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About The gazette. (Elberton, Ga.) 1872-1881 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 17, 1875)
<gnwt<w §w.siiw €mh. ~~ J. A. WREN, PHOTOGRAPHIC ARTIST Has located for a short time at DR. EDMUNDS’ GALLERY, ELBERTON. GA. WHERR he is prepaied to execute every class of work in 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 not pass a critical inspection it need not be taken mch24.tf. MAKES A SPECIALTY OF Copying & Enlarging Old Pictures BOOTS Sc SHOES. THE UNDERSIGNED RESPECTFULLY An nounces to the people of Elberton and surrounding country that he has opened a first class Boot and Shoe SHOP IN ELBERTON Tf here he is prepared to make any style of Boot trSho# desired, at short notice and with prompt ness. REPAIRING NEATLY EXECUTED. The patronage of the public is respectfully solicited. ap.2o-tf C. W. GARRECHT. H. K. GAIRDNER, ELBERTON, GA., OEALEII IN nr cams (Eocaiiis, IIARD\VARE, CROCKERY, BOOTS, SHOES, HATS Notions, &o- LIGHT 'H§H® J. W. AULD (Carriage toajnufactr ELBEHTON, GEORGIA. WITH GOOD WORKMEN! LOWEST •PRICES ! CLOSE PERSONAL ATTENTION TO BUSINESS. AND AN EXPERIENCE OP 27 YEARS, B* hope* by honest and fair dealing to compete any other manufactory. G*4 Buggies, warranted, - $125 to $l6O REPAIRING ANI)BLACKSMITIIING. W#rk done in this line in the very best style. The Best Harness TERMS CASH. My22-l v J. M. BARFIELD, TH E REA L LIVE Fashionable Tailor, Up-Stairs, over Swift & Arnold’s Store, ELBERTON, GEORGIA. £sw“Call and See Him. T HE ELBERTON AIR-LINE HOUSE IS SOW OPENED BY G. W. BRISTOL & WIFE. ON the corner of the Public Square, opposite the Globe Hotel. Terms reasonable. In connection with the House is a GOOD STABLE, Attended by good hostlers. sepß-tf Af F XO | !LKT | , PMGTMEi MASON, ELBERTON, GA. Will contract for work in STONE and BRICK anywhere in Elbert county [je 16 6m PLANTERS’ WAREHOUSE! him & nils. WAREHOUSE! ANO COMM SSION MERCHANTS, Building Lately Occupied by Mb. J. D James as a Liveky Stable. WILL give their personal attention to the Weighing and Storage of COTTON. Pat ronage respectfully solicited. Senß-—6m J. S. BARNETT, attorney at law, ELBERTGW, GA. JOSEPH HT. WORLEY, ATTORNEY AT LAW, ELBERTON, GA. WILL PRACTICE IN THE NORTHERN & Western Circuits. oc!2,tf THE GAZETTE. ISTew Series. TEE GHOSj. Ot' HERON LAKE. Under the young shade of the old trees before the Lake Heron House, Hugh Cheviot tied his horse, and took off his straw hat to feel the balmy woodland air bathe his temples. It was dewy and sweet with the scent of horse chestnut blossoms. Through the slopes of birches and alders the lake glimmered blue like a sheet of steel. Cheviot drew a long, quivering breath. “Glad to see you, colonel,/ called his host from the portico. “Yes. I am here at last,” responded Cheviot, advancing toward the house, but bis gaze waniering toward two white butterflies waltzing down the slope. “Fine weather, placing two chairs ip proximity on tjie piazza. “It seems to me the most beautif 1 spring for years,” was the response. Cheviot sat down, the sunset light stii ing full on his fee—t. rior, scarred and marked with life, but noble as stern. “Tlie house is not full, I think you said? It will be quiet here ?” “Quiet enough,” responded Peter Ste vart, shrugging his shoulders. “Who are your guests?” asked Che viot, pulling at his brown beard. “Heron Lake cannot be a fashionable locality ? with a half apprehensive look toward a glittering carriage load of ladies rolling along the tree-hung road. “No, no, those are people from the vil lage, six miles away. It s Mr. St. Lam bert’s team. Nice horses ; see the fur thermost bay. There's a gait for you.” “Yes, yes. Then they are nat coming here ?” “Well, Mr. St. Lambert’s here —some times.” “Boards here ? And who else ?” “A family named Stamford, another named Rochester, and a few invalids.” Cheviot appeared satisfied. The sup per bell rang. After supper, seized by the enticing charm of the steel-blue water glinting among the trees, he started suddenly to visit it. “His host called after him : “It’s half a mile away,” but he still kept on. The glades were scented and sweet. The birds twittered sleepily on the branches of blossomed boughs, or eyed him with bright, hidden eyes from their nests. He found a tinkling little brook leading down to the lake, and followed it. It widened gradually into the sheet of pale blue water. Bankful among the uajEemtig green, Heron Bake gemmed the forest like a pearl. Why did they