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BY BREWSTER & SHARP.
The Cherokee Georgian
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The Georgian,
Canton, Ga.
immm H Wi*wiMrtw*wTfrTiw
JAMES O. DOWDA,
Attorney at Law,
CANTON, - - - GEORGIA.
WILL practice in the Superior Courts
of Cherokee an 1 adjoining counties.
"Will faithfully and promptly attend to the
eolketion of all c'aims put in Ids hands.
Office in the court-house, Cautou, Ga.
aug 4. -
W. A,BR.IGIITWELU
CARPENTER, CONTRACTOR AND
BUILDER,
Residence, Canton, Ga. .
O
ALL work don* bv me will l>e done with noat
a«M »uJ dispatch, i’r.ces reasonable—Hatisfactiou
guaranteed.
a tig 4,
.J. M. HARDIN,
.HOUSE AND SIGN
r a. i isr t e it,
Canton Ga.
Aug 4, l-ly
BE NJ F. BAYNE. JAS. V. VINCENT.
Payne & Vincent,
Attorneys at Law,
CANTON, - - - GEORGIA,
Wilt nrswtlc* In the Sni'erior court* of Cherokee
•nd ad!<>ining c«»wntir«. and intbo iiitti***' courts
«d Cherokee. Prompt aiteation will be given I
the oJWliou Os ac.ounta, etc. Other in the C«hi t
houae. 2-1 y
j. il clay;
Brick and Stone Mason, Brick
Maker and PUsterer.
CANTON. - • • GEORGIA
Al FILL do all kinds of work tn his line,
VV such as building Brick and Sluue
House?, PiJlars au4 Chimneys, Pfartering
lU 3 »ft>, etc. All work done in the best
attic. Sali'd'.u'ii.m guaranteed. Prices ren
songble and just. R-st of rchirencea can
be given when dcslcrX
u 2*Jy
@|je Cljerakee (tPeurgifliL
Contributed to The Georgian.
TEARS—“Jesus Wept?'
And shall not mortals weep for those they
love,
And let the liquid feelings fill the eyes,
And ease the burdened soul, and flow to
prove
That love has deep and hidden mysteries?
Or shall we fear to weep, and coin the tear,
And prove that we are men, yet men’s
opinions fear ?
Yet men are not as manly as they seem,
Nor are they stoics all that strive to be ;
’Tis lack of independence that makes them
dream
That love and tears must not be bold
and free;
But Jesus wept in public—yea, a God
Could weep for love of one beneath the sod.
I had an only brother once —a model boy—
And kind in speech, and tender was his
heart;
Mortal was his wound, and he died afar
From home and friends. Oh, it was hard
to part
With all ho loved on earth, and see no tear
From lather, brother, sister dear !
The poor boy died —died in a distant land ;
The spirit fled, and left, the poorer clay.
Our songs were hushed : we had lost our
Dan;
Jesus had called his spirit far away.
And then, upon my brawny fevered face,
1 felt the tear drops trickle down apace—
Pure, honest tears! Ab, gold can never
buy
Such precious drops of holy sympathy.
’Twas nature’s tribute —pure as the blue
sky,
The cloudless vault which was our can
opy ;
And who would check them ? who would
lie so bold
To say that man was childish? Mortal,
hold !
I would not give the feelings of that hour
For one whole year of proud ambition’s
life ;
I would not give those tear-drops’ melting
] tower
Fur all the pomp of military strife;
O no; I love those tears; they arc the
leaven
Which lift our souls from earth to heaven.
John Al. Turk.
Camp sth Ala. Bat., near Orange C. 11.,
Va , October, 1863.
How Jack Lost His Position.
‘Well, my little man, you ate here on
time, I see,’ said Mr. Jones to Jack Knowles
as he stepped into his store one morning ;
‘that is a good beginning, and I hope you
will always l>c prompt in meeting every
engagement, and energetic in attending to
your duties.’
‘I will try to be both, sir,’ Jack answered;
and just at that moment he thought noth
ing could tempt him to neglect any part of
his work.
‘Come this way, and I will tell you what
you will have to do.’
