remarked, “You do not dance, nor be
hesitated.
“Flirt,” she added. “Oh, dear, no! Danc
ing gives me a headache 5 and girls that
flirt intend, some day, to got married. I
never do.”
An amused smile played over the face of
her auditor.
“And you,” she asked.
“Oh, Ido not dance. I have a fancy
that substantial looking people, like myself,
were not intended for dances” —after a
pause —“though, indeed, I do not know
as I answered your questions fully. Per-
haps you intended also to inquire—”
“If you flirted ? No, I should never sup
posed such a thing. You look quite too
“Sensible,” he suggested,
“Yes, that was what l wished to say.”
“But you was afraid I might accuse you
mentally of flattery.”
“No, not that.”
“Perhaps you do not consider it compli
mentary to be called seusible
“Well I hardly know. It would be reli
able and commendable in a friend, but sen
sible persons are usually considered prosy or
dull.”
“Which quality would you ascribe to me'
may I inquire ?”
“You certainly are not dull; nor do I be
lieve you prosy ; yet I think you sensible
and it does not answer in any one for a flue
imagination, or high-toned chivalrj. In
these days we do not find men so endow
ed.
“And the want of these qualifications in
the present degenerate race of men, has de
cided you to remain single ?”
“You have divined the reasons for my re
solves.”
“I hope it does not also exclude mankind
from your friendship?”
“No; friendship and love are distinct
sentiments.”
“Exactly. They have not much in com
mon. Now, lam sure it would give me
pleasure to make your acquaintance, and
finally to be looked upon as a friend by you.
Therefore, for the introductory ceremony,
lain quite certain that I have the pleasure
of addressing Miss Strong, of this plaCe;
and allow, me to introduce to you James
Hording, of Fielding.”
“Y'ou are the gentleman whe befriended
cousin Philip, when, under very unpleasant,
circumstances, he was mistaken for another
uiau lam very glad to have met you here,”
said Janet, holding out her hand. “He must
have mentioned me to you.”
“He has described you so perfectly, that I
could not fail to recognize you, were I real
ly as dull as sensible people are thought to
be.”
Soon after they separated. Janet weut
home feeling that, on the whole, the even
ing had not been spent very unprofitably by
her. For this little lady, requiring so much
fine sentiment, in another, was, on most
points, a sensible person herself.
James Harding, of Fielding, whom busi
ness often led to Milton, where Janet Strong
resided, seemed quite in earnest about filling
out his propositiou of cultivating Janets
friendship.
For him, iu time, she came to have very
warm respect. She learned to watch for his
coming, and was apt to get blue and think
that the world was ill-conditioned and pro
sy, if, from visit to visit, too long a time in
tervened. And because her face always
looked so radiaut at his coming, and so
grave at his leaving, it may be he fell into
the way of thinking that her former decis
ion might be losing ground.
This friendship of theirs had been for sev
eral months iD progress, when one evening,
just after they had been singing together,
and she had arisen from the instrument, her
face beaming with the effects of the music,
he took her hand and looked down at her
with eyes that were glowing.
Until this moment, Mr. Harding had
never betrayed, even by a look, an attach
ment for her warmer than friendship; and
so moved was she by this new expression,
that she could hardly stand. But for this,
she would have removed her hand, which
he held softly but firmly iu his, giving pas
sionate expression to his love for her. Look
ing up at him, so moved, so potent he seem
ed, that he looked to her more like a god
than man. But throughout her intercourse
with Mr. Harding she had not once lost
sight of her ideal, and supposed herself still
loyal to it. This declaration was entirely
unlooked tor by her, and she sat down as
pale as, a moment before, she had been ra
diant.
For a moment, loth were silent; he re
covering his position a little. Janet spoke
at length :
“We were only to become friends, Mr.
Harding.”
lie bowed in assent.
“On our first meeting, our conversation
enlightened you respecting my determina
tion ?”
“Yes.”
“Theu I should be acquitted of coquet
ry ?”
He had seated himself now, and was un
der self-command. “By me, you shall nev
er be accused of anything so unseemly in a
woman. Your conduct has been most tran
sparent, and in reading it I have found you
so true and earnest in your nature, that,
practical hpd guarded though I am, I have
grdwu to love you, Janet, as I love my
life.”
