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VOLUME XLVi]
M ILL EDGE VILLE, GEORGIA, MAY 18, 1875
the |for just a minute now nice my tomb- j utes in the day wherein to be discon-
r , . £ n J 8tono would lo °^ witb <Mre - Desire solate if my heart had been set upon
Union 4V Jxecorder, j Soan-so, beloved wife of So-an-so' it ever so much. I went cmt*for •
on it; but then I thought of that , walk the first warm day, and as I
worthy woman who lived with him j entered the gate on my return I saw
so many years here, and perhaps | an unusual commotion abont the
NUMB EM IS,
IS PUBLISHED WEEKLY
h Milledgerille, 6a.,
BY
J3oughton, J3ai\ne3 JJLooke,
L\ $2 in Alliance, o; $3 al end of the Year.
B. If. BOtJgqTOIff, Editor.
Th« “FEDERAI, UNION” nn.i the -SOUTH
ERN UKCORl>Ei£ v wore consolidated Aii£U»t
l«t, 1872, the Union betnjj in its Forty-Third
Volume find the Recorder in it’d Fifty-Third
Volume.
ADVERTISING.
Transient.—Ono Dollar n-r quare
first ins ortiou, and Hcwuty-tivc vouts to
in
lojjg*
■i....
iubteq’.;cnt
illuwod <»u
Mothnianr*
Liberal disc >m those rutia u
adrortis^-.neiiU lui.ninn tiirco luoBtfc*,
Tributes of Ro«]V‘ct, Resolution* by fcoriotK**, Cbiti
lies exoeudii.£ tix N^ninatiuns (<u otK»— and
Coiumunuatiuna lor individual beoefit, charged as tran-
•ieut advertising.
LEGAL ADVERTISING.
HIj^tHTb Sah a. )*»*r levy of t«n lines, or less,.
“ Mortgage fi fa Bale?, per square,...
Citation? for Letter* of Administration,
Guardian ah in
I .»
Applie.atiol
from Anli uinist ratio
“ Guurdiani'
:» i. t
u to Debtors and Credit«»i
Hales of Laud, A-.., pc: oq.nu>
** pr.riahfthle property,
E.tray Nuticf., »> day... ....
swr--. ,<>t . j
iuro of Mortgtgi, po
$2 50
5 00
3 oo
. 3 i*0
i, s oo
. 3 00
. .5 fHJ
. 2 00
. 3 00
1 00
. 1 75
. 3 00
LE' iAL ADVERTISEMENTS
Hales of Land. &>*., by Administrator- ffa
Guardians, uie n quired by la;v l, L- held
Tuesday in the month, br-M e;-i: tin* ft-urn <>'
forenoon and 3 i:« tisoakn a I
tho county in which th- property I i.
waiting for him now in the other
world.”
“What did you tell him aunt?”
“I told him I would have had him
in a minute, if he had only thought
of it fifty years sooner.”
“But you didn't know him so long,
! did you?”
“Oh, yes, I did, and I had no
i thought of tombstones then.”
A rosy flush spread over Aunt
Desire's sunken cheecks, and took
at least twenty years from her age
j for an instant.
“Now tell us about the first offer,''
I said Mrs. Obenreiser.
“That was the first—and last,
said Aunt Desire, laughing at Mrs.
Obenreiser’s expectant face till tears
ran down her cheeks.
“You have proved my doctri o
that a girl does wrong to herself
! down through all her best years.”
“No, I have only proved that ev
1 ery woman has at least one chance
: to marry.”
“If Sadi’s chance does not eemc
till she is seventy, it mi.
not come at all."
Ni-lim- of
o 30 days
the** sales must be ®iv» u la u pi:K!-g:zi
previous to the day of
Notices for the snlc of personal property must be
glveu la like mariuor Id .lays previous to sal - day
Notice to the d. btora and orvditjre of an .-,-tute must
bo published 4<> duy e .
Notice that application wiil i.c inudc t<> the Court of
Ordinary for leave to sell Lr.nd, kr.., must be published
for one month.
Citations for letters o; Administruti-m, Guardianship,
Itc., must be published 30 days—for diainissiou from Ad
ministration nieutbly throe mouths—'or dismission from
Guardianship 40 days.
Rules for foreclosure of Mortgage moat be published
monthly f »r four months—for cstnolisuing lout pupe.rs for
the full apace or three mouths—for compelling fcitfon from
Exeeutors or Administrate.re. where bond bus been gjv*
cu by the deceased , the full space of j liree months.
Publications will always be continued according to
these tho lagal requireznouts, unless otherwise ordered.
Book and Job Work of all Kinds
FROMPTLY AND NEATLY EXECUTED
AT TIIIS OFFICE.
“Sweot One,” I Adore Thee Still !
It in uot for »ne to love thee,
But at, a distance to adore.
For the nun that shine* above the©
Not the Persian worships more.
Yet I crftvu to liiigor ut-vr i!.ee,
In the channcd air for awhile,
Tor a moment more to hear tiiec,
For a moment seo thee smile.
Though tliis world were fast recoiling
From my dim and glazing eye,
I would look on all unheeding
If thy form would then he nigh;
Witli thy smile above mo beaming,
And lliy voice upon my car,
Death itself wero only dreaming
Of an angel whispering near.
A L. iNSLY On*.
MY PROPHET.
“Stay to tea; do,” said Aunt Do-
Bire, with that ridiculous hospitality
of her# that would fain share iter salt
with every creature that comes to
the house- “It s Sadi's birthday,
and we ought to celebrate it in
seme way.”
“Do you still court birthdays,
Sadi ?” said Mrs. Obenreiser.
