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Augusta business Cards.
SCHNEIDER^
DEALERIN
WINES, LIQUORS AND CIGARS
AUGUSTA, GA.
Agent for Fr. Schloifer & Co.’s San Francisco
CALIFORNIA BRANDY.
HHBGiU CUCQUGTT CHAMPAGNE.
E. R. SCHNEIDER,
Augusta, Georgia.
E. I I. ROGERS,
Importer and dealer in
RIFLES, Gift PISTOLS
And Pocket Cutlery,
Amm >in it ion of all Kinds,
245 BROAD BTREET, AUGUSTA, GA.
REPAIRING EXECUTED PROMPTLY
VT. H. HOWARD C. H. HOWARD. W. H. HOWARD, JR.
W. H. HOWARD & SONS,
COTTON' FACTORS
AND
MUM MBMITS
COR. BAY AND JACKSON STS.,
AUGUSTA, GA.
Commissions for Selling Cotton $1 Per Bale.
Bagging and Tics Furnished.
ORDERS TO SELL OR HOLD COTTON STRICTLY
OBEYED.
Particular attention given to Weighing Cotton.
dlbcrttm §ujmtcss (Cards.
LIGHT CARRIAGES & BUGGIES.
J. K. ATILT),
ELBGKTO.iI, GEORCI.t.
BEST WORKMEN!
BEST WOP.K!
LOWEST PRICES!
Goad Buggies, warranted, - 5125 to $l6O
Common Buggies - 5100.
REPAIRING ANDRLACKSMITIIING.
Work done in this line in the very best style.
The Best Karness
My 22-1 v
T* M. SWIFT. MACK ARNOLD
SWIFT & ARNOLD,
(Successors to T. M. Swift,)
dealers in
DRY GOODS,
GROCERIES, CROCKERY, BOOTS AND
SHOES, HARDWARE, &0.,
Public Square, GA.
H. K. CAIRDNER,
ELBERTON, GA.,
DEALER IN
MY GOODS. MOPIG,
11A RL) W ARE, CROC KER Y,
BOOTS, SHOES, HATS
Notions, &c- •
ELBERTON FEMALE
(Mtptejnstitute
m'HE exercises of this institute will be resum-
X ed on Monday, August 18th, 1813.
jggg“Fnll 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.
JOHN T. OSBORN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW
ELBERTOS, CA.
Will give undivided attention to law cases.
ANDREW KALE HIGH SCHOOL
ELBEETON. GA.
P. E DAVANT, A M., - - Principal
GEO. Q. QUILLIAN, - - Abstain
Fall term commences Monday, Aug. 19, 1872.
THE course of instruction in this institution
is thorough and by the analytic system.
The pupils are taught to think and reason for
themselves. Boys will be thoroughly prepared
for any class in college. Those desiring aspeedy
preparation for business can take a shorter
course in Analytic Arithmetic, Surveying, Book
keeping, &c.
The discipline of the school will be firm and
inflexible. An effort will be madein all eases
to control students by appealing to their sense
of duty and honor, but at all events the discip
line will be maintained.
Rata of •Tuition: Ist class, $2.50 permontli ;
$3.50 ; 3d class, $5 —one-halfj^^^-
THE GAZETTE.
JSTew Series.
THE RIVAL CLAIMANTS.
BY JUDGE CLARK.
Who Mr. Wilson was, whence he came,
and what had been his antecedents, were
points upon which the good people of
Pokebury remained as unenlightened
after he had dwelt ten years among
them as they were on the first day of his
coming.
His health had been for sometime fail
ing, and one day I was sent to write his
will. The instructions he gave me were
very brief. He wished his entire estate
to be vested in trustees, the annual in
come to be devoted to certain specified
charities; but in case his brother, of
whom he had lost sight for many years,
was alive and should be discovered, the
bequest was to become void, and
the entire property to go to the broth
er.
“This brother,—have you any clew
that may lead to his discovery?’’ I ask
ed.
“None, and I greatly fear, for certain
reasons, that even if he be living, he
will never, voluntarily, make his name
known.”
“Few people purposely keep out of
the way of good fortune,” I remarked to
him.
He made no answer, but seemed to be
reflecting.
I wish to confide a secret to you,” he
said after sometime. “May Ido it safe
ly?”
“A lawyer’s oath, ’ I answered, “for
bids him to betray his client. You may
speak, sir, with perfect freedom and
safety.”
