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BY BREWSTER & SHARP. The Cherokee Georgian M PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY BY BRRWSTER <fc SHARP. .'W-' RATES OF SUBSCRIPTION; '*** (positively in advance.) Biagiecopy, 12 months $l5O bingle copy, 8 months 100 Single copy 6 months • 75 Single copy, 4 months 50 A I) VER TJSINO Space | Im. | 2 ni. | 3 iil | 6 in. | 12 in. 1 la'chTiSKi | $350 | $1 50 | $7 00 [slooo • friy.’s'| 350 | 5 ooj 650 |JO odj 15 00 . « W»T 500 | 750 £WOOj 1400 | 2000 4 inc’s f 650 | »00 | 11 50 | 18 00 | 25 00 u col. tiooo j 12 50 j 16 00 | 25 00 | 40 00 <£ colj 12 50 | 10 00 |25 00 |3750 j 50 00 .. col. |T~> 00 12500] 35 00 j [4s 00 | (55 00 I. col. I 20 00 | 35 00 j 50 00 I 65 00 [ [OO 00 JM7W.S 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, 300 Citations on letters dismissory from Administration 5 00 Citations on letters dismissory from Gu irdisinship 3 00 Xrave to sell Land, &c., 4 00 Notice to debtors and creditors,... 3 50 Bale of personal property, per square, 1 50 Hale of Land by Administrators, Guar- dian*, &c., per square, 2 50 Estrays, one week, 1 50 Estrnys, sixty d.'iys,....- 5 00 The money for .advertising considered du. after the first insertion. Advertisements vent without a specifica tion ot the number of insertions marked th< reon, will be published till foimhd, and charged accordingly Business or Professional Cards, not ex ceeding three-fourths of an inch in length, including the paper one year, Ten Dollars. Advertisements inserted at intervals will ne charged as new. Local and Business Notices which Will always immediately follow the reading matter, will be inserted at 10 cents a line eaca insertion. No notice under three lines •will be inserted for less than 25 cents each insertion. Advertisements inserted in Columns with Reading matter will Ik* charged 15 cents per line for each insertion. Double column advertisements 10 per ot. srElra. Advertisements should always be marked for a specified time. Address all communications on bu incss connected with the paper to The Georgian, Canton, Ga. JA.MS3 O. DOWD A, Attorney at Law, CANTON, - - - GEORGIA. WILL practice in the Superior Courts ot Cherokee and adjoining counties. Will faithfully and promptly attend to the collection of all c.'aim* put in his hands. Office in the court-house, Canton, Ga. niiz 4, l ly W. A. BRIGHTWELL. CARPENTER, CONTRACTOR AND BUILDER, Residence, Canton, Ga. O ALL work done by me wit! Im? <lonc with neat, neo. »nd dispatch. i’ncvn reasonable —satisfaction guaranteed. Aug 4, l-6m J. M, 11 A RUIN, HOUSE AND SIGN PAINTER, Canton Ga. __Aug 4, _ 1-iy BKN.I F. PAYNE. .IAS. U. VINCENT. Payne & Vincent, Attorneys at Law, CANTON. - . - GEORGIA, Will prnetlen in the Superior enurt. of Cherokee •nd »<li.lining .-oiinri. a and in the iu.tiee.' court* of Cherokee. Pnunpt attention will in- civeit t • Ihe collection of avounb, rtc. Otttce In the <\>u t hotn>e. ?-! y J. H. CLAY, Brick and Stone Mason, Brick Maker and Plasterer. CANTtTtIK. • - - GEORGIA AIP ILL do all kinds of work in hi« line, > \ such as I Molding Brick ami Stone iVmsa-e, Pillars and Chimneys. Blistering • House*. etc. AU work done in the best style. SatiafaeUou guaranteed. l*rioes res •ouable and Just Bast of rvforvnces eao lw given when desired. *eug I! 2 ly @l)c dCJjerukec (£»coii)inn. HUMBLE LIFE. Tell me not that he’s a poor man, That his dress is coarse and bare; Tell me not his daily pittance Is a woman’s scanty fare; Tell me not his birth is bumble, That his parentage is low ; Is he honest in his action ? That is all I want to know. Is his word to be relied on ? Has his character no blame ? Then I care not if he’s low-liorn, And care not what’s his name. Would he from an unjust action Turn away with scornful eye ? Would he, than defame another, Sooner on tuc scaffold die? Would he spend his hard-g lined earnings On a brother in distress? Would he fond to the afflicted, And the weak one’s wrong* redress ? Then he is a man deserving Os my love and my esteem, And I care not what his birth-place In the eyes of man may seem. Let it be a low-thatched hovel, Let it be a clay-built cot, Let it lie the county poor-house— In my eyes it matters not. And if others will disown him As inferior to their caste, Let them do it; I’ll befriend him As a brother to the last. Captured by Telegraph. During the winter of 1869 I was em ployed as night operator in the railroad office at D , lowa. The principal road between