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 (Aug. 18, 1875)
(Elberton §usuu#s Cavil,i ,J. A. WHEN, PHOTOGRAPHIC ARTIST Has located fora short time at DR. EDMUNDS’ GALLERY, ELBERTON. GA. BRRR ' s prepared to execute every class * V of work iq his line to the satisfac tion of all who bestow their patronage. Confi dent of his ability to please, he cordially iuvites a test of his skill, with the guarantee that if he does net pass a critical inspection it need not be takes mch24.tf. MAKES A SPECIALTY OP Copying & Enlarging Old Pictures J* M.JBARFJELD, ’ Fashionable Tailor, Up-Statrs, over Swift & Arnold’s Store, ELBERTON, GEORGIA. BOOTS * SHOES. FTUIIS UNDERSIGNED RESPECTFULLY AN IL notinees to the . people of Elberton and surrounding country that he has opened a first class Boot and Shoe SHOT IN EEiBEEITON Where he is prepared to make any style of Boot or Shoe desired, at short notice and with prompt ness. REPAIRING NEATLY EXECUTED, The patronage of the public is respectfully solicited. ap.2o-tf G. W. G.4RKGCIIT. H. K. GAIRDINTER, ELBERTON, GA„ DEALER IN larNiKKßciiu H ARB W ARE, CROCKER Y, BOOTS, SHOES, HATS Notions, &o T. M. SWIFT. MACK ARNOLD SWIFT & ARNOLD, (Successors to T. \f. Swift,) DEALERS IN 011 A GOODS, GROCERIES, CROCKERY, BOOTS AND SHOES, HARDWARE, &c., Pwblie Sqaare, G.4. LIBHT GfiBiUAaCS & BUSBIES. k--/a J. If. AUT.D ELUEEITON, GEORGIA. BEST WORKMEN! BEST WORK! LOWEST PRICES! Good Buggies, warranted, - $125 to SIOO Common Buggies - SIOO. HB PAIRING ANDBLACKS\TITIIING. Work done in this line in the very best style. The Best Harness My22-1r mins mbito i>. J. SHANNON, Saddler & Harness Maker Is tally prepared to manufacture HARNESS, Till TDI wq liii DLhiO, SADDLES, At the shortest notice, in the best manner, and on reasonable terras. Shop at John S. Brown’s Old Stand. ORDERS SOLICITED. F. A. F. KOULKTT, BAGIiGAL MAMS, ELBER T ON, GA. Will contract for work in STONE and BRICK anywhere in Elbert county [jel6 Cm .1. §. BARNETT, ATTORNEY AT LAW, ELBERTBN, GA. MOSELEY HOUSE DANIELSVILLG, GA- D. R. MOSELY, . . . Proprietor. Terms Reasonable. Special care given to Stock PAPER Mflfl-XS. JAMES ORMOND, Proprietor. For Specimen of NE V\ SPA PEI., see tbi? issue ot this paper. T ~\i E (x \ 7 E jt New Series. TRYST, “There is a willow grows ascaunt the hook, That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream,." Under the willow, on a summer dhy, He watched the breaking bubbles on the stream, Eager, impatient, chiding eve’s delay, For one sott footstep list’ning tiil the gray Cool twilight, falling, held him like a dream The gentle stars came out, but she, of all, The fairest star, shone not upon his bark ; He felt the tender dew begin to fall, He heard a nestliDg’s faint and sleepy call, And saw the fire-fly light his radiant spark. —0 haggard Fate ! the thread i3 cut you spun. He sees a fair face in the shadows gleam • Pale, pale, poor girl ! —her little day is done. Kissed by the careless ripples as they run, She comes to meet him, tossing in the stream. - THE CD MESTEE’S STAKE. The Marquis Angelo Fosc&rini had i been traveling throughout Europe for several years, sanitary measures inducing him to visit Paris. To the gay metrop olis he v/as accompanied by his daughter, the beautiful Olympia, sbe being the only issue of three most unhappy mar riages. , The disappointment of Fosearini’s life had been in not having had an heir. He would have given his fortune, almost his life, for a son—one who could perpetuate the noble name of Foscarini. His life was passed in orgies and every sert of dissipation. He loved Olympia, not as a father should have loved his daughter, but rather because she was beautiful and one of the most precious of his pos sessions He kept her always with him, and bad refused her hand in marriage to some of the most distinguished noble men in Austria and Italy. “Remain with me,” lie said ; “you will have plenty of time to marry when I am dead.” After a night of excitement and dissi pation it was his habit to take a bath in the Seine, in order to revive hie exhaust ed energies. One day, white bathing, he was seized with cramp, and had not someone rushed to his rescue he would have been drowned. In his preserver ho rtcog nized an officer >f the Trahans, one whom he had met first at Piedmont, afrth afterwards ot Vienna, and whose assidui ties to Olympia had given him some uneasiness. The young officer, on discovering that the man whose life he hud saved was no other than the Marquis Foscarini, at once requested permission to call upon himself and daughter. To this request the Marquis most coldly acquiesced, it being impossible, under