For another moment Mr. Harding was si
lent, then he continued : “This friendship
of ours must end. To me it would only
prove a poor cheat. lam so o’ganized that
only the exact thing 1 crave can be received
by me. For this reason, I have never loved
a woman but you. I must leave you.—
Good-by.”
He passed out of the house, went straight
to the station, took a ticket for Fielding, and
got aboard the evening train. For the past
tew minutes his brows had beeu slightly
knit. Gradually they relaxed, and his face
went back to its old look of self-reliance. —
Not easily daunted was this man. All his
life circunistauces had yielded to his pa
tience and perseverance. Even now hekuew
nothing of the feeling of despair.
For Janet, she sat a whole hour where he
had left her; then she arose with a siuoth-
ered sigh and sought her loom.
After this, Mr. Harding went about busi
ness in the usual way, while Janet made ex
tra exertions to pass time pleasantly. She
read, walked, she even made a difficult
drawing, and commended herself ofteuer
th*,in necessary at the way she got on. She
was preparing f erself to become an old maid
she told herself; and notwithstanding the
success of her endeavors, she sometimes got
very gloomy ; and these occasions she found
were becoming more frequent, aid she de
vised various methods to bring about tran
quility.
One day, feeling unusually depressed, she
set out for a walk, and took her course
around the bank of the river. Avery plea
sant little route it was, where she and Mr.
Harding had more than ouce wandered to
gether.
This was about six weeks after Mr. Har
ding’s last visit to her, and business had
again edied him to Milton. This he had
dispatched; and to occupy the time before
the evening train, he also started for a walk.
And because it was connected with pleasant
remembrances, he took the same road Janet
had taken a half-hour previous.
Janet arrived at a little point rising some
what bluffly from the river. This spot had
usually terminated their walk, and here she
sat down, feeling a good deal refreshed.
There were wild honeysuckles trailing
down this rock, and after awhile she arose
to make an effort to secure some.
From this rugged point a tree leaned
down toward the water. Holding by one
branch and another, she climbed around,
and then raising herself to reach the blos
soms, the elastic limb sent her back with a
rebound, throwing her from her footing in o
the river, which at this point was quite
deep.
Mr. Hardiug had walked on leisurely,
his thoughts naturally reverting to Janet
Strong; and he used the time in planning
a little, as he often had of late, to bring mat
ters between them around to his liking ; for
I have told you he was a man that hardly
recognized defeat.
It so occurred that he was near enough
to Janet at this momeut to hear the splash
as she dropped into the water; and hurry
ing forward, he caught sight of her as, in
trying to lead herself out by the limb, which
which she still clung to, it had broken, and
she was sliding back.
Mr. Harding was a good swimmer, and he
easily rescued her, though she had been car
ried out some little distauce from shore.
She had been wretchedly frightened, and
was in no condition for standing; so he
placed her on a stone where she could lean
against a tree, and asked what he could do
for her.
There was a house not far back from the
shore, and she signified her inteution of
walking to it; and after a few moments
longer, taker to recover herself, she atteuip
ed to go. But she could hardly step, and
Mr. Harding offered her his arm.
While she had been sitting to gain breath
she had seemed to herself to be the embodi
ment of all weakness; while he who had
rescued her, and was now standing quietly
before her, seemed to possess all strength.
She took his arm, but, exhausted from uie
shock she had just receired, and unhappy
at her own helplessness and dependence,
she hid her face on it, and began to cry.
In another moment his other arm sup
ported her also.
“Janet,” he whispered, trembling now
himself from the force of his emotiou, “you
are mine. In aoother moment you would
have been lost without me.”
“Oh, Mr. Harding ! I am such a puny
weakling, that I can never get along with
out you for support. Take me, it you
will.”
He took her in both his arms, and after
bolding her a momeut still, she nestling
close, as though she had found perfect safe
ty at last, he carried her up to the house
away from the shore.