give this lovely spot such an ugly title?” murmured Cheviot, seating himself upon a fallen tree. The fading light grew mnoky ; the si lence deepened ; yet the sweetness and coolness held him until all was black and still. A rushing noise in the bushes sud denly startled him. Was it midnight? He was wet by the dew. He rose to his feet, recalled to his task of returning. But ars he turned, a figure, dimly white, stood in bis path ! Slight and light and graceful, it waived aside, and was gone For a moment he doubted that he had beheld it. All was dim and lonely, and the rustling tree tops were monotonously repeating some vague, sad story. "Has Heron Lake a glior.t?” lie asked himself, as he plunged through the al ders homeward. * * * * * * *- “Mr. St. Lambert, Colonel Cheviot.” Tae gentleman acknowledged the in troduction somewhat formally, both pri vately preferring not to be intruded up on ; but Mr. Peter Stewart silently con gratulated himself upon having done the correct thing. Mr. St. Lambert had been at the He ron Lake House full three days, and until now no opportunity of presenting Col. Cheviot, his favorite guest, to this gentleman had occurred. Mr. St. Lam bert was sitting on the piazza, and Col. Cheviot, lost in thought, had approached inadvertently. A cold, well-chiseled, handsome face was St. Lambert's, with pale hair, curl ing around it. His dress, Lis diamonds, were exquisite. He was about thirty years of age—nearly ten years younger than Cheviot Each man, you would have said, understood himself well. The colonel remarked that it wai fine weather. “Yes, but a cursed lonely spot to find it in !” responded Mr Lambert, taking advantage of Mr. Stewart having been called in-doors. “You are detained here against your will ?” “I hoped to be in Paris this month,” was the reply. In three days more Peter was satisfied that his two distinguished guests would not fraternise. Cheviot was getting the rest of spirit that he needed. And soon, since the Rochesters and Stamfords were not in trusive, and the heart of the woods was open to him, he felt himself slowly com ing to life, after years of suffering that bad benumbed him. All his hopes in life had been centered upon a woman who was lost to him The old story, but never beyond belief to the stricken heart upon which it falls. Clare Edgerton’s marriage, against her will to the man to whom her lather was indebted, had cast a shadow, like that of a gravestone, down the path of Cheviot’s life. All beauty, all enjoyment was lost to him when he found himself bereft of her. He seemed to have died to him ! self. ESTABLISHED 1853. ELBERTON GEORGIA. XOV’R 17. 1875. But now the sky and the rustling boughs, and the violets looking at him blue and brave-eyed from the grass, aroused and vitalised him. A voice came out of the wood’s recesses, saying: “This is not all. There is more to come ” Meanwhile he ate the trout of the bill side streams, slept sweetly, was polite to the Stamfords and Rochesters, and avoided Mr. St. Lambert. He awoke one night, and heard a voice singing outside the window A woman’s voice, sweet and strange, and with vibrations in it that seemed famil iar. Moonlight shone white on the wall through the branches of a tree. He aroused himself and looked at Lis watch It was a quarter to three in the morning. Strange as the circumstance was, an almost unaccountable excitement seized him, as he dressed and went out upon the upper piazza. But already there were lights and the voices of men about the house. Soon a voice—it 'vas very like St. Lambert's—called, “We’ve got her !” Then all grew still. But he could not sleep again until af ter day. That singing voice so haunted him. The next clay he made inquiries. A sick woman, deranged by spells, had es caped from the care of her nurses, they told him. Two weeks passed. A wild, rainy spell drove Cheviot in doors from his ac customed haunts, and little Mrs. Roch ester, who secretly admired the stern man with the sad eyes, invited him to her private parlor, an invitation whicn, to his own surprise, he accepted. First she tried him with a bit of gos sip. “Have you heard,” she said, “that Mr. St. Lambert is to be married next week ?” Cheviot bad not heard. “To Miss Rosa Grant, of New York, who is staying at the village hotel, six miles off. And they do say that be has a wife!” “A wife?” “Yes, an insane wife. And that she is kept here in a back wing of the house with her nurses. Mr. St. Lambert is wealthy, though they say it is with her fortune ; but money won’t help him to get divorced from s sick wife,’ conclud ed Mrs. Rochester, with flashing eyes, which were to be interpreted by the fact that the little woman was in delicate health, and had a coarse-looking bus band, who treated her with brutal in difference. ‘•fltij.t.ainly not,” paid flheviot. “I have never seen this invalid wo man. St Lambert says it is bis sister, but I know parties who can prove that she is his wife. Peter Stewai tis in the secret. Do you knew she escapes and wanders about the ground? And that is ..hat the excitement was about the other night!” “Indeed!