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About The gazette. (Elberton, Ga.) 1872-1881 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 8, 1873)
SUgusta §uowc£n REAK & CASSEL.S, Wholesale and retail dealers ill Foreign and Domestic Dry Goods 209 Broad st., lat stand of H. F. Russel & Cos. AUGUSTA, GA. - Wholesale and retail dealers in English While Granite & C. C. Ware ALSO, Semi-Clima, French China, Glassware, &c. No 244 Broad Street, AUGUSTA GA. TTMARKW ALTER, MARBLE WORKS, BROAD STREET, Near Lower Market, AUGUSTA, GA, THE AUGUSTA Gilding, Looking-glass,Picture Frame FAG TORY. Old Picture Frames Regilt to look Equal to Row. Ohi Paintings Carefully Cleaned, Lined and. Varnished. J. J. BROWSE. Agent, 346 Broad st., Augusta, Ga. SCHNEIDER, DEALER IN WINES, LIQUORS AND CIGARS AUGUSTA, GA. Agent for Fr. Schleifer & Co.’s San Francisco CALIFORNIA BRANDY. anagm eliequgtt champagne. E. R. SCHNEIDER, Augusta, Georgia. Bones, Brown & Cos., J. & S. Bones & Cos., AUGUSTA, (lA. HOME. CIA. Established 1825. Established 1869. B3NES, BROWN & CO., IMPORTERS And dealers in Foreign & Domestic IIA It DWA It E AUGUSTA GA.. K. IT. ROGERS, Importer and dealer in RIM, GUNS PISTOLS And Pocket Cutlery, Amm iiiition of all Kinds, 245 BROAD STREET, AUGUSTA, GA. REPAIRING EXECUTED PROMPTLY tflbcvion §siufis Catib. LIGHT CARRIAGES & BUGGIES. J. IP. (Carriage Mlahufact’r ELBIIRTOM, GEORGIA. BEST WORKMEN! BEST WORK! LOWEST PRICES! Good Buggies, warranted, - $125 to $l6O Common Buggies ... SIOO. REPAIRING AND BLACKSMITIITNG. 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, ELBERTOIV CrA. H. K. CAJRDIMER, ELBERTON, GA., DEALER IN MY EDMS, CREME. HARDWARE, CROCKERY, BOOTS, SHOES, HATS Notions, &e* ELBERTON FEMALE Collegiate institute rpHE exercises of this institute will be resum- X ed on Monday, August 18th, 1873. jgfegfFall terra, 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 mouth. For further information address the Principal H. P. SIMS. THE GAZETTE. ISTew Series. A TEITLIUG MISTAKE. “I am sure there’s no reason I should not get married, if I feel like it,” said Miss Melinda Packlethorpe. “No reason on earth, aunty, dear,” said Rosalie, her niece spitefully, “except that you make an egregious fool of your self.” “Why ?” “Because you are forty, and he’s only four and twenty—because—” “I’m only nine and thirty,” interrupted her aunt. “Because you have a little property in registered bonds,” went on Miss Rosa lie, “and he lives on his wits ; just be cause he is handsome and a society man—” “And I am plain and not much in the way of style,” cried out Miss Packle thorpe, purple with indignation. “That is what you were going to say, Rosalie Grey; but I comprehend yoiu 1 spite and malice and grovelling envy. You want Randolph Yane for yourself; and you think, if I many, you won’t inherit my property. I see through you, as if you were a glass.” “Dear me, aunty,” said Rosalie, “there is no use in putting yourself in such a passion. I don’t want Mr. Yane, and I haven’t the least idea of inheriting your money ; but I do like to see a woman of your age exercise a little common-sense occasionally.” Miss Melinda Packlethorpe disdained any further reply, but walked out of the room with mute dignity leaving the plump and pretty Rosalie mistress of the field! “Of course,” said Rosalie, to herself, “I don’t expect my remonstrances to be of any effect. She’ll marry him—and she’ll be wretched ever afterward. I shall have the privilege of saying, “I told you so but that won’t help poor aunty.” Meanwhile Miss Packlothorpo was critically surveying herself in the mir ror, “I know I am not one of your picture book beauties,” she soid to herself, with a little toss of her head, as she viewed the crow’s feet around the corners of her eyes, the freckles on the bridge of her nose, and the thin hair that developed into a positive bald spot on the crown of her head, artfully concealed by a knot of lavender ribbon, “but if I use plenty of powder, and a little dot of rose bloom on the cheeks, as every one else does, why I’m not positively a fright—and if Rudolph does adore me, I don’t see how lam to