Newspaper Page Text
BY BREWSTER & SHARP.
The Cherokee Georgian
M PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY BY
BREWSTER & SHARP.
urta « t I dW '
RATES OF SUBSCRIPTION',
(POSITIVELY IN ADVANCE.)
Single copy, 12 months $1 oO
Single copy, 8 months 100
Single copy 6 months 75
Single copy, 4 months 5u
ADVERTISING RATES,
Space | Im. | 2 in. | 3 hi. | 6 in. | 12 m.
l iseh | jftlb | $350 j $4 60 [ S7OO I SIOOO
I inc*. | 350 | 500 | 650 i 10 00 | 15 00
i inc’s | 600 | 750 | 10 00 | 14 00 | 2000
>FiKc’s I 650 | 900 1 11 50 j !8 00 | 2500
col, j 1000 | 12 50 | iffQFj 25 00 | 40 00
col. |l2 50~f16 00 |2500|37 50 | 50 00
col. | 15 00 | 25 00 j 35 00 |45 00 | 65 00
t C< I 3O 06T85 00 | 56 00 | 65 OT j 100 00
DIRECTORY-
STATE GOVERNMENT.
James M. Smith, Governor.
N. C. Barnet, Secretary of State.
J W. Goldsmith, Comptroller General.
John Jones, Treasurer.
Joel Bratdiam, Librarian.
John T. Brown, Principal Keeper of the
Penitentiary.
Gustavus J. Orr, State School Commis
sioner.
J. N. Janes, Commissioner of Agricul
ture.
Thomas D. Little, State Geologist.
JUDICIAL.
BLUE RIDGE CIRCUIT.
Jfocl B. Knight, Judge.
U. D. Phillips, Solicitor General.
Time of Holding Court.
Uiteßoxee—Fourth Monday in Febru
ary, and. first Monday in August.
CoßßrrSccond Monday in March and
November.
Dawson—Third Monday in April and
second Mrimlay in September.
Fannin —Third Monday in May and Oc
tober.
Forsyth—First Monday in April and
f urth Monday in August.
Gtl'ikr —Second Monday in May and
October.
Lumpkin—Second Monday in April and
fl ret Monday in September.
Milton—Fourth Monday in March and
third Monday in August.
PiCKKNß—Fourth Monday in April and
Brptcmbcrl
Towns—Monday after fourth Monday in
May and October.
Union —Fourth Monday in May and Oc
tober.
COUNTY OFFICERS.
C. M. McClure, Ordinary. Regular conr
first M'mdav ineac.h month.
J. W. Hudson, CH* rk Superior Court.
M. P. Morris. Sheriff.
E. G. Gramling, Deputy Sheriff.
John G. Evans. Treasurer.
Wm. N. Wilson, Tax Receiver.
Joseph G. Dupree, Tax Collector.
Wm. W. Hawkins, Surveyor.
Win. Ramplcy, Coroner.
JUSTICE COURT—CANTON DIS.
Joseph E. Hutson, J. P.
H. F. Daniel, N. P.
H. G. Daniel, L. C
TOWN GOVERNMENT.
W. A. Teasdev, Mayor.
J. W. Hudson, Recorder.
James H. Kilby, Jabez GaR, J. M. Htr
din, J. M. McAfee, Theodore Turk, Alder-
M. ; f ) ’ ‘ t ■*( ■'
COUNTY BOARD OF EDUCATION.
James 0. Dowda, President.
Jarnos W. Hudson, County School Coin
xnisrioner.
Prof. Jami's U. Vincent, Examiner.
Joseph M. McAfee, Allen Keith, Joseph
J. Ma ddox, John R. Moore.
Meetings quarterly, in the court house.
«MROKES TRAVHRRS’ ASSOCIA
TION.
James O. Dowda, President.
M. B. Tucgle, Vice-President.
C. M. MoCnurv, Secretary.
J. W. Attaway, Treasurer.
John D. Attaway, Censor Morum.