- I distinctly heard some strange, sweet singing.” “She has a heavenly voice. And she calls, sometimes, a man’a name, pierc ingly, sweetly; it would make your heart ache if you chanced to hear it.— But they always bush her up and keep her as quiet as possible. This is my third summer here, or I should not know so much.” “The skeleton in the house,” Cheviot said, smiling. “Yes, almost literally. They say she is pined away to look like a spirit more than a living thing ’’ “A spirit? I think I saw one in the woods the night I came here!” exclaim ed Cheviot. “Perhaps it was Mrs. St. Lambert,” said Mrs. Rochester. “Possibiy,” returned Cheviot with a start. He sat musing for a while on what he bad heard In course of a few days the strange story became familiar to him. The in difference which be had before felt for St. Lambert now changed for a decided dislike. “A bad man,” he said to himself, re garding more attentively the handsome Greek profile and bold eyes. The next week closed the stay of Col. Cheviot at the Heron Lake House.— Once more he wandered alone 10 the little sheet of blue water, and as the afternoon was hot and the balsamic scent of the pines heavy, he fell asleep, couched luxuriousl/ on a bed of brown, rustling leaves’. A violent peal of thunder awoke him. He sprang up. The sky was black. Lines of lightning played about the pine tops. It w r as too late to escape ; he could only sink back under the mat ted boughs, trusting to their destiny to protect and shelter him from the coming rain. Suddenly, pleadingly, sweetly, a voice called his name. “Hughie! Hughie!” Cheviot leaped to his feet. “Hughie! Hugbie!” How frightfully like the voice of the woman he had lost! But she would never call him more No, no—never any more! He threw himself down among the russet leaves again, almost with a sob. How he had loved the lips which had made that plain name sweet! Oh, Godl but Thou only may witners the strong man’s agony. When Cheviot again raised his head, the slight white figure of a woman, stood beside the basin of the little lake. He gazed at her, momentarily, his gaze deepening. Her pure cut features, the wealth of silky black hair unrolled and falling down the loose gray dress, the frail white hands, the attenuated yet graceful form—they were like, and yet unlike the Clare Edgerton he had been bereft of, and again he found himself upon his feet, and breathlessly, fearfully pressing forward. The white figure moved slowly along the bank, her gaze turned aside. Over head the thunder rolled heavily. Suddenly there was a crash among the bushes. The figure of a man leapt ir.to view. The white figure turned at the sound. Then, like one who, weak and helpless, anticipates violence, the strange woman flung herself upon her knees with the ringing cry: “Mercy! Mercy!” A muttered curse, and her captor was upon her. By her loose dark hair he dragged her prostrate. Witn his boot ed foot he kicked her feeble body, while she seemed to have fainted. It was a man with the face of a demon that Cheviot sprang upon and choked from a hold upon his victim. St. Bambert! For a moment the two men glared at each other. Then a blinding light seem ed to sear their eyeballs. “One shall be taken and the other left.” When Hugh Cheviot regained con sciousness, a woman's tender hand was gently brushing the rain from his face. Softly her tremulous voice cooed above him: “Hughie! Hugliie!” “Clare!” He looked up into her eyes, meeting his pitifully under the disheveled black hair. “You are not hurt; but he is dead,” she said. Clare Edgerton and the wife of St. Lambert—who lay lifeless where heav en’s thunderbolt had streched him ! Wrapped close in his cloak, and borne in his arms, be carried his treasure back to Hie hotel. That she was now quite sane they were all obliged to acknowledge. And wtiafi St. Lambert was brought in on a stretcher, his seared, blackened and dis torted face toltl too plainly How be bad died. Miss Rose Grant drove out in her cariiage, but heard a tale of her lover which sent her back speechless and shivering. Devotion and happiness won Clare back to health, serenity and strength. Her fort une was rescued, and in a month she Vi-.