“My words may place my brother's
life in your hands,” he said ; yet it may
be possible to clear up a horrible suspic
ion which for years, has haunted me. I
have read of so many cases in which it
came out that men were innocent whose
guilt seemed proved to demonstration
that I blame myself for not sooner seek
ing aid in the solution of a dreadful
mystery, instead of helplessly brooding
over it.”
He paused, as if still hesitating to dis
close his secret. The indecision was but
momentary.
“My brother Charles and myself,” he
resumed, “were brought up in a distant
city by a wealthy uncle, of whom I was
the favorite.
“Charles was younger than I, by some
years. He was a light-hearted, affec
tionate boy, a little wild and extrava
gant, but not vicious—just the very per
son, on the whole, not to meet the
approbation of our old uncle, who was
strict.
“When the latter made his will, lie
left the bulk of his property to me, ap
pointing me also trustee of the very
moderate prc vision made for my brother
Charles.
My brother expressed no displeasure
at this. He placed too little value on
money, I thought, or had too much con
fidence in my generosity to ( are which
of us our uncle left his immense fortune
to.
“Not long after the will was made, re
turning home one night, I found the
front door unlocked. I paid little atten
tion to the trifling circumstance, attrib
uting it to the carelessness of the serv
ant.
“On reaching my room, I discovered I
had not with me a valuable book which
I had started with from a public library
to which I was a subscriber. I had
stopped to visit a friend on the way, and
conjectured that I left the volume at his
room. I determined to return and as
certain.
“As I passed out of the door, I met
Charles coming in. Ido not know that
I spoke to him in my haste. I found the
book where I supposed it was, and had
nearly reached my uncle’s door again
when I saw my brother rush out of the
house excitedly, and walk very rapidly
away.
“I met the housekeeper in the hall
way.. She seemed almost paralyzed with
fear.
“I’m afraid something terrible has hap
pened,” she said recovering her voice
with an effort.
“What’s the matter I asked.
“Oh, sir, Mr. Charles ran out of his
uncle's room just now, looking like a
ghost, and having a bloody knife in his
hand. He passed me without’ speaking
and hurried from the house,” she an
swered.
my uncle’s apartment. —
■■jlMuimy sight' My
ELBERTON, GEORGIA. DECEMBER 10, 1873.
uncle lay lifeless in his blood! The gas
was burning brightly, and every detail
of the horrid scene was appallingly dis
tinct.
“My uncle had been stabbed through
the heart. His secretary door stood
open, and the floor was strewn with pa
pers.
“Like a flash of lightning the question
presented itself, “Can my brother have
committed this deed ?” His flight, the
housekeeper’s statement, his possible re
sentment at our uncle’s will—all seemed
to point to one conclusion. Could I be
lieve it?
“I called for help. The housekeeper
and servants came in answer to the alarm.
The former fell fainting at the sickening
sight, and had to be carried to her room,
where, fortunately, she remained for a
season in a condition which prevented
her from relating what she had hear and and
seen.
“The authorities were notified and an
inquest held; but nothing afforded a
clew to the murderer. I was the only
witness examined. What the lrouskeep
er could reveal, was known only to my
self and her. She had been Charles
nurse, and was devoted to him, and it
needed only a hint that speaking might
put liim in peril, effectually to close her
mouth.
. “I was questioned only as to what I
had seen after entering the house, and an
swered fully and truly. If in failing to
tell what I was asked about—the suspic
ious circumstances under which I had
seen my brother leave the hous,.— I tri
fl< and with my oath. I can only beg the
forgiveness of Heaven. What the house
keeper herself had told me was lieresay,
and inadmissible. The coroner nevr
thought of calling her. '
“I gave our friends some plausible ex
planation of Charles’ absence, hoping to
myself, from day to day, he might re
turn and relieve my mind from its dis
tracting doubts; but through all thi,
long years that have since followed, he
has never, to my knowledge, been seen
or hcai'd of.
“I feel that were he found and placed
on tiial, should all the evidence come
out, any jury would convict him. For
myself, l have fought, night and day, to
drive away the torturing suspicion, but
it will not leave me. I left my native
city and came hither, fearing, if I re
mained, I should not long be able to di
vert attention from Charles’ strange ab
sence.
“I have now told you all. To morrow
I will put in your hands a sum sufficient
to defray whatever expense it may be
necessary to incur in restoring me, if
possible, my brother freed from mis
trust.”