“Certainly. Tiiis is the twenty-.
sixth.”
“Hush, my dear, speak low. You
look very young still ; you need not
own to more than twenty-two tor
some years.”
“Why should I hide it ?’’
“One would think you desired
nothing better than to be an old
maid, Btaying at home all the time,
rocking your mother’s babies and
tying yourself down as if you were
already a married woman, or never
meant to be one.
“Perhaps I don’t
“That ain't natural. Of course
you want to get married, but you
never will unless you go half way.
I’ve been married twice, and nothing
to boast of in the way of looks. I
didn't run after the men; but if they
wanted to liud mo, [ did not wear
out their patience looking far me.
If a girl is an old maid, it's her own
fault; that’s my doctrine.”
“I have never seen any one in tins
place that I like better than my
brothers and sisters.
“Make visits, to them. Go out
©f this place.”
“But I have no invitations—”
“Well, at least you could go
huekleberrying into the next town.
“1 laughed, and yielded that point
willingly. Aunt Desire had knit into
the middle of her scam needle by
t-bia time, and now laid down the
.stocking. She then took oil her
glasses, wiped, them, and smoothed
■down her apron. As she never did
one thing at a time, there were well-
known signs that she was about to
give us “a piece of her mind-”
‘Tm an old maid, as every body
knows, and perLaps my doctrine
would not have so much weight as a
woman's that had been married
twice; but seventy years will gather
some wisdom, if only by rubbing
against people so long- My doc
trine is that it is no use running
round after a beau. You may get
one that way, but he won't stick, or
won’t be good for anything if he
docs. If a girl has a husband wait
ing for her anywhere in the world,
he’ll most likely find her sooner or
later. The men who arc best worth
having don’t look for their wives in
public places, whore they have on
their best bibs and tuckers. They
like to surprise a girl with a duster
in her hand, or a baby brother in her
lap. It has more effect cn them than
flattering a fan and making oyes at
them all day.”
“Men wero more sensible in your
young days,” said Mrs. Obenrei-
ser.
‘•Not a bit. Tboy are always sen
sible enough if women don’t spoil
them.”
“Do you think every woman can
marry if slio chooses, Aunt Dueii-e?”
“To be sure : I should have mar
ried years ago if I had had time; but I
was always so deep in other folks’
troubles that I could not give my
mind to it.”
“Tell us about it," said Mrs Oben-
rriser.
“What?” said Aunt Desire, with a
touch of that complacenco which ev
ery woman shows when sue counts
her scalps.
“The last offer:”
“Oh, that was this winter, when I
went to New Bedford. (Susan’s
children bad the measles, and she
l«f* for me.) Her husband’s father
lived with them,- a fine old gentle-
MS, mart as a cricket (only Susan
mjn he does have the rheumatism
oerWly); and maybe he liked the
I tended the children, for he
“I don't think so,” said Aunt Do*
she, with a faint, sweet smile, that
reminded me of the perfume of flow
ers long pressed in a box.
“Let Sadi sit in her chimney
er, and make smooth the way for my
old feet and the little ones to tread.
She is fitting herself to be a good
woman, which is a better thing (be
cause less selfish) than a good wife.
Her lover will come some time.”
“I wonder how he will look?” said
I.
“If he is the right man,” said
Aunt Desire, “ho should have light
hair and blue eyes, because yours arc
black. He must be of a hopeful and
sanguine temper, because you are
inclined to look on the dark side.”
“If he comes with a glass slipper
in his hand, you will bo the fairy god
mother,” said I.
“The prince did not come,” said
Mrs. Obenreiser, “till the grand
mother had taken Cindrella to the
ball. He didn’t see her first in her
chimney corner.”
“O thou of little fatih!” said Aunt
Desire “Sadi s lover is to be thrown
from his horse, or more likoly his
carriage, in front of this house,
and brought in on a board and laid
at her feet- When he opens his eyes
and looks into hers, full of sublime
pity and sympathy—”
“The rest of the story is to be
found in tbe next number,” said J,
suddenly, putting out Aunt Desire's
prophetic fire. “Matrimony is the
one god of woman, and you arc its
prophet”
When Mrs. Obenreiser was gone,
Aunt Desire sat a long time smiling
over her knitting.
“Fifty years was a long time to
to wait ” I said, after a while.
“I was not waiting at all. I was
hard at work all the time. I had my
little disappointment and buried it
decently, and from that time I took
more interest in men’s wives than in
themselves. Those few ploasant
weeks, when the sight of my wrin
kled face began to stir up the embers
of his old regard for me, were a sort
of reward of merit—something to
make a little glow in my heart when
I thought of it, but it was a free gift
from above, not asked for nor ex
pected.”
“Have you had a happy life, Aunt
Desire?”
“Yes Sadi. If I had to do it over
again, I don’t know that I would al
ter a singlo thread; but I suffered a
good deal because of people like
Mrs. Obenreiser—as you do, Sa-»
di.”
“I am glad of it. I thought my
self the only girl that ever was silly
enough to mind it."
“All women mind it. It is a vul
gar cruelty, that has driven many a
girl into an unhappy marriage ; but
don’t think of it. Go and cut the
birthday cake, and above all things,
don’t pity yourself. Remember
w hat you read to me about Catherine
II—she was too proud to be unhap-
py."
“lam not unhappy!” I said, with
some scorn.
“I know you are not now, but it
is a very fascinating habit to fall in
to.”
