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BY BREWSTER & SHARP. The Cherokee Georgian M FUBLISHEJD. EVEIIY WEDNESDAY BY BREWSTER & SHARP. JUTES SUBSCRIPTION : (positively in advance.) Single copy, 13 months $1 50 Single copy, 8 months 100 Single copy 6 months 75 Single copy, 4 months 5G AD VERTISING RA TES, Space | 1 na. | 2m. 1 3 tn. | 6m. | 12 m. l inch j $250 | $3 50 | $4 50 | $7 00 I SIOOO 3 inc** | 'SOO | 750 | 1000 | 1400 | 2000 4 inc's | 650 | 900 | 11 50 | 18 00 £ 25 00 % CoLTIo OO fl 2 50T16 00 j 2500 I 40 00 col. | 15 00 |2500 i 3.5 00 f 45 00 | 65 00 tVoL~IWOO | 35 SO 1 50 00 | G 5 00~| 100 00 RATES OF LEGAL ADVERTISING. [payable, in all cases, in advance.] Sheriffs’ sales per levy, not exceeding one square, $2 50 Notice of Application for Homestead, 2 00 Citations on letters of administration, 3 00 Citations on letters dismissory from Administration, 5 00 Citations on lctt< rs dismissory from Guardianship 3 CO Leave to sell Land, Ac, 4 00 Notice to debtors and creditors,... .3 50 ifiale personal property, per square, 150 Hale of Land hy Administrators, Guar- dians, Ac., per square, 2 50 Eatrays, one week, 1 50 Estrays, sixty days, 5 00 The money for advertising considered due •after the first insertion. Advertisements sent without a specifica tion of the number of insertions marked thereon, will be published till forbid, and charged accordingly Business or Professional Cards, not ex ceeding three-fonrths of an inch in length, Including the paper one year, Ten Dollars. Advertisements inserted at intervals will ©<• charged ns new. Loc\L and Business Notices which will always immediately follow the reading matter, will be. inserted at 10 cents a line eac.i insertion. No notice under three lines will be inserted for less than 25 cents each insertion. Advertisements Inserted in Columns with Reading matt, r will be charged 15 cents per line for each insertion. Double eoliimn advertisements 10 per ct. should always be marked for a specified time. Address all communications on bu incss connected with the paper to 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.