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§kugttjsta fjjusitttss teds. W. B. VAIL,, WITH KEAN & 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 & 0. 0. Ware ALSO, Semi-China, French China, Glassware, &c. No 244 Broad Street, AUGUSTA, GA. T MARK WALTER, 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 JVcw. Old Paintings Carefully Cleaned, Lined and Varnished. J. J. BROWNE, Agent, 346 Broad st., Augusta, Ga. SCHNEIDER^ N DEALER IN WINES, LIQUORS AND CIGARS AUGUSTA, CtA. Agent for Fr. Schloifer A Co.’s San Francisco CALIFORNIA BRANDY. HHOGiH EUEQUOTT CHAOIPAGKB. E. R. SCHNEIDER, Augusta, Georgia. Bones, Brown ft Cos., J. ft S. Bones ft Cos., AUGUSTA, GA. HOME, GA. Established 1825. Established 1869. BONES, BROWN & CO., IMPORTERS And dealers in Foreign & Domestic HARDWARE AUGUSTA GA E. H. ROGERS, Importer and dealer in RIM, GUNS PISTOLS And Pocket Cutlery, Ammanition of all Kinds, 245 BROAD BTREET, AUGUSTA, GA. REPAIRING EXECUTED PROMPTLY (SUitttott -Business Csuits. LI6HT CARRIAGES BUGGIES. J. F. AULD, Carriage ufact’ r GLBERTOiV, GEORGIA. BEST WORKMEN! BEST WORK! LOWEST PRICES! Good Baggies, warranted, - $125 to $l6O Common Baggies - SIOO. REPAIRING AND BLACKSMITHING 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,) dealers in DRY GOODS, CROCKERY, BOOTS AND SHOES, HARDWARE, &c., Public Square, ELBERTOI GA. H. K. CAIRDNER, ELBERTON, GA., DEALER IN BY COOIS. GIOCIIIE. HARDWARE, CROCKERY, BOOTS, SHOES, HATS Notions, &o ELBERTON FEMALE THE exercises of this institute will be resum ed on Monday, August 18th, 1873. 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. THE GAZETTE. New Sei ies. A TALE OF CALIFORNIA MINES. BY JOAQUIN MILLER. There was a company up the gulch above us. Portuguese were these—a ! quiet, unobtrusive set of men, with dogs and shot-guns, and the quaintest little cabins in the world. Brown men—sail ors mostly—with ear-rings in their ears and their shirt-bosoms open; clannish people, silent and respectful. Then there were other companies below, not unlike our own—a hundred men or more on this little mountain stream. Trees above us in eternal green, chapparal along the steep and fierce old mountain side that pitched almost perpendicularly on either side the stream upon us, from which whistled the partridge through the day, and called the gray coyote at night. No other sounds than these, but the rattle of the stones in the cradle, or the tom and the pick and the shovel on the rocks. No doctors, no lawyers, nolaw, no thieves. Forty miles the nearest trading camp. All things we brought from there, across a wall of everlasting snow, upon our backs—bread and bacon and beans, and beans and bacon and bread—the whole year through. At last the dreaded scur vy came. Men suddenly fell ill, lost the use of their limbs, fell helpless on their hands. No help, nothing would do them good but change of place and change of diet. We could not carry them out across the snow. This was dreadful. You could not have seen these strong, brave men stricken there, helpless, dying day by day, without hope, and been silent. Sad! fearful! There were six of them, and the worst case in the six was that of the man with the leather nose, all brought together, all lying looking hopelessly, sadly into each other’s faces, thinking of other faces, other scenes, in other lands. At last an old sailor suggested, as a last resort, a remedy. He had seen a ship’s crew saved in some land in the tropics. We would try that. It was to place the men, strip ped nude as nature, up to the chin in the earth, till the loose and warm rich soil should draw the poison from their bodies. There was reason in this. Besides, we had some evidence that it would save our men; for once when a party of men at tacked us, Ave won the fight, and follow ing them a little Avay, found a wounded Indian buried up to the eyes in the earth. They had done this in hope of saving him, to try and heal his wound, and they are good physicians. We dug six pits in the shadow of a pine, in the loose and warm alluAual soil; and there, as the sun went down, Ave stood the men up to the chin, and filled the earth in about them. It Avas a love ly moonlight night, balmy and peaceful as a paradise. Not a sound save the doleful howl of a wolf in the crags above. Even in this condition the grim Russian was the centre of interest. But he was