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Bones, Brown * Cos., J. ft I. Bones ft Cos.,
AUSDSTA, CM. BOMB, GA.
Established 1825. Established 1869.
BONES, BROWN ft GO.,
IMPORTERS
And dealers in Foreign ft Domestic
HARDWARE
AUGUSTA GA..
-W"- 33_ V-A-IXa,
WITH
KEAN A CASSELS,
Wholesale and retail dealers in
Foreign and Domestic Dry Goods
809 Broad st., lat stand of H. F. Kassel ft Cos.
AUGUSTA, GA.
J. MURPHY A CO.
Wholesale and retail dealera in
English White Granite & C. C. Ware
ALSO,
Semi-China, French China, Glassware, fte.
No. 244 Broad Street,
AUGUSTA, GA.
T. MARKWALTER,
MARBLE WORKS,
BROAD STREET,
Near Lower Market,
AUGUSTA, GA.
THE AUGUSTA
Gilding, Looking-glass, Pictnre Frame
FACTORY.
Old Picture Frames Regilt to hole Equal to
Ecu). Old Paintings Carefully Cleaned,
Lined and Varnished.
J. Jr. BROWNE, Agent.
346 Broad st., Augusta, Ga.
E. Hi ROGERS,
Importer and dealer in
RIK GUNS PISTOLS
And Pocket Cutlery,
Ammunition of all Kinds,
845 BHOAD BTREET, AUGUSTA, GA.
REPAIRING EXECUTED PROMPTLY
SCHNEIDER,
DEALER IN
WINES, LIQUORS AND CIGARS
"4 igent for Fr.Sehleifer ft Co.’s San Francisco
CALIFORNIA BRANDY.
HHDGHI ELIEQUOTT CHAMPAGNE.
E. R. SCHNEIDER,
Augusta, Georgia.
ilbcdon gusiuesis Catfls*.
LIGHT
J. F. AXTIxD,
®ARBIAGE^ANUFACT’R
ELBEBTOK, GEORGIA.
•
BEST WORKMEN!
BEST WORK!
LOWEST PRICES!
Good Buggiei, warranted, • $125 to $l6O
Common Buggies - *iOU
REPAIRING AND BLACKSMITHING.
Work done in this line in the very best style.
The Best Harness
My 22-1 v
T. M. SWIFT. MAQK ARNOLD
SWIFT & ARNOLD,
(Successors to T. M. Swift,)
DEALERS IN
dry goods,
GROCERIES, CROCKERY, BOOTS AND
SHOES, HARDWARE, &c.,
Public Square, EEBERTOiV GA.
H. K. CAIRDNER,
ELBERTON, GA.,
DEALER IN
HIT (IDE MOCIIIB,
HARDWARE, CROCKERY,
BOOTS, SHOES, HATS
Notions. &p.
ELBERTON FEMALE
Collegiatejiisitt
THE exercises of this institute will be resum
ed on Monday, August 18th, 1873.
Spring term, four months. Tuition, $2.50,
$3.50, and $5 per month, according to class—
payable half in advance.
Mrs. Hester will continue in charge of the
Musical Department.
Board in the best families can be obtained at
from $lO to sls per month.
For further information address the Principal
H. P. SIMS.
THEiIGrAZETTE.
New Series.
Mrs. Jenks Monmouth.
BY AMT RANDOLPH.
“House to let again, eh ?” said Mr.
Merricombe. “It seems to me Jermyn,
that your house is always to let! Do
you arrange matters so as to move every
year of your life?”
“Well, it does seem so,” sad Mr. Jer
myn, despondently. “All these houses
are built so miserably now-a-days, I
think I’ll try a French flat next time.
But every one tries to impose on an un
married man.”
“Serves him right for being unmar
ried !” cried Merricombe, with a genial
laugh. “Come, Jermyn, take tq,your self
a wife, and you’ll see how different the
world will treat you. You’re not an old
man yet—”
“Forty,” said Jermyn, “Past being a
young fool—not yet sufficiently advanc
ed to be an old one. Not if I know it,
Felix Merricombe."
“Don’t be a donkny," cried out Merri
combe, cheerily. “Spruce up a little—
change your tailor, and go in for gener
al improvement. I know a widow now,
who would suit you exactly —Mrs. Jenks
Monmouth; capital housekeeper, sings
Scotch ballads, and plays chess—like a
man! Not bad looking either. Come
to our house this evening, and I’ll in
troduce you ?"
“No, you’ll not, either!” said Mr. Jer
myn, testily.
“Shall I send her around to see you ?”
mischievously demanded his friend Mer
ricombe. “Widows, you are aware, are
not obliged to stand so much on ceremo
ny!”
