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SUgusta toils.
KEAN & CASSEES, *
Wholesale and retail dealers in
Foreign and Domestic Dry Hoods
209 Broad st., lat stand of H. F. Bussel & Cos.
AUGUSTA, GA.
~~ irWURPHIT& GO.
Wholesale ana retail dealers in
English White Granite & C, C. Ware
ALSO,
Semi-China, French China, Glassware, &o.
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 Raj ilt to tool: Equal to
Rcw. Old Paint in ys Carefully Cleaned,
Lined and Varnished.
J. J. BROWNE, Agenl,
846 Broad st., Augusta. Ga.
SCHNEIDER,
DEALER IN
WINES, LIQUORS AND CIGARS
AUGUSTA, GA.
Agent for Fr.Schlbtfer & Co.’s San Francisco
CALIFORNIA BRANDY.
iUHJOm CLICQBGTT CRuOiPACKS.
E. R. SCHN EIDER,
Augusta, Georgia.
Bones, Brown & Cos., J. & S. Bones & Cos.,
ALOUSTA, OA. ROME, GA.
Established 1325. Established 1369.
BONES, BROWN & CO.,
IMPORT EES
Ami dealers in Foreign & Domestic
IIA EI)W AR E
AUGUSTA GA..
JE. IT. ROGEKS,
Importer and denier in
RIM GOSS PISTOLS
And Pocket Cutlery,
Amm mit ion oT all Kinds,
245 BROAD STREET, AUGUSTA, OA.
REPAIRING EXECUTED PROMPTLY
©baton |jussiucsa (favds.
light carriages a buggies. |
J. F. ATJLD,
(i|j AIIRI AU I! AiN U FACT' R
GLBERTOi\, GEOBGLA.
BEST WORKMEN!
BEST WORK!
LOWEST PRICES!
Good Buffalos, warranted, - $125 to $l6O
Common Buggies - - - SIOO.
REPAIRING AND BLACKSMITH TNG.
W or k done in this line in the very best style.
Tlib Kfcjirtt Harness
Mv 2 2-1 V
T. M. SAVIFT. MACK ARNOLD
SWIFT & ARNOLD,
(Successor to T. M. Switt,)
dbalers is
DRY GOODS,
groceries. crockery, boots and
SHOES, HARDWARE, Ac.,
Public Square, II I, B Slit TO X CL4.
H. K. CAIRO NER,
ELBERTON, GA.,
DEALER IN
MY MK MOEHIES.
HARDW AR E, OROCK KR Y,
BOOTS, SHOES, HATS
Notions, &o-
ELBERTON FEMALE
CQUegiate,lnstitute
TItHE exercises of this institute will be resum-
JL ed on Monday, August 18tb. 1873.
term, four months. Tuition, $2.50,
$3.50, and $5 per month, according to class—
payable halfin advance.
.Mrs. Hkstk.r will continue in charge of th>
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.
THE FATE OF A COQUETTE,
There was a great party given at the
house of Mrs. Dayton in Park Square,
and moving majestically as a queen
among the “gocdlie ccmpanie,” was Al
ice Montgomery. She was as beautiful
as a poet’s dream. Her rich olive com
pletion was faintly tinged on either
cheek by a soft peach-like bloom ; her
eyes were as dark as midnight, and her
hair fell almost to her waist in ebon
curls, their jetty hue relieved by a crim
son rose fastened near her temple. Her
features rivaled in the beauty of their
classic outlines the finest work of an
cient Phidias.
Acknowledged as the belle of the ev
ening by all present, she received the
many compliments which were paid her
with the greatest coolness and a slight
air of weariness.
“How pretty she is,” said one of the
three gentlemen who were standing near
her.
“Yes, magnificent, out utterly heart
less,” said another.
“As arrant a coquette as ever breath
el,” said the third. “Poor Carrington
fe’l into her snares and worshipped at
her shrine with the greatest adoration
for n :arly two years, and at the very mo
rn lit when he fancied he had obtained
the summit of liis hopes she cast him off
a 3 a wayward child would a broken play
thing.”
“I heard she had rejected him,” said
the first speaker; yet they seem to be
firm friends.”