After the cake had been cut and
eaten, and all the children laid away
for the night, some thoughts came
back to me that always made me
blush. I did not need Mrs Oben
reiser to suggest that it was time for
me to marry, if I meant to do so at
all, only my own thought had not
taken precisely that form. I hunger
ed and thirsted for a love that should
wholly be mine—not shared with a
dozen others- I had enough to do
iu my orphaned family to occupy all
my best years, but the sore spot,
which Mrs. Obenreiser was always
probing, was the fact that no one
had ever shewn the least sign of
love to me out of my own kin
dred.
Aunt Desire’s confession was my
first intimation that other girls suf
fered in the same way. I had been
so thoroughly ashamed of the feeling
that I thought it must be something
new under the sun. Continually I
said to myself at such times, I don t
want to marry; that isn t it at ail;
house. The front door stood open,
and the doctor was just going in,
while the faces of neighbors appear
ed at different windows.
“Oh! what is it?" I asked, breath
lessly.
“He has had his hand tom on the
wheel, but it won’t be fatal."
“Who? Who?”
“Your brother Torn. He went
into tho factory and was careless ;
that's all.”
It was enough, I thought, as I
rushed up stairs, and saw Aunt De
sire with lom’s head in her lap. and
the crushed hai 1 held upright to
' stop the bleed in The doctor was
watching for tin iaintness to go off
before beginning his work.
T shall need two to help me,” he
said, and the rest of you must go
down-stairs, and keep tho houso per
fectly quiet.”
“I was with him when it happen
ed, said Mr. Justin, “will you take
me?”
( “You'll Jo,” said the doctor. “Now
kt ns well | another. But the people had
scattered at the first word, leaving
aunt Desire and me standing togetli- 1
er.
“I want Sadi,” Baid Tom. faint
ly '
“You look delicate,” said tho doc
tor. “It will need steady nerves.”
“She ain’t delicate,” retorted Tom.
“She's strong as a horse. I won’t
have anybody else. You can stand
it, can’t you, Sadi?”
“Yes, Tom.”
“Stand here, then, and hold the
elbow still as death. If tbe boy
keeps up that spirit, he’ll live
through this and a great deal
more.”
“Steady,” said the doctor, in a
warning tone.
“Look straight at me,” said Mr.
Justin “don’t look down.”
Wc were both bending forward
over tho hand. I met his eyes as
they were within a few inches of
mine, and clutched them, so to speak,
as if they were the anchor that held
me to consciousness. It may have
been hours, or only minutes, that I
stood rigid in this way.
“Well done, Sadi,” said the doc-
! tor at last; and I only saw a neat
bundle of bandages at the encj of
| Tom's arm, lying on a cushion.
While Mr. Justin was bathing
| Tom s head, I went into tbe next
I room and leaned my face against tho
! cool wall. A sudden rain of tears
| blir led mo, and had the same effect
| a; shower upon over charged air.
! In another minute I should have
| boon ready to go through the same
I strain : -er again.
^ need not cry; he will do well,”
j s t r. Justin, speaking very gent-
; ly . de me; “and you were braver
th" tlionght a woman could be.”
uot brave at all; I only
straineu my will; and this is the way
I got over it Women cry for a
great many reasons beside grief.”
“Do they? I know very little of
their ways.”
“I could uot have get through it
but for your help. I thank yon
very much.”
He smiled and held ont his hand,
giving me a cordial shade, as if I
were a man, somehow, to whom he
had taken a fancy.
“I will come back in the evening
and watch with Tom.”
Then he went away, and I am
afraid I thought far oftener in the
next hour of the way that rare smile
lighted up Mr. Justin's plain face,
than of poor Tom’s trouble; for Mr.
Justin's face was exceedingly plain ;
at tbe first sight it seemed all of one
color—hail , skin, eyes and eyebrows,
of a uniform yellowish gray; a sec
ond look detected a line between tho
hair and tho forehead. A peculiarly
well shaped mouth and teeth were
the only redeeming traits about it
The rarity of his smilo proved that
ho had no vanity.
Tom's hand had to be examined,
and rebandaged every day for many
weeks. Mr. Justin assisted when he
was in the house, which was very of
ten, but sometimes Tom would have
no one but 'myself. He exacted
more attention than a baby.
One day we were both busy with
Tom, when Mrs. Obenreiser was al
lowed to make her first call on our
patient. After the first inquiries I
saw the arch look that was so disa
greeable to mo gathering on her face,
and tried to make my escape, but
Tom held my hand, and would not
let me go.
“Aunt Desire’s prophecy almost
came true; did it not, Sadi? only it
was a brother instead of a lover that
was brought in on a board and laid
at your feet. “What a pity!” said
Mrs Obenreiser.
“What’s all that about?" said Tom,
while Mr. Justin lifted his eye
brows.
“Some of Aunt Desire’s nonsense;
that’s all,” said I.
“But I want to know. Sadi need
not be having any lovers. I want
her mvself. Have you got a lover,*
Sadi?”
“No, no, Tom, don’t be silly.”
“Well, I knew nobody bnt women
ever came to see you.”
I felt rather than saw Mr. Jus
tin's amusement at this home truth.
“Your aunt thinks that Sadi will
get a husband just as quickly if she
IVmill IAJ malij I IBM J
I want somebody to say ‘I love you,’ , sits in the chimney-corner tending
me all of a snddqn one day to
him. 1 confess that I thought
as if he meant it.” Even our littlo
baby, four years old, had her little
nettle ready to 3ting me.
“What, is an old maid?” she asked
one day.
“A happy woman," said Aunt Do-
sire.
“Why?” asked I.
“Cause I hoard Tom tell Mr Jus-
tin that Aunt Desire was an old
maid, and you were going to be. I
gueBsit’s nice. I will bo one too.”
