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THE
BUTLER HERALD.
- • 4
Pnhlished lly
W..N. BENNS.
A WEEKLY DEMOCRATIC NEWSPAPER,DEVOTED TO INDUSTRY AND CIVILIZATION. $ OM dollar a Year. '
( In Advance-
VOLUME 3,
BUTLER, GEORGIA. TUESDAY, JANUARY 21, 1870. ~
WHOLE .VUMBEB IIS
Will be inserted at the following rates
Sheriff sales, per square $3 50
Sheriff's mortgage sales.. 6 00
Application for letters of administration 4 00
Application for letters of guurdirnship. .4 00
Dismission from administration 5 00
Dismission from guardianship .6 00
For leave to sell land 400
Application tor homestead 4 00
ISotice to debtors Hud creditors 4 00
bale of real estate by administrators, execu
tors and guardians, per square 3 00
Sale of perishable property, ten days.. .M Of
Estray notices, 30davs «H»,
All bills for advertising in this paper age
due on the first appearauco of the advertise
ment will be presented when the money is
needed.
The Rights of Women,
The rights of women, what are they?
The right to labor, love anil pray,
The right to weep when othere weep,
Tbs right to wake when others sleep.
The right to dry the falling tear,
The right to quell the rising fear;
The right to smoothe the brow of cars,
And whisper comfort to despair.
The right to watch the parting breath,
To soothe and ohecr the bed of death,
The right when earthly hopes all fail,
To point to that within the veil.
The right the wonderer to reclaim,
And win the lost from paths of shame;
The right to comfort and to bless
The widow and the fatherless.
The l ight the little ones to guide,
In simple faith to Him who died;
"With earnest love and gentle praise
To bless and cheer their youthful days.
The right to live for those we love,
The right to dis that love to prove;
The right to brighten earthly homes
With pleasant smiles and gentle tones.
Aro these thy rights ? then use them
well;
Thy silent influence none enn tell;
If these are thine why ask for more—
Thou hast enough to answer for.
SELE OT IONb ,
The Daughter of a King.
4, I wish 1 were a princess 1'*
Emma stood with the dust-brush
in her hand, pausing on her way
up stairs to her own pretty little
rostn, which she was required to
put in order every day.
“Why my child ?" asked her
mother.
“Because then I would never
have to sweep, di-st, and make
beds,but would have plenty of ser
vants to do these things for me. '*
“That is a very fw/lish wish,”
her mother replied: “and even if
you were a princess, 1 think you
would find it best to learn to do
all these thiugs; so that you could
do them in caee of necessity.”
“It never is necessary for prin
cess to work.”
‘There my little girl proves her
ignorance. If she will come to
me after her work is done, I will
show her a picture."
The little bed room was at lepgth
put to rights, and Emma came to
her mother, reminding her of her
promise about the picture.
“What do you see, my child ?’’
her mother asked, as she laid the
picture bofore her daughter.
“I see a young girl with her
dress fastened up, an apron on,
and a broom in her hand.”
‘Can you tall mo what kind of a
plac esheis in ?’
*1 do not know. There are walls
and arches of stone, and a bare
stone floor. I do not think it can
be a pleasant place.''
*No, it is so. It is a prison,and
the young girl is a king’s daugh
ter.*'
“A king’s daughter."
‘Yes, and her story is a very
sad one.**
‘Please tell me about her.’
King of France was Louis XVI.
and his wife was Marie Antoinet
te. They were not a wicked king
and queen, but they were thought
less and fond of pleasure. They
forgot that it was their duty to
look after the good of their people
so they spent money extravigantly
in their own pleasure while the
whole nation was suffering. The
people became dissatisfied; and
when finally Louis and Marie An
toinette saw the mistake they had
been making, and tried to change
their conduct, it was too late. The
people, urged on by bad leaders,
learned to hate th-dr king and
queen. They were taken with
their two children and the sister
of the king and shut up’in a pris
on called the temple.
“There were dreadful times in
France then, and every one who
was suspected of being friendly to
the royal family was sent to pris
on and to the guillotine. The
prisoners in the temple passed the
time as best they could. The king
gave lessons to his son and daugh
ter every day, or read to thorn all
while Marie Antoinette, Madame
Elizabeth, and the young Theresu
sewed.
“After a time the angry people 1
took away the king and beheaded
him. And shortly after the little
son was separated from his moth
er, sister aud aunt, and shut up
by hirrtself in the charge of a cru
el jailer. Next it $as Mario An
toinette’s turn to asseml the scaf
fold, which she did in 17113, Her
daughter Maria Theresa was then
left alone with her aunt, the Mad
ame Elizabeth.
“But it was not long she was
allowed even this companionship.
Madame Elizabeth was then taken
and beheaded, and then the poor
young girl of sixteen was left en
tirely by herself in a dismal pris
on, guarded and waited on by bru
tal soldiers. For a year and a half
she lived thus, leading the most
wretched existanoe,anu not know
ing whether her mother and aunt
were alive or dead.