“Merricombe,” said Mr Jermyn, with
dignity, “I don’t know whether or not
you’re joking, but I tell you plainly I
don’t rogard this as a laughing matter.
inquiries as to this French flat busi
ness.”
Merricombe glanced rather dubiously
at his watch.
“I have only fifteen minutes to spare,”
said he, “but you are welcome to four
teen of ’em.
“Who is it ?" said Mr. Jermyn, in a
dishabille or dressing-gown and slippers,
as he peeped over the second-story bal
ustrades.
‘-Please, sir,” said Abby, the sour-vis
aged Scotch maid-of-all-work, “it’s a
lady.”
“Ask her to call again at about three
o’clok.”
“Please, sir,” persisted Abby, “she
won’t go away! Please, sir, she says
she’ll not be a minute.”
“Deuce take her,” soliloquized Mr.
Jermyn, adding aloud; “well, well Ab
by, I suppose we cannot help our
selves.”
“I never was so put about in all my
life,” mourfully said Abby Macrae.—
“This is the fourth one as has raced
over the house from garret to cellar, sir.
I put the meat down to roast, and— Eh,
ma’am ? what was it ye was pleased to be
wantin’ ?”
“Your master,” was the brisk reply.—
“Jemingham—Jermyn—that’s his name,
isn’t it ? Tell him I’m Mrs. Jenks Mon
mouth.”
Her clear, high-pitched voice rose up
like the notes of a bugle into the second
story front-room, where stood our hero,
wrapped in his crimson silk dressing
gown, like an ancient Roman in his to
ga. Instinctively he backed toward his
closet door. Had she then hunted him
to his very lair—the scheming, husband
seeking widow, of whose mere name he
had a vague dread!’ Mrs. Jenks Mon
mouth’s self! Truly, the hour and the
woman had come!
“Abby," he huskily exclaimed, “don’t
let her come in! Keep her out at your
life’s peril 1”
“Master, I can’t help it,” sputtered
Abby. “If a lady follows dose at a
poor body’s heels, tell me what is a
poor body to do? And,” with a fright
ened look over her shoulder, “here she
is now.”
It was true enough. Close on Abby s
footsteps followed a brisk little lady, in
bombazine and crape, with a. wilderness
of bugles sown all over her attire, that
sparkled like multitudinous eyes, and a
semi-circular glimmer of a widow s cap
around her glossy black hair.
“Oh,” syd the visitor* nothing daunt
ed, but poking vigorously with her par
* aiol at the door wjh Mr. Jermyn
ELBERTON, GEORGIA* AUGUST 6, 1873* Vol. lI.—No. 15.
closed, all save an inch; “you are Mr.
Jermyn, aren’t you ? Let me in; I’ve
come on business. Mr. Merricombe
sent—"
“Madam!” exclaimed our excited he
ro, “I told Felix Meericombe decidod
ediy—”
“It don’t matter what you told him,”
said the little widow briskly. “I imag
ine the matter rests chiefly with me.—
Oped the door, won’t you? You need
not be afraid, I’m not going to eat you
up ?”
“No, no, I know you’re not,” said our
hero feebly, “but—"
“I like the looks of things,” said the
lady. “Upon the whole, I might do
worse.”
“What did you say, ma’am?” said Jer
myn, aghast
“And I’m not easily suited either,’’
went on the lady. “In my poor, dear
husband’s life-time—l am Mrs. Jenks
Monmouth—”
Mr. Jermyn uttered a faint sound in
his throat, which might have been ‘Alas!’
or it might have been ‘Yes,’ or even
‘lack-a-day.* But the lady talked on well
satisfied.
“In Mr. Monmouth’s lifetime, as I
was saying, I was inclined to be a little
fastidious, but of course things are quite
different now. I must take what I can
get, and this,” with a look around the
room, “isn’t at all what I am accustomed
to." •
“No, I suppose not,” said Mr. Jermyn
in a mechanical way, while he mentally
wondered what would come next. Could
he lock himself in the closet ?” No; for
the key was rusty; and would not turn
in its creaking wards. Could he jump
out of the window ? Twenty years ago
he might have scaled the balcony, but he
was too old and rhumatic-y for that now,
to say nothing of the peculiar appe^r
jftfll'n Vuu"*'
enormous flamingo. No; the only Coarse j
open to him was resolute self-defence—
Leonidas defending the pass at Ther
mopylae, Anderson at Fort Sumter, was
placed in such a position.
And it was very plain to perceive that
no woman could actually lead a man to
the altar if he were otherwise inclined.
