Newspaper Page Text
I
MK
COLUMBUS, GEORGIA, SUNDAY, JUNE 10, 1877.
NO. 138
» hod gone mi fadrfl a drt*am;
l eight had com«< an<t rain f«ll
’••r tli« 1-U. k and ftluggiidi stream
Id ble* I hi* wailing blast.
livering \* ith the biller cold,
puMtli bwn aiti» th* inn.
•d by with feature wan and old,
» Inrrowad by slierp pain.
, a child In year*;
- - U, pal lid fare,
\ we Him -• of life with tear*
I wualtod all child like grace.
I na ah* paaeetl me faint aud weak,
r>l lu r il wly say, aa though
throbbing hear, about to break
i! Wnere ahall 1 go ?*’
other. Who on furs reclined,
uu^huru wan drl\cn to the play;
ought within her vacant tuiud
<■!•• iu rag* that day.
red heart and idle stare,
l*> the beggar in the afreet,
mI up tier huiida In prayer
irity to tneel.
i vanished in the inurky night:
iitcviet ou a a'ep to die;
• a eeetie of ligbt,
e joy aloii • did sigh.
angola saw amid her hair
t waa by human eyea uuaeen;
that grown on graves waa there,
r leavoa of ghaatly green.
| though ho<* dianionda flashed the light
I u.a fl ittWtll Utkand near,
uutcaM'a brow bud geui more bright—
n. I s pitying tear.
thy mot hi: k*
I thy mother tenderly
<w u lifi 'n ateep decline;
e her arm waa thy fiup|M>.t,
»w ahe h-ana on thine,
upou hoi loving fuc •
108*. deep lines of cure;
nk—it waa tier toil for thee,
1. ft that record there.
le’er forget her tireleaa wnteb,
kept by day and uiglif.
Making from U- r step* I be grace,
Kr*«m her eye the light,
llicrinli well her faithful heart,
Which, through weary years,
[ hclioi *1 with ita s\ mI*alby
All I by a iu ilea and teara.
Tli.ink <
thy author's love,
(Itiard tlie priceleari boon;
: For tin* bitter, parting hour,
t'oineth all too soon.
Who i thy grateful tondernesa
!.«»*«•* power to aave,
Karlh will hold no dearer spot
Than thy mother's grave.
th« Sunday Enquirer.]
,ITTY CLOVER.
■IV NKI.i. TKI.I..
OIAPIEK VI.
C'ONlH.l’SloN.
,<> days after ihe harmless ending
malicious attempt to disgrace
f recorded ll > the luat chapter, Mrs.
and Ed returned home, Augusta
nth them, and peace and harmony
lore remained at Capley.
adhaiu made his confession to the
pal of his love for Kitty, and begged
> would oppose no obstacle to their
|UCSK.
General evinced no surprise
tidy replied!
Kilty loves you 1 have nothing to
She is her own mistress, and 1 have
ght to interpose whero she has clio-
ell. llut. Herbert, 1 must tell yon
teu have won a jewel. I have known
[nee she was an infant, and think
nan honored by her preference, not-
paudiug the blighting shadow ob-
Dg her birth and parentage.”
lur marriage is only conditional, as
tas positively refused to become my
until something is known of those
gave her being.”
> ago,” said the General, “at the
at of my wife and Mrs. Grover, I
gvored to trace up the matter, but
1 make nothing of it.”
> hopes are very strong that a man
l employed will not fail.”
Windham related the affair of the
tollman's visit to himself and of bis
at search.
i General expressed great pleasure
| Kit tv had been so fortunate in win-
| Ins affections, aud said, “lint I think
aoling prudently in refusing to
you until the mntter is cleared np,
rise it might some day be very em-
.sing to you, and possibly become a
i of estrangement between yon."
i long worm days of Joly had come
re Windham was able to leave hia
Aud the first time he had been
Ited down stairs he and Kitty were
Ither in the library—he feebly reolin*
ton ihe louuge and she seated close by
1'hey had been talking on the
toct that now most interested them—
probability of Gaultier's success. Bat
Ogth silence had fallen over them,
riudows were all open and the smell
Pe ruses like incense filled the soft
ght air. Kitty's pale, spiritual face
| turned towards the long avenue
Dg from the park gates to the house,
KVindham. closely observing her wea-
st less attitude, which was a perfect
re of grace aud beauty, noticed an
Qtaneous change in her expression.
I'hat do you see, Kitty?” he asked.
did not reply but leaned a little
xd to get a better view of the gen-
and lady whom she saw alighting
i carriage at the door.
Mr. V indham," she exclaimed,
faultier has come ! '
pultier : Are yon certain, Kitty?”
, yes, }ea, ana he has a lady with
she cried. ‘‘Can it be my mother?
possibly bo my mother? Tell me,
Ir. Windham, tell me.”
pd, trembling with excitement, she
her blanched, quivering face in her
8*, and sal waiting further develop-
»t ]
Calm yourself, my darling. We shall
i know the trnth,”he tenderly said,
it then a servant announced a lady
ee Miss Kitty.”
fHas Gaultier arrived?" Windham ea
rly inquired. “But pshaw! you know
”ii>g of him. Is there a gentleman
i With the lady!”
“Yes, sir,” replied the servant.
“Bring him to me direotly,”he ordered.
Kitty seemed to heve loet all power to
move as she rested her bowed head on
the window sill.
