Newspaper Page Text
g usance Cavite.
"W- 18. "V-A-ULi,
WITH
IiKA.V &. CASSELS,
Wholesale and retail dealers in
Foreign and Domestic Dry Goods
209 Broad st., lat stand of H. F. Russel & Cos.
AUGUSTA, GA.
J. MURPHY & CO.
Wholesale and retail dealers in
English While Granite & C, C. Ware
5 ALSO,
Semi-China, French China, Glassware, &c.
No 244 Broad Street,
AUGUSTA, GA.
~T. MARKWALTER,
MARBLE WORKS,
BROAI) STREET,
Near Lower Market,
AUGUSTA, GA.
THE AUGUSTA
Gilding, Looking-glass,Picture Frame
FACTORY.
Oil Picture Frames Regilt to look Equal to
Eric. Old Paintings Carefully Cleaned,
Lined and Varnished.
J. J. BROWNE, Agent,
346 Broad st., Augusta, Ga.
SCHNEIDER,
DEALER IN
WINES, LIQQORS AND CIGARS
AUOUSTA, GA.
Agent for Fr.Schleifer & Co.’s San Francisco
CALIFORNIA BRANDY.
RHDOm ELiEQUGTT CHAMPAGNE.
E. R. SCHNEIDER,
Augusta, Georgia.
Bones, Brown & Cos., J. & S. Bones & Cos.,
AUOUSTA, <IA. ROME, OA.
Established 1825. Established 1860.
BONES, BKCWN & CO.,
IMPORT 13HS
And dealers in Foreign & Domestic
HARDWARE
AUGUSTA GA..
IS. El. BOGBKS,
Importer and dealer in
fflfffi; GUS PISTOLS
And Pocket Cutlery,
Amm mition of all Kinds,
245 BROAD STREET, AUGUSTA, GA.
RKPAIIIING EXECUTED PROMPTLY
§ujsiucis Cavils.
LIGHT BUGGIES.
J. F. AULD,
ELBGRTOiV, 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.
Tlie 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, &c.,
Public Square, ELBERTO* GA.
H. K. GAiRDMEFJ,
ELBERTON, GA„
DEALER IN
MI GOODS. SHOCK
HARDWARE, CROCKERY,
BOOTS, SHOES, HATS
Notions, &c*
ELBERTON FEMALE
®fllkpte|nstitate
THE exercises of this institute will be resum
ed on Monday, August 18rh, ISIS.
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
11. P. SIMS.
THE GAZETTE.
New Series.
HOW SHE ESCAPED.
“If I could only fly away, Lilly!
Sometimes I feel as if my reason will, if
my feet clo not.”
Maybelle Carlisle’s face was scarcely
less white than the lace dress that lay
across her lap, and her brown eyes, as
they looked at Lilly Wall, had in their
deeps a weary woe. Lilly looked up in
surprise.
“May! and you to be married to-mor
row morning ! What do you mean?”
“What can I mean ? only this Lilly:
that if it was not for mamma, I’d never
many Mr. Clairborne—not to save my
life. Oh, Lilly, if you only knew how
unutterably miserable I am !”
The pretty brown head bowed over
her hands, and tears, that were as bright
and glistening as the diamonds on her
fingers, trickled through.
“Well,” and Lilly Wall shook her head
decidedly, “it would not be me, you
know, to marry Wallace Clairborne, or
any other man, if I didn’t love him. I
am only surprised that you’ve ever al
lowed such a thing.”
There was such a cheerful decisiveness
in Lilly’s tones that May looked up in
surprise.
“You wouldn’t marry Mr. Clairborne?”
she repeated the words in a half-dazed
way.
“Exactly,” returned Lilly, and the
roguish eyes twinkled as she spoke.
“Oh, Lilly, what do you mean ? You
mystify me so. You seem to be speak
ing in fun, and yet intend earnest.”
“Precisely, Maybelle. I repeat, not
for ten thousand worlds would I marry
Mr. Clairborne—old, ugly, false teeth
—ugh ! But I would many —Leslie
Wallingford, for instance.”
Then, of a sudden, a hot, red stain
went surging over May’s face, only to
leave it pale and wan again, with tell-tale
witness in her eyes.
“Lilly, yon mnsn’t talk of—of Mr.
Wallingford any more. Since our en
gagement was broken by mamma, and I
promised Mr. Clairbome, I have no
right to consider him even a friend, or
he me.”