Mrs. Mac Stinger had done it with
Captain Jack Bunsby, in the pages of ro
mance, but real life was quite a different
thing.
“Madam,” said he, resolutely, “let me
assure you that it is quite out of the
question, quite, t couldn’t listen to it,
madam not for a second.”
Mrs. Monmouth’s little hazel eyes
sparkled wrathfully.
“And why not?” she demanded.—
“Who else do you expect is going to want
your old battered ruins!”
“Madam!”
“Indeed, I don’t half believe I shall be
suited myself,” went on Mrs. Jenks
Monmouth. At eight hundred and fif
ty a year, and the paint in such a condi
tion—”
“Stop a minute, madam,” interposed
Mr. Jermyn. “I—l don’t think that we
quite comprehend one (another. You are
speaking of—”
“Of the house, to be sure,” cried Mrs.
Jenks Monmouth, nodding her head un
until the bugles on her hat danced and
glinted like black dew in the sunshine.
“0-o-h?” said Mr Jermyn. “There’s a
little mistake. lam not the lanlord. Mr
Morely owns the place. You are quite
right, ma’am—eight fifty is an exorbi
tant rent”
Mrs. Jenks Monmouth softened at
once. A landlord is the natural prey of
the tenant; but, then, Mr. Jermyn was
no landlord; only a fellow-sufferer with
herself.
“A woman—is always imposed upon 1”
sighed she.
“The water-pipes are shockingly out
of repair,” added Mr. Jermyn, confiden
tially. “My dear madam, don’t take the
house. I speak as a friend.”
“And I have so very few friends!”
said Mrs. Jenks Monmouth plaintive
iy
“l know a house in Brewton street
that will suit you exactly,’’ said Mr. Jer
myn.
“You do ?” said the widow, “I wish I
knew the owner."
“Wait till I get my hat. I’ll go v ith you
in a second. I know the landlord. He’s
a clever fellow."
“Oh, Mr. Jermyn, you are so kind,”
purred the lady.
Old Abby looked after her master in
amazement. #
“Well, I never!” said she. “These
widows does play the mischief with
bacheldores. And he’s one as ought to
oldenogh to know better. I’m right
down glad the Lord never made me a
mnn,
Mrs. Jenks Monmonth and Mr. Jer
myn went house-hunting. Mrs. Jenks
Monmouth professed herself discourag
ed.
“It is so hard on a lone woman,” said
she.
“Don’t despair,” said Mr. Jermyn,
pressing the little black-gloved hand that
rested so confidingly on his arm. “You
have one friend always.”
Old Abby looked very sour as die
waited on Mr. Jermyn that night.
“Don’t even know as his chops is
burned to a cinder,” said she. I knowed
how it would be when that scheming,
plotting widow came snoopin’ about the
plaoe!”
Mr. Merricombe met his friend a month
aftefward.
“|low are you, old fellow ?” said Mr.
Merricombe.
,c i am the happiest man alive !” said
Mr. Jermyn. She has promised to be
mini 1”
“who?” demanded the oblivious Mer
ricapbe.
“Mrs. Jenks Monmouth, to be sure !”
said he.
“sh," said the mischievous Mr. Merri
coabe, “An American widow, instead of
a French flat I admire your good
'|||d t'iat is how Mr. Jermyn left off be
ing end old bachelor, and became a hap-
HOOD AND JOHNSTON.
A Correspondent writing from the A1
leghany Springs, Virginia, says:
* jhgfc now there are not more than one
hufiSred and fifty people here, [though
,qTtarters are engaged]
t&diSBS^ ’distin-
guished families from the South. Gen.
J. B. Hood is here, with his wife and
family, which is a thoroughly representa
tive one. Mrs. Hood is a tall, elegant
and beautiful lady. The General uses
crutches, though a wooden leg supplies
the place of the one he lost at Chicka
mauga, and the strength of his arm is
impaired by the wound he received at
Gettysburg. Otherwise he is as healthy,
handsome and hearty as he ever was in
his life. Though only married since the
war, General Hood has four of the pret
tiest children I ever laid my eyes on—
two of them twins—and all so near of a
size that it is hard to tell which is the
oldest But what astonished me most
were the nurses—four nurses to four
children; and they all seemed to be busy
in fact, to have their hands full. Three
of the nurses are as jet black as coal, and
are young plantation negresses from
Louisiana, while the fourth is an old
plantation mammy, evidently a family
relic, who will die as she has lived among
her old people and her best friends.
Many a poor old Southern negro wo
man regrets the day she forsook her old
owners, when emancipation proved rath
er a curse to her than the blessing for
which it was intended.