“Go, Kitty—go, my darling; don’t
keep the lady waiting."
For a few moments longer she set
numbed and sfrengthlesa, then tottering
out of the library, entered the parlor.
A tall lady, dressed in sombre mourn
ing rose to greet her. A lady whose
white, sad face told plainer than worda
a tale of sorrow and suffering. Kitty
intuitively notioed the perfect air of high
breeding pervading her preeenee as for
an instant they stood looking into each
other's eyes.
“Miss Grover—ah! pardon me for 1
mean Miss Grayson, yonr trne name"—
said Gaultier, robbing his bands briskly
and speaking with quick, exultant tones
of trinmph, “I have found your mother
—she is hett!"
The lady, greatly agitated opened her
arms, and with a little cry of joy, Kitty
was at last, at last nestling against her
mothor's heart.
It wonld be ageless to endeavor to de
pict this blissfnl meeting,or portray their
mental happiness. I am not capable of
it and therefore shall not attempt it.
Mr. Gaultier quietly slipped out leaving
them alone in their gladness and hastened
to Mr. Windham, who had sent for the
General, that he might also be present
when the detoctive related the story of
his suocess.
Meanwhile Kitty was listening with
misty eyes and the most absorbing inter
est to her newly discovered mother's pain
ful history.
“Ah! Catharine, my precious child,’
she said, “it is a sorrowful task to nar-
rato the many distressing inc dents of my
life, but you have a right to, know them,
aud howsoever hard it may be 1 must
not flinch from the wretched reoital. But
don't let yonr tender heart blame me too
much—not until you have heard all, for
my punishment has already been terrible.
As I proceed you may, perhaps,find some
mitigating circumstances that may tend
to excuse me, but I can never exouse my-
sels. Oh! Catharine, yon cannot realize
half the woeful sufferings I have borne,
half the mountains of misery crashing
me to earth because of one imprudent
act.”
“My mother"—and Kitty pronounced
the sacred name with such a fond caress
ing intonation, dwelling npon it with pe
culiar tenderness, whilst a glad light
shone from her lovely eyes through tears
of joy. “My mother, you must not ac
cuse yourself nor fear censure from me.
I have nothing but love and reverenoe for
you. ’
The lady kissed the sweet lips of her
daughter and began the story of her life.
“I was a poor orphan living in New
York with my aunt who was a widow.
She was in moderate circumstances, bnt
proud and very ambitious, aud having no
children of her own, she had raised and
became greatly attached to me. 1 was
dowered with wonderful beauty, and my
aunt hoped it wonld he the means of se
curing for me a wealthy husband. Nearly
twenty-two years ago I formed acquain
tance of a young man, William Grayson
—your father, Catharine -and in a short
while after we first met I waa his prom
ised wife. William,like myself, was poor,
and dependent for the very clothing he
wore on an old bachelor ancle, the fiiost
peculiar and eccentric that ever lived I
expect. I had heard from William of his
violent and settled opposition to the mar
riage state. In fact he hated the very
name of woman, and would never allow
one to enter His door. All his servants
were men, and he had sometimes spoken
of his wish to bind yonr father by a sol
emn vow nover to marry. ThiDgs were
thus when we became engaged, and we
were afaid to mention the matter to John
Grayson, the boriah nncle. My sunt knew
of it, and was willing that we shonld
marry, but not until John Grayson's
dentil, otherwise he would not have given
William a penny. The old man was
worth a million or more and his nephew
was to inherit the whole if he continued
to please and obey him. William had
cautiously once broached the subject of
his marriago some day, not as though he
serioosly meditated it, bnt as a thing that
might happen in the future, bnt the fury
of the old fellow was so terrible that he
never again dared speak of it, and had
nearly given a promise that he would fol
low in his uncle's footsteps snd ignore
marriage. We had been engaged two or
three years, and William was getting des
perate, when, one day, he came to me
and proposed a drive into the country. As
we went along he told me of his arrange
ments for our secret marriage, and beg
ged me to consedt to it. ‘We will keep
it from all but two or three trusty per
sons until the death of my nncle will
make it safe to divulge it,’ he said;
‘and your aunt must know nothing of it
or in her anger she might betray us.’ I
hesitated for some time, and pleaded with
him to wait, but he was resolute, and all
ended in my returning to the city as his
wife. Bnt in a few months time I was
compelled to take my aunt into our confi
dence, and William called one night and
it was agreed that aunt and I should go
to Canada, as if to visit relations, and
spend two or three months. I was rep
resented as a yonng widow, and in a little
secluded Cauadian village yon, my dar
ling, were born. Annt's terror and dis
may was something fearful when ehe had
heard of our imprudence. But being a
worldly managing woman, and bnoyed by
hopes of the prospective fortune my bns-
band wonld probably inherit, she willing
ly lent herself to assist ns, and nuke the
best of it. She now proposed many ways
of hiding the tell-tale fruit of our false-
step, bnt to none wonld I for
a moment listen. What was
money to me without my babe. I oared
nothing for the world, and plainly told
her 1 never would relinquish nfy infant.