But her wistful eyes searched Lilly
Wall’s face so eagerly that it belied the
cold words she had just spoken.
“See here,” said Lilly, very deliberate
ly, and very decisively turned around in
the swinging-chair, “once for all my dear
May, you are going to do the wickedest
tiling of your life when you marry this
suitor of yours, whom you detest so
thoroughly, and‘whom you consent to
wed because of business matters. But
you do love; you can’t deny it, May
belle. You are this moment worshiping
Leslie Wallingford, as he does you; and
yet you dare crush the hearts of both of
you, simply because your mother wants
a rich son-in-law. May, I mean no dis
respect whatever to Mrs. Carlisle, but it
seems to me that you, a -woman of twen
ty-three years, are capable of judging for
yourself.”
Lilly’s bright eyes were fairly dancing
and one little foot was impatiently tap
ping against the matting on the floor.
“I agree with you, Lilly. I confess it.
I do love your cousin Leslie; but of
what avail is it?”
Lilly laughed—one of those delicious
outuursts of merriment which invariably
prove contagious; and May caught her
self smiling.
“Now, Maybelle, I am going to make
an honest confession, and tell you that
Leslie sent me here. He and I have
our heads together, and we propose to
emancipate you—if you will be emanci
pated. Listen now.
And with scarlet cheeks, Maybelle lis
tened.
In Mrs. Carlisle’s pleasant parlors the
guests were assembling, and up the
stairway soft murmurs of voices and oc
casional bursts of laughter came to Mrs.
Carlisle’s ears, as in her elegant gala
dress of pearl moire, she awaited some
one in her—boudoir, she called it, really
her sitting-room.
Across the hall, through the door of
Maybelle’s room, she could see occasion
al glimpses of white draper, and hear
low, confidential voices, and now and
then Lilly Wall’s joyous laugh.
And then, when she had consulted her
watch at least half a dozes times, and as
often re-read a note she held in her
hand, footsteps approached the door, a
rap followed, and Mr. Wallace Clairborne
entered.
“Really, you have appointed a most
ELBGRTOi\, GEORGIA. AUGUST 27, 1873.
awkward time for a private interview—
the guests assembled, the minister mo
mentarily expected. What is it you
want of me, Mr. Clairborne?”
The lady was irritable; what lady
would be otherwise under the circum
stances ? Mr. Clairborne adjusted his
eye-glasses, cautiously shut the door, and
then peered suspiciously around the
room.
“Madam; dear madam, I may say, con
sidering the very near relation we so
closely escaped.’’
“What’s that? What is it?” Mrs.
Carlisle turned savagely on him.
“Keep cool, I beg. my dear madam. I
will explain. To be brief, I never knew,
until this morning, that my charming
financee was troubled with—was in dan
ger of—was a—”
“What on earth do you mean, Mr.
Clairborne ? What is the matter ? Are
you sick or crazy ?” *
“A—li! that is it exactly. Crazy is the
word my modesty would not permit me
to mention. Poor, dear child! And to
think I came so near becoming her hus
band !”
“Mercy on us! what ever shall Ido ?
At the very last minute to find out he is
crazy! Lilly! May! poor Mr. Clair
borne has gone crazy. What shall we
do ?”
A little cry of surprise greeted the an
nouncement, as she burst into her
daughter’s room.
“Mamma! O, what shall Ido ? mat
will they say down-stairs ? lam morti
fied to death.”
Mrs. Carlisle’s face was a sight to Be
hold. Naturally large and highly color
ed, it was fairly apoplectic now, as she
stood in momentary meditation,| mid
then suddenly sailed out of the rooni- r to
meet Leslie Wallingford in the J hill,
dressed in full bridal attire.
“0, Mr. Wallingford!” she gjJHp,
“my poor, dear child has just
the most awful fate! He’s gone crazy.”
She pointed to the perturbed gentleman
in her boudoir,—“and my darling May
is a des-a de-a- left at the eleventh
minute, I mean the eleventh hour ! I
am fairly distracted! How shall I ac
count for it to them all! And there’s all
the money I’ve spent on it. O, Mr. Wal
lingford, what shall I do ?”
A twinkle was in Wallingfords hand
some eyes.
“It is indeed terrible, Mrs. Carlisle.—
Poor Miss Maybelle will be very awk
wardly placed, indeed. I know of but
one way ”
“What’s that ? Anything you can
suggest, Mr. Wallingford.” Mrs. Car
lisle grasped his arm in her excite
ment.