blame for it. Of course its nat ural for Rosy to be malicious—she wants to marry first.” And what were Mr. Vane’s meditations on the all-important subject of matri- mony ? He lay stretched out on a lounge, with the highest-priced cigar Broadway could afford between his lips, the pretti est cashmere dressing-gown wraped around his aristocratically slender figure that money could buy, and a Liverpool coal" fire in the grate. For Rudolph Yane -was one of those who will always have the best of everything, whether the money-tide be at high or low ebb— a human lilly of the field, who was inva ■ riably arrayed like Solomon in all his glory. Handsome, dark-eyed, silky-haired— he lay there, languidly enjoying the fla vor of his cigar, and watching the snow as it eddied through the air outside, and changed into tiny rivulets on the plate glass casements. “Jones wants his little account settled, eh ?” he muttered to himself, glancing down at a letter tliat liad slipped to the carpet. “Confounded stupid that of Jones.— He’ll have to wait. So will Sling and Cobble, the wine merchants. So will Stitchell, the tailor. Very annoying all this to do about a little paltry money. I didn’t care about marrying just yet, but upon my honor I believe these dunning villains will drive mo to it! Why don’t aunt Tribulation die, if she is ever going to, and leave me all of her money and bonds ? “I believe the old woman is made of cast-iron and india-rubber! And here she is, writing to me to bring her anew fore-top and a set of curls, as if she were determined to come out as good as' new. Now I wonder if she is thinking of get ting married a second time! What a bore life is! Well,” with a prodigious yawn, as he threw his cigar into the fire, “I suppose I’ve got to sally out, snow or ELBERTON, GEORGIA. OCTOBER 8, 1873. no snow. Aunt Tribulation won’t stand it to be kept waiting—these rich old hags are always so exacting! And, speaking of rich old hags, while I am about it, I may as well get some sug gestive little gift for Miss Packlethorpe —that mischievous little niece of hers let out that to-morrow was her thirty ninth birthday. Why don’t the old girl gag her, or something? Let—me—see,” meditatively, “I’ll send a turquoise bracelet and a basket of flowers to-mor row, and then I’ll propose. I suppose there’s no use staving off things any longer. She’s a bitter pill to swallow— but she’s a great deal better than a pris on !” Such was the eHthusiastic nature of young Yane’s feeling. It was rather later than usual, the next day, when Miss Packlethorpe de scended to the cosy little breakfast-room where the fire was crackling in the grate, the chocolate steaming in its sil ver pot, the parrot screaming noisily, “Good-morning, GOOD-morning!” to eve ry one who came into the room, and Rosalie sat at the table, as blooming as the first part of her name. “Many happy returns, Aunt Melin da,” she said roguishly, as the elder lady sailed into the room. “Somebody else has remembered it, as well as I,” with an arch glance toward a cumbrous pack age lying beside Miss Melinda’s plate, surmounted by a card bearing in Italian script the words, “Compliments of R. Yane.” A roseate flush inspired the extremity of the spinster’s nose and cheek bones. She forgot to hurl back wordy defiances at her mischievous niece, and smiled sweetly. “So thoughtful of Mr. Yane,” said she, curiously turning the box over and over. “Open it, aunty,” cried Rosalie. “Of course it’s flowers, or gift-books, or French bon-bons, or something- alsu* do licious.” And Miss Packlethorpe broke the string and cautiously uncovered the box. Mutely she gazed at its contents, while a stern look of rage overspread her coun tenance. “Aunt Melinda, what is it ?" asked Rosalie. “Why don’t you speak ?” cried the girl, jumping up and running around to the other end of the table, “Bless my soul—why it’s—it’s a wig, and a lot of false curls!” And the undutiful damsel burst into irrepressible giggles. “It is a capital joke, auntie,” cried Rosalie; “for you know your hair is thin!” Miss Melinda dashed the box on to the fire, when the foretop and curls made a frizzing