Chicago anil Council Bluffs runs through I) , and the great irregular night trains, and the constant danger of collision resulting therefrom, rendered the position of night operator by no means an easy one. It may be well to mention here, as necessary to the following story, that besides the railroad office there was also at I) a business office of the Union com pany. This we always spoke of as the “down town” office. One stormy night, not far from eleven o’clock, 1 sat at my desk, and, for a won der, idle. The wires had not called for some time, and I was leaning back in my chair, listening to the wind outside and re flecting on the loneliness of my situation. The eastern train had crossed the river more than an hour before; all the depot officials had gone off home, and, so far as I knew, I was entirely alone in the vast building. Finally, tired of thinking, I took up the evening paper, and glanced listlessly over its columns. Among other things, I read the detailed account of n fearful tragedy that had occurred fifty miles up the river on the previous night. Three raftsmen, well known as d»sp< rate characters in that vicinity, had entered the cottage ot one Matthews, a farmer living in an isolated sp it ; had butchered the farmer and his children, terribly maltreated his wife, and lhen departed as they Came, having taken with them whatever was hand}’. What interested nir most whs afu l description of the chief of the villainous trio, Tim Lynch. Here it is: Five hundred dollars reward will be paid for information leading to the capture, dead or alive, of Tim Lynch, the ringleader in the Matthews tragedy. Lynch is « remark ably large man, six feet lour inches in height, very heavy, and broad across the shoulders. Eyes greenish gray, with a deep scar over the right one. Hair wiry and black, and beard of the same color. When last seen he was dressed in a black Kossuth hat, faded army overcoat, pantsol gray jeans, and heavy boots. The above reward will lie paid to any one furnishing positive information of Ins wlivrcalsmts. I 1 the very instant I finished reading the advertisement, there occurred the most remarkable coinciilence that has cv<r come under my observation. I heard a heavy trend on the stairs, and the door opcnes and there entered—Tim Lynch ! The mo ment I set my eyes iqion him I recognized him as iM-rfectly as though I had known him all my life. The army overcoat, and gray pants tuckixl into the heavy boots, the massive frame and shoulders, the slouched hat pullet! down over his right eye to conceal, I was sure, the scar; above aIL a dcsjKrate J'tWrtltd look in his fttrbid ding countenance—aft were not to be mis taken. I was as certain of his identity as if he had stepped forward, pulled off his hat to show me the scar, and told me his name. To say that I was not alarmed at this sudden and unwelcome ifftrusmn, would lie untrue. lam not a brave man, and my present situation, alone in the depu with a hunted murderer, was bv no means reas- * suring. My heart beat violently, but from mere force of habit I arose and asked him to be seated. While he turned to comply, | I succeeded in conquering my agitation to some extent. He drew a chair noisily for ward, and, silting down, threw open his coat, displacing by so doing a heavy navy, revolver stud in bis belt. Then he freed his mouth of a quantity of tobacco juice, and sjaike. “Young teller,” he said, motioning with his bead toward the battery, “ihat th.ir! machine fe what ytr call a tellyjgram, I s pose F* ‘•Well,” I apswered. with a faint smile, 1 Virtue and Intelligence —The Safeguards of Liberty. CANTOX, CHEROKEE COUXTY, GA., IFEDXESDAY, OCTOBER 6, 1875. intended to be conciliatory, “that’s what we send telegrams by.” “Wai, I want you to send a message to a friend o’ mine in Cohoe. I tell yer afore haud 1 hain’t got no collateral; but I kinder guess you’d better trust me, young feller.” (Here he laid his hand significantly on his licit.) “I’.l fetch it in ter-morrer, cf it’s convenient.” I hastened to say that the charge could just as well be paid at the other end by his friend. “Humph! Plagucy little you’ll get o’ Jim, I reckon. Ilowsumever, pcrceed. “What is the message, and to whom is it to go ?” *• “I want you to tell Jim Fellers of Cohoe that the bull quit here las’ night, and ther sheep ’ll be close on his heels. ’ As he delivered this sentence, he looked at me as if he cx|»ected me to be mystified, but I thought it best not to appear so, and I