Prof. James U. Vincent, Association Cor
respoßiknU
Regular meetings every second Saturday
in each month, at 10 a. m.
RELIGIOUS.
Baptist Church. Canton Ga., time of
service fourth Sunday in each mouth.
Rev. M. B. Tuggh* Pastor.
M. E. Church, time of service, preachers
in charge.
Rev. W, G. Hanson, first Sunday.
Rev. B. E. IJnttwtter, second.
Rev. J. M. Hardin, third.
MASONIC.
Canton Lodok. No. 77, meets first and
third Monday nights in each mouth.
James A. Stephens, W. M.
J'lteph M. Me A Sec, Sccretsiry.
Six Rs Lopgk, No. 388, meets first and
third Saturdays, 3 p. m.
C. M. McClure, W M
# O W. Puuuau, Svcn-tary.
GOOD TEMPLARS.
Canton Lotxue, No. 118, meets every
Saturday, 8 P- m.
K K. Ledbetter, W, C. T.
Jamas W. Hudson, Secretary.
GRANGE.
Canton Grange No. 835, Canton Ga.
Jaber. Ga’t, Master.
Joseph M. McAfcv, Secretary.
(flu- Qtljcrohcc Ocmijinn.
THREE KISSES.
I’ve had three kiss s in my life,
So swe -t and sacred tn’o me
That now, till death-dews rest on them,
My lips shall kissless be.
One kiss was given in childhood’s hour
By one who never gave another ;
In life and death I still shall feel
That last kisrof my mother.
The second burned my lips for years.
For years my wild heart reded in b'iss
At every memory of the hour
When my lips felt love’s first kiss.
Tlie last kiss of Vie sacred three
Had all the woe which e'er can move
The heart of woman —it was pressed
Upou the death-lips of my love.
When lips have felt the dying kiss,
And felt the kiss o£ burning love,
And kissed the dead—then nevermore
In k sdng should they think to mow.
The Course of True Love.
A STORY OF THE OLDEN TIME.
Now, when the rusty records of the past
are being ransacked for re'ics of song and
story, in order that these antique gems may
embellish the garments of the present, and
scive to heighten the pride we naturally
feel, as Americans, In the wonderful prog
ress of our country since first it took its
station among the powers of earth, it may
not be inopportune to submit a little his
torical sketch of a romance which found
room, budded and blossomed in the heart
of one of Massachusetts’s earliest govern
ors, proving that no matter how full and
earnest may be the purpose that inspires
the heart and life of the most zealous, the
“tiny god” can ever find room to set up his
banner, on which is inscribed, in letters of
light, • Veni, vrdi, vici.”
William Bradford, who became second
Governor of Massachusetts, after the mel
ancholy death of Governor Carver (who
soon slept by the side of his wife and only
child), was born in Ansterfield, Yorkshire,
England, in March, 1588. His father and
another died when he was quite young. He
was tenderly cared for by his grand-parents,
and subsequently by an uncle. His family
was among the yeomanry of England, and
very respectable. He was reared to agri
culture. When quite young he assnmed
the care of Ills own landed estates, and en
joyed his occupation in cultivating and
beautifying tnem; and, though much of
his time lie was busy with his men in the
field, he still found opportunity to be quite
a student. He became proficient in the
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew languages, and
was familiar with German and Fnnch,
which he sp»ke fluently. He had em
braced the faith of the Puritans, and at
seventeen yearsjjf age he was one of the
company who made an effort to escape to
Holland in search of religious liberty, but
was unsuccessful, having been betrayed,
and was for a season-confined in prison at
Boston, Lincolnshire (from Which the city
of Boston received its name). But though
religion and other momeflious subjects
claimed his attention and seemed to engross
all bis mind, there was one, less grave but
not less potent, that permeated his whole
being, and gave to bis life a halo of bright
ness. Love had taken possession of the
heart of ybung Bradford ; and often, when
he seemed most in his books, the
golden curls and soft blue eyes of Alice
Carpenter were all he saw. His lands
joined her father’s, and they had been play
mates and companions in childhood, he be
ing but a few years her senior. As time
passed rapidly away, and she grew into
womanhood, her sunny curls turning to a
soft chestnut broWA, she only became to
the earnest, honest heart of William Brad
ford, more dear and more beautiful; and
yet he said nothing to her of the deep and
earnest passion which be never forgot, even
in his sleep, till one evening in autumn,
they had been enjoying a long and pleasant
conversation, laming 'ffver the hedge that
divided their lands, when Alice told him
she was soon to go to London, to reside
with a relative. This was a very sad an
nouncement to him.
