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~~ 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
