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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