The Carpenter family had in former
tiim-4 received lite title o£ knjghthood, but
(xmiparntivvly poor, and William
determined to know his fate, and ask Alice
of her haughty old father, hoping his own
worth and broad lands might induce the
father to accept him as a suitable match for
his portionless daughter. But he was mis
taken. fie bail never before hhd*oec*sion
to fathom the pride of the strange old man.
His religious belief alone would have been
a sufficient barrier, had there been no other,
and he was haughtily dismissed. There
was a last sad meeting ot the lovers across
the hedge that night, And the moon looked
down on two heavy hearts and tearful
faces, as they both turned to their homes—
the one to wet the pillow with her tears,
the fther to tjralk his /oomin bitter repin
al-the fate whiab weaied U» be killing
on his life in clouds and thick darkness,
forgetting tor the time to listen to the still,
small voice w&ch whispering, “Dome
unto me, all ye that are heavy laden, and I
will give you ‘
▲lice was hurried off to London. and
aftlcr a few years was married to Mr. South
CANTON, CHEROKEE COUNTY, GA, WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 13, 1875.
worth, a man of wealth and honor. Mr.
Bradford sought alleviation from his disap
pointment in his books and farm, and sub
sequently married Dorothy May, a woman
of his rai k and persuasion, who proved a
genial and faithful companion. After a
few years we find them abandoning their
pleasant drome, for he was one of the first
advocates for the removal of the little band
of Puntans to America; and next we see
them upon the tempestuous ocean, in the
cabin of the Mayflower. After arriving in
Cape Cod harbor, Mr. Bradford set out
with a small p irty to explore the coast, and
on returning, was pained and afflicted to
find that during bis absence his wife Doro
thy had fallen from the ship and been
drowned. He deeply mourned her loss,
for she had proven a good wife, and they
were mutually attached. He bore this sec
ond disappointment of his life with Chris
tian fortitude. He had no leisure to sit
and brood over his grief, for life with him
was now a warfare with cold and hunger 5
for he shared in all that the colony suffered.
It is well known to any child of history,
how they struggled with disease and savage
enemies.
Mr. Bradford was now over thirty years
of age, a man of rare piety and dignity of
manner; and a few months after their ar
rival, Governor Carver dying, he was elect
ed governor of the colony, a position he
ably filled for more than thirty years. And
while with fatherly care he tenderly watch
ed all the interests of the little colony, there
was a blank in his household, and none
knew better than himself how he realized
the need of woman’s ready sympathy, and
he was often annoyed at his own inability
to keep his thoughts from wandering across
the “deep blue sea.” The love he had
cherished for Alice had never died out of
his heart. True, it had been sleeping, and
while the husband of another had never
wished nimself other than he was; but
now that they were both free—for Alice,
too, was left alone —he often said to him
self, “I wonder if she remembers the love
of her youth ; and even if she did, would
she not think it too great a sacrifice to
share his fortunes in the wilderness?”
Men are not like women, and wilLWt
wait a life-time without knowing their fiite
when it can be decided by a single word.
So he resolved to write and ask Alice, and
in the spring of 1623 the letter was sent
across the Atlantic. He faithfully set be
fore her all the privations and sacrifices she
would be called upon to endure, saying
that as an equivalent for this he had only
the love of an honest heart to offer her, and
requested her, if she thought favorably of
his proposal, to take passage in the first
ship that would sail for America, as he was
too occupied to come over to England for
her, fearing the colony might suffer during
his absence.