sound, and sent forth an odor like unto that of burning wool. “I never, never will speak to him again !” sobbed she, and ran out of the room. As she entered the parlor by one door, Mary Ann, the servant, threw open the other and announced: “Mr. Yane!” “I called thus early, dearest Miss Me linda,” he began oilily. •‘Leave this house, sir, at once,” cried she, purple with passion, and uttering her words with difficulty. “You have in- suited me!” “I!” “To—send me a foretop and a set of false curls, with your card and compli ments!” gasped the lady. “Leave the house, or I’ll ring for the coachman to turn you out.” And Mr. Yane was obliged to aban don the field. “Now, it can’t be possible, can it?” he thought, as he walked along in a crest fallen way, feeling of his moustache, “that that idiot of a hotel porter sent the wrong boi ?” Hastening homeward he summoned the sable attendant into his presence, and said: “Dick!” “Yes, sah.” “I sent you out with two parcels yes terday, and address cards to fasten on each.” “Yes, sah.” “Which package did you leave at Miss Paeklethorpe’s ?” “I lef de biggest one of dem dar,’ said Dick. “Mr. Yane tore his ambrosial locks. “Dick,” he cried, “you have ruined me!” “Didn’t mean to do it, sab. Wasn’t it right, sail ? Tought you done tole me—” “Right? Get out of my sight, villain! menial! knave! And Dick vanished, just in time to es cape a flying boot-jack. Aunt Tribulation got the bracelet and the flowers, put on the one, and placed the others carefully in water. “Very kind in Rudy,” said she ; “but I wish he’d remembered the foretop.— But he couldn’t know, my poor boy, from my letter that I wanted it next week for my wedding with Deacon Broadstairs.” So, between two bundles of hay, our wretched human donkey fell to the ground. WHY IS IT ? “Oh, John, I just can’t stand it,” says pretty Mrs. Lacy to her husband as she twines ner arms around his neck and lets her head fall on his bosom. “Why, what is it, now ?” inquires the young husband, smoothing down his wife's tresses. “Why, your mother, I can’t please her. I try to do so, and nothing I do suits her; she has bnen finding fault with me the whole day, and it is the same thing every day. Do, please dear John, let us go to ourselves.” “But, Lizzie, my dear, that is w hat we cannot do. Mother is getting old, and she has no one to care far her but me.— You ought to try and please her more, for my sake, dear.” “John, I do try, but it is impossible. She is the hardest woman to please I ev er saw.” “I never had any trouble to please her. I suppose, dear, you don’t try hard enough.” “It is well enough for you to say that —you never see what I have to undergo. If Igo into the kitchen to help her I’m in the way; I had better go back into tLe bousq. If I don’t help her, I am lftzy and trifling. Now, how am Ito do?” “It’s a pretty hard case, I must con fess, but I hope—” “John ! John!” calls a voice from be low stairs. “Yes, mother, I’m coming.” And John goes down to see his moth er. “Come in here, son, I want to talk to you,” says his mother leading him in her room. “When young men marry now-a-days,” says she, “they don’t seem to care any more for mother.” “Oh, yes, mother.” “But I have nothing to say about that; this much I do say, John—your wife don’t suit me.” “I am sorry, mother, for I had hop ed—” “Only this morning she went to cut a pair of pantaloons for Henry, and ruined them —literally ruined them.” “Poor little thing. You w’ill have to teach her, mother. I’ll get Henry an other pah’.” “She don’t try to please me in the least thing. If I want her in the kitch en, I can’t get her, and if I don’t want her, she's around. You’d better have married Jane Smith. ’ “Oh, no, mother, Lizzie and I love one another very dearly; neither of us should have married any one else. She will be come used to your ways soon, then you will get on nicely.” “My ways ! she wants her own way about everything; I’m to have no say so in any tiling.” “Well, I don’t see what I’m to do.”