But aickness and sorrow had randarod me
very weak and feeble, and her constant
prayers and nrgings that I woald not rain
my young husband, moved me at length
to consent to give you up for a short
while to another. Aunt had once lived
in Taunton, and had a brother,Mr. Jones,
then residing there. She pictured to me
the worth eud goodness of the woman
with whom she wonld leave yon, and said
Mr. Jones would look after you kindly
and that she herself would give a yearly
sum for your maintenance nntil we oonld
safely claim yon. But oh, you'll never
know, my child, the deathly, heart-rend
ing straggle it was to resign you, my ba
by; but I had no other alternative. My
health was wrecked, and poor and friend
less, I could have done nothing for you
had I resolved to keep you. Besides it
was the urgent wish of my husband that
everything should be conoealed until the
decease of John Grayson. Together we
left Canada, and journeyed to Albany,
where I stopped whilst my aunt went on
to Tannton and delivered yon. She soon
rejoined me with consoling reports of
yonr reception by the person she had se
lected to take you, and W6 returned to
oar home in New York. Bat the hardest
trial was yet to come, for in two weeks
after your father was killed in a dreadful
railroad aocident, and I think I lost my
reason, at least I remember but little that
ocourred for many months, while I was
confined to my bed with a alow fever that
left me with bnt one wish—the blessed
ease and rest of the grsve. Bnt the an
gel of death would not come at my bid
ding and refused to release me from my
troubles. When I recovered I thought
only of you, Catharine, and prayed to
have yon with me. There could be, I
urged, no longer any motive for conceal
ing onr marriage; my dear husband was
no more, snd it would be such a consola
tion to have my baby with me. Aunt
kept putting me off until one day I be
came almost frantic with the annoying
longing to behold my child. Then she
put into my hands a letter from Mr.
Jones announcing your death. But I
had already endured the extremity of
pAin, and the thrills that now came found
me bennmbed and feelingless. Crashed
and broken, I sank into a strange apathy
that surprised me. I merely proprosed’
writing to the good woman in whose
charge you had been left for particulars
of your death. • As usual my aunt took it
upon herself to attend to that, and as
usual I quietly yielded. She wrote to
her brother, Mr. Jones, for information,
and he replied that the babe had been
long ailing, and that he had given it eve
ry attention and personally superintend
ed its burial. I never once doubted the
truth of this intelligence, nntil Mr. Gaul
tier having discovered me assured
me that my beloved child was
still living. And with the present lights
before me, I readily understand the per
fidious deception practiced npon me by
my annt, assisted by her accomplice, Mr.
Jones. The months went by nntil a year
had elapsed since the news ol yonr death,
aud frozen and apathetic, I resumed, at
my aunt’s persuasions, my former place
in soeiety. It was not long before my
pretty face attracted the notioe of a rich
broker, and he soon proposed for my
hand. My annt’s entreaties, added to my
own ntter indifference, made me listen
favorably to his suit. And after I had
candidly told him the sad story of my
previous marriage, whioh he magnani
mously said only increased his affection
for me, we were married. For some time
my heart seemed a lamp of ice, without
life or motion. I had no love to bestow
on him. But then I pitied him for wed
ding such a creature as I knew myself to
be, and as pity is so nearly allied to love,
I by degrees beoame fond of him and
thoroughly appreciated his unparalleled
devotion. Aunt did not live long after
this event, and though 1 was her constant
attendant during her last hoars, she made
no avowal of her sinful practices against
my peace and happiness, nor so much as
confessed her guilt in leading me to be
lieve that when she bad carried you to
Taunton she had personally seen the wo
man with whom she left you, snd receiv
ed her promise to give you a mother’s
love and eare nntil such time as you
would be reclaimed, when the fact as I
have recently heard from the detective
was that she had, without Mrs. Grover’s
knowledge, crnelly abandoned yon da
ring the honrs of night at her door, not
caring what became of yonr poor little
holpless infancy. Ab! God, had I but
known, had I for an instant suspected
her crime, it wonld have been so differ
ent. I have never ceased to reproaoh
myself for consenting to trust yon to an
other, bnt reproaches availed me nothing
for my criminal weakness. No other
ohildren came to solace and bless my so-
oond marriage, and I have always thonght
of yon, my precious one, as an angel in
heaven waiting to welcome your erring
mother, when the summons came, to
realms of bliss. Mr. Bateman, my hus
band, as I have before told you, was pas
sionately attached to me and very proud
of my beautiful face. He never tired of
seeing me caressed and admired by others
and dressed me like a Duchess. To please
him I miugled a great deal with the world
and nntil his sad death, two years ago, I
was one of the acknowledged queens of
society. Bnt after that harrowing stroke
I relapsod into dejected seclusion,and my
days were flowing painfully and unevenly
on in the quiet of my elegant borne when
I was aroused by the coming of Gaultier
with the wonderful, exciting, almost in
credible intelligence of the existence of
my child, whom I had so long mourned
as dead. At first I refused to credit his
tale—it seemed too improbable—and re
garded him as an impostor; but when he
placed in my hand the little hood that I
so well remembered, which had covered
your baby head when you were taken
from my arms to be conveyed to Taun
ton, and when I recognized my aunt's
writing in the penmanship of the scroll
that he told me was attached to yonr per
son when found by Mrs. Grover, and
which be also placed before me, all my
donbts fled, and strong and happy in
the comfortable faith of soon beholding
my child, I pressed him not to delay a
moment, bnt to take me directly to her.