silent and helpless. His head inclined to one side, and rested on the loose, warm soil beside him. His hand Avas half hidden in the earth. Oregon Jake was there, assisting as well as he might, in his awkward and loose way, in the singular experiment and effort to save the lives of the strick en men. But he was not gifted with any special gravity of bearing, and the gro tescpie picture before him, with all its sadness, had its comical feature. He went up to Ginger and began to talk, as he looked now and then at the Russian over his shoulder. He half laughed as he did so. The buried man heard him, lifted his head with an effort, and cried out, in a ghostly, graveyard voice: Knock him down, Ginger; knock him down!” Ginger, true to his helpless friend, knocked him down on the spot. Again the feeble head of the helpless man settled over on the soft soil. He closed his eyes with the most perfect satisfaction, and then smiled till his white teeth looked like the entire roof of a miniature cemetery. After a while the tired miners began to retire, and, with a silent prayer for the success of the experiment, left it to time. The invalids were cheerful, and now with a little hope, chatted gaily enough together, but looked strange be yond description—the six shaggy heads, just bursting through the earth, like Banquo’s, there in a row, in the fitful moonlight. It looked like men rising from the earth and coming up to judg ment. Their voioes sounded weird and ghostly, too, as of another world. After ELBERTON, GEORGIA# SEPTEMBER 3# 1873. awhile, one by one they fell asleep, and all was still, save the howling of the wolf on the bluff above. I grew frightened ike. I think the others did too. 4pd one by one we stole away and left them there, as the night went on, and sougjht our bunks inside the cabins, and threw us down in our clothes and slept. It was an experiment for life or death. What a strange stupor overcomes men sometimes at night who have been lxard at work all day. Singular that we should have left those six men there at midnight in the black shadows, with only here and there a ray of moonlight to relieve the scene. Strange that we could not keep awake. The experiment was a failure. The wolves come down in the night and ate off every head level with the ground. | LOT’S WIFE. A correspondent in Virginia sends the following story to Lippincott’s Mag azine. As I approached a pond the other day where some negroes were cutting ice, I chanced to hear the conclusion of a con versation between two hands on the sub ject of religion. “What do you reckon you know ’bout ligion? You don’t know nothin' tall ’bout ’ligion.” “I know heap bout ligion; ain’t I dona read de Bible.” “What you read in de Bible? Isay you can’t tell me nothin’ what you read in de Bible ?” “But I kin dough, I read ’bout Mor ro.” “What sort o’ Morrow—to-morrow?" “No, Go-morrow.” “Well, whar he go, and what he go fur ?” “Shoh, man! he didu’tgo no whar, coz' he has a town.” “Dar, didn’t I tell you, you didn’t know nuthin’ bout nuthin’. You read; de Bible ! How cum de town named Moro’ and how the town gwine any whar? Town ain’t got no legs to go wid.” ■ j “De debbil dey didn’t. Ef day stay; dar till to-morrow ? Splain me dat.” j’S “But dey all gone, and de towjgtc All done burnt up.” “Ef dar ain’t no pepul, and dere ain’t no town named Morro ? G'long nigger ! Didn’t I knew you didn’t knew nuthin’ ’tall ’bout ’ligion ? But go on, and tole me ’bout some more what you read in de Bible.” “Well, Morro avus a big town—’bout mighty nigh’s big as Washington city— de pepuls what lived dar was de meanes’ pepul in de whole worl’—dey was dat mean, dat de Lord he couldn’t bear ’em, and he make up his mind dat he gwine burn de toAvn clear up. But dar avus one good man member ub de church, presid in’ elder, named Lot.’’ “Yaas, I knoAvd him !” “Whar you know him ?” “On de canal. He owned a batto, he drov it himself. “He isn’t de man ! I talking sense noAV. Den de Lord he came to Lot and he say, Lot I gwine to bum dis town. — Y r ou and your Avife git up and gether your little alls and put out fo’ de crack ob day, coz I cert’nly gAvine bum dis town and de pepul to-morrow. Den Lot he and his wife riz and snatched up his things and traveled soon in de momin’. And de Lord he took pi-nots and some shavins, and he sot fire to dat ar toAvn ob Morrow, and he burnt it spank up and clear down to de groAvn, shore’s you bom.” “What cum o’ Lot?” “He and his Avife, dey went, and dey went, till presently his Avife [say, ‘Lord! ef I ain’t gone and lef de meal-sifter and de rollin’ pin, I wisht I may die!” and she turned round—and she right dar, now!” “What you recon she been doin’ all dis time?” “Nuffin.” “She must be a mighty good-fur nufin woman.” “No she ain’t. De Lord he turned her to a pillow ov salt, coz she is too ’quisitive.” “Dar—evrybody know ’bout sack ob salt; but what come o’ Lot” “Lot, he weren’t keem’ ’tall ’bout no robin pin and meal-sifter, so he kept straight, long ’thout turain to de right neider to de left.” “And lef de ole omun standin dar by herself?” “Yaas.” “In de middle uv de road ? ’ “Yaas.” “Must hev keered mighty little fur her—want to get married to second Avife I spect. But de fust man what cum ’long and want to get some salt to mak a asli cake, be gwine to bust a piece out ov Lot’s wife and ’stroy her; and what do you think ob dat? Call dat ’ligion ? And de ole man lef her and you read dat”— Here peremptory order from the fore man to “go to work” broke short the con versation. HIS*HAT. A COMPLICATED CHICKEN CASE. Jones, who keeps a variety of fowls, was asked by a friend to board a valua ble hen for a few days, for some reasons best known to himself. The proposition was assented to, but by some means the hen got out of the coop, strayed away and could not be found. The owner felt aggrie .e l, as the fowl belonged to a choice breed. Some months later a dis sipated man and a hard case generally, residing in the neighborhood of Jones’, came to him and wanted to sell a valua ble hen for less than half price. He had the fowl with him in a basket. It was worth five dollars, but as he w’anted the money badly, he would sell it for two dollars. Joues looked at it, and thought it resembled the lost hen. He asked the man how he came by the fowl. The man gave some plausible answer; and Jones, not being able to identify it, and thinking if he had really stolen it he would not have ventured there to sell it, thought he would buy it and say noth ing more about it. He did so, placed it in the coop and went about his business. The next morning he sent word to his friend that the lost hen was found. The friend has tened down to look at his property, and the two went to the coop together, feel ing pretty well. When they got there their feelings must have undergone a t dhange, as their smiling faces suddenly Elongated, and in other ways they seem ed disappointed. The coop was empty. -Lape of the fowl was : H&ked-oj. w.-,nu*V. cl'ftred that there had been foul work, and stepping into the cage picked up some thing, and telling his friend to follow him, started in the direction of the dis sipated man’s house. They found him at home. He appeared pleased to see his visitors, and hurriedly remarked to Jones, “I’ve got a mate to that hen I sold you last night. You can’t tell ’em apart. They are twin sisters. Come and look at her.” As soon as Jones set eyes on her, he also was struck Avith the resemblance.— Finally, looking sharp at him, he said: “Who owns that hen ?” The other, nothing daunted, replied “I own it.” Jones advanced a step, concentrated a bit of lightning in his eyes, and, lifting his voice to a louder key, repeated: “Who oavus that hen ?” The other, with a voice less confident, “I own that hen. Do you want to buy her ?” Then Jones pulled a soft felt hat out of his pocket, and holding it before the astonished gaze of the chick thief, said: “Who owns that hat?” By this time the thief had lost his presence of mind, and answered as he had done about the hen—“l own that hat.” “Of course you do,” said Jones. “I found that hat in my hen coop, but the hen was missing. How came the hat in my chicken coop, and where is the chick en ?” “I don’t know,” replied the thief in an humble voice. “Very well,” said Jones, eyeing him significantly, “111 give you that hat for the hen. What say you ?” “I don’t understand how that hat came in your coop, but as I got that off from a dead yankee’s head in the war, I value it highly. It’s a trade, Mr. Jones, but I don’t understand how it got into your coop.” The grasshopper bend is raging at the watering-places. Eli Perkins Avrites to the Graphic: “All the young ladies have it here. It is considered very Avrong for a young lady not to stick her arms back like a grasshopper’s legs and then walk with a sailor’s swagger. They call it the ‘NeAvport roll.' When a young lady gets loaded down with bottles, fans, um brellas, tooth brashes, and gutta-percha combs, and moves off Avith the grasshop per bend and Newport roll, you might as weU get off the balcony and. let the tiai igo by. I always do.” Vol. 11.