Mr. Wilson’s startling narrative left
me little hope of being able to gratify his
wishes. The proofs against his brother
seemed unanswerable; and there was
slight reason to expect that a man in
hiding for such a crime would voluntari
ly expose himself to the chances of de
tection.
I prepared Mr. Wilson’s will in accor
dance with his wishes, and he placed in
my hands the money he had promised.
He died however, before any discoveries
were made.
I now advertised cautiously for Mr.
Charles Wilson, mentioning the fact of
his brother’s death, and stating by com
municating with me he might learn
something to his advantage.
I was seated in my office one day, when
a stranger entered.
“I am Charles Wilson,” he said to me,
“and have come in answer to your adver
tisement.”
I looked at him narrowly. There was
no great resemblance between him and
the late Mr. W T ilson ; yet the want of
likeness was not sufficient, of itself, to
render their relationship improbable.
“W T hat proof have you of your identi
ty ?” I inquired.
“I can mention all the family names,
for one thing,” he answered.
“A little preparation might enable any
one to do that,” I replied.
“I have a ring given me by my uncle,”
he said, a little reluctantly. “His name
is in it. It was a parting present when
I left home.”
“Let me see it,” I requested.
He took from his pocket and undid a
small parcel. It con tained an elegant
diamond ring. The gem was costly and
elegantly set. The name was there as
he had stated.
-‘By the way,” I added, turning upon
him quickly, “are you not a little afraid
to present yourself as a claimant of your
brother’s fortune ?”
“Why?” he asked, with evident ner
vousness.
“Did it never occur to you,” I explain
ed, “that you might be accused of your
uncle’s murder ?”
“My uncle’s murder!” he exclaimed,
turning pale and trembling. “W hat
proof is there to found such a charge
upon ?”
“Enough to hang you, I fear, should it
ever be brought forward,” was my re
p!y-
And determined to push him home,
and find what explanation he had to
give, I went over all my late client had
told me.
The effect on him was singular. He
was evidently reassured by the state
ment.
“Of course you are not at liberty to
use to my prejudice information thus
confided to you,” he remarked.
“My c’ient employed me to serve, and
not to injure his brother,” I answered.
“His last wish was that he might be freed
from this black suspicion.”
“That wish shall be fulfilled,” he said.
“I think I can yet find a clue to the real
culprit, and, in a few more days, satisiy
you of my innocence as well as iden
tity.”
He took his ring and went away, pro
mising to return as soon as he could pro
duce his proofs.
Next day another stranger appeared.
He, too, introduced himself as the long
missing Charles Wilson, and the likeness
between him and the man of whom he
claimed to be the brother was striking in
the extreme.
“I have not come about the fortune,’
he said, “ but to learn what I may about
the last years of my brother s life.”
He wept when I repeated the dead
man’s story as I had to the other—wept
mingled tears of joy and grief.
“Would that my poor brother were
alive,'' he cried, “that I might at last
stand as clear in his sight as he this clay
does in mine! It was to turn suspicion
from him that I fled on that terrible
night, and have ever since remained con
cealed.
“As he told you, I met him hurrying
out as I entered the door. Having occa
sion to visit my uncle’s rocm. I was hor
ror-stricken at the sight of his corpse
stretched upon the floor. Near it lay a
bloody knife, which I recognised as be
longing to my brother. A dreadful
thought flashed upon me. I snatched
up the knife, and was running from the
room to conceal it, when the housekeep
er met me. I knew she would believe
me guilty. In justifying myself I might
implicate my brother. I fled from the
house and never returned, determin
ed to save my brother at the cost of rep
utation, and, should need be, of life it
self. If suspicion fell on either, it should
now be on me.”
The story was simply and touchingly
told. I had no doubt of its truth, and
requested the stranger to hold him
self in readiness till I required his pres
ence, which I should shortly do. I fur
ther cautioned him to keep his own coun
sel.
After the lapse of some days the first
claimant returned, accompanied by an
ill-looking man of aged appearnace.
“I have found out the real murderer,
he said, “ but, unfortunately, he is beyond
the reach of justice.”
’•His name?” I asked.
“ Richard Wnite,” he answered.
“What proof have you?”
“This,” pointing to his companion,
“is the man with whom Wnite pawned
my uncle s watch shortly after the mur
der. The pawnbroker bas kept it ever
since, and has it with him now.