Mr. Jones then led- him into his counting
room, and kindly placed bis hand on his
head while he said: ‘Now, Jack, you
know the bargain between your mother
and mvself is, that you come into my fam
ily as mv own child. Do whatever I ask
you to do, quickly and cheerfully, and try
to make yourself useful all the time. You
will be expected to run errands, such us
carrying small packages home for custom
ers, going to the post-office, delivering mes
sages, and assisting the clerks in whatever
way you can. In return, I expect to clothe
and feed you, send you to school during
the winter months, and, if you prove your
self warlhy, will advance you in your posi
tion in the store. Really Ido not need a
boy, but I do this for your mother's sake.
Do you agree to the terms ?’
‘Yes, sir, ami I am very grateful to you—
indeed I am—ami you shall see by my
work how much I love my mother and
you? Jack spoke these words earnestly,
lie meant all he said.
‘I believe you, my boy, and will do all I
can to help you keep yourgood resolutions.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Your place will lie in the salesroom ; re
member to help all you can.’
‘I will, sir. You may depend on me.’
Mr. Jones turned to his desk, and Jack
h .-u-ncii to do something, to show Mr.
Join s how desirous he was to please him,
and how nicely he would do his work.
In an hour or two the room began to fill
with customers, and soon all the clerks
were busy as they could be. Jack was
nearly everywhere, with his pleasant ‘Let
me help you, please,’ and, when night came,
all were ready to praise the ‘errand boy* for
gtxod nature and willing assistance. That
night Jack slept sweetly. He had done his
whole duty. His employer approved his
conduct; but, what was better than all,
his consumes whispered, ‘Peace; you’ve
done right.* The sun was just peeping
over the lulls when Jack rose next morn-
I ing, agd as soon as the store was opened he
was in hi* place. AU day, as the day be-
I fore, Jack was busy. When the akire was
I closed be Mt but W !iu»M ere
CANTON, CHEROKEE COUNTY, GA, WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 1875.
Virtue and. Intelligence—-The Safeguards of Liberty.
tired; the work he had to perform was
more than he was accustomed to do, but he
did not complain.
Thus matters went on. Jack gradually
rose in the confidence of all who knew
him, and, if a message was to be sent in
haste, a package delivered promptly, or a
check cashed at the bank, Jack was the
boy to do it. His word was considered
truth itself. One day one of the clerks
wished to send a package to the express
office. Calling Jack, he said : ‘Take this
to the office, quick ; run, please. I want it
to go out to day, and I am afraid you will
be t-'o late.’
Away Jack bounded, but had not gone
far before he heard some one shout: ‘Hal
lo ! Jack Knowles! wait for a fellow. I
am going that way.’
‘I can’t, Bill; I must hurry with this
package.’
‘Wait till I catch up. lam going that
way.’ Bill hastened, and came up with
Jack, who never stopped until Bill Smith
seized him by the shoulder, saying: ‘Walk
a bit. Don’t kill yourself. Whose is that
you got ? Where arc you going ? What’s
the hurry?’
‘lt is Air. Johnson’s ; 1 am going to the
express office. I am afraid I will be too
late ; if you go with me, you must run.’
So saying, he shook off Bill’s hand and
sped away, leaving his companion behind,
muttering to himself: ‘Sltch a boy ! He’d
kill himself, if old Jones or any of them
clerks told him to. You wouldn’t catch
me work in that way for nobody.’ He
turned to find some one who had more lei
sure than Jack.
‘Here, sir, please ; send this package to
day, sir, please,’ said Jack to the clerk in the
express office, stopping two or three times
to get his breath.
‘All right; you are just in time, my little
man ; two minutes more, and the office
would be closed.’
‘Oh, I am so glad I didn’t wait for Bill
Smith!’ he said, half aloud. Then, after
stopping a moment to rest, he hastened
hack with a light step, feeling that he had
done right, and that this pleasant feeling
more than paid him for bis trouble. ‘Just
in time, Mr. Johnson ; two minutes more
would have been too late.’
‘Thank you, thank you, Jack; I will not
forget this favor.’
‘No thanks are due me; I have only done
my duty.’