I found him ready enough to second my
impatient desire, aud we lost no time in
journeying hither. Ah, Catherine, Cath
erine, the exceeding joy of this moment
almost compensates for the supreme Buf
ferings of the past. The cup of *ny sor
row has from bitterness been transmuted
into sweetness, and I feel that life has
not lost all its brihgtness for me.”
And drawing her arms tight around the
lithe form of her daughter, Mrs. Bate
man gazed with full and rapturous eyes
upon the radiant face of Kitty.
“If there are any other points, my
darling, in my sad story that needs eluci
dation, we will reserve them for the fu
ture—a future I hope of blessed content
and peaceful happiness. But you have a
little history of your own that my heart
is aching to know. How have the years
of your short life been passed? The
minutest circnmstance connected with
you I long to hear. ”
Kitty gladly told the few events that
most prominently marked her residence
with old Goody, dwelling particularly
with touching fondness on the worth and
devotion of her foster mother. Then
glancing more briefly to her removal to
Copley and the kindness of General and
Mrs. Capperton and her tried friend Miss
Morris, whom she spoke of with
loving gratitnde. And lastly she blush-
ingly mentioned the relation in which she
now btood towards Mr. Windham.
It was getting late, whilst mother and
daughter were so wrapped in blissful con
templation of each other, that they had
become oblivions of all things else. For
some hours the General would not allow
them to be interrupted, but at length he
entered the parlor, where they were, sup
porting Windham on his arm, and to
gether the two gentlemen stood for a sec
ond silently enjoying the lovely tableau
before them. Kitty never seemed more
beautifnl than now. Her eyes of celes
tial blue were dancing with happiness,
and her form of delicate, graceful pro
portions was resting in loving embrace
against her new-found mother's breast.
Their entrance caused her to look up and
the pale, pearly pink of excitement that
now stained her cheeks fleshed into the
carmine of snnset at the sight of her lov
er. The presentations were quickly over
and Kitty, proud nnd radiantly happy,
exclaimed:
“There is but one thing wanting to
make this hour seem a foretaste of beav
en—the presence of dear Miss Morris.”
Mrs. Bateman, smiling fondly npon her
child, replied:
“As the quickest, aud I expect the
most acceptable way of informing her of
our good fortune, we will take Mt. Ver
non iu onr route to New York, and stop
and see her, for, after my acknowledge
ments to General Capperton, she has the
next best claim on my storeof gratitude.”
“Oh, Kitty,” cried the General, his
kindly eyes moist and * dewy with the
overflowing sympathy of his noble na
ture, “Would that my precious wife and
old Goody coaid have lived to have seen
this hoar! How they would have re
joiced.”
“Perhaps,” murmured Kitty, “God in
His divine love and goodness permits
them to look down from their heavenly
abode npon onr commingled, unspeaka
ble happiness.”
[the end.]
Mother and Son.
“May I see my boy, sir ?”
She was thin snd wan, her clothes were
poor, but neat, and the trouble in her
eyes showed that her heart was very
heavy.
“Yon can,” said the officer, kindly.
She went into the corridor and sat
where the shadow covered her face. The
tired head went against the wall, and the
eyes were closed. But between the
lashes a drop or two forced tbeir way, as
if a misery was there that could break
the bouds of prido or the courage of pa
tient suffering.
The turnkey brought him in, and for a
moment he stood before her in silence.
He was tall and fair, with blue eyes, and
in sgo was full sixteen years. At first
there was a defiant look in his eyes, but
when be saw that picture of wounded
lovo and loving suffering before him, his
lip quivered, and it required all his
strength to hold himself in control.
“Mother!”
The word was spoken low, and as she
heard it she started as though called back
from a dream that was full of rest and
comfort. She looked up and in a mo
ment more her aims were about his neck,
and his bead lay on that heart which had
beat so true for him through years of
wayward folly.
Three years before be had left her, aud
in all that time she had not seen him;
and now, after fifty miles of harried trav
el, she met him in the hands of the law—
a thief on his own confession.
The few spectators went ont and left
them there alone, she with her sorrow,
and he, it is hoped, with a repentance
that will bear fruit of joy and comfort to
her in the years to come.
The effect of bright colors on the eyes
is carefully discussed in Fraser's Maga
zine. The writer says: “Highly-colored
ourtains are injurious when the windows
are open, so that various brilliant and
and dazzling colors are flung about the
room by the incoming breeze. A very
bright carpet is an injurious thing, and
when combined with a brightly-painted
ceiling, madness. These things may be
a marry life for the eyes, but they are a
short one. A rich-patterned, sober-toned
carpet, and a soft sky-gray or stone col
ored ceiling are my own private fancy.”
Another bit of advice, sure to be disre
garded by women, is that mirrors be ban
ished from the rooms as much as possi
ble.
I law her all aglow.
She was sitting at the do’
On a chair;
And my heart was In a Sutter.
As my lips began to mutter,
“Wondrous fair!'*
She was rather fat and black,
And she woie a grassy sacque
On that day;
So 1 knew she was the cook,
I knew it by her look
And her way.
I was looking for a job.
And I thought I heard her sob,
Yes, indeed;
And for days 1 sighed and pin<d-
I was ab-ent in my mind,;
And at feed.
It was jnst a week ago
That I first saw Missy Chine,
But alas !
My appetite came back.
And my heart did not quite crack,
Like a glass.