the circumstances, to venture a refusal. Stephen Le Roy at once embraced the advantage afforded by the position, and within a month after the accident the Marquis and Le Itoy were inseparable. Le Roy was deeply in love with Olympia, but now wisely and cautiously repressed any manifestation of his feel ings—moreover, had expressed himself to the Marquis as being entirely cured of his very extravagant passion. He addressed Olympia without any apparent trembling or embarrassment, paying her only the ordinary compliments permitted by society The Marquis, feeling entirely reassured, and having perfect confidence, made Le Roy his friend and confidant. "While the old nobleman was misled, the young people nevertheless understood each other, and in all respects Olympia assisted her lover in Lis scheme. Thus Le Roy was enabled to pass every evening at the hotel of the Mar quis, and in order to humor the noble man became a devoted gambler. In one month lie bad lost two months’ pay and all be could borrow. Olympia had advised him to play in order to ingratiate himself with her father. She lent him gold which he lost, and the more he lost the more fond the old Marquis became, for he knew of no emotion save in play, no happiness except that which he derived from gain. At length the luck turned in favor of Le Roy—night after night ha won. The Marquis was devoted to bouillotte; this game he had taught Stephen, who, although indifferent to its merits, never tlieless expressed admiration for the game. One evening Le Roy came half an hour earlier to the hotel than was his custom. On this occasion he brought with him tire sum of fifty louis. It was the only money Olympia had still in her possession. Le Roy was without means, and was obliged to yield to circumstances, as failure to play would have called forth the ill-will of the Marquis and deprived them of meeting. “This is all that remains,” said Olym pia sadly. “Should I lose it, this life of deception must end,” responded Le Roy. “I will then go to the Marquis and request your hand in marriage.” “And if refused,” replied the young girl. “Then I will blow out my brains,” was the quiet rejoinder. Olympia shuddered at the words, for she well knew that Le Roy would keep his vow faithfully. “There is happiness in life,” she mur mured. “Yes, there is happiness in life if that life be shared by you,” lie responded. “But deprived of that hope I refuse to live.” “And death! Have you no fear of death ?” ESTABLISHED 1859. ELBERTON GEORGIA? AUGUST 13. 1375. “No, Olympia,” he replied, thought fully. “I do not fear. I believe in a great power. We of this world are forced into life, not of our own free will, but through the will of others. This exist ence, with its suffering, its hopes and fears, is our punishment; its disappoint ments our curse. This is the life of the flesh, that which is corruptible; beyond lies the life of the soiti.” “But what may the soul not suffer in the hereafter ? What may it not en dure ?” “Nothing except it be happiness,” re sponded Le Roy. “Our misery is here, our peace is beyond the grave.” “And the grave ?” inquired the girl with a shudder ; “the grave!” “Is what we mortals most dread, be cause it possesses horror. The hereafter is an unknown land ; but let us forget this for the present. Whether I lose or win, this night I am determined to speak. Wo have too long yielded to deception. Let the issue be what it will, I am resolved to solve it; if happiness is to be ours, we will thank heaven for the boon, if not, we will say farewell.” At this instant the Marquis Foscarini entered the room, and Le Roy accom panied him to the table, where they seated themselves to play, others being assembled. At the gaming table there was a Paris banker, a captain of an English vessel, and two planters from i Havana, all absorbed in the chances of | the game. Le Roy commenced by throwing down ten louis, then ten more, and so on until he lost nearly all. As he pushed the money aside ho shivered, and his head sank upon his breast. Foscarini laid his hand upon hi3 arm. ~-■ I “Why, what i the matter, Le Roy ?” he said in surprise. “Nothing,” responded the young offi cer, as he once more placed ten louis upon the board. This time ho gained one hundred, gradually the sum increased and doubled. The banker won 130,000 francs, the captain 20,000, and the planters 130,000. It was the Marquis Foscarini who had lost all this money. Much excited the gamesters drank to gether, and then promised to meet again in a few hours. At the solicitation of Olympia, Le Boy postponed speaking to her father, whose lose had been very