Gen. Joseph E. Johnston, now visiting
at Abington, has engaged rooms here,
and, with his beautiful and accomplished
lady, will spend the season here. And
this is a coincidence —Hood and Johns
ton hob-nobbing it together at the same
watering place. Johnston, the most dis
tinguished of all the living officers of the
late Confederacy, Hood, the bravest and
most gallant, who, by virtue of Jeff. Da.
vis, superceded Johnston in command of
the army at Atlanta and left the way
open for Sherman’s march to the sea.
Had Johnston been in command the way
would not have been so easy, and the ob
structions might not have been curious
enough to thwart the Lieutenant General
Hood’s design. But, I suppose Hood
and Johnston will meet as old compan
ions in arms.
Bygones will be bygones, and they
talked over the past as only two distin
guished and great officers who have done
their duty can afford to do.
The negro who was hanged at Suffolk,
Virginia, the other day, remarked as he
was going to the gallows: ‘T wish dey
had put it off till after watermelon time.”
You can forbid a man from stepping
qh your land and recover damages if he
disobeys, and you can shoot him if he
breaks into your bam; but if his cow
does either, or both, you must keep
quiet.
LATEST NOVELTY—GLASS BONNETS.
Conspicuous among the novelties at
the Vienna Exposition is a lady’s bonnet
sent from Bohemia, specimens of which,
says the St. Louis Democrat, have been
imported into this country, and will be
generally introduced next fall. It
says:
“These hats are of the most delicate
and beautiful designs, and such is their
adaptability to all costumes and occa
sions that they will probably soon come
into universal use. The body of the hat
is made of loose pieces of fine glass, fas
tened closely together by a gutta percha
band, which allows it to conform to the
bead. Inside there is a lining of silk,
which is the only piece of fabric used in
the manufacture.
“The trimmings on the outside are af
ter the prevailing mode, consisting of
wreath, flowers, feathers and ribbons, all
made of delicately spun glass of wonder
ful beauty. Of course all the trimmings
have their natural colors, and by a patent
process the glassy appearance is so well
subdued that the material is not suspect
ed. The most beautiful humming birds
and flowers are used for ornamentation,
and colored so naturally that in appear
ance they are snperior to the usual artifi
cial goods.
“It is almost incredible the small
amount of glass that enters into the con
struction of one of these hats, for the
thread is so fine that a great space is
covered without any perceptible increase
in the weight. They weigh but a few
ounces, or about one-fifth of the average
weight of the present style. With the
care that is usually given by a lady to a
new hat, these new articles will outlast
twenty of them, for there is no wear to
them; moisture will not stain them, and
if dust should settle to dim their beauty,
it is readily removed by a single spray of
water. The colors are so blended that
~ ,
general neutral tint, but at a small addi
tional expense they can be made to flash
and sparkle like diamonds, either in the
sunlight for a carriage costume, or in
the blaze of a ball room, or at the opera.
A LITTLE FUN WITH HOPKINS.
Some years ago anew fire company
was organized at Reading, and the mem
bers one evening thought they would
have a little innocent fun at the expense
of Hopkins, their President. They deci
ded to rush around with the engine to
Hopkins’s house after dark, to throw up
their leaders, pull out their hose, climb
on bis roof and scare him with the belief
that the dwelling was on fire. BHt that
very day Hopkins moved out of the house,
and a Presbyterian clergyman moved in,
without the company being aware of the
change. So about 8 o’clock the humor
ists dashed out and went through all the
movements, getting on the roof and
splashing water around, and creating a
terrific disturbance generally. A rival
company noticing what was going on, al
so hurried to the scene, and without un
derstanding the joke, attached their hose
to a plug, smashed in the front windows
and began to empty a two-inch stream
on the family of that Presbyterian cler
gyman. They squirted into all the
rooms, split all the window shutters
with an axe, broke down the front door,
ran out the furniture, tore off the shin
gles, and bawled through trumpets until
the hired girl had convulsions on the
kitchen stairs. The first Company tried
to explain, but the newcomers thought
an effort was being made to get them
out of the way, and a fight ensued, and
presently firemen were sliding off the
roof, and pelting down the chimney, and
bleeding over the entry carpet, and hav
ing boisterous encounters with spanners
and brass horns on the stairs. And the
next morning that Presbyterian divine
and his family moved out. They said
the place seemed to be too animated and
sensational for a quiet domestic circle.
They wanted a house where there was
more calmness and peace; where they
could have more security for their priva
cy and pianos, and for their front doors,
and shingles, and peace of mind, and
window sashes.