— And John walks to the window', scratch ing his head, and soliloquizing: “I can’t understand it; Lizzie is one of the sweetest, most amiable little crea tures in the world, and there never lived a better women than my mother. Then why is it ? Why is it, two good, amia ble women cannot live pleasantly and harmoniously togethea in the same house ?” Ah, that’s a question that puzzles more than one John. POUND. The hinge of a Christmas-box. A padlock belonging to a chain of cir cumstances. A key conjectured to appertain to a dead lock. The socket of a thunderbolt. The handle of an election screw. If the articles are not claimed within a few days, they will be sold for old iron. Vol. 11.-No. 24. WAS PISK ARMED? A reporter of the St. Louis Democrat has immortal-zed himself by stumbling upon a dying 'woman in that city, who made the most thrilling revelation to him that has ever appeared in print. The re porter was met in the street by a man who told him that his presence was demand ed at the bedside of a woman who had a most important communication to make, and who had only a short while to live. After allowing himself to be blindfolded, he was conducted to her presence, and then the unfolding of the thrilling tale commenced as follows: “Listen and I will tell you, but first pour me a teaspoonful of yonder medi cine.” The reporter picked up a vial, and poured carefully a portion of its con tents. As he turned to give it to her he heard her murmur, “Edgardo, Edgar do,” in a broken voice. “I will tell you now,” she proceeded, after the taste of the medicine had passed away, “but first I want your oath never to reveal my name. In yonder trunk you will find my mother’s bible ; bring it to me.” It w r as a solemn oath the reporter took upon that ancient, ivy-grown, moss-cov ered bible —an oath never while earth claimed him, w’hile the blue arch of day hung over him, never, in joy or sorrow, to let her name escape his lips. “And now listen. You know Edward S. Stokes?” “Aye, he was to me a father—” “ Sh-h-h. And you knew James Fisk, Jr?” “ I knew’ him w’ell; a fellow of infinite jest—” “ Sh-h. Listen to the tale and do not interrupt me.” She told her story to the effect that she had been loved and deserted by Stokes, and that to revenge herself she sought and won Fisk's affection in order to poison Ills mind against Stokes. She winds Up by declaring that though Stokes did murder Fisk he did it in self defence, as Fisk was armed, and by her self. We let the reporter finish the story: “James Fisk, Jr., was armed, for I armed him myself. He had—Quick the potion; I die.” The reporter hurriedly poured it out and gave it to her. “ What did Fisk have ?” he inquired breathlessly. “ A pistol and—” “And what?” “ Some strychnine and—” “And what?” “ A bowie-knife and—” “What ?’ “ Some arsenic and—” Her breath was very feeble. “ And what ?” demanded the reporter, who was w’ild with excitement. “ A Springfield rifle and—” “ What else ?” “ Some ratsbane and—” “ What?” “ A breecli-loading musket and —” “ And what?” She was fainting rapidly. “ Some laudanum and—” “ What else, for God’s sake?” “ A double-barrel shot-gun, and—” “ What more ?” “ Some corrosive sublimate and—” Her voice sunk to a whisper. “ Quick, w’hat else did he have ?’ ’ “ A sabre and —” “ And what ?” “ Some aconite and—” “ What else ?” “ A sword-bayonet and—” A film was stealing over her eyes. “ Tell me what more ?” “ Some croton oil and—” “ And what 1 oh, what!” “ A chassepot and—” “ Quick, quick, what else?” The rattle was in her tnroat. “ Some—a —some —a—Prussic acid and—” “ And what ? oh, what ?” “ Some blue vitriol and—” “ Anything else ?” “ Yes, some nitro-glycerine and—” Her lower jaw fell and her body straightened, Suddenly a sweet smile bloomed on her face and she looked up as the forgiven dying look when they see the angels. “Did he have anything else?” queried the reporter. “Yes, a Gatling gu-u-u —” And with these words she floated out upon the unknown sea that surrounds the whole world. The reporter has sworn to this state ment before the proper judicial authori ty agd has been allowed two months’ leave of absence to get the taste of it out of his mouth, so as to be fresh and bright when he is summoned as a wit ness for Stokes at the trial in October. GONE