A few days afterwards, Mr. Jones called
Jack into his counting-room and handed
him a package, saying, ‘This was left for
you.’ Jack opened it and found a beauti
ful Bible with his name in gilt letters on
the side, while on a fly-leaf he read : ‘To
the boy who is always on time. —J.’ Tears
of joy came into his eyes as he stammered,
‘I don’t deserve it.’
‘I am sure I know nothing about that,’
said Mr. Jones; ‘I suppose some one thought
you did, or they would not have given it to
you,’ he added, kindly.
‘lt must be Mr. Johnson,’ and he hurried
off to find that gentleman, but he was busy
and continued so all day. Jack thought he
was unusually industrious, for he could
never sec him at leisure, and conld not tell
him how much he prized the little gift. Mr.
Johnson, however, read it in his eyes, and
that was all the thanks he wanted.
‘Here, Jack, take this check and get it
cashed. The amount is one hundred dol
lars and seventy-five cents. Count the
money before you leave the bank.’
The banker knew Jack; besides, Air.
Jones bad to’d him to let Jack have money
whenever he sent him, so he had no diffi
culty in getting money on the check. After
it was paid to him, be stopped and com
menced to count it slowly.
‘Don’t you think I have given you the
right amount?’ said the cashier, vexed to
see the little fellow slowly turning the bills,
and counting, ‘Ten, twenty, twenty-five,
forty-five.’
‘Are you satisfied now ?’ said the cashier,
with a contemptuous curl of his lip.
‘No, sir; this Is not right.’
‘Boy! what do you mean not right ?’
‘Yes, sir; not right. 1 want only one
Inin Ircd dollars and seventy-five cents, and
you have given me one hundred and seventy
five dollars.’
'lmpossible!’
‘Look and see.’
He looked and saw that Jack was cor
rect. He then paid him the right amount,
saying, in an un lertonc, ‘Whew ! beat by a
boy.’
Jack thought he had done nothing wor- !
thy of comment, and therefore never men- 1
tioned the occurrence to his employer.
One evening just before closing, Mr.
Jones summoned all the clerks into the
counting-room, and then called Jack.
When be had taken his seat among them,
Mr. Jones arose and slowly said: ‘Jack
Knowles, it is my duty to tell you that you
arc no longer an errand boy in my store.’
He then sat down. For a moment Jack
was speechless. The eyes of all the clerks
were upon him. Suddenly recovering him
self, speaking through tears and choking
emotion, he said: ‘Oh, Air. Jones! what
have I done ? What have I done F
‘These gentlemen will tell you,’ he coolly
1 answered. ‘Mr. Johnson may speak first’
Mr. Johnson arose and said: ‘He runs
all the way to the express office when there
is a possibility of being too late.’ Air. Hen
derson said : ‘He is always on hand when
a package is to be delivered.’ Air. Holmes,
the book-keeper: ‘He helps me post my
books at night,’ Air. Henley: ‘I heard him
tell the cashier of the Union bank that he
had paid him too much once last summer.’
Air IIowc: ‘He is always neat and tidy,
and can tie un a package as quick and as
nicely as I can.”
‘Now, boy,’ said Air. Jones, scarcely able
to keep a straight face, as he saw Jack’s
look of mingled surprise, joy and fear, ‘you
see what you have done, and I say again,
we do not want you as an errand boy, but
make you a clerk in a department of the
store.’
Then the gentlemen present grasped him
by the hand and congratulated him, saying,
‘You have lost one place, but secured a
better one.’
Not many days hence there will be seen
the sign, ‘Jones & Knowles,’ in Shepards
ville. So much for an obliging disposition,
attention to interest of employer, strict
honesty, energy, and punctuality.—[Re
formed Church Alesscnger.
Don’t Fret.
Frettingand whining! some persons seem
to do nothing else. They fret because things
are not what they wish them to be—they
find fault with circumstances —they forget
that God rules the world, and intends to
rule it to the end of time. It is true that in
a limited sense we make our circumstances,
but there are circumstances which no one
can make or unmake. We each have a
place in the world, which it is our duty and
privilege to occupy. There is a place where
God wants us to be, and to Go our duty in.