great. - —The meeting of the party again took place as arranged, and Foscarini lost jail ho possessed in the world-—Li? pa 7 4as in Florence and Naples, his villas at the foot of Vesuvius and in the neighborhood of Rome—there remained not a vestige of his large fortune. He was ruined. Through the closed shatters and crim son curtains the day was piercing, and made the dying candies look still more pale. Of these six gamblers, four re sembled statues. The immense losses of their host amazed them, although accustomed as they were to loss as a result of gaming. Two men alone among them seemed to retain their self possession, and they were Le Roy and Foscarini. The latter was searching his pockets in t ; e vain hope of finding something to stake, but not even his watch Remained. His countenance was terrible to behold. “Gentlemen,” he at length said, “all I once had is now yours, and you can with authority bid me quit this house, which is no longer mine.” “Marquis!” exclaimed Le Roy. “Nay listen to me,” continued Fos carini, addressing Le Roy. “You once loved my daughter, and I refused you her hand.” “You did.” “Do you love her still ?” “Yes, fervently.” “Again, I repeat, are you sure that, you love her as you once professed ?” “I do.” “What say you, then, to play for her?” At these terrible words all the game sters arose, but were incapable of speak ing, so great was their excitement, in gesture they implored Le Roy to refuse. “Did you not hear mecontinued Foscarini. “Will you play for the pos session of my daughter ?” “Will you not accept me as your son in law, Monsieur le Marquis ? If so, I beg to restore to you all that chance has given, and that you have lost through me.” “I refuse most positively,” responded the Marquis. “Then I accept your proposition,” replied Le Roy, coldly: “now listen to mine.” All present expressed horror at such an arrangement. Foscarini returned their gaze with one of sovereign con tempt and indiffere ice. Then turning to Le Roy, he said : “Be it as you wish.” “I play for your daughter,” replied the young officer, “against all I possess in the world, my name, my person and my honor.” “It is well,” responded the Marquis, as he speedily threw three cards on the table. They were three aces. Le Roy a!ao threw three cards ; they were three tens ; he drew a fourth card, it was a ten. lie had won. All arose, desiring to depart. As they saluted the Marquis they saw that he was weeping. Tlie loss of his child and his millions had reduced him to a state of wretchedness beyond even the misery of mendicity. Le Roy approached the Marquis. For an instant he paused. “Monsieur le Marquis,” he said, at length, “This has been a horrible dream. You have lost nothing and gained noth ing.” “What.do you mean?” inquired Fos carini. “You say I have lost nothing. Ask those who leave this house laden with my gold if I have lost nothing. Oh, no, my tears and emotion are naught to you.” Thus speaking he passed from the room, and no orie attempted to prevent him so doing, and soon Le Roy found himself alone in the apartment. The young officer was about to depart when Foscarini suddenly re-entered the apartment, accompanied by Olympia. “Monsieur,” he said, addressing Le Roy, “I am aware of my position, but even now I tell you that you cannot be my son-in-law.” “Why ?” demanded Le Roy. “I have !)ow not only the right of her preference and my own, but the right cf honor—a debt of honor on your part.” “And yet I say it cannot be. You, although an officer in the army, are of humble birth—you are not noble. Olym pia cannot be your wife, at least not while I live. Your wife she cannot .bo, your mistress she shall not become. Nevertheless, as you say, in point of honor she belongs to you, yet while I hold my claim I still have something to gamble for, and we have not done with each other.” These horrid words chilled his listener to the soul. Having spoken, the Mar quis locked the door and placed the key in his pocket. “And now for my revenge,” he con tinued, drawing two pistols from his pocket. “You see they are both alike, and both unloaded. I will load one of them. Olympia shall, while our backs arc turned, place them both on the table. You shall then choose, and we will fire at the same moment. Should I kill you, my daughter returns with me to Italy. If you, on the contrary, kill me, Olympia is at liberty to give you her hand. She will care but little that you will have been the assassin of her father.” Le Roy would have spoken or left the house, but reading* his design, the Mar quis anticipated him. “If you take one step,” he exclaimed, or utter one word, I will fire