The whitewash bu^iuess opens
Much trobrisk for love-like tokens—
It is spring;
la the treee I hear the thrush
As I ply my whitewash brush,
Let him slug.
It is well for me, no doubt,
That my pass ion has died out,
For, ab, me!
My wife aud boys at horns
On my nose would put a dome,
Don't you see?
An' den amid de din,
Lis colored skull cave in,
Dat'd the troof.
Like de odder day
When do base is done give way,
Oh Mullet's roof.
They would laugh at me, I guess,
If my thoughts 1 should confess;
And I blush;
Let the past be as a dream—
Jake, don't you bear me scream?
Pass oat brush.
—Dare to do right; dare to be true—
Kick at your mother-in-law if she kicks
you.
A Brattleborongh paper records the
marriage of John Sard and Mary Dean.
And now they are Sard-Deans—only two
in a box.
—Several dogs were recently shot in
the West End. — [Exchange. Let them
keep their west ends out of the way,
then.
—Spots on newly-painted door steps
show that lovers oft forget; and when
tired of proinen&diDg, are not careful
where tliay sit.
—“Y'ou seem to walk more erect than
usual, my friend.” “Yes, I have been
straightened by circumstances.”
—The married ladies of a Western city
have formed a “Come-bome-hnsband
club.” It is abont four feet long, and
has a brash on the end of it.
—The origin of the word muff, applied
to a fool, is said to be that a muff holds
a woman’s hand without squeezing it.
—“Wbat is it that causes the saltness of
the oeeaD?” inquired a teaoher. “The
codfish,” waa the reply.
—Why is chloroform like Mendelssohn?
Because it is one of the great composers
of modern times.
—A tropical maid said she would rath
er be a black bombazine band on her
adored one’s bat than live without him.
—It is said of a certain lady that her
temper is such that she would fight a cir
cular saw—and that in motion.
—Why cannot two slender persons ev
er become great friends! Because they
will always be slight acquaintances.
—The Chinese are the most silent of
all the races of mankind, and account for
this tacitnrnity on the ground that they
never mind anbody’s business but their
own.
—A man made a bet that he could ride
a flywheel in a saw mill, and as his wid
ow paid the bet, she remarked: “William
was a kind husband, but he did not know
much about fly wheels.”
—Men used to be married; now, ac
cording to Eastern phraseology, “mar
riage is accomplished.” Soon, at this
rate of progress, both marriages and fu
nerals will be perpetrated.
—Some men car, never take a joke.
There was an old doctor who, when asked
what was good for musquitos, wrote
back: “How do you suppose I can tell
unless I know what ails the mosquito.”
—Fair charmer (who thinks that she
knows everything about cellege affairs)—
“Is it possible, Mr. Tompkins, that you
are not acquainted with my brother at
Harvard? Why, he sings second base in
the University baseball crew.”
—“I say, doctor, what’s become of
yonr dog?” “Why he attempted to eat
a hole through my leg, aud before he got
through he died suddenly of concussion
of the brain,” said the doctor, sugges
tively shaking his heavy walking stick.
—The sewing machine agent, since
the patent ran out, has to talk just as
much and jnst as fast, and tell just as
many lies for twenty eight dollars as he
used to tell for one hundred and twenty-
three dollars.
—Tenacity!—First North Briton (on a
boat in a rolling sea and dirty weather)—
“Thraw it np, mon, an’ ye’ll feol a’ the
better!” Second ditto (keeping it down):
“Hech, mon, it’s whiskey!”
—The wickedest thing a woman can do
is to band out a twenty-dollar bill to pay
for a paper of pins when she has four dol
lars and eighteen cents in her pocket in
small silver—and then she will look so
innocent all the while.
—A gentleman in search of a man to
do some work, met on his way a lady not
as young as she once was, and asked her:
“Can you tell me where I can find a
man?” “No, I cannot,” she replied, “for
I have been looking these twenty years
for one myself.”
—An experienced lady observes that a
a good way to pick ont a husband is to
see how patiently he waits for dinner
when it is behind time. Her husband
remarks that a -ood way to pick ont a
wife is to see v hether the woman has
dinner in time.
—A man will carry five hundred dol
lars in his ves'. pocket, but a woman
needs a rnorocc. porte-monnaie as large
as a fist, and tco heavy to carry in the
pocket, to escor 1 a fi fty cent sorip, a rec
ipe for making ally cake, and two sam
ples of dress goi ds.
—Nothing undermines one’s faith in a
man’s liberality o the church so much
as to see him sti k his hands down deep
into his pockets as the contribution box
is traveling his v ay, look astonished, and
then remark to his next neighbor, “I’ve
got on my other pants.”
Tlie Wi ntber Halter.
A man onoe hid a vineyard whioh did
not bring him salt for his porridge, mnch
less wine to drink. Why? The bad
weather was to b ante.
Once he went into his vineyard and
said half aloud:
“If I could but regulate the weather
for a single summer !”
Scarcely had 1 e uttered the words be
fore a beautiful joy appeared before him
saying, “Your wish is fulfilled!"
How happy was the man! First he
made the sun shine bright and warm;
then he made it rain, and so on, until be
thought it w as line growing weather for
his vines. At list the grape-gathering
began; every vine was loaded with
grapes, just as be wished it to be. But,
but, but—when he tasted the grapes, one
after another, he was ready to faint, they
were all dreadfn ly soar.