“Heaven preserve me from such
friendship,” said the other. “Carring
ton is hot-headed and passionate as can
be, although outwardly he appears as
cool and collected as any of us. He
knows he has been played with; and he
will make yon fair lady rue the day she
first trifled wfth his affections.”
“See, he is making bis way through
the crowd towards us. Who is that for
eign looking gentleman in company with
himf"
“I do not know.”
“Nor I.”
“Good evening, gentleman,” said Car
rington, as he reached the group. “Al
low me to introduce my fiiend, Senor
Armengole of Venezuela.”
The usual salutations were exchanged,
and after a few moments’ conversation
Carrington remarked:
‘We must leave you, gentlemen, for
my friend is exceedingly anxious to know
Miss Alice Montgomery. By all appear
ances she has already made a fresh con
quest in the person of my friend, the
Sencr.”
A slight smile flickered around the
mouth of the Venezuelan as he allowed
himself to be led immediately to the
presence of the belle. The introduction
over, the lady made room on the sofa
beside her for her new acquaintance,
and they became engaged in an animated
conversation. Miss Montgomery exert
ed all her arts to make an impression on
the Senor ; and truly he seemed worthy
of the smiles of any lady. He was tall
and slim, and as straight as an arrow.—
His face was very dark, and he wore a
heavy black moustache. His dress show
ed him to be possessed of the most fault
less taste.
Hour after hour rolled on, but still the
Senor Armengole and “la belle” Mont
gomery remained conversing on the sofa,
neither of them evincing the slightest de
sire to mingle in the giddy dance, whicli
was going on.
Alice Montgomery had at last found a
foeman worthy of her steel. She listen
ed to his stories of the revolution in his
country with the most breathless inter
est, her face glowing with admiration as
she heard his words of fire.
The party broke up, and Senor Ar
mengole handed Miss Alice to her luxu
rious carriage, which was driven rapidly
home.
“He shall be mine!” said the beauty
to herself, as she glided rapidly home
ward.
As the South American turned after
the carriage was griven away, he met
Carrington face to face. For a moment
the two men gazed into each oth
er’s eyes. The face of Carrington was
deathly pale from excitement, while that
of the Venezuelian wore a cold, sneering
smile.”
“Well,” said Carrington, at last with
an effort.
“I shall succeed,” said Senor Armen
gole.
“Are yon certain?” inquired Carring
ton.
ELBEKTOI, GEORGIA, OCTOBER 15, 1873.
After the night of the party, Senor Ar
mengole was a welcome visitor at the
house of Alice Montgomery. He was
her constant compainion at parties, balls
and the opera.
Go where they would Carrington was
| always present. He seemed to haunt
■ their steps like a spirit.
People w y ho knew Alice said that she
had found anew victim, while the uniniti
ated many envied the Senor his good for
tune.
i Months rolled on and still Armengole
paid his devoirs to the beautiful Al
ice.
Alice Montgomery was sitting one
evening working on a piece of embroid
ery, when her uncle came in and took a
seat near her.
“Alice,” said he, “I cannot see what
■ you admire in that dark-skinned Yenezue
lian.”
“He is so pleasant and intelligent, Un
cle.”
“My dear," said he, crossing his legs
and looking at her over his spec hides, “I
think that man is not exactly all right;
how do you know but what he is an im
postor?”
“Oh, Uncle! Low could you speak so
harshly about the Senor, who has never
behaved towards you as anything but a
gentleman •, and then, to think be is a
Sen or.”
“I do not pretend to accuse him of
this, but as to bis being a Senor, who
could not call himself a Senor ? And
besides, I want to see my sister’s child
marry an Englishman, instead of going
to South America with this foreign chap
that no one knows ; as sure as you ire
born no good will come of itand wjith
this lie arose and went out, without giv
ing her time to reply.
But Alice had a will of her own, Jin and
what was better a large fortune in fier
own right, and therefore she rega|jjlud
his words with the supremest iudiffer-
One bright summer afternoon
ice Montgomery sat in the parlor, arrayed
in tho- best any American toilet could af
ford, the card of the Senor was present
ed, and in a few minutes they were sit
ting side by side conversing. After they
had been there awhile, he said abrupt
ly:
“Alice, the time has now come when I
can return to my country in safety, and
I have come to say good-bye. lam go
ing.”
