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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.”