“Let the wedding go on; and let me
marry your daughter.”
He spoke very quietly; and his delib
erate coolness had a good effect upon
the boiling lady.
“Marry you!” she gasped out. Then
with a shuddering glance toward the
room where Mr. Clairbome still paced
to and fro, she dragged him by the
shoulder into the room where May and
Lilly were.
“Here’s your bridegroom May! Be
quick, and tell her Mr. Wallingford!
I really thank God that it is fixed so
easy!”
Then, safely pulling too the door of
her boudoir, she locked Mr. Clairbome
in, while May and Leslie went down
stairs and were married.
A half hour later, when Mr. and Mrs.
Wallingford were driving to the twenty
third street depot, Mrs. Carlisle went up
stairs and rmlocked the door, to find
Mr. Clairbome confronting her.
“What does this mean, madam! Why
did you have the audacity to shut me up
in this room ?”
“Now, Mr. Clairbome, don’t gel excit
ed, I beg. I thought it best, you know,
while the ceremony was going on for
you to remain quietly here; and now
that May and her husband have married
and gone ”
“Who ?”
“Don’t get excited, please. Since you
were so kind to tell me that you were
crazy ”
“Madam! I tell you lam crazy ?I ?
I crazy ?”
“Well, what did you say ?” asked the
lady.
“Hear the woman! What did I say ?
I only know I intended to say that I this
morning received a note telling me that
Miss May’s past lowness of spirits, of
j which I have repeatedly spoken, was a
forerunner of the insanity that caused
her family ”
“O h-h-li! My Miry crazy ! Did I ever
listen to such an insult ? No, sir ; it is
only one of your crazy ideas! My May
indeed! What a blessing it is tlia t we
are so well rid of you ! Good bye, Mr.
Clairborne!”
' She held the door open, and he walk
ed out firmly believing tliat the terrible
misfortune was breaking out in the wid
ow herself.
Lilly and Leslie and May talk it over
sometimes, and laugh over the uxexpect
ed turn affairs took, but Mrs. Carlisle
never knew.
MAXIMS FOR WORKING-MEN.
A good advertisement for a working
man is a seat in church.
The savings bank is a safe debtor.
Fifty cents for a good lecture is better
than half that sum for a circus.
Dress neatly. A well clothed man
commands favor and respect, while one
in slovenly attire can hardly borrow Iris
neighbor’s saw-horse.
If you wish to personally comprehend
the completest meaning of the old adage,
a fool and his money are soon parted,
buy a lottery ticket.
Never sacrifice money for what people
will say. It is better to buy a fair piece
of beef at fifteen cents a pound, and
leave the sirloin for some other man who
would buy your kind except for tlie
name.
The man is always most honored who
is most excellent in what he undertakes.
It is better to saw wood well than to
plead law poorly.
Be honest; a stove cold is better tlian
a stove hot with stolen fuel.
The laboring man holds the same re
lation to the merchant, manufacturer, at
torney, physician and minister, that the
locomotive does to a train of elegant
£?kL ■ veil .filled carsr—th.ey would stand
still forever if the engine did not move
them.
There is many an honest, hard-work
ing poor man, who rises himself and calls
his family before sunrise three hundred
and sixty-five days in the year. In nine
cases out of ten, when his children ar
rive at his age they will be called up by
servants.
A meerschaum pipe and bank-book al
ways quarrel, and the upshot of the en
counter generally is that one puts the
other out of doors.
Work harder at drilling rocks, for in
stance, if your employer never visits you
than if he frequently does. He will know
of your faithfulness when he pays for the
drills.
The poverty of childhood is more fre
quently than otherwise the stepping-stone
to wealth.
It is better to eat one meal a day and
pay for it, than to eat three and have
two of them charged.
The larger your account with Trust,
the sooner Debt will take your business
into his hands.
It costs a poor man more to let his
children wander in their every-day cloth
ing, Sabbath days, than it does to dress
them for church.
Want is afar less uncomfortable com
panion than debt.
Never envy a rich neighbor; his boys
will prive your children’s carriages.
A poor man’s character is worth two
dollars to him where his hands are worth
one.
A full purse and a brandy bottle
rarely occupy opposite pockets in the
same coat.
Never dodge a dirty job. The richest
deposits of gold are frequently overlaid
by the debris.—Christian Weekly.