Whatever position in life that may be, we
should seek to do God’s will in it—for then,
and only then can we expect his blessing.
All the fretting and complaining is empty
noise, and will not mend matters; but if
you trust in the Lord and do right, “all
things shall work together tor good.”
Do not fret over what you call misfortunes
and reverses, bat rather seek to retrieve
them. Folding your arms lazily will not
help you. There is an old story of two
gardeners who were neighbors; they had
their crops of early peas killed by the frost.
One of them came to condole with the other
on their misfortune. “Ah,” cried he ! “how
unfortunate we have been, neighbor ! Do
you know I have done nothing but fret
ever since. But, bless me, you seem to have
a fine, healthy crop coming up now. AV hat
are these? “These,” said the other garden
er, “why, these are what I sowed immedi
ately after my loss.” “AVbat, coming up
already ?” cried the fretler. “Yes, while
you were fretting, I was working !” “What;
and don’t you fret when you have a loss ?”
“Yes, but I always put it off until I have re
paired the mischief.” “ Why, then you have
no need to fret at all.” “True,” replied the
industrious gardener, “and that’s the very
reason ; in truth, it is very pleasant to have
no longer reason to think of misfortunes, and
it is astonishing how many reverses might
be repaired by a little energy nnd industry.”
There are persons, too, who fret and worry
because they envy the condition of their
neighbors —if they could only change places,
how happy they would be ; but they forget
that one person cannot do everything, be
everything, nor have everything. AVhy
should we envy another his talents, his wa
ges or his work ; we shall have quite enough
responsibility to answer for at the judgment
day. This envy is a great mistake, for hap
piness is never confined to any one condition
of human life. Are you fretting through
sorrow of heart, because of secret trouble ?
Every heart knows its own bitterness, and
“a wounded spirit who can bear?” but it is
true that “earth hath no sorrows that Heav
en cannot heal.” Carry your trouble to the
“throne of Grace,’’ anti you will obtain grace
to help you in time Reader, in
stead of murmuring and fretting, rather
than God for his many mercies, and say,
“Bless the Lord, O my soul, and fo’gct not
all his benefits.” The true secret of fret ful
ness aud discontent is selfishness ; it is the
source of nearly all our trials. Look away,
then, from self to others, and ask, "How can
I benefit my neighbor ? How can I scatter
blessings in my pathway ?” for in blessing
others you will bless yourself. A lov
ing heart and a pleasant countenance are
commodities which you should never fail to
take home with you. They will both sea
son your food, and often your pillows. It
were a great thing for ft man that his wife
aud children could truly say of him, 1 He
never brought a frown or unhappiness
across his threshold.”
Like most garments, most carpets, every
thing has a right side and a wrong side.
You can take any joy, and by turning it
around find troubles on the other side ; or
you may take the greatest trouble, and by
turning it around find joy on the other side.
The gloomiest mountain never casts a shad
ow on both sides at once, nor docs the great
est of life’s calamities.
AVhen is a lady like a show-window ?
AVhcn the take* great pains with her sash.
The Faded Wrapper.
‘Aren’t you sorry that father has gone
axvay to stay over night, Alice ?’ said one
of Airs. Alontgomery’s children to his sis
ter. ‘lt rains so that no one will call; and
now mother will wear that faded wrapper
all day. I beard her tell Barbara she would
have a good, long day for sewing. She
doesn’t think it worth while to set even the
dining-room table just for us.’
‘Don’t you wish she would spill ink on
that dress, Philip ?’ was the answer; ‘then
she wouldn’t wear it any more.’
‘No, indeed, I don’t want it any worse,
for she would wear it just the same on
rainy days, and when papa is away.’
Now, mamma, in the next room, heard
this discussion of the children, and arose to
take a survey of herself in the looking
glass. It was not a very pleasing picture
that the p< lished surface gave back to her
view.
‘Now, Harry Warren’s mother,’ said
Philip, ‘is always dressed nicely, any time
of the day.’