7 •
“ Yesh, here it ish,” said the gentleman
referred to producing the watch, “ Mr.
Vhite shpouted him mit me for foofzy
dollar. I can shvear to dat. Unt my
frient, Shandy Yilson—l can shvear to
him, too—Anow’t him from a poy.”
I stepped out and sent a messenge r
for the other claimant.
In a few minutes he entered the office.
At the sight of him the first comer start
ed to his feet and sprang toward the
door. It was plain that he recongnised
the real Gharles Wilson, and saw that his
own game was up.
A couple of officers intercepted his
flight. The pawnbroker was fain to
make his peace by confessing that the
counterfeit Charles Wilson had placed
the watch in his hands and instructed
him what story to tell.
Vol. 11-No. 33.
Both the watch and the ring were iden
tified as the property of the murdered
man, and other circumstances coming to
| light, the criminal was, in due time, tried
and executed, first making a full confes
sion of his guilt.—[N. Y. Ledger.
ENTOMOLOGICAL WISDOM.
Joshua Billings, Esq., humorist, and
author of a certain “Allminax," has fol
lowed Solomon’s direction, been to the
ant, considered her ways, and become
wiser than ever. His observations are
as follows •
The ants have no holidays, no eight
hour system, nor never strike for enny
higher wages. They have no malice, nor
1 back door to their hearts. You never see
two ants arguing sum foolish question
that neither of them didn't understand.
They didn’t care whether the moon is
inhabited or not. They don’t care whe
ther Jupiter is thirty or thirty-five nines
up in the air, so long as it don’t bob
over their corn-crib and spill their bar
ley. They are simple little bizzey
ants, fall of faith, living prudently, com
mitling no sin, prazing God by minding
their own business, and dying when
their time comes to make room for the
next crop of ants. They are a reproach
to the lazy, an encouragement to the in
dustrious, a rebuke to the vicious, and a
study to the Christian.
VOLTAIRE AND CHESTERFIELD.
Chesterfielu happened to be at a rout
in France, where Voltaire was one of the
guests. Chesterfield seemed gazing
about the brilliant circle of the ladies.
Voltaire accosted him:
“My lord, I know you are a judge ;
which are more beautiful, the English or
the French ladies?”
“Upon my word,” replied his lordship,
with his usual presence of mind, “I am
no connoisseur of paintings.”
Some time after this, Voltaire being in
London, happened to be at a nobleman’s
rout with Lord Chesterfield. A lady in
company, prodigiously painted, directed
her whole discourse to Voltaire, and en
tirely engrossed his conversation. Ches
tm-field caine up, and tapped him on the
shoulder, saying:
“ Sir, take care you are not captivat
ed.”
“My lord,” replied the French wit,
“ I scorn to be taken by an English ves
sel under French colors.”
CONUNDRUMS FOR THE CURIOUS.
When is a penny like a hermit? When
it s a loan.
When is a cat like a tea-pot? When
you're teasin’ it.
When is a soldier not half a soldier ?
Wlien lie’s in quarters.
What man carries everything before
him? A waiter.
Why is the world like a piano. Be
cause it is iull of flats and sharps.
The following is a slight acquaintance
between a school boy and the alpha
bet :
Mistress. “What is that ?”
Boy. “A.”
Mistress. “What next?”
Boy. “B.”
Mistress. “Well, go on—what comes
next ?”
Boy. “Well, mum, I knows the beg
gar boi soiglit, but I can't name ’un.”
ANTECEDENTS OF THE CUSTIS FAMILY.
Hon. Henry S. Foote, in his reminis
cences published in the W asliington
Chronicle, says:
George Washington Parke Custis, in
addition t.) being the adopted son of
General Washington, grandson of his
wife, and father of Mrs. R. E. Lee, was
a descendant of the celebrated Lord
Baltimore, under whose auspices the
State of Maryland was colonised and
the first formal edict of universal reli
gions toleration adopted and promulga
ted. The maiden name of his lady was
Calvert.
Perfect friendship puts us under the
necessity of being virtuous. As it can
only be preserved among estimable
p rsons, it forces us to resemble them.
You find in friendship the surety of good
counsel, the emulation of good example,
svmpathy in our griefs, succor in oui
distress.
“My dear. sir,” said a candidate, ac
costing a sturdy wag on the day of elec
tion, “I am very glad to see you.”