A few days since a man in Boston was
surprised to see half a dozen men sol
emnly digging a long, deep hole in his
garden.
He rushed out of the house, and ask
ed them what they were doing there,
and what they meant by digging up his
garden.
“Planting dead men,” was the solemn
reply, and they kept on with then
work.
“Planting a dead man! I’d like to
know what right you’ve got to bury men
in my garden.”
“The “boss” told us to plant this man
here, and it is our intention to obey
him.”
“Where is your boss ? ’ asked our
friend.
“Over there,” said one of them point
ing to a man standing some distance off,
and to him our friend goes and asks him
by what authority he used his garden for
a burying ground, instead of the place
provided by the city.
Eor a moment the “boss” looked su
premely astonished, but soon took in the
situation, and informed our irate friend
that “planting a dead man” was only a
technical phrase for imbedding a long
piece of wood in the ground, to which
the guys of derricks were attached.
Yol. lI.—No. 18.
HOPE CHEERS US ON.
In whatever enterprise we embark,
whether it be one to gain position and
honor or one to obtain wealth and riches,
’tis hope that prompts ns to work for the
accomplishment of the desired ends.
Hope is the anchor that weighs the
ship of life when tossed on the ocean of
time by the rough billows of adversity.
Hope looks far ahead in the dim vista of
the uncertain future, when entangled in
the meshes of adverse circumstances, to
a time when the sun of prosperity shall
arise and shine with healings in her
wings, and dispel the cloud which so
long darkened the prospects of the un
fortunate. Hope is the solace which the
Christian experiences when summoned
from time to eternity, that when the Jor
dan of death is passed he may anchor at
the portals of eternal glory. In the great
struggle of life temporal for life eternal,
’tis hope that cheers in the hour of gloom
to persevere in waging an unceasing war
fare against the adversary of souls, that
we may come out triumphant in the end,
crowned with the laurels of honor and
victory in the land of the blest.
Hope is tlie brightest jewel that shines
in the crown of those who are lured by
its subtle wooiiigs to persevere in the
laudable avocations of life and pinnacle
their names on fame’s topmost towers.
Hope is the star that guides erring man
through this howling wilderness on earth
and points him to mansions not made
with hands, where he may shout the
songs of redeeming love around the
throne of Him who, in a moment, spoke
the world into existence, and can, in a
moment, blot it out.
Wliemcalled to take a last farewell to
departed friends ’tis the hope of greet
ing them again in climes of immortal
bliss that cheers the mournful heart.
Rocked in the cradle of hope the trou
bled soul lulls to rest ’mid the storms of
adversity that howl around and bid do-,
iianee to her rudest blasts.
Hope for a season bade the world fare
well, but was in time caught up by the
angels of love and mercy and planted
in the bosom of frail and dying man,
where, watered by the dews of his better
nature, it has grown through revolving
ages into a stupendous giant, where cen
tres all his prospects for time and for
eternity.
In the hour of battle, when the missies
of death are flying thick and fast on ev
ery hand, ’tis the hope of victory and
triumph that prompts the brave and no
ble veterans of war to face the cannon’s
belching throat.
In the many vicissitudes of life, when
we’ve lost all that contributes to our
comfort and enjoyment, and imagine our
selves poor indeed, if*but one spark of
hope in the future burns upon the altars
of our hearts, we are richer than if we
possessed the most precious gems of
Golconda and possessed no hope of pres
ent or future glory.
What is hope? It is a principle in the
composition of man that nerves him in
the hour of trial to persevere and over
-come every obstacle that may be opposed
to his present and eternal interest. Let
us, then, as individuals, cultivate hope,
the noblest attributes of our nature, that
we may plod along life’s journey with
honor to ourselves, and, dying, bequeath
a heritage to our posterity whose bright
ness shall rival the morning star, robed
in her regal garments as queen of day.
Hope prompts the fond mother to bend
over the sleeping couch of her first-born,
and watch, with the fondest emotions of
love, every smile that plays across its
dreaming face.
The hope of future greatness and
goodness to their darling boy, prompts
the loving parents to train him with an
eye single to that honor and renown
which awaits him in the coming future.
Oh, hope! celestial hope, that bears on
thy balmy wings the spirits of those
who are ready to abandon the ship of
life, with all her precious freight, in the
sea of despair, and permit her to wreck
amid the fogs of a beclouded sky, which
often hovers over the horizon of those
who are struggling for preferment.