said carelessly: “I suppose you are a dealer in stock, and this is your partner? Ah, sir, the telegraph helps you fellows out of many a sharp bar gain.” “Ya’as,” he answered, slowly, evidently pleased with the way I took it. “Ya’as, that’s um ; I’m sendin’ down a lot o’ stock. Bought it dog cheap over in Genesee yes terday. Purty lot as ever you seed.” 1 turned to my instrument. What was to be done? Though ours was a railroad office, we often sent business messages; and if I did as usual now, I should probably get rid of my unwelcome visitor without further trouble. But in the short conver sati< n with him I had somewhat recovered from my first alarm, and I now conceived the idea of attempting the capture of Tim Lynch. I was only a poor salaried clerk, trying to save enough to marry in the spring. Five hundred dollars would do me a great deal of good just now—to say nothing of the eclat of the thing. llow was it to be accomplished? Here was I, alone in the depot with a man big enough to whip his weight in such little men as I was several times over. Any attempt to secure him single-handed was not to be thought of. But could 1 not excuse myself, .and, going out, fiistcn him in? No; well I knew, from the distrustful look in his face, that any proposal of mine to leave the room would be peremptorily objected to by him. What then ? Why simply this. I would telegraph to the down-town station. But, alas! That very day the connection had been cut for repairs. It was seldom used at any time, of course. Rut what of that ? It was only a question of a few seconds more lime. All these things went through my mind with the rapidity of lightning as I went to the battery. Lynch regarded me from the corner of his uncovered eye with a suspi cion that made me shake in my As I sat down, he arose and came to my side. “Look a here, young feller,” he hissed in my ear—and his breath was sickening with the fumes ot liquor; “perhaps ye mean fair <>hniigh—l hope ye do for jt r own sake. But I don’t understan’ nothin' about them tellygranis, and I jist want ter tell ye that yer’d better lie squar’; for, by the eternal God, es ye go back on me, I’ll stretch ye on this floor as stiff as I ever did a man yit !” and I frit the cold muzzle of his re volver on my cheek. Perhaps my voice trembled a little, but 1 was still unmoved in my resolution as I replied : “Never fear, sir; I’ll tell him all about the stock.” He muttered something to himself, and still remained standing over me. You have heard, perhaps, how much character and expression a telegraph oper ator can put into his touch. Why, there weretio® ns of different operators commu nicating with this office, and I could tell on the instant, without ever making a mis take, who It was signaling. You could tell if a man was nervous from his tele graphing, just as you could from his hmd writing. The call that I sent hurrying across the State to Council Bluffs must have rung out on the cars of the operator like a shriek. “C. B. Are you there f’ was what I asked, and almost instantly came back a reply in the affirmative. Then, with a ; I trembling band, I rattled off my meswge : | I “For the love ot God, telegraph to our 1 down-town office at once. Tell them that Lynch is within two feet of me, and they must stnd help.” A short pause, as though my message oc casioned some surprise, and then came the response: “All right,” which assured me I need not repeat “Wai,” growled the deep voice of Lynch, ■ “are you going to send my message *” “I have sent it, sir.” “What! Does all that tickin’ mean what i i 1 told you* ' “Y’cs ; and if you’ll wait fifteen or twen- ' ty minutes, you’ll get an answer.’’ "Wai, I dunno as I want an answer. Jim. he’ll understood it all right” "But I’ll tell you soon whether he’s there or not.” | So Lynch reluctantly took his seat, look ing around at the doors and windows once in a while in an uneasy way. I was deter mined to take him at any cost, and I verily believe I should have planted myself in bis path had he insisted on going now. ‘iTick, tick, tick!” the battery called out, and I listened to the message: “Keep cool. Gould has gone for the po lice.” Strange it was, wasn’t it, that I should sit here and talk through two hundred and fifty miles of space with a man not half a mile from mt? “What’s that signerfy ?’’ inquired my companion, as the ticking ceased; and I rejffied that the clerk had just written off the message and sent it out. He seemed satisfied, and settled back in his chair, where he sat in sullen silence, his jaws go ing up and down as he chewed the weed. O how slowly the minutes crept along! The suspense was terrible. I sat and watched the minute-hand of the clock, and five minutes seemed as many months. My companion seemed nervous, too. He moved uneasily in his chair. “Ain’t it about time we heard from Jim ?” he asked at length. “We shall get word from him in a few minutes now,” I answered, and fell to watching the clock again. Five minutes more passed. Lynch got up and began pacing to and fro across the room. At last he Said : “I don’t believe I’ll wait any more. I’ve got to see a man down at the Pennsylvany house, and he’ll be abed es I don’t get thar pretty soon.” “Hold on a minute, and I’ll sec what they’re up to,” I cried hastily, and I touch ed the key again. “Make haste,” was my message; “I shall lose him if you do not. Not a moment to spare.” Straightway came the reply, short but encouraging: “A squad of police started for the depot five minutes ago.” Thank heaven! They ought to be here now. Hooked at Lynch, and thought of the five hundred dollars. “Wai, what’s the word ?” he growled im patiently. “Your friend is coming,” I answered, for want of a better reply. “Gopiin*! Cornin’'. Whar ?” “Corning to the office at Cohoe. He probably has an answer for you.” “An answer for me? Jim Fellers? What should he answer for ?” Lynch stood in stupid thought for a mo ment, and then he looked at me with a dangerous light in his eye. “Look a here, young feller,” he cried, “it’s my private op.nion you’re lyin’ to me. And cf ye are,” he said, with a horrible oath, “I’ll cut your skulking heart out! I don’t know nothin’ ’bout that machine, but I swar Jim Fellers hain’t nothin’ to an swer. More like he’d get up and scatter when be beard that message.” He stood glaring at me as he uttered these words, his hand on his revolver. 1 can not account for it. As I have before remarked, I am a timid man by nature; but this action only made me bolder. Ev erything depended on keeping him a few seconds longer. It must be done at any cost. I tried a new plan ‘ What do yon mean, sir,” I shouted, rising, “by coming into this office and talk ing in that style? Do you thnk I’ll endure it ? Leave this room at once, sir, or I’ll—” and I advanced threateningly toward him. My unexpected attitude teemed to amuse him more than anything else, but it silenced Lis suspicions. He put his hands in his pockets, and delivered a loud laugh in my face. “Wai, wal, my bantam, ye needn’t git so cantankerous. Who’d thought such a little britches as you had such spunk ? Haw, haw, haw ! Why, I could chaw you up ’thout making two bites ot you.’ “Well, sir,” I said, still apparently un motified, “either sit down and hold your tongue, or else leave the office.” And he good-naturedly complied. Once more we were sitting listening to the ticking of the clock as the minutes dragged their slow length along. Would help never come * Three minutes more. Great heavens! The suspense was becom ing intolerable. I must go to the stairs and listen, if I die for it. I arose and took a step toward the door, but a voice stopped me. "Hold I” shouted Lynch, standing up right, all his suspicions aroused once more. “Yer can’t go out of that door afore me. Come back here!” “Sir!’’ “Conie liack here, or by the Eternal ” and the pistol muzzle looked me in the face. He stood uow half turned from the door, and I was lacing it. Slowly, and without a particle of noise, I saw the knob turn, i and a face under a blue cap peep in. Thank God ’ Help ha<l come. 1 felt a joy uncon trollable come over me. I must keep the murderer's attention an instant longer, till some one could spring upon him from be hind. I walked straight up to him, but his quick ear had caught a movement behind. As he turned with an oath, I sprang upon him and bore down his arm just as the re volver went off, the ball burying itself haimlcssly in the flour. Before he could ‘ free himself from my grasp, half a dozen officers were upon him, and he was quickly secured. The next morning the papers were filled with gl >wing accounts of the capture of the murderer, and praise of my conduct. The principal business men of the town made up a purse of five hundred dollars and presented it to me, and this, with the reward that was paid me the following week, enabled me to get married at Christ mas. But I shudder at the remembrance of that half hour I spent alone with Tim Lynch ; and I think that one thousand dol lars would not tempt me to go through it again! The Trades of Hie Past. Half a century ago, bellows-making was a thriving trade. Every house had its pair of bellows, and in every well-furnished mansion there was one by the side of ev ery fire-place. But as stoves and grates took the place of open fire places, and coal was substituted for wood, the demand for bellows diminished, and the business as u separate trade died out. The same is tru iot flint-cutting. Flints were once necessary for tinder-lxixcs, and a tinder-box was as necessary for every bouse as a gridiron or a skillet. Every one who looks back to a childhood of forty-odd years ago must remember the cold winter mornings, when the persistent crack of the flint against the steel sent up from the kitchen an odor of igniting tinder and sul phur which pervaded the house. Then, aerain, are gone the pin makers, who, though they have been in their graves a quarter of a century, still figure in lec tures and essays to illustrate the advantages of a division of labor. Instead of a pin taking a dozen men or more to cut, grind., point, head, polish, and what not as it used to do, pins are now made by neat little ma chines at the rate of three hundred a min ute, of which machines a single child at tends to half a dozen. Nail-making at the forge is another lost industry. Time was, and that in this cent ury, when every nail was made on the anvil. Now, from one hundred to one thousand nails per minute are made by ma chines. The nailer who works at the forge has but a bad chance of competing with such antagonists, and he would have no chance at all were it not that his nails arc ten-fold tougher than the former. Is Poverty a Crime? If it Is, then there arc many criminals ; for many arc too poor to live in any sort of decent comfort. The standard of honesty and excellence in the minds of many men is money. Give an individual plenty of money—fill his barns and endow him with broad acres— and what a multitude of faults lie hidden beneath. Wealth hides more faults thar anything else. “He was poor, but honest,” they say, as if poverty and honesty were rarely allied. And that is the way the world feels. Crime ahd poverty go hand in hand, in the minds of too many of us. If men would learn to honor and trust each other for their intrinsic worth—their wealth ot mind and soul —their talent, genius, industry, sobriety, honesty—be he rich or poor, and a lower estimate were placed upon each other for his wealth of purse, we would all be happier, wiser, and better. Genius would oftencr be rewarded, and lietter appreciated. “Poor but honest” men would lie stimulated to higher exer tions, for they would feel and know that honor, trust, and profit might follow such exertions. A man should be honored and applauded for what he is, not for what he has. It was not the men of wealth that gave to the world the steam-engine, the telegraph, the sewing machine, and thou sands of other useful inventions which have revolutionized the civilized world, but men of poverty, who lived in obscurity, and under the ban of n proach on account of such poverty. It has ever been thus, and we fear will continue to be so; for man is ungrateful by nature, and money rules the world. An E.-««y on the Doctors. Quick, go for the doctor! All right, I’m going lor him. I’ve been aching to go for the doctor a long time; so here goes. There are a great many kinds of doctors 1 —big doctors aud small doctors, old school doctors, and doctors of the new school, Sind doctors without any schooling whatever. There are doctors of laws, and doctora of sons-in-law ; ear doctois, and doctors diffi cult to get the ear of; tooth doctors, nail doctors, and doctors who go at you with tooth aud nail; eye doctors, and I O U doctors; eclectic doctors, electric doctors, and doctors not ol the elect, who go it Usos'ly on tick. Thus we have cold water doctors, and doctors who “straw” it a good deal; root doctors, and doctors w hose motto is, “Rtx»t, hog, or die! ’ Spiritual doctors, and doctors very much ou'. ot spirits; magnetic doctors, and doc tois who haven’t any magnetism in them— or much else; laying-vn of-hands doctors, VOLUME 1.