Time, always to heavy-footed to the
watting, passed slowly to the Governor;
but late in August a tiny sail was seen in
the distance. It was the ship that con
tained so much of interest to many, but
none waited with such almost breathless
anxiety as did Governor Bradford; for it
was to contain Alice or her letter of re
fusal. The whole town crowded to the
landing, and when the vessel reached the
shore many went on board, and the Gov
ernor passed from one to another of the
new-comers, telling them how welcome
they were; but a close observer would
have seen that the restless wanderings of
his eye were indications that something
was unsatisfying. A’As was nowhere to be
seen, and he tried to ssy calmly, “It is God’s
will, and I will try and be happy without
her, there will, at least, be a letter for me.”
He turned to ask for one, when be met
coming from the cabin a matronly-looking
woman. He seemed to have forgotten that,
while lime was hastening him to maturity,
Alice, too, might be changed; he had al
ways kept her in mind as the fair, frail girl
of many years ago, and here she was, the
beautiful, stately woman. She, too, prob
ably, had her surprise, for the two stood
looking at each other, when “William !”
“Alice !’’ were uttered simultaneously, and
the two, so long kept asunder, met, never
to be parted by man’s decree again. They
were married at once. There was no dis
play, but that without which all outward
show is but as “sounding brass or a tinkling
cymbal,” the joy of two faithful hearts.
They lived long and happily together;
thirty-four years longer did he prosperously
guide the affairs of the colony, and then
died, his wife surviving him several years.
She was well educated, refined, and much
beloved, and did much in assisting her hus
band in the improvement of the rising gen
eration, and was sincerely lamented when
sbe died.
It is estimated that the child population,
between the age of six and sixteen, in the
United States and Territories is about 10,-
888,000, and that about 800,000 teachers are
needed to educate this host of future citi
zens.
Charactkr is the eternal temple that
each one begins to rear, but which death
only can complete. The finer the archi
tecture, the more fit U is for the indwelling
9f angels.
Virtue and Intelligence—The Safeguards of Liberty.
The Way He Fell.
He had a wooden leg, three fingers were
gone from his left hand, and be had to use
a crutch. In the dusk of the evening he
sat down on a dry-goods box on the street
corner, and, striking the ground with his
crutch, he exclaimed:
“Well, old pard, the war’s over ! Gimme
your hand —shake hard!”
He shook the crutch with hearty good
will, and continued:
“There’s no more Reb —no more Yank!
We’re all Americans, and, standing shoul
der to shoulder —South Carolina alongside
Massachusetts —we can lick the boots off
any nation under the sun.”
He waited awhile, and then went on :
“Uncle Robert is dead, General Grant
wants peace, and they’re melting up swords
and bayonets to make cotton-mill machine
ry! We’re about through camping out,
old pard, and we hain’t sorry—not a bit!”
He leaned the crutch against the box,
lifted bis wooden leg, and said:
“Lost a good leg up at Fredericksburg,
when I was under Barksdale, and Burnside
thought he could whip old Uncle Robert
and Stonewall Jackson together! Good
Lord ! but wasn’t it hot that day, when the
Yanks laid their pontoons and got up and
got for us! And when we got up and got
for them, wasn’t it red hot ?”
He stopped to ponder forawhile, and his
voice was softer when he said :
“But I forgive ’em! I took the chances,
and lost. I’m reaching out now to shake
hands with the Yank who shot me, and
I’ll divide my tobacco half and halt with
him. It was a big war. Yank and Reb
stood right up and showed pluck, but it’s
time to forgive and forget.”
He cut a chew off his plug, took oft his
battered hat and looked at it, and con
tinued i
“Didn’t we all come of one blood ? Ain’t
we the big American nation ? Isn’t this
here United States the biggest plantation
on the river, and is there a nation in the
world that dares knock the chip off our
shoulder ?”