Then the beav tiful boy appeared to him
again, and said:
“See, O man, how yonr wish has been
fulfilled ! You ordered sun aud rain pru
dently enough, but you forgot the wind.
Man shonld nev r be presumptions, and
try to act more wisely than the All-wise
God.”
So the man went quietly home, and
ever afterward left the ruling of the
weather to God. After that he usually
had fine weather and plenty of sweet
grapes—bnt not always.
Cube fob Chilblains.—Soak the feet
in strong alum cater as hot as it can be
borne.
To Dbive off Rats.—Place a quantity
of red pepper in cotton and stuff the
wad into the h lies; also exchange your
oat for a belter one.
Sick Room Su ioestions.—Frozen beef
tea will often bt taken by invalids when
they could not be induced to take it
warm.
Mvjstabd Pla teb.—Take a tablespoon
ful of molasses, more or less as desired;
stir thick with mustard, and having
spread it on a cloth, apply it directly to
the skin; it will not blister even if kept
on for an hour.
To Polish Bi ass.—Oil of vitriol, one
ounce; sweet oi , one half gill; pulver
ized rottenstone. one gill; rain water, one
and one half pit ta. Mix and shake when
used. Apply with a rag, and polish with
old woolen.
Handkebchie: s with Colobed Bob-
debs.—To wash such articles put in a pail
of water one t aspoonful of sugar of
lead or one teas >oonfnl of spirits of tur
pentine; let the n soak in this solntion
one quarter of in hour before washing.
To Cleanse < olobkd Handkebchiefs.
—Handkerchiefs made of silk can be
cleaned by raboing with the hands in
warm suds. Do not wring them, but
change the water until clear. Then hold
up by two corners nntil drained a little,
and roll up separately in a cloth to
squeeze out the remaining dampness and
iron them at ouoe; put but one in the
water at a time. Hot water turns white
silk yellow.
Black Dye f< b Wool.—Extract of log
wood, 1.) ounce; bine vitriol one onnee,
copperas one ounce, to eaoh pound of
goods; add the bine vitriol and the cop
peras to sufficii nt water to cover the
goods; and boil the cloth or yarn half an
hour; then add the extraot of logwood,
and boil one hour more, with frequent
airing. Then put in a strong solution of
salt, made boiling hot, and let it remain
15 minutes, then rinse thoroughly in
clear water. The copperas alone will
set dogwood dii.
To Destbox Moths.—Get two or three
pounds of powdered borax; if necessary,
untack the carpets around the edges;
sprinkle plenty of borax all around the
outer edges of the carpet, and with a
feather or brail try to shove as much as
possible under the snrbase; let the borax
remain there, it will not injure the car
pet. I also m ule a line of borax all
around the snrbase and on the carpet.
Home-Made Y hast.—Put one quart of
boiling water one very large handful of
hops; boil until the liquid is very strong;
have in a dish one pint cf flour, fire
large spooufuh of brown sugar, and
three spoonfuls of salt; Btrain the water
from the hops a id stir boiling into the
floar; if very thin add flonr enough to
make a stiff batter; when at blood beat
stir into it a cane of compressed yeast
dissolved in a li tie water; set in a warm
place to rise; put into the jar or bottle
yon intend kee; ing yonr yeast in three
raisins and a lu up of soda the size of a
hazlenut; keep in a cool place. ,
Rusk.—Mix a sponge at night with one
qnart of floor, half a cupful butter, one
cupful sugar, four eggs, half a pint of
warmed milk, aud a quarter of a cake of
compressed yeast dissolved in a little
warm water. Il the morning knead it
with flour, but not too stiff; keep it warm
till about 3 *> dock iy the afternoon,
when make it it to cakes for baking, and
let it rise again till tea time. They-do not
require a ver; hot oven, and bake in
about 30 minutes.
TUTT’S PILLS
A distinguished physician of New York says:
44 It is astonishing now universally Dr Tutt’s
Pills are used. In my daily rounds, I hoar of
them not only among the poor, but their virtues
are heralded from the mansions of the wealthy
and refined. Knowing the inventor from his
long connection with tne medical profession, I
have great confidence in their merits, and of late
have often prescribed them with the hanpiest
a aecid-
results in cases where I desired to make
td impression on the liver.**
TUTT’S PILLS
CUBE SICK HEADACHE.
TUTT’S PILLS
CUIUS DYSPEPSIA.
TUTT’S PILLS
CUBE CONSTIPATION.
TUTT’SPILLS
CURE PILES.
TUTT’S PILLS
CURE FEVER AND AGUE.
TUTT’S PILLS
CUKE BILIOUS COLIC.
TUTT’S PILLS
CUKE KIDNEY COMPLAINT
TUTT’S PILLS
CUKE TORPID LIVER.
TUTT’S PILLS
IMPART APPETITE.
Dr. Tntt has
been engaged in
the practice of
medicine thirty
years, and for a
long time was
demonstrator of
i the
Medical College
oral
using his pills
have the guar
antee that they
scientific ^>rin-
free from • "
quackery.
He has
in then
ceeded :
tagouistic
finalities of a
STRENGTH
ENING, PUR
GATIVE, and
a PURIFY
ING TONIC.
While they re-
all'
time without
restraint of diet
occupation.
i v:tl.
PRICE, 25c.
okfick :
35 Murray St,
NKW YORK.
