Funding for the digitization of this title was provided by R.J. Taylor, Jr. Foundation.
About The gazette. (Elberton, Ga.) 1872-1881 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 15, 1873)
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.
