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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.”