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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!