In all life’s conflicts and trials, let us
centre our hope in Him who is the au
thor of all the pleasant emotions of the
soul, and who endowed man with hope
that he might bear patiently the crosses
of life, and through Him receive a crown
of bliss and joy in the paradise of God.
A. E. 11.
Deacon Davis, of Boston, has been
churched for using the expression “by
: gum' ’ too much.
TOO “NIPPY.”
Coming down on the Tennessee side
of the Poplar Mountain, I stopped at a
house two miles over tlie line, where 1
now am. In coming from Kentucky to
Tennessee I could notice no immediate
and radical change of landscape or at
mosphere, notwithstanding one side has
such an excessive charge of sovereign
ty-
It seems that a young Kentucky gen
tleman has been out here trying to keep
store, but his attempt was a failure, be
cause he was too “nippy.” Here is the
conversation I have just heard on the
subject.
“Say, what has become of that young
man from Kentucky, who had a storo
down at the stand ?”
“Oh, lie’s played out, lie was too
“nippy” for this country. He didn’t
take in the mountains.”
“I thought he wouldn’t when I first
seed him ; lie put on too much style.—
It won’t do for tligm are Kentucky blucj
grass bucks to come over hero and put
on as much style as they do at home.—
It don’t take well among us common
people.”
“Tliat’s so, and I knew he’d play out
when I first seed him. The stand had
a good trade when ho come, but it soon
fizzed out. Why, he put on a clean col
lar every morning.”
“Well, I do say!”
“Yes; and not only that, but ho had a
nigger hired for to black his boots every
day.”
“Lord have mercy on my soul! Ho
must have been crazy.”
“No. He said they did that way up
in Kentucky.”
“Up in the blue grass country, I sup
pose ?”
“Yes, up in high society. He brought
his notions here, but ho played out
mighty fast. Would you believe it, ho
used to wear a coat—a black coat to
church every time he went ?”
“What! wear a coat this hot weath
er?”
“Yes, no matter for weather, he’d al
ways wear a coat. At first ho had ono of
those and and great hats that reach,
away up yonder. What is it you call
’em?”
“Stove-pipe hats is their name, ’cause
they look sorter liko a stove pipe.”
“Yes, that’s it. Well, one of our Ten
nessee boys, just for fun, knocked it off,
-and busted it.”
“Sai-ved him right."
“Yes ; and more than that, he used to
have his shirts made to button be
hind.”
“Lord, what an idee!”
“It’s so, and no mistake. Well, it fi
nally got out among the women, and
when they heard it, they quit buying
goods of him. They said they wouldn’t
trade with a man who wore shirts but
toned up behind. They said it was
bringing new notions injtlie country, that
would ruin it.”
“They were right. Thank the Lord
he’s gone.”
“Walk in to dinner, gentlemen," said
anew voice from around the corner of
the house, which abruptly closed the
talk about the fashionable young man
from Kentucky.
POSTS AND PARSONS.
The following fresh trifle from an
English party is not bad :
I was one morning overtaken by an
active, hale old fellow, who had been a
sailor and seen a great deal of service,
but was at the time a river bargeman.
In our journey we passed a sign post,
in good condition, and containing full
information.
“Do’ee know what that is ?” said my
companion.
“A directing post, of course,” was the
answer.
“I call it a parson,” said my com
rade.
“A parson ! Why ?” I anxiously ask
ed.
“Causc’ee telTth the way, but dothn’t
go-”
Before we separated we passed a sec
ond post, which was very dilapidated ?
and had lost its arms.
“If the post we saw just now was a
parson,” remarked I, “what do you call
this one?”
“Oh, he’s a bishop.”
“Explain.”
“He neither tell’th nor go'th.”
A letter from Warm Springs, Va., says?
“Mrs. General Robert E, Lee and her
two nieces, Miss Williams and Miss Jen
nie Snowden, are here. Mrs. Loo is a
very fat old lady; sho wears her hair in
little cues on each side of her face. She
has very pretty hair—perfectly yellow,
and as soft as a child’s. You can see sho
was very pretty when she was young.
The Saturday Review takes up the
United States census, and says that,
“adding to the local taxation and indebt
edness the taxation and the debt of the
Federal Government, it is plain that per
head the thirty-eight millions of citizens
of the United States are by far the most
heavily taxed and most deeply indebted,
people in the world.”