Doctors.
DK. C. E. ESTES.
Office Over Ksmt’d Drug Store.
JUSly
Lawyers.
ALONZO A. DOZIER,
Attorney and Counsellor at Law.
Office Over 128 Broad Street.
Practices In State and Federal Courts In
both Georgia and Alabama.
mhl8’77 ly
CHARLES COLEMAN,
Attorney-. t-Law.
Up stairs over C. E. Hocbstrasser’s store.
[febll,'7T tf]
BENNETT H. CRAWFORD,
Attorney and Counsellor at I.HH.
Office over Fraxer’a Hardware Store.
Jal4'77 ly
BKBSB OBAWrORD. J. X. M’MIULL.
CRAWFORD A OIcNIELL,
Attorneys and Counsellors at Law,
128 Broad Street, Columbus, Ga.
jams,*18 ly
U. E. THOMAS, a
Altorney aud Counsellor at Law.
OrnoB:
Over Hochstraaaer's Store, Columbus, Georgia.
[)amt,7S lyj
Mvkk H. Blandvobii. Louis F. Gakhaku
BLAN DFORD A U AURA It D.
Attorneys and Counsellors at Law
Office No. 67 Broad street, over Witticb A
Klnsel'i Jewelry Store.
Will praotice In the State and Federal Courts
sept ’76
LIONELC. LEVY, JR.,
Attorney and Counsellor at Law.
Commissioner of Deeds, New York aad other
States.
Office over Georgia Home lusuranoe Co.
ESTATES.—Special attention to keeping ac
curate accounts, vouchers, Ac., aud making
annual returns tor Guardians, Administra
tors and Executors. <lecii,'7i>
Watchmakers.
C. H. LEQC1N,
W atekmaker,
134 Broad Street, Columbus, Ga
Watches and Clocks repaired in the best
manner and warranted. jy 1**76
Tin and Coppersmiths.
H it. FEE,
Worker in Tin, Sheet Iron, Copper
Orders trom abroad promptly attended to.
jyl,’78 No. 17* Broad Street.
Piano Tuning, &c.
E. W. BLAU,
Repairer and Tuner of Pianos, Organs and
•ep6,’76
FOR RENT.
all necessary out-bulldings,
and good well of water.
The above residence Is conveniently located
to the business part of the city, and in an ex
cellent neighborhood.
Also, the Store House No. 26 (north side)
Randolph street, suitable lor Grocer; Store,
and in good location. Can be had on easy
terms:
Apply at THIS OFFICE,
octl2 d&wtf
DENTISTRY.
DR. J. M. MASON, D. D. S.,
Cffic* Over Enquirer-Sun Office*
COLUMBUS, GA.
C URES Diseased Gums and
other diseases of the Mouth;
cures Abscessed Teeth; inserts
Artificial Teeth; fills Teeth with.'
If deifti
Gold, or cheaper material i.
All work at reasonable prioes and guaran-
d- feb21 dly&wdm
WOOD! WOOD!! WOOD!!!
ADDRESS ORDERS FOR
DRY PINE WOOD
—TO—
BANKS, CALDWELL & CO.
Hurtville, M. & G. R. R., Ala.
mylg tf
U| HaPFV KKI.IIF to «WnP_
.MEN from the effects of Errors *0
2 '
<2
to
CO
o
and Abuses in early life. Man
hood Retttored- Impediments
riage
method of treatment. New
and remarkable remedies
Books and circul&re sent free
In sealed envelopes. Address
HOWARD ASSOCIATION, 419
N. Ninth bt., Philadelphia, m
Pa. An Institution havfnn' a*™
conduct^and profesalonal sklili.
GRAND CENTRAL HOTEL,
Hot Springs, Ark.
FIRST-CLASS IN EVERT RESPECT
This House has Bath-Rooms under
same roof, supplied from the Hot Springs.
mb*iT<tsm D * BALto.EMTINE.
mh27 d6m Proprietor.
w- F. TtoomuL Dentist
Ovxx Mason's Dane Stoss,
Randolph Strast, Columbus, Ga.
lazily
RAILROADS.
WESTERN RAILROAD
OF AHBAHA
Cclumbus, Ga r , June 3,1877.
Trains Leave Columbus
AS FOLLOWS
Southern Mail.
12:39 p.AU.,arrives at Montgomery. 6:0* r m
Mobile 6:26 A X
New Urleans.11:26 a m
Selma.... 8:16 p x
Atlanta »:*o A X
Atlanta. & Northern
NJLa.il.
7S15 a. in., arrives r.t Atlanta *i:20 p x
Washington .11:66 p x
Baltimore.... 3:10 ax
New York... 9:30 am
ALSO BY THIS TRAIN
Arrive at Montgomery.* 2:06 r x
“Accommodation,” Tuesday, Thursday and
Saturday.
Leave Columbus 7:30 p x
Arrive at Atlanta 9:40 ▲ m
Arrive at Montgomery..? 6:10 ▲ x
Making closo connection lor Nashville, Lou
isville, &c.
TRAINS ARRIVE AT COLUMBUS
From Montgomery and Southwest..10:66 ▲ x
“ •* 6:06 p m
From Atlanta and Northwest 6:06 p x
This Train, arriving at Columbus at
5:05 P. M., leaves Atlanta at 0:30 a in.