A Pittsburg coroner takes no charge
when he sits on a young man who part
ed his hair in the middle. He says that
his personal satisfaction is enough with
out the fee.
A Savannah editor says no man who
has paid regular y for his newspaper
was ever bit by a mad dog.
STYLISH SQUAWS.
The following is extracted from apam
phlet lately published in Nebraska:
The Indians who now remain in Ne
braska are settled on reservations. A
scene witnessed among one of the tribes
by the writer, last Spring, he describes
thus, in writing to a friend.
“Spending some days lately among the
Otoe Indians on their reservation on the
Big Blue, in South Nebraska, I saw quite
a new phase of life. The Otoes are still
‘blanket’ Indians—wearing breachclot
and leggings—but neither coat nor
breeches. No whites, except Govern
ment officials, are allowed to hunt, or
fish, or lodge, or trade among them.
“Their lodges, dances, games, dress,
and general habits, and especially their
burial rites, interested me exceedingly.
But I am now unable to describe my ex
perience in regard to these matters.
“For years the Quakers have had the
Otoes in hand, and have labored to ele
vate them with a zeal worthy of better
success than has crowned their efforts.
One anecdote told me shows plainly
enough that their zeal has not always
been according to knowledge.
“Last year news came to the Philadel
phia Quakers from their Quaker mission-
ary among the Otoes, that their squaws
were all destitute of bonnets. This des
titution horrified the Quakeresses. A
subscription was started; a hundred bon
nets were bought and straightway dis
patched by express to the Otoe Superin
tendent Next day after the bonnets
arrived, the squaws were all congregated
and a bonnet was nicely fitted on the
head of each by the wife of the mission
ary. But this head-gear was speedily
taken off to be looked at and then no
Indian girl knew how to replace her bon
net the right side before; nor was this
the worst of it
“But the sequel of the story is not to
be understood without a reference to a
singular Otoe idea regarding the point
of honor, which was first discovered by
Major Long on his expedition and coun
cils among this peculiar people in 1819.
No Otoe brave can sit down between
sunrise and sunset without disgrace.—
He may lean, or lie, or kneel, but he must
not sit, any more than a Moslem may eat
between sun and sun in Ramadan. To
guard against a warrior’s unwittingly
transgressing this anti-sitting law, the
dress of the Otoe brave is provided with
a ‘crow cushion’ so contrived as to prick
begins to sit down. In consequence of
this custom, no sooner did the squaws
bring home the bonnets than the braves,
regarding those articles as crow cush
ions, seized them as a suitable costume
for themselves, though superfluous for
Indian women. The next day the squaws
appeared bareheaded, but each warrior
was tricked out with a bonnet, not on his
head, but as a panier. Nor could any
disinterested spectator fail to confess
that the fashionable American bonnet,
though unfit for a head covering, when
worn as the ‘crow cushion’ was enshrin
ed in the niche it was ordained to fill.”
THE PRESIDENT ON PROPANE LAN
GUAGE.
On Friday afternoon, before leaving
for Long Branch, the President drop
ped in to see a friend, who is a well
known citizen of Washington. During
his stay the daughter of the gentleman
referred to remarked that she had heard
a pleasant thing about him. [The Pres
ident.] The President inquired to what
she referred. “I have been told by an
officer who served with in the army,"'
she said, “that he had been with you un
der many trying circumstance's, and that
in no single instance, no matter what the
provocation, had he ever known you to
make use of profane language. I was
delighted to hear this, especially in view
of the fact that profanity is said to be
the rule, and not the exception, among
army officers. Will you excuse me, Mr.
President, if I inquire if whdt I heard is
true?” “It is, I believe," modestly re
plied the President; “I have always re
garded profane language as unnecessary
to say the least; and as I am a man of
few words, I have never been able to un
derstand the necessity for useless expres
sions of the character referred to.”
[Washington Star.
— ~imf —
A sure way for a boy to learn to de
spise himself is to speak disrespectfully
of his father because he refuses to give
bin* half a week’s profit" to spend on fire
crackers on the fourth of July.
Or, tells him he plight to be studying
instead of skating the hours away on long
winter evenings.
Or, that it is wicked to set two chick
ens to fighting and picking each others
eyes out?* . .. •< , .
Or, that he cannot afford to pay for
any more broken' meeting house win
d°Or, that school books oost too much to
be used for footballs, or whittled and
otherwise defaced. ... „„„
Or, that it is not the shortest way to
school to go a milp and a half around to
the mill-creek fishing- *
Or, that chewing tobacco is not proof
° f Or?£t Sticking pins into his sisters
elbow during family pray* will not ba
allowed.