“How long do people keep up
that sort of talk about a girl?” I
said to Aunt Desire.
“They kept it up with me till I
was about forty.”
“And I am twenty-six—only four
teen years!”
“Just the time that Jacob courted
Rachel, and it soemed to him but
one day, for the love that he bore
her. I wonder how long it seemed to
her? Bnt yon aro prettier than I
ever was. Yon may count at least
five years more.”
We had a busy spring that year;
the children seemed to have out
grown all their clothes in a body.
They oould not spare we five min-
the baby and mending your stock
ings ail the time as she would if she
wont about and enjoyed herself like
other girls.”
“I agreo with Annt Desire,” said
Mr. Justin.
“Oh, indeed! Perhaps you aro
like those very sensible men that she
knew in her youth, who looked for
nothing but solid qualities in their
wives.”
“I hope so,” said Mr. Justin, look
ing straight and serious into Mrs.
Obenreiser s mocking face.
I looked up at him gratefully, and
his face grew suddenly bright with
that rare smile. It was as if the sun
had all at once flashed through red
curtains into a dull, empty room. He
looked absolutely handsome for the
first time.
“Then Sadi would do for you ex
cellently,” said Mrs. Obenreiser.
“Come now," said Tom, “that’s
going a little too steep* Sadi hasn’t
been married twine, if yon have, and
she has some delicate feelings left”
Mrs. Obenreiser was £Oin£ to be
very angry, but Mr. Justin said
gently,—
“A sick man has privileges," and
the storm blew over.
I had become accustomed by thi«
time to Mr. Justin’s quiet way of al
ways stepping into the breach at tbe
critical moment He spoke vary lit
tle at any time, and usually to break
some awkward pause in the conver
sation; but his mere presence in the
room gave me a restful sense of se
curity.
In spite of his own perfect self*,
possession, I could not meet him
with quite the same freedom after
Mrs Obenreiser’s call as I did before.
Tom grow better, and Mr. Justin’s
visits become lc3s frequent—the idea
that had begun to suggest itself to
my mind, that part of them wero
meant for mo, was nipped in the bud.
I blushed more than ever over my
innermost thoughts. Two years be
fore we had placed Tom in the count
ing-room of a factory in which Mr.
Justin was book-keeper. Tom had
immediately conceived a boyish pas
sion for him, and of course I had
heard his praise every day. I had
never met him except for a brief in
troduction on the street, until Tom's
accident made us familiar friends. It
! seemed to me we must always be
! that, wc had so many thoughts in
j common. I was not in love yet, or
! at least if I was, the feeling wore a
| different face from that which I had
j been looking for.
“I haven't seen you for three days,”
I said Tom, fretfully. “By-and-by
you won't come at all. I have tiled
you out.”
“No, my boy, you are better now,
and I find I cannot quite stand the
night work.”
“Night work! What do you
mean?”
“Of course I spend so many hours
here, I have to make it up some
time.”
“Oh, forgive me,” said Tom; “I
never ask you to come again. "Will
you. Sadi?”
“Not unless he likes it” I stam
mered,
“I like it too well, said Mr. Justin
in a very low voice.
“What's that you said?" said Tom.
“Nothing worth repeating, Tom, I
will come again soon,” said Mr. Jus
tin, and he went away at once.
A few minutes after I went into
Aunt Desire’s sitting-room, and
found Mr. Jnstin standing on the
hearth rug before her in a very de
jected attitude. For once his up
right, cheerful mask (if it were one)
seemed to have fallen away from
him.
“I thought you were gone,” Baid I,
in some confusion.
“I thought so myself; but I need
ed some advice on a very knotty
point, and as I passed your aunt’s
door, she looked as if she could give
it.”
“Did you leave Tom alone? I will
go to him,” said Aunt Desire, leav
ing us alono in a barefaced way al
together unworthy of her principles.
“Oh, dear,” I thought, “you are
worse than Mrs, Obenreiser;” and it
must ha-'e been five long minutes
before Mr- Justin seemed to see the
necessity of saying something. I
made two or three careless speeches
at the time, to which he paid no sort
of attention.
“You are quite certain that you
would not want me to come here,
unless it is my own wish to do so?”
he said at last, in a very slow, formal
way.
“Yes,” I said, with a little tremb
ling.
“You have made up your mind to
wait for that lover who is to be
brought in.-pn a board and hud at
your feet.”
“That does not follow at all.”
“Does it not ?”
His eyes seemed to take a distinct
color for once as I met them, and he
made a step forward.
“O Sadi, you must come quick.
Tom has been flouncing about, and
tbe bandage is loose,” said Nettie,
tho baby, rushing in between us,
with mouth and eyes wide open.
I went at once to Tom, and heard
Mr. Justin’s step on the gravel walk,
and the click of the gate, a moment
after. Well, at least, if he never came
back again, I could live a long time
on that strange look in his eyes, and
the sudden movement, as if he had
boen tempted to take me into his
anus.
I had not to wait long. He came
again in the evening, and we sat with
Tom as we had so often done before.
With half a glance at me, he aaid he
had found a letter at his office that
forenoon, which would call him ont
of the town for a week, and perhaps
for a fortnight. After that, Tom
would not part with him till the last
moment. At ten o’clock I went
down to the door with him, and he
drew me out on the piazza. The
still starlight somehow convinced
me, as I felt the touch of Mr. Justin’s
aim, that I truly loved this plain
man, and, if need be, I could waff
fifty years for him to tell me of it.