-No. 19. A TELLING HIT. The recent death of John C. Tucker calls to mind a speech which he made in the house of representatives some years ago—a speech that was full of tingling wit, and it was delivered in the happiest manner. General Banks had been elected gov ernor by a combination between the free soilers and know nothings, and it was naturally supposed that in his inaugural address there would be some reference to the issue of the campaign. But the adroit governor omitted all mention, of the anti-slavery question, as well as of the native American policy. A member arose and moved to print ten thousand copies of the address; when instantly Dr. Tucker got the floor and spoke as fol lows : “I rise, Mistlier Spaker, to second the motion of the honorable gentleman to print tin thousand of his excillincy’s ad dress. You may wonder, Mistlier Spa ker, why I, who am nather a personal nor political friend of his exeillincy, should do this. It is well known that his excillincy has risen to power by a co alition between the anti-slavery and na tive American parties.—or as they are sometimes called—free soilers and know nothings. And this put me in mind of a little story. “There was a bishop in Dublin who engaged a painther to make a large pic ture for the caytliadral. The subject chosen was the crossing the Red Say by the Israelites. After a suitable time the picture was completed and hung in the caytliadral, covered with a broad and heavy curtain. A great crowd of people assembled to see the picture unveiled. The priests entered in procession the organ sounded, and the singers sung.— All faces were turned in anxious expec tation to the great curtain. When it was dhrawn aside, nothing could be seen but a vast expanse of wather—red dish green wather. The bishop in a great rage turned to the painther and “I I engaged you to paint a picture of the Israelites crossing the Red Say?" “Thrue for you, that’s jist it,” said the painther. “But where are the Isrrelites!” asked the indignant bishop. “They’ve gone over,” said the pain ther. “Well, but where are the pursuing Egyptians ?” “They’ve gone unther,” said the pain ther. “With a similar disappointment the friends of his excillency stand now. If they ask “What has become of the nay ger ?” the answer is: “He’s gone over.” Mr. Spaker, if they ask, then, “What has become of the know nothings ?” “Why, they’ve gone unther," Mistlier Spak er.” The roars of laughter from all parts of the House made the rest of the speech inaudible. ANCIENT PREDICTION. Entitled by popular tradition “Mother Shipton’s Prophecy. Published in 1448, republished in 1641: Carriages without horses shall go, And accidents fill the world with woe, Around the earth thoughts shall fly In the twinkle of an eye. The world upside-down shall be, And gold be found at the root of a tree. Through hills men shall ride And no horses be at his side. Under water men shall walk, Shall rifle, shall sleep, shall talk. In the air men shall he seen 'ln white, in black and green. Iron in the water shall float As easily as a wooden boat, God shall be found and shown In a land that’s now not known. Fire and water shall wonders do, England shall at last admit a foe. The world to an end shall come In eighteen hunndred and eighty-one. NO EFFECT. A clergyman was was traveling, and stopped at a hotel much frequented by wags and jokers. When at the table the Avags used all their artillery of wit upon Him without elicting remark in self de fence. One of them, at last, said to him: “Sir, I wonder at your patience! Have you heard what has been said against you ?” “Oh, yes, but I am used to it Do you know who I am ?” “No, sir.” “I Avill tell you. lam ohaplain of a I lunatic asylum; such remarks have no j effect upon me I” MATCT. your own sunshine. “Oh dear, it always does rain when I want to go anywhere!” cried little Jen nie Moore. “It’s too bad; now I’ve got to stay indoors all day, and I know I shall have a wretched day.” “Perhaps