“Years afterward,when she wa«
free, she wrote a book about her
life in prison. In that we read :
“I only asked for the simple ne
cessities of life, and these they
often harshly refused itip, I was,
however, enabled to keep myself
clean. I had at least soap and
water, and I swept out my room
every day."
‘So here you see a king’s daugh
ter, and the granddaughter of an
empress—Maria Theresa of Aus
tria, one of the most remarkable
women in history—after having
carefully made her toilette, sweep
ing the bare stone floor ot her cell.
“Is that a true story, mamma?’
“Yes, Emma, every word of it;
and there is much,much more that
I cannot tell you now.”
“What became of her at last?’’
“She was finally releasod from
prison, and seDt to Austria to her
mother's friends; but it was a full
year after she reached Vienna, be
fore she smiled, and though she
lived to be more than seventy years
old, she never forgot the terrible
sufferings of her prison life.*'
“But, my child, what I wished
to teach you is, that though it is
sometimes very pleasant to be a
princess, it may be most unfortun
ate at other times. Yet there are
uo circumstances in life, either
will find the knowledge of domes
tic duties to come amiss, and in
which she will not be far happier
aud mere useful for possessing
that knowledge.”
Little children do not always
comprehend, everything at once;
so I will not say from that time
forth Emma took delight in dust
ing and sweeping. But bear in
mind what woman is the most
happy. Not the one who is the
most, ignorant and the most bur-
deuRome to otherH, but the one
who uses her wisdom and her
strength for the benefit of those
around her,shrinking from no du
ty that she should perform, but
doing it cheerfully and well.—
Children’s Friend.
Mrs- Atkinson’s Baby.
A Terrible Midnight Adventure
—Tud Police at the Rescue.
The Atkinsons have had a ter
rible time over eir baby. Mr. At
kinson sent home a folding crib,
with the slats made in two pieces
and hung upon hinges. When
they opened their crib and put the
mattress in it, Mr. Atkinson omit
ted to fix securely the catches that
hold the slats. Mr. and Mrs. At
kinson went to bed early that
night, and about 11 o'clock, while
they were asleep, the baby got
awake and began to kick vigorous
ly. The result was that the slats
slowly decended, and deposited the
mattress and baby on the floor-
The biiby, being particularly wide
awake, crawled out into the room,
and seeing a light in the entry,
went, through the door just as Mrs
Atkinsou*s aunt, Miss Boggs, was
coming up stairs to bed. She pick
ed the baby up, and finding that its
father and mother were asleep, she
carried it to her room in the third
story, ditermined to take care of
it during the rest of the night.
About an hour alter, Mrs. At-
k : nson woke, and thought she
would glance over nt the crib to
see how the baby was getting along.
No sooner had she done so than she
jumped from the bed in ularm
The bottom seemed to have fallen
out of the whole contrivance. Her
first thought was that the baby
was lying under the mattress,
smothered to death. She pulled
the mattress aside, but there were
no signs of the baby.
Then, wild with alarm, she shook
Mr. Atkinson aud told him to get
up Atkinson growled out in a
sleepy tone:
“The paregoric bottle is in the
closet; go and get it yourself,’ 1
“Alonzo!” shrieked Mrs, Atkin
son, you don't understand. The ba
by is gone! It is gone! —stolon!
—kidnapped! —murdered, maybe!
Ch! what shall I do?—what shall
1 do?”
“Now be calm/' said Atkinson,
getting out of b» d; “don’t get hys
tericad. The child, most likely,
is under the bed.”
. “No it ian’t! uo, it’s not there!"
exclaimed Mrs. Atkinson, upon
her hands and kmes.
“Possibly,” 8nid Alonzo', begin
ning to feel uneasy, “he has crept
iuto the closet; let us look.”
“This is horrible!” said Mrs.
Atkinson, clasping her hands."
“Do you think,” asked Mr. At
kinson, “that he could have crawl
ed it to after him? M
“Certainly not,” said Mrs. At
kinson, “you know* he couldn’t ”
“1 think I hear him now. He
has fallen out of the wind owl” as
a faint wail floated up from the
back yard,
“No, it’s only Mrs. Magruder’s
cat yolling on the fence,” replied
Atkinson, as he cloned the sash.
“Have you looked in the bath
tub in the next room? Perhaps
he’s gone to take a oath.’*
“Drowned! I know it! I am sure
of it!” yelled Mrs. Atkinson,
rushing into the bath-room.
“He's not beie,” said Atkinson.
“Could he have gone down stairs
and fallen into the sugar-bucket in
the pantry?”
“We must search the whole
house for him,** said Mrs. Atkin
son.
So they began the hunt. They,
looked everywhere—in the clothes
hamper, in the kitchen cupboard,
in the pantry, and even iu the col
lar, but without avail.
“Hecouldn’t have gone upstairs
said Mr. Atkinson, “becuse he
can’t climb the steps.”