“Sadi, I must ask you before I go
away for an uncertain time—”
“O Mr. Jn6tin, where are you go
ing?” called out a little white figure
that rose up suddenly from the end
of tho piazza. It was Nettie, in a
single garment. “Don’t let her
scold me, Mr. Justin. It was so
hot in bed I come out to cool my
self, and when you opened the door
1 hid ”
“I forgive you if you go in now,”
I said.
“In a minnto. Dick and Lacy are
coming homo from the party at ten,
and mean to bring mo some of the
supper. There they are now.”
“It is too true,” said Mr. Justin,
as the children approached the gate.
“I may as Well recognize the hand of
fate, and say good by, Sadi.”
“Good-by,” I said putting a cold
hand into his.
“’Till I come back,” and he went
away, laughing. My pillow was just
a little wet with disappointed tears
that night, though both Nettie’s arms
were around my neck.
Before Mr. Justin came home Tom
was certain that he was wall enough
to go to the factoiy; and after aigu
ing with him two days I walked
down with him, to keap him out of
temptation by tha way. I had my
reward, for Tom’s first question had
elicited the fact of Mr. Justins
return. As I turned homeward I
saw him afar ofil owning to meet
me, and a tew rods behind him walk
ed Mrs. Obenreiser. We did not
speak at first; the gladness in his
tecs was enough for me. He tried
to take both my hands, but I whis
pered,—
How do you do, Mrs.
I am charmed to see
* “Mrs. Obenreiser is just behind
you.
“Fate again! I have not a mo
ment to lose. Sadi, will you marry
me?
“All right!
Obenreiser ?
you.”
“Are you, indeed? The symptoms
looked as if you could not be charm
ed to see any one but Sadi just
now.”
“The symptoms have become cer
tainties, Mrs. Obenreiser.” And she
was so much surprised that she went
quietly on her way, forgetting to
congratulate us.
“I was a truo prophet, after all,”
said Aunt Desire, as we walked into
her sitting-room with conscious
faces. “Sadi’s lover came to her
chimney corner at last.”
“But she had to leave it,” said Mr.
Jnstin, “or that lover could not have
proposed to her without Nettie for
a witness.”
“That’s no news,” said Tom whon
I delicately broached the subject of
my engagement to him. “You Ire-
gan your courting tho very day my
hand was hurt-”
And I believe Tom is right.
The Boy Who Saved Charlotte
Cushman's Life.
[Uoaton Herald.]
More than fifty years ago a boy
some 16 or 17 years of age was at
work one afternoon on the old
“Hingham Station Packet,” which
will be remembered by some of our
citizens as for years occupying a
berth at the head of the dock where
State-street block now stands. It
was an afternoon when there was
no school, and a girl, somewhat
younger than the boy alluded to,
was passing the half-holiday in play
near the store of her father. Ven
turing too near the edge of the dock
she missed her footing and fell over
board, and it being high water at
the time she disappeared. No one
saw her fall, but by accident the lad
noticed some bubbles in the water, and
having just before seen the little
miss on the wharf, instantly took
in the situation. Springing into
the water, he succeeded in bringing
her to the surface, and calling for
aid, she was taken on shore and re
stored to her parent. This act of
heroism saved the life of one who
has become the most distinguished
American actress of the age—a lady
as highly respected for her moral
worth and irreproachable private
character as she is renowned all over
the world for her eminent histronic
achievements. Her rescuer is to
day one of onr most estimable citi
zens, and less than a year ago ac
quainted the lady with the circum
stances of her deliverance from a
watery grave through his instrumen
tality—a fact she well remembeied,
although till then ignorant of the
name of her preserver. Cornelius
Lovell had saved the life of Charlotte
Cushman.
A Little Ilero.
That was a sad story told by the
newspapers last winter. Two little
children, a boy and a girl, wandering
from home, wero caught in a snow
storm and lost their way. The
distracted parents, accompanied by
kind neighbors, go out to search
for them. After a long, weary search
the two children were found lying
side by side on a snowy slope, their
slender forms rigid and their young
faces fixed by the frost in the repose
of death. The girl was wrapped in
the boy’s coat, but the pitiless wind
pierced her breast as well as the
generous heart of the little hero who
strove to shield her from its fury.
The winter’s cold took many a life,
but tho noblest soul of them all was
that of this boy. The coat folded
carefully about the little girl he
loved so tenderly and his own breast
bare to the bitter blast told of the
courage, the generosity, the self-sac
rifice, tho loving solicitude of the
heroic youth.—(from May “Home
and School,” Louisville, Ay.)
Dog Suicides.
A Paris correspondent writes:
The day before yesterday, in the
evening, abont eight o’clock, the
passers-by on the quays between the
Saint-Peres Bridge and the Point
Royal were witnesses of a touching
scene, A little dog was barking
violently from the side of the stream
at something that appeared to agi
tate him. On looking in that quar
ter a man was seen struggling in
the water, and soon went down.
When the dog could no longer see
his master, he did not hesitate; he
rushed into the waters and swam in
the direction of the sort of vortex in
which the body was sinking.
The dog dived, reappeared, and
then dived again. He did not come
up again; he had gone to rejoin his
master. Madame B , a ladyjjof
means, in the Itue St. Antoine, had
a dog to which she was very much
attached an attachment reciprocated
by the animal. Some days back this
lady died almost suddenly. Her niece,
who inherited the property, mindful of
her aunt's attachment to the dog,
treated it with great kindness; bnt
the poor little beast was not to be
consoled for the loss of its mistress;
it howled piteously, and refused all
nourishment.