*- .‘he happy wife of a happy hus band-f-Mrs Hugh Cheviot. HOW HE WANTED HIS PICTURE TAKEN. Yesterday a young man with a wart on his nose dropped in at the Sherman gallery and said that be wanted some pictures taken. “Will you have it standing, or a bust?” queried the artist. “Bust!” exclaimed the fellow, ab he picked up his hat. “Bust, Mister! do I look like a fellow that would come in to a picture gallery to get on a bust ?” They explained to him, and finally per suaded him to sit long enough for a negative. The .picture was a good one, and the n _>se stood out like a black cat in a bay window. The fellow looked at it, and as he handed it back, ho said : “Shoot agin, old paid, and see if you can't make the wart look like a piece of chewing gum.” They told him that it couldn’t be done. “Well, see here now, pard,” he plead ed, “my name’s Truffles, and I’m engag ed to a girl back in Injiana, she wants my picture. She don’t know I've got this wart; it’s growed here since I left there ; and if you could just rub it out of the picture and make it look like something that she’s familiar with—a slice of bacon, for instance—l’d feel better.” They fixed it up for him, and when he went out lie chuckled. "That’ll fetch her ; she’ll just natural ly think I’m floatin’ round in solid com forts, like bacon and string beans and sich.” The Cabeeb of Axdbew Johnson. —This statesman and patriot has passed away, but his deeds will live after him. What a commentary is his fame on the advan tages of an American citizen? Unlettered and unaided, relying upon himself, he advanced step by step from the lowest station in life, to the highest office in the gift of the American people. All this was accomplished by unswerving in tegrity, dauntless courage, and persever ing research. By the exercise of these principles, it is in the power of any poor and friendless boy to attain the same grand result. The same success is at tain able in the commercial world as in the political, as is proven in the case of Dr. Tutt s Standard Preparations. He, conscious of their value, labored patient ly, and to day no medicine has taken so firm a hold on the public estimation as his Liver Pills. They stand on the top most round of the healing ladder. When the Hon. J. P. Jones, of Neva da, was running for lieutenant govenor there stepped up to him a free-born American citizen, a little unsteady in his walk, and said: “Where’s J. P. Jones ? I want to know who I’m a votin’ for be fore I vote, I do.” Jones struck an atti tude, saying, “I am J. P. Jones.” “You!” said the voter, taking a deliberate sur vey from head to foot and then back again. “Oh ! you won't do, won’t do— No. 5 hat and No. 14 boots.” And he turned and staggered away in sadness too great for tears. Vol. IV.-No. 29. A TRUTHEUL PILOT. The paasenger, who w s going down the big river for the first time in his life, secured permission to climb up beside tlie pilot, a grim old grayback who nev er told a lie in his life. “Many alligators in this river ?” in quired the stnuger after a look abound. “Not so many now, since they got to shootin’ ’em for their hide and taller,” was the reply. “Used to be lots, eh ?” “I don’t want to tell you about ’em, stranger,” replied the pilot, sighing drearily. “Why ?” “ ’Cause you’d think I was a lyin’ to you, and that's sumthin’ I never de. I kin cheat at keerds, drink whisky or chaw terbacker, but I can't lie.” “Then there used to be lots of ’em?” inquired the passenger. “I’m most afraid to tell ye, Mister, but I’ve counted 'leven hundred allyga ters to the mile from Vicksburg cl’ar down to Orleans! That was a year ago, afore a shot was ever fired at ’em.” “Well, I don’t doubt it,” implied the stranger. “And I’ve counted 3,459 of 'em on one sand bar!” continued the pilot. “It looks big to tell, but a government sur veyor was aboard, and he checked ’em oft' as I called out.” “I have not the least doubt of it,” said the passenger as lie heaved a long sigh. “I'm glad o that, stranger. Some fel lers would think I was a liar when I’m telling the solemn truth. This used to be a paradise for allygaters, and they were so thick that the wheels of the boat killed an averaged of forty nine to the mile.” “Is that so ?” “True as gospel, Mister ! I usted to almost feel sorry for the cussed brutes, ’cause they’d cry out even most like a human being. We killed lots of ’em, as I said, and hurt a pile more. I sailed with one captain who alius carried a thousand bottles of liniment to throw overboard to tbe wounded ones!” “He did?” “True as you live he did. I don’t ’spect I’ll ever see another such a kind, Christian man. And the allygaters got to know tbe Nancy Jane, and to know kind Capt. Tom, and they would swim out and rub their tails agin the boat, and purr like cats and look up and try to smile!” “They would?” “Solemn truth, stranger. And once when we grounded on a bar, with an opposition boat right behind, the ally gaters gathered around, got under her stern, and humped her clean over the bar by a grand push ! It looks like a big story, but I never told a lie yet and I never shall. I wouldn’t lie for all the money you could put aboard this boat.” There was a painful pause, and after awhile tbe pilot continued: ‘Our injines gin out once, and a crowd of allygaters took a tow line and hauled us forty-five miles up stream to Vicksburg.” “They did?” “And when tbe news got along tbe liver that Capt. Tom was dead, every al lygater in the river daubed bis left ear with mud as a badge of mourning for him, and lots of ’em pined away and died!” The passenger left the pilot-house saying he didn’t doubt the statement, and the old man gave the wheel a turn and replied: “Thar’s one tiling I won’t do for love nor money, and that’s make a liar of my self. I was brung up by a good mother, and I’m going to stick to the truth if this boat doesn’t make a cent.” [Vicksburg Herald. ‘‘o wearisome condition of humanity ! " How many wretched homer, in our land; How many mere onerous exis tence. All are subject to disease, but when health is removed the hope is near ly gone out. Sickness is usually incur red through exposure or carelessness. Especially is this true with those disea ses peculiar to woman. ** Through her own imprudence and folly she is made to drag out a miserable existence—a source of annoyance and anxiety to her friends, and any thing but a comfort and pleasure to herself. Exprudent, and overtaxing her body with laborious em ployment, are fruitful causes of many of the maladies from which she suffers. Gradually the bloom leaves her cheeks, her lips grow ashy white, her vivacity departs, she continually experiences a feeling of weariness and general lan guor, and altogether presents a ghostly appearance. What does she need? Should she take some stimulating drug, which will or the time make her 'feel better,” or does her entire system demand reparation ? She requires some thing which not only will restore to health the diseased organs, but will tone and invigorate the system. Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Prescription will do this. It imparts strength to the diseased parts, brings back the glow of health, and re stores comfort where previously there was only suffering. Every invalid lady should send for “The People's Common Sense Medical Adviser,” in which over fifty pages are devoted to the consideration of those diseases peculiar to women. It will be sent, post-paid, to any address, for $1.50. Address, R. V. Pierce, M. D., World’s Dispensary, Buffalo, N. Y. Agents want ed to sell this valuable work- MOODY AND SANKEY. It is said, and we presume with truth, that the popular interest in the Moody and Sankey meetings in Brooklyn, so far from dwindling, is actually on the in crease. Many thought that there would be a tremendous rush of the curious for a few days, and that then the thing would die out; while to others it seemed probable that there would be such mo notony in the exercises that they could hardly bold immense audiences for a month. But it has already become clear that no two days’ or nights’ exer cises are exactly alike. Moody has always some new device by which to arrest the hearers’ attention and to impress the most carehss or the most easily annoyed. The first day lie bad Sankey sing an en tire hymn alone, thus giving the vast au dience the full effect his magnetic voice. Next day he arose and publicly asked prayers for the wife of one of the most famous preachers in that city, calling her name— Mrs. Dr. Talmadge. This produced profound sensation; though the reports do not say whether the lady s name was mentioned with or without her consent. At another meeting he inau gurated private talks to “anxious inquir ers” in secluded