‘She wears such pretty bows on her hair
and neck,’ said Alice. ‘But she isn’t half so
pleasant as our mother,’ she added, loyally,
‘if she does look prettier.’
The mother’s eyes glistened as she looked
down on the old wrappei.
‘To be compared to Aunt Warren,’ she
thought, ‘and by my own children, too.
Who would have thought they were such
sharp little things? They notice every
trifle.’
Airs. Alontgomery’s spirit was quite
stirred. She would not allow such a rival,
she said to herself, if she could eclipse her.
‘You shall be disappointed about the old
wrapper, for once, Air. Philip,’ she added,
smiling; so she took a soft, white dress,
just the thing to enliven a dull day. Then
she puffed her hair in her prettiest style,
and proceeded to dress herself with unusual
care. The delicate lace collar was adorned
with a bow of the palest pink, and her hair
was tied back with a ribbon to match.
It is wonderful bow these simple addi
tions to the toilet changed her whole ap
pearance. A little taste does much for a
woman’s toilet, and yet how small, often,
is the cost. A simple knot of violet or
crimson velvet will make a dull dress look
bright, and even elegant. As a great paint
er said, ‘Trifles make perfection, but perfec
tion is no trifle.’
Airs. Alontgomery’s face wore ft brighter
look than usual that day, as she entered
the nursery. Her dress had actual!}' raised
her spirits; but she was hardly prepared
for the burst of admiration that greeted her.
It is not often that compliments are sincere
and heartfelt, as were those of her little
ones that day. But her children’s tones
quickly changed to one of anxiety.
‘Arc you going anywhere, mamma?’ they
asked directly.
‘No, dear, I am going to sew on the ma
chine all day , so we can have a nice time
together.’
Little Alice hung over her chair a min
ute, admiringly, and fingered her buttons,
as she said, with a smile of deep content in
her eye, ‘You look nice, mamma.’
Airs. Alontgomcry smiled, as she threaded
the needle of the machine, while Philip
added, proudly: ‘She looks nicer than
Harry’s mother, even when she has her
silk dress on.’
That was reward enough; she had
eclipsed her rival.
‘l’ll remember this day’s lesson,’ said the
mother, in her own heart, and she did re
member it.
The rainy-day dress was doomed, and
the children helped to rip it up with sin
cere pleasure. It made excellent lining for
a new one, and it often preached its old
sermon over, as it hung wrong side out in
the closet.
Alothers, when you allow yourselves slov
enly ways among the little ones in the
seclusion of the nursery, remember there’s
a child there ‘a takin’ notes.’ These notes
will be read even when your head lies low.
Os all the bright pictures that hang on
memory’s wall, there is none to me so fair
as a sweet, loving mother, whose appear
ance was always neat and tasteful, even in
working dress. Children may love an un
tidy mother, after a fashion, but they can
never respect her. She can not keep the
hold on them in after years that one of the
opposite habits possesses. Besides, it you
are untidy yourself, they will probably
grow up to imitate you. Do not neglect'
the details of dress, that add so much to
appearance, because ‘there will lie no one I
about but the children.’—[Wood’s Maga
zine.
Perhaps a gentleman is a rarer specimen :
than some of us think for. Which of us ■
can point out many such in our circle; men |
whose aims arc generous, whose truth is \
constant, and not only constant in its kind, j
but elevated in its degree; whose want of j
meanness makes them simple; who can
look the world honestly in the face with an
equal manly sympathy for the great and
small? We all know now a hundred whose
coats are well made, and a score who have ‘
excellent manners, and one or two happy .
beings who are in what they call the circle '
and "have shot into the very center and
bull’s eye of fashion: but of gentlemen, ■
how many ? Let us take a little scrap ol
paper, and each make out his list.
VOLUME L-NUMBER 7.
ALL FOR FUN.
Sweet home—A bee-hive.
A leading article—A blind man’s dog.
The bone of contention —The jaw-bone.
A man Os low extraction —A cheap deii
list.
When is a mother a father ? When she’s
a sigiier (sire).
A “revolutionary movement”—Turning
a grindstone.
A dandy on the shore is bad enough, but
a swell on the sea is sickening.