so,’ said Uncle Jack; but you need not have a bad day, unless you choose it.” “How can I help it ? I wan’t to go to the park and hear the band, and take Fido and play on the grass, and have a good time, and pull wild flowers, and eat sandwiches under the trees; and now there isn’t going to be any sunshine at all; and I’ll have just to stand here and see it rain, and sea the water run off the duck's back all day.” “Well, let’s make a little sunshine,’' said Uncle Jack. “Make sunshine!” said Jennie ; “why how you do talk!’' and she smiled through her tears. “You haven’t got a sunshine factory, have you?” “Well, I’m going to start one right off, if you will be my partner,” replied Uncle Jack. “Now let me give you these rules for making sunshine; First, don’t think of what might have been if the day had been better; second, see how many things there are left to enjoy; and, lastly, do all you can to make other peo ple happy.” “Well, I’ll try the last thing first.” and she went to work to amuse her lit tle brother Willie, who was crying. By the time she had him riding a chair and laughing, she was laughing too. “Well,” said Un le Jack; “I see you are a good sunshine-maker, for you’ve got about all you or Willie can hold just now. But let’s try and see what we can do with the second rule.” “But I haven’t anything to enjoy, ’cause all my dolls are old, and my pic ture-books are torn, and—” “Hold,” said Uncle Jack; “here’s an old newspaper. Now let’s get some fun out of it.” “Fun out of a newspaper! why, how you talk!” But Uncle Jack shoAved her how to make a mask by cutting holes in the par per, and how to cut a whole family of paper-dolls, and how to make pretty things for Willie out of the newspa per. Then he got out the tea-tray and shoAved her how to roll a marble round it. And so she found a great many pleas ant amusements, and when the time for going to bed came she kissed Uncle Jack, and said:— dwr Jack.” “Good-night, little sunshine-maker," said he. And she dreamed that night that her Uncle Jack had buit a very large house, and put a sign over the door, which read: SUNSHINE FACTORY. Uncle Jack & Little Jennie. She made Uncle Jack laugh when she told him her dream; but she never for got what you must remember, “A cheer full heart makes its OAvn sunshine." [The Little Folks. MODESTY. The Rev. W. B. Sprague, in some ad vice to his daughter, has the following paragraphs, which it will not injure young ladies to read and treasure up: “There is one point, my daughter, which is too important to be omitted I refer to the deportment which it be comes you to maintain towards the oth er sex. The importance of this, both as it respects yourself and others, you can hardly estimate too highly. On one hand it has too much to do with forming your own character; and I need not say that any lack of prudence in this respect, even for a single hour, may expose you to evils which no subsequent caution could enable you effectually to repair. On the other hand, the conduct of every female who is of any consideration, may be expected to exert an influence on the character of every gentleman with whom she associates, and that influence will be for good or evil, as she exhibits or fails to exhibit a deportment which becomes her. So commanding is this influence that it is safe to calculate upon the. character of every community, from know ing the prevailing standard of female character, and that can hardly be regard ed as an exaggerated maxim which de clares that ‘woman rales the world.’ “Let me counsel you, then, never to utter an expression or do an act which even looks like soliciting a gentleman’s attentions. Remember that every ex pression of civility, to be of any value, must be perfectly voluntary; and any Avish on your part, whether directly or indirectly expressed, to make yourself a favorite, will be certain to awaken the disgust of all who know it.” A little boy being instructed in morals by his grandmother, the old lady told him that all such terms as “bygoll," “by jingo,” “ by thunder,” etc., were only lit tle oaths, and but little better than other profanities. In fact, she said he could tell a profane oath by the prefix “by.” All such were oaths. “Well, then, grand mother,” said the hopeful, “is *by tele graph,’ which I see in the newspapers, swearing?” “No," said the old lkdy, “that is only lying.”