-NUMBER 10. and doctors who will tike anything they can lay their hands o», except, plfhaps,- their own physic. Sweat doCTof# arc numerous. If they don't sweat their patients, their pati’enls sometimes make them sweat. And there are few doctors who are not compelled Nv sweat around a good- deal to- get fhei? pay! Among Indian l doctors are the full bred, half rxed, corn bred f and doctors never bred ait all —at least not ftflted- to medicine — the tatte? class being far the - tftost numer ous. As a general thing, Indian 1 efoctorif,. as they call themselves, know nothing whatever about Indians; many of them’ never saw one. But that is nothing strange in medicine. Men have practiced medi cine all their lives without enjoying the slightest acquaintance with it. Herb doctors are popularly supposed to> spend a large portion of their time in me andering through the fields culling herbs. Nothing of the sort. Lots of them would! not know catnip from “penny-riTc,” if they saw them growing. They cull their herbs at the druggist’s. There are lung doctors, and doctors with’ very little lungs, although tolerable livers.- Doctors are good livers as a general thing. The tin oat doctor appears in a variety of forms not stric ly recognized in medicine. The hangma» is the most thorough throat doctor we have. His remedy^—a stricture of hemp—rarely fails to cure the most ob stinate throat difficulty. Few persons Lave ever been heard to complain of their throats after the first application. Bar-keepers arc another variety of these doctors, whose mixtures, also, are too fa miliar to many people. Cold water is the safest thing for the throat as an inward ap plication. Pepper doctors were quite popular some years ago. They don’t pepper as much as they did, though many doctors are peppery enough. Mustard doctors arc in the army for the most part, unless they are mustered out. Cancer doctors arc almost as numerous as cancers themselves. Every cancer doc tor exhibits so many cancers he has taken out that I have sometimes wondered if they didn’t take it out in cancers. I was once shown a tumor so large I asked the doctor, if space was valuable, why lie didn’t stick his patient away in a glass jar, and let the tumor walk around. Corn doctors should not lie overlooked. Some of them are very skillful in taking off a corn. A corn doctor took off a corn for me once, and he took it off so far it was nearly a week before it got back again. No man who hasn’t horse sense has any business trying to be a horse doctor, though he may get a diploma to doctor men. Even ihe constitution of a horse may be broken, down by unskillful treatment, yet in select ing a physician for ourselves we occasion ally forget that. The horse doctor some times gets more kicks than coppers, though he is one of the lew privileged persons who are excused for looking a gift horse in the mouth. The healthiest town I ever knew was out in Illinois, one summer, when the doctors went east to attend a medical convention,, neglecting to return for several months. The doctors found, when they did get back, that their patients had all the drug-stores had busted, nurses had opened dancing-schools, the cemetery wii» cut up into building-lots, the undertake!; had gone to making fiddles, and the village hearse had been gaudily painted and soldi for a circus-wagon! Although I have metaphorically gone for the doctors, let nothing I have said be con strued as reflecting upon them as a class. They are good humored, and can, there fore, take a joke, and for the most part are charitable and humane. I have a good many friends among the doctors, yet they arc the very last men I want to call on.— [The Fat Contributor. Cheating.—lt was a good okf-fisliioiicd “set down” at draw poker. There were three of them —Ulysses, Childs, and Mur phy. “I’ll tell you what, it’s a jolly game,” re marked the jioct laureate, “when you know it’s played on the square.” “I could never see any pleasure in cards where there’s cheating giing on,” added his Excellency, flipping another chunk of ice into the glass that stood on the tabte beside him. “Faith, you can depend upon it,” said Murphy, “that a man who would chate his fri’nds ain’t got ihe right sort of naytur in him, at ail, at all.” Finally there was a “call,” and all threw down their hands simultaneously. Childs had three aces, so had Murphy, so had Grant! Nine aces and only one deck! Then they all got up without saying a word, went out, aud walked off in different direc tions. Saxe is responsible for the following par aphrase from Martial: Your nose and eyes your father gave, you say; Y'our mouth your grandsire; and your mother meek Your fine expression: tell me now, I pray, Where, in the name of Heaven, you got your cheek ?