Alarriage is often said to be a lottery, but
Benedict thinks it is more like a game of
checkers.
Why is an old toper like a man whd
beats his wife? Because he delights td
liquor.
Who was the gtraightest man in the Bi ;
ble? Joseph: for Pharaoh wanted td
make a ruler of him.
A wit wears a ten-cent silver piece ori
hi? shirt bosom, and calls it a dime and
pin; which it certainly is.
Some idea of the contents of a freight
train may be gained by keeping your foot
on the track until the train has passed;
A recent work on gardening is called
‘The Six of Spades.’ ‘The Rake’s Prog
ress’ would not be an inappropriate title for
a sequel.
A stone which marks a little grave in th#
midst of a AVestern prairie bears the single
word, A man had
buried his clothes there.
The compositor who substituted an “Al”
for “AV” in speaking of a lady troubled with!
“swelling of the feet,” accomplished the
worst typographical feat on record.
The gentleman so often spoken of in
novels as riveting people with his gaze, has'
.obtained employment in a boiler factory;
with extra pay, on account of his peculiar
faculty.
An eccentric but benevolent man, hear
ing that several thousand Working-girls lost
all by the Boston fire, generously shipped
them sixteen volumes of Patent office re-’
ports.
Recipe for making a row—Walk along
the pavement of a crowded street with a
ladder on your shoulder, and turn round
every two minutes to see if anybody is 1
making faces at you.
A Western editor was recently requested
to send his paper to a distant psttron, pro
vided he would take his pay in ‘trade.’ At
the end of the year he found that his sub-'
scriber was a coffin-maker.
‘Do you keep matches ?’ asked a wag of
a country grocer. ‘Oh, yes, all kinds,’ was;
the reply. ‘Well, I’ll take a trotting match,’
said the wag. The grocer immediately
handed him a box of pills.
A compassionate Boston lady, seeing it
vegetable vender beatfog bis hot sc crueHy,-
cried out, ‘Have yott no raetcy ?* to which
the astonished man replied, ‘No, mum f
I’ve nothing left but greens and cucumbefir/
‘Fcllow-trabblers,’ said a colored preach
er, ‘ef I had been catin’ dried apples for
week, nn’ den took to drinkin’ for a raonf,'.
I couldn’t feci more swelled up dan I am
dis minnit wid pride an’ wanity at seeia’’
such full attendance har dis evening/
It was Daniel who said, ‘Afany shall Hut
to and fro, and knowledge shall be in
creased.’ He clearly referred to reporters!
in this remark, and this suggests the idea
that Daniel was in that line himself; it is.
certain, at all events, that he was allowed!
to pass in free to see the lions;.
Eugene, a poet, to Amelia r
‘Come, sit down on the shelly shore,
And hear the mighty ocean roar?
Amelia, a fashionable young hdy, to Eu
gene :
T can’t sit down, you silly goose,
Because I’d burst my pull-back loose.
Two young men, out riding, were pass
ing a farm-house where a farmer was try
ing to harness an obstinate mule. ‘AVon’t
he draw ?’ said one of the young men. ‘OF
course,’ said the farmer, ‘he’ll draw the
attention of every fool that passes this way?
They drove on.
A youngster, required to write a com»
position upon some portion of the human
body, selected that which unites the head to
the body and expounded as follows: “A
throat is convenient to have, especially to
roosters and ministers. The former eats com’
and crows with it; the latter preaches
through hfs’n and then ties it up. This is
pretty much all I can think of about necks. ’
It is related of George Clark, the cele
brated negro minstrel, that, being examined
as a witness, he was severely interrogated
by an attorney, who wished to break down
his evidence: ‘You are in the negro min
strel business, I believe ?’ inquired the law
yer. ‘Yes, sir,’ was the prompt reply. ‘ls
n’t that rather a low calling Y demanded
the lawyer. ‘I don’t know but what it is,’
replied the minstrel, ‘but it is so much bet
ter than my father’s was that I am rather
proud of it? ‘What was your father’s call
ing ?’ ‘He was a lawyer,’ replied Clarke*
in a tone of regret that put the audiouce in
a roar.