E. P. ALEXANDER,
President*
CHARLES PHILLIPS, Agent.
dec!8 tf
Central and Southwestern
Railroads.
lUiXilifl
ftFTgfrr 4fT^hir'—
Savannah, Ga., March 8, 1877.
O N AND AFTER SUNDAY, March
21, Passenger Trains on the Central anu
Southwestern Railroads and Branches will
run as follows:
TRAIN NO. 1, GOING NORTH AND WEST
Leaves Savannah 9:20 a m
Leaves Augusta 9:15 a x
Arrives at Augusta 4:46 p x
Arrives at Macon 6:46 p m
Leaves Macon for Atlanta 9:16 p x
Arrives at Atlanta 6:02 ▲ m
Making close connections at Atlanta with
Western and Atlantlo Railroad tor all points
North and West.
COMING SOUTH AND EAST.
Leaves Atlanta 10:40 p x
Arrives at Macon 6:45 a m
Leaves Macon 7:0oam
Arrives at Milledgeville 9:44 a x
Arrives at Eatonton 11.30am
Arrives at Augusta 4 45 p m
Arrives at Savannah 4.00 p m
Leaves Augusta 9:16 ▲ m
Making connections at Augusta for tho
North and East, and at Savannah with the
Atlantic and Gulf Railroad for all points in
Florida.
TRAIN NO. 2, GOING NORTH AND WEST
Leaves Savannah 7:30 pm
Arrives at Augusta 6:00 a m
1.eaves Augusta 8:05 p m
Arrives at Milledgeville 9:44 am
Arrives at Eatonton 1130 a m
Arrives at Macon 8:00 a m
Leaves Macon for Atlanta 8:40 ▲ m
Arrives at Atlanta 2:16 r m
Leaves Macon for Albany and Eu-
faula 8:2o a m
Arrives at Euf&ula 3:50 p m
Arrives at Albany 2 *0 p m
Leaves Macon lor Columbus 9:33 a m
Arrives at Columbus 1:1* p m
Trains on this schedule for Macon, Atlanta,
Columbus, Eufaula and Albany daily, making
close connection at Atlanta with Western A
Atlantio and Atlanta &. Richmond Air Line.
At Eufaula with Montgomery and Eufaula
Railroad; at Columbus with Western Rail
road of Alabama, and Mobile and Girard
Railroad.
Train on Blakely Extension Leaves Albany
Mondays,T uesdaya, Thursdays and Fridays.
COMING SOUTH AND EAST.
Leaves Atlanta 1:40 px
Arrives at Macon from Atlanta........ 6 65 r m
Leaves Albany 9:30 a x
Leaves Eafaula 8:30 p h
Arrives at Macon from Eufaula and
Albany 4:10 p m
Leaves Columbus 11.19 a m
Arrives at Macon from Columbus.... 3:11 p m
Leaves Macon 7 36pm
Arrives at Augusta 6:0o ▲ m
Leaves Augusta 8:06 r m
Arrives at Savannah 7:15 ▲ x
Making connections at Savannah with At-
antic and Gulf Railroad for all points in Flor
ida. 4
Passengers for Milledgeville and Eatonton
will take train No. 2 from Savannah and train
No. 1 from Macon, which trains connect daily
except Monday, for these points.
WILLIAM ROGERS,
General Supt. Central Railroad, Savannah.
W. G. RAOUL,
Supt. Southwestern Railroad, Maoun.
fob6tf
Mobile & Girard R. R.
TTf "U*
—THJ \rw Ire
O N and after SUNDAY, MAY 8th. the
Mail Train on tne Mobile A Girard Rail
road will run as follows :
GOING WEST.
Leave Columbus General Passenger
Depot daily, at 1:20 p m
Leave Columbus Broad Street Depot
dally, at 1:60 p m
Arrive at Union Springs 6.52 p x
“ Troy 8:22 p M
“ Eufaula .10.10 p x
“ Montgomery 7:55 p m
41 Mobile.... 6 2 . a m
44 New Orleans 11:26am
44 Nashville 7:55 am
44 Louisville 3:40 p m
44 Cincinnati 8:15 pm
41 St. Louis... »:10 a M
44 Philadelphia 7:35 a x
44 New York 10:26 am
COMING EAST.
Leave Troy 12:30 a m
Arrive at Union Springs 2:22 a m
44 Columbus .• 7:05 am
44 Opelika fcg) a m
44 Atlanta 3 06 p x
44 Macon T..... 3.26 p x
44 Savannah 7:15 A M
Close connection made at Union Springs
daily for Montgomery and points beyond.
day° r *' utaula Tuesday, Thursday and Satur-
Through coach with sleeping accommoda
tions between Columbus and Montgomery.
Passengers for the Northwest will save
ten hoars' time by this route.
Through tickets to all principal points on
sale at General Passenger Depot, and at
Broad Street Shed.
W. Is- CLARK,
w « Superintend
D. E. WILLIAMS,
^^Qguerai Ticket Agent. , my9 tf
Central Line of Boats.
TTNTII, FURTHER NO
TICE the Central Line of_
Steamboats fill run as follows:
STEAMER WVLLY, ff. A. Fry, Captain,
SATURDAYS, 10 A x, to Apalachicola,Fla;
tai~ For further Information oall on
C. E. H0CHSTRASSER,
jau- tf Aflont.