“Going, to be driven forth hereafter.
Why not remain here ?’
“Remain here?” Is it possible that
Miss Montgomery can feel an interest in
one like me so unworthy of her? Oh,
Alice, Alice! I have loved you from the
first night I saw you—loved you with
my whole heart, strength, body, and
soul. Can you, will you not return that
love ?”
There was no answer, but a lovely
face rested upon the Senor’s breast,
while his arms stole around a yielding
form.
“But why should I talk of love ?” con
tinued he, “I who am as poor as man can
be ! all my houses and estates swallow
ed up in the maelstorm of the past revo
lution, beyond all possibility of reclama
lion!”
“Dear Henricho, I have riches; I have
riches for both.”
“And would you leave your friends,
your home, all that you hold dear, to
share the fortune of a poor exile like my
self?”
“All, dear, all!”
The coquette was conquered. The
face of Armengole grew pale, his lips
trembled with emotion, and his eye grew
dim, but it was for an instant only. His
face flushed and his eyes shone with
their wonted fire.
“Then be it so," he said. Together we
will reach our far-off home. Once there,
our future life shall be one long dream
of love.”
A week after this conversation they
were married, and then took their depart
ure for Caraccas, where they arrived m
due time. Armengole engaged a dwell
ing in the most fashionable part of the
city, and Alice was as happy as the day
was long. Hack hour seemed to add to
the intensity of the love she bore her
husband.
Time sped on its winged flight, and
Alice became conscious of a change in
the manner of Armengole. Hi% demands
for money became more and more press
ing, and she willingly acceded to every
request.
Soon his absence from home began to
grow longer and longer, but be lulled
her gentle complaints to rest by stories
of his having discovered a way to recov
er his many estates, and that he was
compelled to take long journeys to cany
out his plans, always ending each explan
ation with a fresh demand for money,
it being, he said, impossible to gain hi3
object without a liberal expenditure of
gold.
One day while Armengole was lying
on a sofa in his chamber smoking a ci
gar, the door was suddenly thrown
open, and his wife rushed in with the air
of an enraged tigress. Her hair was dis
ordered, her face was crimson, and her
eyes fairly blazed with rage. All the
fire of her passionate nature was fairly
roused within her. In her hand she car-*
ried an open letter. She stopped with
in a few feet of the sofa, and glared on
Armengole as though she would destroy
him with her gaze. The Senor smoked
on, although he surmised something ter
rible had happened. His coolness mad
' dened her.
“Armengole,” she cried, in a voice
almost choked with passion, “Armengole
you are a villain! You have ruined
me?”
He turned quietly on his side, and
looked at her with as little emotion as a
statue.
“I received this letter a moment ago,”
! she cried. “Tell me, are its statements
true or false ?” and she placed the letter
in his hands.
Armengole removed his cigar and read
the letter from beginning to end, with
out moving a muscle of his countenance
while so doing. It read as follows :
, London, Jan. G, 1872.
Dear Madam : Allow mo to congratu
late you on your choice of a husband.—
In accepting him you not only pleased
your own fancy but mine also. I chose
lum for you. Know that vour beloved
1 J , v
| husband, Senor Henrico, is no Venezue
[ Tan, but sv London adventurer, his pro
fession, gambling. His name is Thomas
Radcliff. You spurned my love, and I
am now revenged for the slight you put
j upon me. I wish you every happiness
with your dear husband!
Your old friend,
Eugene Carrington.
“Well, sir, is that letter true?” said
Alice as Armengole began to refold the
letter.
“Madam, it is true,” was the cold re
ply-
“ True !My God! groaned the wretch
ed woman, sinking into a chair near
by.
“Every word is true," replied Armen
gole.
“Villain ! villain to lure an innocent
girl from home and friends to serve
your own base purposes, to make the
heart’s best feelings subservient to your
love of gain! You have despoiled me of
my fortune, leaving me as you are. You
shall rue this yet! I have home and
friends—”
“A thousand miles away," said .Ar
mengole.
“Ay, but I will reach them for all that,
though it were ten thousand miles, and
then, scoundrel you shall tremble!”
“Indeed! Then seek them at onte by
all means. I have no desire to detain
you. I have no claim upon you —you are
NOT MY WIFE.”