He put down his leg, looked at his crip
pled hand, and soliloquized:
“Three fingers gone—hand used up—but
I’m satisfied. Folks who go to war expect
to feel bullets. We atood up to the Yanks
—they stood up to us; it was a fair fout
and we got licked. Two fingers ain’t as
good as five, but they are good enough to
shake hands with. Come up here, you
Yanks, and grip me. We raise cotton
down here—you raise corn up there —let’s
trade.”
He lifted bis crutch, struck it down hard,
and went on;
“Durn a family who’ll fight each other.
We’ve got the biggest and bestcountiy that
ever laid out doors, and if any foreign des
pot throws a club at the American eagle,
we’ll shoulder arms and shoot him into the
middle of next week.”
He sat down and pondered while the
shadows grew deeper, and by and by he
said:
“There’s lots of graves down here—there’s
a heap o’ war orphans up North ; I’m crip
pled up and half sick, but I’m going to get
up and hit the onery cuss who dares say a
word ag’in either. We’ve got through
fighting—we’re shaking hands now, and
durn a man who says a word to interrupt
the harmony.”
Silent Men.
Washington never made a speech. In
the zenith of his fame he once attempted
it, failed, and gave it up confused and
abashed. In framing the Constitution of
the United States, the labor was almost
wholly performed in committee of the
whole, of which George Washington was
the chairman; but he made only two
speeches during the convention, of a very
few words each. The convention, how
ever, acknowledged the master spirit, and
historians affirm that had it not been for
his personal popularity, and the thirty
words of his first speech pronouncing it
the best that could be united upon, the
Constitution would have been ngected by
the people, Thomas Jefferson never made
a speech. He could not do it. Napoleon,
whose executive ability is almost without a
parallel, said that his greatest difficulty was
in finding men of deeds rather than of
words. When asked how he maintained
his influence over bis superiors in age and
experience when commander-in-chief of
the army in Italy, he said “by reserve.” ,
The greatness of a man is not measured by i
the length of his speeches nor their num
ber.
Yourself.
You cannont find a more companionable
person than yourself, if proper attention be
paid to the individual. Yourself will go
with you wherever you like, and come
away when you please—approve your jokes,
assent to your propositions, and, in short
be in every way agreeable, if you only
learn and practice the true art cf being on
good terms with yourself. This, however,
is not so easy as some imagine, who do not
often try the experiment. Yourself, when
U catches you in company with no other
person, is apt to be a severe critic cm your
faults and foibles, and when you arc cen
sured by yourself, it is generally the sevci
est and most intolerable species of reproof.
It is on this account that you are afraid iff
yourself, and seek any associates, no matter
how inferior, whose bold chat may keep
yourself from playing the censor. Your
self is likewise a jealous friend. If neg
lected and slighted it becomes a bore, and
to be left, even a short time, “by yourself,”
is then regarded as actually a cruel pen
ance, as many find when youth, health, or
wealth hath departed. How important is
it, then, to “know thyself,” to cultivate thy
self, to respect thyself, to love thyself
warmly but rationally. A sensi le self is
the best of guides, for few commit errors
but in broad disregard of its admonitions.
It tugs continually at the skirts of men to
draw them from their cherished vices. It
holds up its shadowy finger in warning
when you go astray, and it sermonizes
sharply on your sins after they have been
committed. Our nature is twofold, and its
noblest part is the self to which we refer
It stands on the alert to check the excess of
the animal impulses, and though it becomes
weaker in the fulfilment of its task by
repeated disappointments, it is rarely so en
feebled as to be unable to rise up occasion
ally, sheeted and pale, like Richard’s vic
tims, to overwhelm the offender with bitter
reproaches. Study, therefore, to be on good
terms with yourself—it is happiness to be
truly pleased with yourself.