Yesterday this young lady, while
sitting at the window in the place
where her annt was in the habit of
sitting when alive, took the dog
which was yelping, on her lap, and
spoke kindly to it- Bat at this mo
ment the dog, as though in a parox
ysm of despair, jumped suddenly on
to the window-sill, and thence into
the street where it was taken np
dead. “Although rarer than the
suicides of men, the voluntary death
of dogs is not without pmsedent-
Montaigne cites two examples from
antiquity: ‘Hircanus, the dog of
King Lysimachus, on the death of
his master, remained obstinately un
der his bed, and would neither oat
nor drink. On the day that the
body of the king was burned, the
dog rushed into the fire and was
burned also; so likewise did the dog
of a certain Pyrrhos.” In May,
1866, an English journal recounted
the suicide of a dog by drowning.
Some years ago a dog, which had in
curred the disgrace of his master,
throw himself off a bridge of the
St- Martin’ Canal, and remained un
der water until drowned.
THE SCHILLER DISISTER.
Interesting Description of the Scilly
Islands.
(Baltittion Gazette 1
Perhaps the most daugerous part
of the eoast of England is the cluster
of isles, a hundred and forty in num
ber, off Land's End, Cornwall, and
known as the Scilly Isles. Only six
of them are large enough to be habi
table. All the rest are mere outcrop
pings of granite rocks, 3ome oi’ which
rise conspiciousiy above the surface
of the sea, whilathc sharp and rug
ged crests of others are only visible
at low tide. Of these, the worst tho
mariner has to encounter is the scat
tered group that has bsun known for
more than two centuries by tho sin
gular title of "The Bishop and his
Clerks.” The dread of being wreck
ed on these treacherous rocks is so
great to seamen approaching or leav
ing the coast of Cornwall, that in
stormy weather they give them a
wide berth, and when fogs prevail
they stand off until the weather
clears. Yet from mismanagement,
or recklessness, or from tho too !
great confidence o f skilled mariners
in their ability to navigate tho chan
nels between the islets, disasters are
of frequent occurrence. There are
light-houses on the islands, one at
St. Agnes, and another on the rock
known as the Bishop, the peril of
striking either that fastastic mass or
the multitude of low lying rocks (his
clerks) scattered about for a space
of several miles, being the greatest
of any. It was on these rocks that
in 1707 three English ships-of-war,
forming part of the Mediterranean
squadron of Sir Cloudeslcy Shovel,
struck in the night and went to pieces
with a loss of o thousand lives,
including that of the Admiral. His
body was subsequently thrown on
the sandy beach of St. Mary's Is
land, but so disfigured that it was
^0riroltaral jjDcpartnunt.
Farming as a Business.
A writer in tlis Journal of the
Farm 6ays : “It has boen a matter
of surprise, sometimes, to farmers,
and to others, to see business men
from the cities, with no practical ac
quaintance with agriculture, go inta
the country, purchase farms, and
manage them profitably, while expe
rienced farmers about them failed ; * , , — —
lamentably, and yet it is not unfre- J. ** lon ^ as n com plete ferment*.
quontlytheca.se The reason is at g®"*? 4 all ™ cd take place,
tributable to the adoption in farm! , on it is the most im-
management of the same business i ^ or ., °. e against, for it
principles which achieved success in i was on ^he phosphates.
it rains, the water may be turned
off : Aoovershould be provided
out of light plank, and ^
laid on whenever rain is threatened.
The maruiro being taken from the
po ul fry house from time to timn and
emptied into this box, shor'd be
sprinkled with land-plaeter, in the
proportion of 1 part of plaster, to 2
of manure. The plaster will absorb
the greater part of the -)nrw
that would otherwise he
by the sun’s heat Only a —»tH
proportion however, is lisHa to be
the city.
There are thousands who go from
town and city life to the farm who
do not make it pay, to where there
is ono who docs. Their failure, how
ever, is largely, duo to the lack of
that practical personal experience in
farming operations, without which
success, if attainable at all, is the
result cf accident. When they live
on tbs farm long enough to acquire
this sort of experience, many of them
become the most successful and
thrifty of farmers. Undoubtedly a
thorough business training is of
great advantage, and given the ne
cessary experience and personal ob
servation, it enables these new farm
ers to turn to account many things
that would entirely escape the ob
servation, perhaps, of older hands
at the business. They are accus
tomed to look at everything from
a purely business standpoint, and to
estimate matters in view of the prof
its which they promise or secure.
They not only ask themselves the
question as to whether a profit is
probable from a given operation, but
also how much profit, and where it
is made. They are not content to
know that if a given crop is raised
on the farm, and fed to cattle, hogs.
identified by the emerald ring j or s ] ]GC p that a sum will be realiz
that the Admiral was accustomed to I od snfficien t to pay a profit, but
wear. The other six ships narrow- j they will endeavor to find whether
ly escaped the same fate. Tee loss I
of this brave Admiral, who had risen j
from the position of cabin boy to j
the chief command of the English !
navy and of so many hardy sea- j
men, was mourned all over England, !
and from the magnitude of the clis- j
aster is the sadesfe incident in her j
naval annals. Other terrible wrecks j o rG too apt to neglect, but which
| they can solve just as well as any
o else, ii they will only take the
the profit h made from raising the
crop or feeding it, and whether a
larger profit could not have been se
cured by feeding it to some other
kind of stock.
These aro the inquiries which the
general farmers, who have had no
business training outside of the farm
have occurred there even of late
years—the most notable being that
of the steamer Thames, when 61 per
sons were swallowed up by the re
morseless sea, and of the Douro,
with all on board. Wo have now to
record tho loss of the steamship
Schiller on her voyage from New
York to Hamburg, via Cherbourg,.