upon you, and then upon Olympia.” At these words the young girl uttered a wild cry and fell fainting at his feet. “Have you no mercy ?" inquired Le Roy % “None,” responded Foscarini. “Since I must act I will do so.” He at once mingled the pistols, his back being turned flora Le Roy. The young officer, obedient to the order of the Marquis, selected a pistol. Attaching* them to the corner of a handkerchief they fired at the same instant. Le Roy had won; but Olympia Fos carini lay dead beside her father. THE BASIS OF WEALTH. The basis of the wealth of the country is agriculture. The legislation of the country should, if it favored one class more than another, favor the agricul turists first. The mechanics, who are producers from the raw material, should next have the Government’s fostering care. The usurers should be the last to receive special favors and protection at the hands of the Government. And yet it receives all the favors, and enjoys a monopoly of which the Government crushes the other classes to maintain for it.—Nashville Banner. This is the doctrine we have been preaching for some time Comparatively speaking, there has been but little legis lation in belr If of the agricultural class, notwithstanding, as the Banner truthfully remarks, agriculture is the basis of the wealth of the country. There can be no reasonable objection to ether classes having the protection they deserve, but, in the meantime, give- to the farmers the protection which their numbers, their wealth and their influence demand. It is not right to set them out in the cold and pay no attention to their wants. The truth is, this class must take more interest in securing suitable men to make their laws. They are greatly to blame for their indifference on the sub ject.—Knoxville Age. Mirage on the Ocean. —An ocean mir age of a most sublime and awe inspiring character was witnessed by over three handred guests at the Atlantic Hotel, Ocean City, on the 30th ult., at about 7 o’clock p m., exhibiting to the aston ished gaze of the beholders not less then thirty vessels of different descrip tions in the atmosphere, above the hori zon with an upper tier of inverted ships corresponding to the lower ones, and presenting an illusive ocean also, or in other words, one upon another upside down. The scene lasted for over half an hour, and was felt to be the grandest and most sublime spectacle imaginable. The stories of phantom ships by nautical fiction writers could not interest any in comparison to the sight witnessed from our beach as above. Mo obtained our facts from Dr. H. R. Pitts and Gol. L. J. Mapes, who enjoyed it. [Snowhill (Md.) Shield. Another one of those tenderly con siderate mortals, whose humanitarian sympathies win the hearts of all and tend to smooth the ragged edges of life, is receiving newspaper mention. He saw a gentleman thrown from his dog cart on the asphalt of the Champs Elysees. “Oh, mon Dieu,” said he, looking at the fainting man. “What a dreadful sight! It is lucky that I al ways carry a flask of brandy,” and he drank off his flagon at a draught. “If it had not been for that,” he said with emotion, “I might myself have fainted on the spot.” 01. IV o —lS’ o. 10. HOY/ IT FEELS TO BE HANGED. A Paris newspaper gives this extract from the notes of a young felloe who tried to commit suicide and was cut down before suffocation was complete. He was delighted to return to life, and it is noted that would be suicides who are rescued from their self sought fate rarely renew their attempts to shuffle off this mortal coil: “When I stood on the chair the mil* ror on the mantelpiece involuntarily at tracted me, and I looked at myself as I fastened the slip-knot around iny neck. Blood flowed to my head for my face was very red ; something took place at the same time in my optic nerves, for it seemed to me that my face suddenly be gan to make grimaces. My eyes and nose changed places incessantly, like the pieces in a kaleidoscope. 1 kicked the chaii from under me, and fell with the sensation that I had been struck on top of my head with a hammer. I did not at first feel the rope around n y neck. The only very clear impression which followed the blow with the hammer on my skull was that of great heaviness in the head. It seemed to me that my shoulders were heavier than the great' bell of Notre Dame. At the same time I feft an im mense night falling in and around me. Then I felt extremely cold at my lower extremities, and at the same time an acute, ten-ibis pain in my neck, which was produced by the rope, which cut my skin and sawed my veins. Evidently this was the moment when my good aunt Cecil entered my roetn and cut me down.”