“You say I am not your wife ? Li
ar!”
“Umph! Not so, for when I married
you my first wife was still living. lam
speaking plainly now for the first time
since I knew you. I never loved or car
ed for you. You was rich; I was very
poor, indeed. Your fortune was a stake
worth playing for : I played for it and
won it.”
While he was speaking, the eyes of
Alice rested on a dagger which Armen
gGxe always wore, and which was lying
on x table near her. Reaching out her
hand she possessed herself of the weap
on, and as the last words passed his lips
she sprang madly forward and plunged
the dagger into his bosom. Armengole
uttered a loud cry, then sprang from the
sofa and raised his arm to strike her
down, but she caught it as it descended,
then drove the poinard in his throat, and
Armengole fell foward on his face—a
corpse.
Alice stood for a moment gazingon the
body with eyes that gleamed the wild file
of insanity, then with a wild, unmusical
laugh she plunged the dagger into her
heart.
Eugene Carrington was terribly aveng
ed.
Yol. II -INTo. 25.
A MISTAKE.
That editors are delighted to get any
thing to “fill up” the paper.
That they have plenty of time to cor
rect bad manuscript.
That they must have no opinion of
their own.
That they can run a paper without
money.
That they always have plento of mon
ey.
That they see things through other
people's glasses;
That the editor never loses his pa
tience.
That he isn’t fond of wedding edi
bles.
That he hates his paying subscrib
ers.
That he sliould'be able to make his
dinner, supper and breakfast off of the
news of the week.
That he should interest himself in ev
erybody’s business, and let his go to the
dogs.
That he has no right to admire pretty
males.
That at public gatherings of every kind
he has not the right, being a representa
tive of the press, to press in without in
vitation.
That he breaks any of the ten corn
man dments.
That he gets his new clothes at fires.
That he ever deviates from the truth in
any respect.
That he must know everything wheth
er informed or not.
That he should “notice” every scala
wag show that travels.
That he should have news, whether
there is any or not.
That he should publish every indi
vidual who attends a dog fight or a
horse race.
THE POWER OF EXAMPLE.
In a town in Bavaria there was a little
tumble-down church building, where the
duke, as often as he came that way, used
to go in and pray. If, on coming out of
the chapel, he happened to meet any of
the peasants in the field, he loved to con
verse with them in a friendly way.
One day he met an old man with whom
he fell into conversation on various sub
jects, and, taking a liking to the old man,
he asked him, in parting, whether he
could do anything for him.
The peasant replied, “Noble sir, you
cannot do anything better for me tha n
you have done already.”
“How so ?” answered he. “Ido not
know that I have ever done anything for
you.”
“ But I know it, ’ said the old man;
“for how can I ever forget that you have
saved my son 1 He traveled so long in
the ways of sin, that for a long time he
would have nothing to do with the church
or prayer; and he sank every day deeper
in wickedness. Some time ago he -yas
here, and saw you, noble sir, enter
the chapel. ‘ I should like to see what
he does there,’ said the young man scorn
fully, to himself, and he glided in after
you. But when he saw you pray so de
voutly, he was so deeply imsressed that
he also began to pray; and from that
moment he became anew man. I thank
you for it. And that is why I said you
can never do me a greater favor than
you have done me already.”
[From the German.
TWO NEGATIVES.
A boy in one of the schools asked his
j teacher if he could go out in the yard,
and was answered in the negative. After
the lapse of a few minutes he asked
again and was again answered in the ne
; gative. Waiting a few minutes the lad
got up and started for the door.
“Where are you going?” asked the
; teacher.
“I am going out in the yard.”
“But did I not answer you in the ne
i gative when you asked me?”
“Ye3, yon made use of two negatives
in succession, and you have always taught
me that two negatives make an affirma
tive.”
j He was allowed to go out
i A patent fire-escape killed four men at
j Montreal, the other day, and it was only
! experimenting then.
Anna Dickinson isn't going to be mar
ried after all. She denies the allegation
and scorns the alligator.
j ♦ .......
I A philosopher has discovered that men
don’t object to be overrated except by as
sessors.
WAOKUP'S WASHING.*
Mr. Wackup, a married man of Bridge
port, quit work early the other afternoon
and went home to fix up for the purpose
of spending the evening—-or rather half
the night—with a number of his friends..