“ You needn't be,” replied the wag, “ I
have voted.”
We may have many acquaintances, but
we can have but few friends; this made
Aristotle say that he hath many friends
who hath none.
A boy being asked what he would take
for a hot lunch, very promptly replied—
“ Fire crackers.”
For the Gazette.]
A SHORT SERMON.
What I do thou knowest not now ; but thou
shalt know hereafter.— John, xiii., 7.
Thus Christ spake to Peter, one of hia
disciples and one of his apostles. I sup
pose he thus speaks here to all his true
followers.
Why are we not to know now what
God, or Christ, is doing? Because now
we are to walk by faith, and not by hu
man sight. Often, when we cannot see,
we are still taught to believe.
God works now, and his works are to
us mysterious, as they appear in provid
ence, in nature, and in grace. The wis
dom of his works we cannot now under
stand. He does and permits many
things to be done now that seem to us
to be against us, which may all be fully
and satisfactorily explained to us in the
future. If not in the present life, yet,
when all his wonderful works and mys
terious ways shall have been completed,
and his dealings with his creatures fully
developed and truly set forth in the light
of eternity, then we may be enabled to
understand the design and admire the
wisdom and goodness of Divine Provid
ence in all that he has done and provid
entially permitted to take place on earth.
God’s work must correspond with his
word; that word plainly teaches that
tribulation, distress and affliction, with
persecution, awaits his godly people in
this world. Their endurance of fiery
trials is to test the genuineness of their
faith. They may be amazed and feel at
a loss to conjecture where the present
afflictive dispensation will end. Let them
be still and await God’s time—in the
meantime endeavoring to discharge, as
best they can, their known duties. Tho
present is the working and suffering
time—the revealing time is to come here
after. The wisest and the best may bo in
gloom and darkness now —in the future
the simplest and the most humble shall
see things clearly and joyfully.
Let all God’s people exercise faith and
patience to the end of their pilgrimage
below, and all will be well when heaven
becomes their home. Now let them sing,
to their heavenly father—
Do what thou will, it should be sop
Thy work I shall hereafter know.
When death the vail remove;
Unwind the providential maze,
And gl idiy own that all thy ways
Are wisdom, truth, and love.
THE GUARDL\N ANGEL.
Tlmre are a thousand little things ne
cessary to the general comfort which no
one but mother thinks of doing l —a thou
sand such little things which no one can
ever do just as she does them. You
thought it was “Mary” who kept the
children quiet, but you will find out
your mistake if mother goes away. Poor
little things! They wander about the
house, calling out, “ Where’s mother ?”
“I want my mother!" “Why doesn’t
mother come home?” And then they
get into hitherto unknown mischief, and
do all sorts of wrong things, and make
themselves and everybody around them
uncomfortable —get their clothes torn
and dirty, and their faces, too, and by
the fact of their heads being in a state
of permanent uncombedness, as to hair,
you may know that mother is away from
home. And the baby! Did you ever
see or hear of a baby that wouldn’ t cry
all day—and all night, too—when mo
ther’s gone away ? I don’t care if it is
the brag baby of the world, and a big
two-year-old at that, it cannot get along
without mother; and it has too much
sense to try to do so. Very, very dreary
is the family hearthstone when her place
is unfilled! Very dismal are the rooms
of the household when she moves not
through them with her matronly step
and air, unconsciously dispensing cheer
fulness and light, and beautifying the
humblest duties by the sweet, womanly
way in which she performs them. Bear
in mind that I speak always of the Home
Mother.—[Howard Glyndon.
THE EAKMEBS’ MOVEMENT.
We find in the Western Rural, of Chi
cago, the following succinct statement of
the purpose of the farmers’ movement,
as it is called:
The real object of the uprising of the
farmers, or rather of the industrial class
es, for it must eventually come to this,
is not as against the railroads on behalf
of the people, although this has been
made one of the prominent features; it
is as against the power of gigantic mo
nopolies of every kind, which, through
the centralisation and consolidation of
capital, bribes politicians of every grade
and party to subserve their ends.
A Chicago lady gives this advice to
young ladies:
Never marry a man who is impudent
to his mother, snubs his sister, helps
himself to the largest piece of cake, or
takes the under pancake at table or who
beats his horse causelessly in sudden
temper.
A favorite exolamation—A lass!