—[Boston Heruld. FRIGHTENING CHILDREN. Nothing Qan be worse for a child than to be frightened. Tho effect of the scare, it is slow to recover from ; it re mains sometimes until maturity, as is shown by many instances of morbid sen sitiveness and excessive norvousness. Not un frequently, fear is employed as a means of discipline. Children are con trolled by being made to believe that something* terrible will happen to thain, and punished by being shut up in dark rooms, or by being put in places they stand in dread of. No one, without vivid memory of his own childhood, can com prehend how entirely cruel such things are. We have often heard grown per sons tell of the suifermg* they have en dured, as children, under such circum stances, and recount the irreparable in jury which they are sure they then re ceived. No parent, no nurse, cajiable of alarming the young, is fitted for her position. Children, as near as possible, should bo trained not to know the sense of fear, while everything else, is to be feared in their education, early and late. [N Y. Freeman’s Journal. The Griffin Star and Cultivator, says the agent of the Direct Trade Union at that place, received returns from the cot ton of different parties during last week, and that after “deducting every expense, the cotton which was shipped in differ ent lotis has netted the parties from $8 to sl2 per bale over and above what the cotton w r ould have brought in Griffin on the day of shipment. More than this, the parties at the time of shipment drew three-fourths of the Griffin value of the cotton and have had the use of this mon ey during the entire interval. Had they deposited it in a Griffin warehouse, and kept it until the day it was sold in Liv erpool, they would, instead of making have lost several dollars per bale. Now had the 18,000 bales that have been brought to Griffin during the past sea son been shipped to Liverpool through the same channel, the farmers in that section would have made a gain of at least $150,000. On the entire . .op of the country the same operation would have saved the South twenty-five or thirty millions of dollars. A Foot Lamp.— One of the most inter esting things in the Holy land is the fact that one meets everywhere, in daily life, tho things that illustrate the Word of the Lord. The streets of Jerusalem are very narrow, and no one is allowed to go out at night without a light.— Throw open your lattice in the evening and look out, you will see what seems to be little stars twinkling on the pave ment. You will hear the clatter of san dais, as the late travelers rattle along. As tbo party approaches, you will see thafrhe has a little lamp fastened to his foot, to make his step a safe one. In an instant the verse comes to your memory, written in tLat city three thousand years ago—“ Thy word is a lamp to my feet, and a light to my path.” The Scientific American conveys the startling intelligence that the Atlantic Ocean is “gaining on us.” There can be no doubt of the fact, because New York city, New Jersey and Long Island “are sinking at the rate of fifteen inches per century.” And yet there are fools who are buying lots and building fine houses in New York, when they know that in a couple of hundred years the ir property will fall more than two feet.—Chronicle and Senate. In France cheap wood is now made to perfectly imitate mahogany. The sur face is treated with nitrous acid. Then a mixture of an ounce and a half of dragon’s blood, a pint of alcohol, and some carbonate of soda, is put on with a soft brush. Furniture thus prepared cannot be distinguished from genuine mahogany. NACOOOHEE AND SAUTEE. These two beautiful valleys, environed by some of the most grand and pietnr esquo scenery in the world, are associa ted with a very thrilling legend, which is related by Mr. Oeorgo W. Williams of Charleston, in a little volume entitled “Naeoochee and its surroundings.” In Indian parlance, Naeoochee means “Ev ening Star.” The writer thus tells the story: “Tradition has it, that Nicoochee, the “Evening Star,” was the only daughter of a noted Cherokee chief. She possess - ed remarkable beauty and grace of man ners. This lovely maid of the valley was wooed by many a gallant youth, but unfortunately was won by a bravo young warrior of the Choctaw Nation, a people at that time bitter enemies of the Cherokees, and frequently engaged in fierce warfare with them; One dark night Naeoochee disappear ed from her vine-clad wigwam ; she had eloped with Santee, son of a Choctaw chief. The father of Naeoochee sum moned a hundred stout warriors to go in