He found his wife lying upotr lounge
enjoying a sick headache, but he cohldn’t
find a clean shirt. Mrs. Wackup said
his shirts were washed, but not ironed,
and she was too ill to do it, and it waff
the girl’s afternoon out. A shade of dis
appointment clouded his brow, and rush
ing into the kitchen, he slammed the
door with much earnestness, and fortun
ately found an iron on the range, nice'
and hot. Then he dived into the basket
of dampened clothes, and found one of
his shirts at the bottom, just as he ex
pected.
He spread the garment out on a table
without first removing the oilcloth coyer
and hurriedly consulted his watch. Then
he couldn’t find the non-holder, and sub
stituted his pocket handkerchief, and af
ter burning four of hisvwigers and break
ing one of the commandments, he land
ed the hot iron on his shirt bosom. He
thought the garment had a strange look,
but supposed it would assume its proper
shape when ironed, and he shoved the
iron up and down like a jack plane. Thff
labor seemed so easy that he mentally
said he had a mind to follow the busi
ness for a living. Then he undertook to
turn his shirt, and just because it ad
hered to the glazed table-cloth, he gave
it a violent jerk, adding at least six inch
es more to the split in the back.
Then he noticed for the first time that
he had set the hot iron on the tail of the
garment and scorched a hole in it as large
as his hand, and in liis haste to remove
the smoothing machine he neglected to
use the holder, and dropped the hot
fraud on his choice toe; and when Mrs.
Wackup, who was startled by the inten
sity of his language, entered the kitchen
Holding her head with both hands, she
discovered her husband hopping about
the room on one foot and clasping the
other with both his hands. The sympa
thy that Mrs. Wackup tendered was not
of a nature that her blistered husband
yeanyed for just at that particular mo
ment. She placed her arms akimbo and
indignantly observed:
“Ain’t you ashamed of yourself, you
old fool! dancing the can-can around
here, and your poor wife nearly dead,
too! And”—here her eyes rested upon
the wreck on the table—“ and if the old
idiot hasn't gone and ruined my best
cliem—e! Oh, the—the—Wackup
didn’t tarry to hear his infuriated better
half fiuisli the sentence, but adroitly
dodged the broom handle and limped
out of the room and up-stairs to bed
without his supper. The next morning
he told his friends that the reason he
failed to keep his engagement, he was
suddenly attacked with the cholera mor
bus at the supper table, and liked to have
died during the night.
EXCHANGE WITH GREAT BRITAIN.
Secretary Richardson has issued a cir
cular inviting the attention of importers,
exchange dealers and the public general
ly to an act to establish the custom
house value of the sovereign or pound
sterling of Great Britain, and to fix the
par of exchange..
The second section of this act pro
vides that in all payments by or to the
treasury, whether made here or in for
eign countries, where it becomes neces
sary to compute the value of a sovereign
or pound sterling, it shall bo deemed
equal to four dollars, eighty-six cents
and six and one-half mills, and that this
valuation shall be the par of exchange
between Great Britain arud the United
States, and all contract'! made after the
first day of January, 1874, based on an
assumed par of exchange with Great
Britain of fifty-four pence to the dollar,
or four dollarp, fifty-four and four-ninths
cents to the sovereign or pound sterling,
shall be null and void.
. By a usage dating back to an early pe
riod in our colonial history, the dollar
has rated as equivalent to fifty-four pence
sterling, the pound, therefore, at $4.444- 9,
or .£9—s4o. The dollar which was the
original subject of comparison was the
old Spanish silver dollar, or piece of
eight reals, and the computation
at the time was approximately true, as
compared with the British silver money.
Li all transactions of exchange involv
ing the dollar and British money, the
per was, therefore, assumed at fifty-four
pence to the dollar, any differences from
this par being attributable to premium
or discount. The practice thus begun
has been continued through all the
changes, and they are considerable, which
have affected the coins] current in this
country and in Great Britain during
nearly two centuries; for the British
standard is now gold, and the Spanish
dollar no longer circulates with us, but
our unitary dollar ia a gold coin, worth
nearly nine per cent less than a dollar of
fifty four pence. [Savannah News.