A temperance lecturer discanting on the
superior advantages of cold water, remarked
“When the world had become so corrupt
that the Lord could do nothing with it, he
was obliged to give it a thorough sousing
with cold water.” “Yes,” replied a toper,
“but it killed every liviug critter od the
face of the earth.”
Vol I—No. 49.
A EVER THE STORM.
“Arthur, take this letter to your mother,
and here is your week’s pay. You have a
good mother,” added Mr. Powell, looking
intently into the lad’s face as he took the
missive with a polite “Thank you, sir.”
The communication to Mrs. Howard ran
thus:
“Dear Madame —We are sorry to return
your son Arthur with this, but repeatedly
articles, and occasionally money, have been
missed from the store. No one hut he could
have taken them. It is very trying, we as
sure you, to have such an issue forced upon
us, for we had suppose him incapable of any
sort of dishonesty. Respectfully,
“R. Powell & Cos.”
Mrs. Howard perused the note and then,
without looking up from her sewing, gently
bade her boy remove and thoroughly dry
his overcoat, whitened by the driving snow.
She could not just then look upon that
young and joyous face. He should not
know a breath of the foul suspicion, but
should go to his pillow rnconscious of the
stain on his good name. In the morning
she would visit the firm.
While Arthur slept, his mother passed
the anxious hours in alternate watchings by
his bedside and prayers at her own. The
restraint which she had placed upon herself
was now removed. Toward day-light the
storm subsided, and the morning dawned on
a fair day. The calm comforted her, and
when Arthur arose from the breakfast table
she said cheerfully.
“I am going out this morning, dear, and
you must remain at home. Bea good moth
er to brother and sister, and if any work
comes in remember carefully all the partic
ulars; but first run out and sweep me a
clean crossing through the fresh snow.”
Quickly wrapping herself, she proceeded
to the gate. She stood resting against it
and gazed on the pure scene—the trees, the
hedges, the roofs of buildings, every nook
and crevice piled up with the glistening
snow. But purer than all was her son Ar
thur —in her eyes the fairest feature of the
picture. His clear eye was ‘not that of a
thief 1’ and the mother’s face beamed upon
him with confiding love.
At this moment Mr. Powell came toward
mother and son. Mrs. Howard received
him as calmly as she had his letter, bidding
Arthur run over to Mrs. Ames’, to Old
John’s, ami to one or two other childless
homes, and sweep off their paths. Mr.
Powell was full of regrets and apologies for
the note sent on the previous evening. Ac
cidently the real culprit had been discover
ed, and Arthur fully cleared.
“The firm wish him back. They will in
crease his wages, give him every opportuni
ty for improvement, in short they will atone,
if possible, for the cruel wrong so hastily
done.”
Mrs. Howard replied, “On one, and only
on one condition can he ieturn, and that is,
that neither he nor any of the clerks in your
employ learn one word of this affair. 1
would not have him suffer the knowledge of
this suspicion for worlds. I would not have
his self-respect injured.
The next morning found Arthur in his
accustomed place, and the pleasure with
which he that evening oommunicated to his
mother his delight and astonishment at a
sudden iucrease of salary, was without a
shadow. Years after, the firm proposed re
ceiving Arthur into it, and in response to
his glad thanks Mr. Powell placed his hand
on his shoulder and said :
“No thanks my boy. Thank your moth
er. Only on the shining shore can you
know her worth.”
Chinese Proverbs. —Confucious said :
To dwell with a good man is like entering a
house wherein are the fragrant “lan” flow
ers ; after awhile you may not seem to
smell the fragrance, because you yourself
have changed—(your whole person having
become impregnated with the sweet fra
grance.)
To dwell with a bad man is like en
tering a market of abalones (a very large
shell-fish) ; after awhile you do not notice
the stench, because you yourself have
changed—(your garments are saturated with
it.)
The vessel in which cinnibar is stored
will have the carnation color: the vessel
which contains black varnish will become
black.
Therefore, all ye gentlemen ! take care
with whom ye associate.
Association with good men is like the
lanwui flower. Let one man cultivate
it, ar.d all the people will enjoy its fra
grance.
Association with bad men is like car
rying a child to the top of a wall: if the
man misses his step, both will meet with
disaster.