Wild Oats.—ln all the wide range of
accepted maxims, there is none, take it for
all in all, more thoroughly abominable than
the one as to the sowing of wild oats. Look
at it on what side you will, and I will defy
you to make anything but a devil’s maxim
of it. What a man —be he young, old, or
middle-aged—sows, that, and nothing else,
shall he reap. The only one thing to do
with wild oats is to put them carefully into
the hottest part of the fire, and get them
burnt to dust, every seed of them. If you
sow them, no matter in wha'i. ground, up
they will come, with long, tough roots like
the couch grass, and luxuriant stalk and
leaves, as sure as there is a sun in heaven —
a crop which it turns one’s heart cold to
think of. The devil, too, whose special crop
they are, will see that they thrive, and you,
and nobody else, will have to reap them;
and no common reaping will get them out
of the soil, which must be dug down deep
again and again. Well for you if, with all
your care, you can make the ground sweet
again to your dying day.—[Dr. Arnold.
Deepest Well in the World.—At
about twenty miles from Berlin is situated
the village of Sperneberg, noted for .the
deepest well which was ever sunk. Owing
to the presence of gypsum in the locality,
which is at a moderate distance from the
capital, it occurred to the Government
authorities in charge of the mines to obtain
a supply of ruck salt. With this end in
view,, the sinking of a shaft or well sixteen
feet in diameter was begun some five years
ago, and at a depth of two hundred and
eighty feet the salt was reached. The bor
ing was continued to a further depth of
nine hundred and sixty feet, the diameter
of the bore being reduced to about thirteen
inches. The operations were subsequently
prosecuted, by the aid of stcara, until a
depth of four thousand one hundred and
ninety-four feet was attained. At this
point the boring was discontinued, the
borer being still in the salt deposit, which
thus exhibits the enormous thickness of
three thousand nine hundred and fourteen
feet.
What is the Sun ? —Professor Rudolph
in a 'engthy paper on the sun, says. “He is
a molten or white hot mass 856,000 miles
in diameter, equaling in bulk 1,260,000
worlds like our own, having a surrounding
ocean of gas on fire 50,000 miles deep,
tongues of flame darting upward more
than 50,000 miles, volcanic forces that hurl
into the solar atmosphere luminous matter
to the height of 160,000 miles, drawing to
itself all the worlds belonging to our family
of planets and holding them all in their
proper places, attracting with such superior
force tlie millions of solid and stray masses
that are wandering in tlie fathomless abyss
that they rush helplessly toward hire., and
fall into his fiery embrace. And thus he
continues his sublime and restless march
through his mighty orbit, having a period
of more than 18,000.000 of years.
Wit.—There is a perfect consciousness
in every form of wit—using that term in
its general sense—that its essence consists
in a partial and incomplete view of what
ever it touches. It throw? a single ray,
separated from the rest, —red, yellow, blue,
or uny intermediate shade —upon aic. ob
ject ; never white light; that is the prov-■
inee of wisdom. We get beautiful effects
from wit, —all the prismatic colors—but
never the object as it is in fair daylight '
A pun, which is a kind of wit, is a different
and much shallower trick in mental optics;
throwing the shadows of two objects ») |
that one overlies the other. Poetry uses
the rainbow tints for special effects, but al
ways keeps its essential object in the purest
white light of truth. —[O. W. Hulmes.
VOLUME 1.-NUMBER II.;
Baptized by Mistake.
Some of our colored brethren of the Bap
tist persuasion had a baptizing down at
creek last Sunday, and the ceremony aU
traded a very large crowd of people. Mrs.
Pitman’s servant girl was very anxious to .
be present, and, as it was not her Sunday
out, she slipped away from the house, while
the dinner was cooking, and went around '
inker working clothes. Her interest wait
so intense that she stood quite near the
minister, who was in the water while the '
ceremony proceeded. • After six or seven
had been dipped, the minister, filled with ‘
enthusiasm, seized her and pulled her into
the water. She resisted, but the minister
imagined she was only afraid of the cold*
ness of the water, so before she could ex*
plain the situation he soused her. Shn •
came up spluttering, and exclaimed:
*' What you doin’ ? Lemme go, I tail
you !”