pursuit of the erring* daughter. The valleys and mountains echoed the ter rifle war-whoop, as they were searching every hill and dale. Days and nights parsed, but Santee and the bright eyed Indian girl could nowhere be found. The enraged father refused to eat or sleep. He believed that the lovers had sought refuge under tho Great Bear (Yonah) of the valley. Renewed and more diligent search was made. Santee had selected a bridal chamber fur his princess (which was amply supplied with venison, and wild turkey,) amid the rocky fastnesses of Mount Yonah. Ho regarded the rugged cliffs rising in their native grandeur around him as se cure from the intrusion of friend or foe. Nacoochee’s new home must have been a second Eden. Before lior stood out a wrid of mountains, rising ono above another until their lofty peaks wore lost in the blue sky, while at her feet nestled the lovely valley of Naioochie and Santee, covered with fragrant forest flowering trees, and brilliant rhododen drons and azaleas. From tho crevices in her granite palace gushed forth pure, perennial streams, which are joined by a thousand mountain springs that conati- tute the headwaters of the picturesque Chattahoochee river, and which, like the rivers that ran out of tho Carden of Eden, abound in gold. The cries of the wolf and night-hawk disturbed not the slumbers of the youth ful lovers. But Naeoochee and fclautee could no more successfully conceal themselves from the revengeful warri ors, than could Adam and Eve hide from tho presence of the Father of the great human family, after having listen el to tho beguiling serpent and eaten of tho forbidden fruit. A savage shout of victory announced the capture of the foe, who had dared rob the old chief of his daughter. Hasty iudirment wa.a pronounced—Wan tee was to be thrown, in the presence of Naeoochee, from the highest precipice of Mount Yonah. Be fore the sentence was exeentod, the warriors engaged in a death song and a war dance around the strongly guarded prisoner. This was kept up until the setting sun had dropped behind the western mountains, and tho evening star was looking down on the tragic scene. At a signal from the old chief, four strong warriors seized Santee, and with one terrific yell hurled him headlong in to the deep chasm beneath. Quick as thought, Nacoocliee sprang from the strong embrace of her father, and, shout ing “Sautee! Sautee!” threw herself fram the overhanging precipice. Their mangled remains were found side by side in the valley. Tho terrible shock well nigh broke the heart of the aged father. He directed that Nacoocliee and Sautee should be buried on the banks of the Chattahoochee in one grave, and a mound raised over them to mark the spot. This has been planted in vines and blue grass. The cypress, ivy and rhododendron cover the grave of Nacoo chee and Sautee. The valleys of Nacoochce and Sau tee, which unite just below the resi dence of Col. E. P. Williams, were nam ed to perpetuate the memories of the young Cherokee girl and her Choctaw lover. SLIGHTS. They are cheap. It costs nothing to turn the face, to shut the mouth, to not see a person who is not before the eyas, and has expectations if not claims. It is very easy to put oft’ the call long overdue; to neglect sending an invita tion to a party to one who is not of tmic.i account; to pass a former friend on the street without recognition; to go and come, ignoring the existence of people who have rights and feeling. And it is as cowardly to do so as it is easy and mean. But the cheap, cowardly slight is as hard to bear as it is contemptible. How it rankles It stings like a nettle. It is prussic acid on a wound. The very cowardliness of it makes it wore painful. If Miss Scornful had only hs.d the cour age to frankly say she does not cars for our friendship, and prefers our room to our company, we coidd possibly reply with an equally polite expression of chilliness; but to be dropped out un ceremoniously and cut direct, is like a sab in the dark. Society is a set of complex relations. People are bound together. They have duties, obligations, affiliations. Kindness and politeness are parts of tlie unwritten law of social commerce. A slight is a sort of robbery —a mean, pick-pocketry sort of robbery, too —of the notice one has a right to expect. It may not cost anything just to mind one’s own business, and let a friend languish for want of notice and sympathy and cheer ; but it shows what he is made of, and what his friendship is worth. The person who can slight an other is too base to be slighted a second time. Naughty behavior of yachting men—. Hugging the shor e-