“No. he must haveboeu stolen!
He has been stolen by burglars 1
shall never, never see him again—
never!”
“Don’t give way, Julia, be calm.
I will go at once for the police.’*
Mr. Atkinson dres-ed himself
hurriedly and dashed down stairs
and out iuto the front street. He
viet a policeman almost at the
door, and in frantic accepts laid
the case before him. The police
man sounded an alarm, and soon
had six other policemen at hand.
They entered the house and pro
ceeded to examine the fastenings.
Everything was right and one of
the policemensaid:
“In ray opinion, the burglar is
in the house yet.',
“We'll go for him said another.
So they drew their revolvers and
proceeded to search the budding,
Presently Mr. Atkinson beard the
report of a pistol in the kitchen.
He rushed down.
“I think I’ve killed him,” Raid
policeman Jones. “Btiugu light
quick!*’
“And killed the baby too!’’
shrieked Mrs. Atkinson.
“By George! I forgot about the
baby!” said the officer.
Then the light came, and they
found that the policeman had shot
his dog, which had followed him
into the house. Then policeman
Smith’s pistol went off accidently,
and the bullet bit the kitchen clock
which at once struck nine hundred
and eighty-one, and the confusion
and racket so unstrung Mrs. At
kinson's nerves that she went into
hysterics, and emitted successive
yells of a terrific character. This
brought Miss Boggs down from
the third story in great alarm.
hat on earth is the matter?’
she called.
“Matter?’’said Atkinson. “Don’t
you know that burglars have bro
ken into the house and stolen the
baby? We’re been having the aw-
fulest time you ever heard of for
the last two hours ”
“Why, I’ve got the baby up
stairs with me,’’said Miss Boggs.
“I’ve had him all night."
“You have?" exclaimed the par
ty in a breath.
“Certainly.”
“Da yon mean to tell me/* said
ness, “that that baby was quietly
asleep in your room all this time.
“Yes''
Atkinson simply looked at her.
( He lidt that language was unequal
j to the expression of his feelings,
j Mrs. Atkinson flew up stairs, two
: steps at a'time. The policemen
I laughed and file.1 out, Jones pul-
j lin£ his deceased dog by the tail,
I Atkinson went to bed with ruging
j anger in his sonl; the next morning
| he put a sheet-iron bottom, fast
ened with rivets, upon that folding
crib.
PAY Ts VOU GO
The best of nil rules for sucessfu!
housekeping and making both ends
of the year meet is“pay as you go.''
Beyond all countries in the world
ours is the one in which the credit
system is the most used aud a bus
ed. Pass-books are the bane and
ppRt of domestic economy, a per
petual plagn*, vexation and swin
dle. Abused by servants at the
store and the house, disputed con
stantly by housekeepers and deal
ers, they aro temptations to both
parties to do wrong. “I never had
thut;”“We neglected to enter this;:
“I forgot to b'ingthebook;”“Nev-
er m : ad, we’ll make a note of it;”
and so it goes. But the worst ot
it is that housekeepps are tempted
to order what they have not the
means to pay for, ami when the'
month comes for settlement they
are straitened. A family can live
respectably on a very moderate in
come, if ihey always take the cash
iu hand aud buy where they can
buy to the best advantage. Then
they will be careful first to get.
what is neccessary. Extra comforts
will be had as they can afford
them. But it :s bad jjolicy to buy
on credit. No wise dealer sells so
cheaply on credit as for ta^h.
Thu table is tiio place for economy
Good holirioino food costs litllo com
pared with niiliolosouie luxuries.
1 ho dress of a family is so much a
matter of taste that it need hardly bu
said it is just ns easy to bo respectable
iu clothing that costs little, as in that
which is expensive. To dross accord
ing to one’s means is the only respecta
ble stylo.
One must have a home,and in every
place there are dwellings suited to the
ability of the talent for the purchiser.
When the rent, the food and the cloth
ing are kept within one’s income, the
for benevolence, for luxury and
•sure may then be measured and
iu these as in other matters
n you go.”
Having made no debts at shops or
stores, and especially having paid ser
vunts, workmen and workwomen
promptly their dues, it is well also to
carry out the same punctuality and
caution in donations. If you would
ondow a professorship; and have the
means, do so; but do not give your
note for it, promising to pay tho in
terest. That is not an eudowmeut :
it is your promise to make it such.
If your coreumstances are changed by
the force of events beyond your con
trol, you cannot redeem your promise.
We can point to many colleges,' cemi-
nariea, and other institutions falsely
supposed to bo endowed, and the basis
proved to lie promises worth no more
than the scrap of paper on which they
are writted.
In ull things “pay as you go.” Keep
out of debt us you would keep out of
prison. Try this plan through the
year 1879, and see how well it ha°
worked when you review the *>uV<; . *
in the beginning of —New V'nic.
i OI rservcv.
*»• pi»
usud.
“Pay s