In the family sayings of Confucius it is
Cjj* (Samite.
Cash Rates of Advertising.
lyr, 6 mos. 3 mos. 1 ino.jl time
1 column, $l5O SOO SOO $351 $25
A “ 80 00 40 23 15
5 inches, 50 35 25 12 0
3 “ 35 25 15 1 4
2 “ 25 15 10 5 a
1 inch 1 time, $1.50.
said: To dwell with a good man is like
walking in a gentle mist: although your
garments do not become suddenly wet, yet
are they all the time imbibiug the moist
ure.
Among mankind we use riches to test
friendship—real friendship is tested by
wealth and poverty. lire is used lor
trying gold. With water we take a stick
to sound it as to the deepucss or shallow
ness.
Multum in Parvo. —The following
eleven paragraphs are worthy of a place
among the most valued rules that should
govern every farm that is well improved and
regulated :
1. When fruit trees occupy the grouud,
nothing else should—except very short
grass.
2. Fruitfulness rnd growth of a tree can
not be expected in one year.
3. There is no plum that the curcu
lio will not take, though sometimes any
kind may escape for one year situated in
one place.
4. Pear blight puzzles the greatest men.
The best remedy kuown is to plant two for
every one that dies.
5. If you don’t know how to prune, don’t
hire a from over the squ who knows Icm
than you ao.
6. Don’t cut off a big lower limb unless
you are a renter and don’t trouble yourself
about what becomes of it when your time is
out.
7. A tree with the limbs coming out
near the ground is worth two trees trimmed
up five feet, and is worth four trees trimmed
up ten feet, and so on until they are worth
nothing.
8. Trim down, not up.
9. Shorten in, not lengthen out.
10. If you have your arm cut off, you
would feel it at your heart —a tree will not
feel, but rot to the heart.
11. When anybody tells you about a
gardener that understands all abcut horti
culture, and agriculture, and that he can be
hired, don’t believe a word of it, for there
are none such to bo hired. Such a man
can make more than you can afford to give
him, and if he has sense enough to under
stand the business, he will also have enough
to know this.
Thk Drunkard’s Will.—l leave to so
ciety a ruined character, wretched example,
and memory that will soon rot,
1 leave to my parents, during the rest of
their lives, as much sorrow as humanity, in
a teeble and decrepid state can sustain.
I leave to my brothers and sisters as much
of mortification and injury as I could well
bring on them.
I leave to my wife a broken heart, a lifo
of wretchedness, a shame to weep over me,
premature death.
I give and bequeath to each of my chil
dren poverty, ignorance, a low character,
and the remembrance that their father was
a monster.
Billings, the celebrated composer of
church music, once boasted to a company
that he would defy any person to ask him a
questiou relating to music that he could not
answer.
“I am glad to hear that,” said a gentle
man present, for you can decide a wager I
have just made.”
“Let us hear what it is,” remarked Bil
lings.
“It is this: When a man snores in his
sleep, through at least two octaves, and so
loud as to be hoard all over the house, do
you consider the sound vocal or instrument
art'” -
“Pooh ! every cne knows that comes un
der the head of nasal music.”
Too Lucky. —“ Hans, where you get
that knife
“I finds him, fader.”
“No, Hans; 1 believe you tells me one
big falsehood.”
“No, lader; dat is true ; lis de luckiest
boy you never see.”
“Veil, Hans, I has to vip you.”
“Not ’cause I steals, fader V’
“No, Hans, I vip you ’cause you so very
lucky.”
Boswell once asked Johnson if there was
no possible circumstance under which sui
cide would be justifiable.
“No,” was the reply.
“Well,” says Boswell “suppose a man has
been guilty of fraud that he was certain
would be found out ?”
“Why, then/’says Johnson, “in that case
let him go to some country where he is not
known, and not to the devil where he is
known.”
One of the physicians in Burling, Vt’
driving into town, on election morning, was
met by a friend, who hailod him with the
question :
“Have you voted ?”
“Not yot,” replied the doctor: “but I
have been out all night after a voter. I got
him sate, too.”
“When will he vote ?”
| “Oh, about twenty-one years from now.”