TO THE LODGE. In the eastern portion of the city lives a gentleman who is the possessor of a terrier dog of remarkable intelligence. The owner of the dog is a young mar ried man and resides with his parents. The dog is a great favorite with the old man, and it is said that whenever he “says grace” before meals the dog immediately raises himself upon his hind legs, folds his paws, and bows down liis head in the most sanctimonious manner. But the young gentleman swears that dog must die. A few nights ago he started from home, telling his wife he intended to “go to the lodge,” and, as sometimes happened, the dog followed after him. The young wife sat up waiting for her husband’s re turn. Ten, eleven, twelve, one o’clock found her waiting and watching, and then came a noise at the front door. She flew to open it. The husband was not there to receive her warm embrace, but the little dog crept in, having something in his mouth. What was it? A bloody handkerchief, and a round piece of ivory, of the shape and size of a silver dollar. Surely it was her husband's handkerchief —and bloody! In great alarm she awoke the father. What did it mean? Where did the ivory come from? She did not know but the old man did; and dressing himself he started out, with the terrier by his side. Piloted by the dog he found the “Lodge,” and in an upper room his hopeful son—dead —yes, dead drunk and snoring soundly. The old gentleman is determined in future to check the son in his wayward career, and the young man has two wish es in life to gratify—to exterminate that dog and to find the man who lost on the ace and then struck him on the nose. [Richmond Enquirer. A Frenchman, learning English to some purpose, replied thus to the salu tations : “How do you do, Monsieur ?" “Do vat ?" “How do you find yourself ?" “I never loose myself.” “How do you feel?” “Smooth ; if you doesn’t think so, jilst feel me.” “Good morning, monsieur, I must bfl going.” “Good! No, it’s a bad one; it’s vet and nasty.” What monarch was more than kingly ? King Lear. About the coolest thing we have heard of lately, was told us the other day by one of our esteemed citizens. He had loaned his buggy to two young gentle men, by whom it was broken. The next day they congratulated the lender on the ground that had the vehicle broken with him, he would have been seriously in jured; while they, being young, escaped. The old gentleman says that is all very well, but he is anxious to know who pays for the buggy. DETAINED POE POSTAGE. A visitor was examining a class in Sun day school recently, and asked the ques tion—“ Why did Joseph detain Simon in Egypt until the brethren should return with Benjamin ?” A teacher endeavored to prompt one of the boys, and whispered to him “ that he was detained as a hostage.” The boy not catching the exact sound, startled the visitor by piping out, “Pleae, sir, he was detained for postage!” Eli Perkins writes that Dan Marks, a veteran baggage smasher, experienced religion at Round Lake, N. Y., and has since confessed in open meeting that he had smashed $13,000 worth of trunks in twelve years, and that he had been too sick a good deal of the time to attend personally to the business. There w r as a deacon in New Hamp shire by the name of Day, by trade a cooper. One Sunday he heard a num ber of boys in front of his house, and went to stop their Sabbath breaking.— Assuming a grave countenance, he said to one of them: “Boys, do you know what day this is?” “Yes, sir,” replied one, “Deacon Day, the cooper.” . . ■' * Upon the arrival of a train, an old la dy affectionately greeted a young lady as follows: “Well, how’d do, Maiiar? Why, how funny you look! Didn’t hardly know ye! Got your false teeth, ain’t ye?" In California they are so much annoy ed with mosquitoes and fleas that a phy sician advises, first a bath in a solution of soft soap and treacle, then a B2>rinkle of sawdust on the head, after which the patient should take to his bed and main tain perfect repose. ■When a western editor wants his de linquent debtors to settle, he says, “De velop your minerals.” Oh, for the privilege of a western ed itor!