places and with dim light. Then he had young people's praying bands formed. At still another meeting he introduced tlie feature of si lent prayer. Our New York correspon dent has already described tLis. He says that dring the several mmutes Moody remained on his knees, with head reclined, the immense crowd was impres sively still; not a sound was heard. When the silence was bro Ken it was by a few. words in gentle tones from the preacher, which seemed to render the general stillness more apparent. San key then partly sang and partly recited the hymn “Almost Persuaded,’’ giving a v/i Icl ring and a trace of fear to the final words—“ Almost—but lost!” The silence was then broken by moans and sobs. In short, Moody has something new for almost every successive meeting, and his appliances seem exhaustless. Those, therefore, who have predicted monotony for his services, and have said that though he might succeed in England, ho would fail in America, must already have had occasion to change their opinions. [Philadelphia Record. TOUR ML' lIN LAW, Treat your mother-in-law as you would your own mother; don’t Ist her feel that she is a stranger in her son’s house. You ought to love her for the good husband she has given you. Don’t be jealous of the affectionate attention he shows her; remember how well she has earned it Your husband’s heart would be a poor, contracted one, if it could not find room for wife and moth er. Help him love and cherish her. — Think of the vacant chairs around her hearthstone—of the voices she misses that used to make melody in her heart. It will be but for a little while ; and when her work is accomplished, when her work is over, and the shriveled hands are folded meekly upon that bosom on which your husband has wept out his childish sorrows, comforted by those now silent lips, it will be the sweetest joy to your heart if you can say, “She was to me as Naomi—l was to her as Ruth.” THE RELIGION WE WANT. We want a religion that bears heavily not only on the “exceeding sinfulness of sin,” but on the exceeding rascality of lying and stealing, a religion that ban ishes small measures from the counters, pebbles from the cotton-bags, clay from the paper, sand from the sugar, chicory the coffee, alum from the bread and wa ter the milk cans. The religion that is to save the world will not put all the big strawberries at the top and all the little ones at the bottom. It will not make one half a pair of shoes of leather, so that the first shall redound to the maker’s eredit and the second to his cash. It will not put Jouvin’s stamp on -Jenkins’ kid gloves ; nor make Paris bonnets in the back-room of a Boston milliner shop; nor let a piece of velvet that professes to measure twelve yards come to an un timely end at the tenth. It does not put bricks at five dollars a thousand into chimneys it contracts to build with seven dollar material; nor smuggle white pine into rioors that have paid for hard pine ; nor leave yawning cracks in closets where boards ought to join The reli gion that is going to Jsanctify the world pays its debts. It does not consider that forty cents resumed from one hun dred cents given is according to the Gos pel though it may be according to law. It looks on a man who has failed in trade, and who continues to live in luxury, as a thiof.—-The Christian. A OUKIOUS PACT. The greatest-merchant in the world bears one exceptional mark of peculiar character. I will explain by saying that A. T. Stewart never was a clerk. He was, in fact, not bred to any business, but came to America an educated young man, whose expectations were to become a teacher. He found employment in this business until he was instinctively led to the dry goods trade, which he has pur sued to his present greatness. Claflin was a clerk near Worcester, and subse quently became a dry goods retailer in that thriving town, whence he came to this city as a partner in the firm of Bulk ley & Claflin. As Stewart never had any business education to prepare him for a mercantile career, we see more vividly the power of his genius in creating a vast business, and ordaining a system of government such as the world never saw equalled. It is, perhaps, because Stewart has never been a clerk that he has so little sympathy for this unfortu nate class. He has the reputation of being a very hard task master, and I have been told that one of his rules is to never give employment to any one who bad ever left his service, either voluntarily or bv discharge. ‘ J