Bui he exerted his strength, and sent her
“ker-chuck” below the surface again. She
emerged, clawing the air wildly and shout- '
ing: wnt
“G’way from here! Don’t you chuck me '
under again, you nigger!” ’
But the minister was inexorable, and be
plunged her under a third time and held
her there for a minute, so as to let it soak
in and do her good. Then she came up
and struck for the shore, and, standing
the£g, looking like a draggled mermaid cut
in ebony, she shook her fist at the aston* •
ished parson, and shrieked:
“Oh, I'll fix you! I’ll bust the head off
o’ you, you or’nary trash! sousin’ me in dal
’ere creek and nearly drownding me, when
you knowed well enough all de time dat -
I’se Methodist, and bin chrissened by dem *
dal’s you betters, and knows mo’ ’bout re
ligion dan all de Baptisses dat eber shouted, ,
you inis’nble black scum! And me got do
rheumatiz enough to set me crazy 1 Oh,
I’ll see what de law kin do you 1 I’ll hah »
you ’rested dis very day, or my name’s not
Johanna Johnson, you woolly-headed her- -
rin’! You hear me ?”
A Patriotic Girl.
At the time General Green retreated
fore Lord Rawdon from Ninety- six, when
he had passed Broad river he was very dd»
sirous to send an order to General Sumter,
who was on the Watcree, to join him, that -
they might attack Rawdon, who had divi
ded his force. But the General could find
no man in that part of the State who was
bold enough to undertake so dangerous a
mission. The country to be passed through
for many miles was full of bloodthirsty to
nes, who, on every occasion that offered,
imbrued their hands in the blood of the ‘
whigs. At length Emily Geiger presented ’•
herself to General Green, and proposed to
act as messenger; and the General, both
surprised and delighted, closed with her
proposal. He accordingly wrote the letter
and delivered it, and at the.same time com
municated the contents of it verbally, to be -
told to Sumter in case of accident.
Emily was young, but as to her person or •
adventures on the way we have no further
Information, except that she was mounted
on horseback upon a side-saddle, and on
the second day of her journey she was in
tercepted by Lord Rawdon’s scouts. Com
ing from the direction of Green’s army, and
not being able to tell an untruth without .
blushing, Emily was suspected and cod
fined to a room; and as the officer in com
mand had the modesty not to search her ta
the time, he sent for an old tory matron M
more fitting for that purpose. Emily was
not wanting in expedient, and as soon as
the door was closed and the bustle a littte
subsided, she ate up the letter, piece by plecu.
After & while the matron arrived, and upon
searching carefully, nothing was to be found ,
of a suspicious nature about the prisoner,
and she would disclose nothing. Suspioitta
being thus allayed, the officer comuumdtotl
the scouts suffered Emily to depart whithar
she had said she was bound ; but she toe*
a rout somewhat circuitous to avoid furltar
detention, and soon after struck into Uto
road to Sumter's camp, where she arrived
iu safety. Emily told her adventure, and
delivered Green’s verbal message to Bu»
ter, who, in consequence, sc»on after joiund
the main army at Orangeburg. -[Nobto,
Deeds of American Women. ro
A plan of propelling cars, onanibuflet
and velocipedes by coiled springs has now
for some time been employed in England,
and it is said with encouraging result*. Tta
motor is an arrangement of powerful sprinff
incased in cylinders, like watch springs oa
a large scale. The skill of French tnaohis?
ists in this direction has been called into
requisition, and steel bands capable of bn
ing coiled and of exerting a great presaum
have been made in lengths of one hundred
yards each. In Sheffield some of thasltal
manufactories have turned out springs aixly
feet long, and said to be capable of the enor
mous pressure of eight hundred pounds. To
wind up these springs requires more power
than is attainable by hand, of course, and it
is therefore proposed to have them wound
at certain interval by means of stationary
engines. Some of these methods consist of
a combination of spiral springs.