The Schiller, ono cf the finest Clyde-
built vessels, was complete in f.Ii her
appointments. She was built with
other steamships of the same class,
for the German Trans-Atlantic Steam
Navigation Company, but the busi
ness, proving unprofitable, the lino
was consolidated a short time since
with that of the Hamburg American
Packet Company. The Schiller left
New York on her fatal voyage twelve
days ago, carrying one hundred and
forty-five cabin, and one hundred
and twenty steerage passengers. In
cluding the officers and crew the to
tal number of souls on board was
three hundred and eighty-nine. Of
these, up to the present time only,
forty-three are known to have been
saved. From the accounts of tho
terrible catastrophe which havoreach
ed us thus far, it appears that she
struck the rocks, apparently of the
group known as the “Bishop and
his Clerks,” at 10 o clock on Friday
night in the midst of a dense fog ;
and it is a remarkable circumstance
connected with her fate, and with
the confidence of those who went so
hopefully on board of her to revisit
tbe Fatherland—for the great bulk
of the passengers wore Americanized
Germans—that her commander, Cap
tain Thomas, was regarded as one
of tho best officers in the service cf
the company. It wouhi bo idle to
moralize over an event that has
brought profound grief Lo many
German families in this country and
great sorrow to kinsmen and friends
who were waiting to welcome the
victims. Nor is it worth while to
trouble to do so.
From the nature of his business
the farmer is prevented from trying
those experiments, or engaging in
those ventures, which aro so con
spicuous a feature of tho manage
ment of almost all other avocations,
and he is reluctant to leave the well-
trodden road which tho aggregate
experience and observation of the
great farming community has mark
ed out. This conservatism is cor
rect—without it, continued success
on the farm would bo impossible.
But it should not be carried too far
—because the farmer feels he cannot
leave the plain road, he should not
be content to run in a “rut.” Our
fathers and grand fathers were wise
in their day, but they knew nothing
of the reaping machine and many
other implements, which the most
conservative fanners of this genera*
tion understand very well are to
their advantage. And so it may be
with other things, and no one should
refuse to look at a thing simply be
cause it is new, or adhere to a prac
tice simply because it is old. Keep
close to the line of safety, should
be tho maxim of all, but at the same
time, seek carefully for new methods
of farm management which promise
an improvement upon tho old. This
can be done In a moderate sort of
way, which will net interrupt to any
degree the previous farm manage
ment, or involve any considerable
expense in case of failure.—Nation
al Live Stork Journal.
The manure should* bo forked
over every day or so, to hasten the
evaporation of the water, and when
it is thoroughly dried, if should be
powdered as fine as possible and put
into barrels, and houeed until wan
ted for application to the soil-
It can be powdered sufficiently by
drawing all from one end of the tyrx,
and then with the hoe drawing it
back, a little at a time, and working
it over—shovelling it into the bar
rel as fast as powdered. It should
be used as Peruvian guano, but in a
little larger proportion. The gar
dener will want no better manure
for his corn, cabbages, squashes, &o.
When used for cotton, it would be
better to mix with superphosphate
and ashes, just before being applied
to the soil. Tho ashes being per
fectly dry, no loss of ammonia will
occur. A close poultry house is
more liable to be infested with ver
min than an open one, and the fol
lowing precautions should be ob>
served.
Whitewash the house inside and
out occasionally. Have the floor 6
or 7 inches deep in sand if conven
ient. In one corner of house keep
a shallow broad box, constantly fill
ed with dry ashes, for the poultry
to dust themselves in.-—Sprinkle its
roosting poles and plane overy week
or two with a solution of carbolic
acid, using a watering pot for the
pu"pose. Thero should bo no neats
in the roosting division.
In conclusion we would say, that
this course of procedure involves
but little trouble and expense, and
will pay for itself 10 times over.
a
Miliedgeville, Gu., March 15, 1875.
Poultry Manure.
Editob Southern Cultivator.—
This manure being greatly superior
to any other that can be obtained
abont tho farm, it would be well for
farmers to determine how to pre*.
serve and apply it to the best advan-
speculato on the cause or tho catas- j Saved properly, it is inferior
trophe, bnt we feel more than ever I only to Peruvian guano, and this
the propriety and tho solemn beauty
of that prayer in tho Protestant
Episcopal Church service “for those
who go down to the sea iu ships "
| latter commodity is now being sold
in Savannah at I cents per pound,
by the singlo sack. Nearly every
farmer—and in fact nearly every
householder—in our Southern towns,
keep more or less poultry; but the
greater portion of them, however, do
not appreciate the value of the ma
nure of this poultry, and do not
! consider that it is worth something
more than the amount expended for
their food, as a general rule.
We might present a calculation,
Some Successful Literary People.
[Troy Timur.)
Clemens, the humorist, better
known as Mark Twain, Las done bet
ter than any man of Lis torn of la
bor. He has been seven years bo
fore the pnblic, and during that time
has become rich enough to live on . , . , , , . .
his income. His property in Hart- ’ uable fertihzer mrght be saved in
ford is worth more than *80,000. ; State ’ * vaIue ^ lvcr '
Mrs. Stowe has made more than ; appreciated by poultry keep-
any other American woman, and has ! ers ’ and an , economical method of
probably cleared *100,000. This Preserving d adopted W hile such
may seem like a large sum, but a calculation might be mstructive-
when it is spread through a quarter 1 tho ^ a mere rough approxi-
of a century, it is not such an im-
Effects of iho Tornado.
We take great pleasure in publish
ing the following letter from Prof.
\V. Leroy Broun, President, of the
Georgia State College of Agriculture
and the Mechanic Arts. We com
mend it to tho attention of the peo
ple in Harris, Talbot, Baldwin,
Hancock, Greene, Oglethorpe, Talia
ferro, \\ arren, McDuffie, Colombia,
Burke and Richmond and hope +6*?
the people of these counties will
promptly comply with its request:
University of.Georgia,)
Athens, May 8, 1875. j
ilditors Chronicle and Sentinel.
Sirs—I am anxious to have placed
in the museum of the University, for
preservation, evidences of the force
exerted by the wind daring the re
cent destructive tornadoes that pass
ed over onr State. Poets or trees
that have been penetrated or;
by stones or by pieces of j
what it is desired to collect. A sec
tion of the post or tree with the
timber or stone in it should be la
beled with the name of the donor
and the locality, and also with the
date of the occurrence. This should
be packed in a box for protection,
&c., shipped to Athens, directed to
Museum University of Georgia. If
the donation should be accompanied
by a well authenticated statement of
facts of interest illustrating the de
structive power cf the storm, it
would be the more valuable.
I regret the effort made to secure
for the University the telegraph pole
from Camak has been unsuccessful,
as that, by order, has been sent to
New York. By making this request
known in your paper you will place
us under obligations.
Very Respectfully,
W. Leroy Brook
The “Third Party” Movement,
Under this head, the Baltimore
Sans Washington correspondent,
under date of Tuesday, telegraphs as
follows :
The fact that the recent dinner to
•x-Senator Schurz, in New York, was
the initial step in a movement to re
organize the third party (so-called)
for the next Presidential campaign
has been considerably commented
upon in political circles. The primo
movers in this attempt are under*
stood to be all Western men. Al-
mense thing as it at first appears to
be. Marian Harlan Mrs Tcrhune),
who has written industriously fur
twenty years, has probably made
$15,000 by a dozen novels. Perhaps
Mary J. Holmes has done equally
welL Gail Hamilton (Miss Dodge)
enjoyed a good sale for her books
during the first few years, but her
vanity got the better of her judg
ment, and she quarreled with her
publishers. Her next book was de
voted to the quarrel, and it at cnee
impaired her popularity. She now
a corner in Harper s papers, and
also in the Independent, but will
never do much in Looks again. Her
impudence toward the venerable
John Todd, who differed with her
in opinion, showed how the vanity
arising from success spoils real tal
ent Walworth, who was shot by
his son, never made much out of his
books, and they were, in fact, too
inferior to sell without extraordinary
puffery. Josh Billings (Shaw) has
found unusual popularity. He is
witty and says many wise ns well
as funny things. It seeum a pity
that such a clever fellow should bo
obliged to borrow tho jokes of poor
Artamus Ward and print them as
original but such is one of the wcak-
noaaaa of funny fellows.
The closest walk with God is tho
sweetest that can be enjoyod on
earth.
ation, as it would necessarily be—
we defer it far tbe present, and offer
j> few suggestions relative to its pro
per preservation and application.
There are two ways of preserving it
—both good, but one so much bet
ter than tho other, wo shall only
speak of it. This method will secure
the manure in a contrated form, and
farmers will find it much more econ
omical to secure all their manure as
much as possible in this manner: for
if bulky, tho labor of applying is
greatly increased. Consequently:
in a great many instances, it is not
adequately applied.
In the first place, tho poultry
house should havo a tight roof. The
roosting poles should be placed par ;
allel to each other, and 18 inches
apart Out of inch plank, planed on
one side, make a plane of sufficient
size to occupy the space beneath tho
roots. Elevate the rear end of the
plane 2£ or 3 feet, and havo the
front side 12 or 18 inches from the
ground. From light 12 inch plank
make a long narrow box to set un
der tho front side, into which the
droppings can bo scooped every
week or oftener, as the number of
fowls may justify. Tbe scooper may
be a narrow board with a handle, or
a hoe will answer.
Outside of the house, and exposed
to the sun, have a box 5 x 10 feet,
and one foot in depth, the north side
of which should be raised some 6 or
8 inches, in order that tho sun may
have full play on it, and so that when
showing how many tons of this val- i though Mr. Evarts presided at the
J " meeting, and although his name him
been mentioned as the possible
Presidential candidate of the party,
it is understood very positively that
his own motives in being present
were merely to shew a personal
compliment to Mr. Schurz. Tho
general opinion here is tiiafc the third
party idea has been so effectually ex
ploded that it is useless to ander-
take to resuscitate it. Although the
gentlemen now essaying to revive
the third party may in the next
twelve months figure very prpmiv
neatly before the country in inter
views, etc., they will find, when elec
tion day comes, that they have mo
following at the polls. Mr. Halategd,
who now expresses so much eonfis
deuce in the results to be attained
by the reorganization of the third
party, was no less confident of its
grand destiny in tho campaign of
1872 in his own State of Ohio, when
it polled but a minute fraction of the
votes. Tbe “independent votam”
on whom Mr. Halstead now counts
to mako up the bulk of his third par
ty will do as they have done, select
the best men for their suffrages
without any regard to the pupty
which nominates them. Therefore
it is not believed here that the third
party, as a party, can form any pow
erful clement in the great Prsmden-
tial contest of next year. But BO
question is entertained by the far-
seeing politicians who congregate
hero that the “independent voters
will hold tho balance of power in
1876 as in 1874; that they will mA
out the boatmen, and will not be
allured fay any oatehpanny party
terms.
The faardeet word to spall is Raid*
eat; hat these is one word finder-
