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m/ lit C5i : n 4 S. B. Burr, Proprietor. THE WRONG CARD. ‘What will you have, sir ?’ ‘Give me a fillet of beef, with tnushrooms, Lyonnaise potatoes, and green peas.’ ‘Yes, sir.’ Away went the waiter, but re¬ turned in three minutes. ‘There are no mushrooms, sir— only one plate.’ ‘Well, bring me one plate—how many do you suppose I want?' ‘But, sir, Monsieur Delavignes— b very old customer—ordered me to save him some mushrooms eve¬ ry day, and he has not yet dined/ ‘Never mind Monsieur Dela Vignes. I must have the mush¬ rooms—I can not dine without them.' ‘-It is impossible, sir.’ ‘Very well, give me tho potatoes and peas to-day, and lay in a lar¬ ger supply of mushrooms to mor« row.’ ‘Yes, sir.' The order, minus the fungie, be ing executed, Monsieur Rendeau Hillaire proceeded to demolish his meal, inwardly wishing that Dela¬ vignes—whoever he might be— was a little less partial to mush¬ rooms. ‘Waiter I’ ‘Sir V ‘Bring me a bottle of Haute Sattterue/ ■ Thu Waiter made a jesture of Co'mip anger. ‘Sacre! how] unfortunate. Mon¬ sieur Delavignes used the last we liad in the house yesterday. We Ind but a half dozen.’ ‘Does this mysterious Delavignes drink six bottles of wine at din¬ ner ?’ ‘No. sir ; he had three friends with him. Is there any other wine you would like ?’ ‘Medoc will do.’ The wine was brought, and the ■waiter began searching about the table among the dishes. ‘What do you want?’ demanded Rendau Hillaire. 'Pardon, sir, there is a fork miss ing—private fork, belonging to a gentleman who dines here, it has been given some one by mistake, to day, and I must find it before Monsieur Delavignes-’ ‘Confound him! Does he own the whole restaurant ? What sort of a man is he, that he reserves the last dish of mushrooms, drinks up all the Haute Sauterne, and keeps ft private fork ?’ ‘He is rich, sir, aud very eccen trie.’ ‘I should say so. Is that the fork?’ And the young man showed the one he was eating with—a heavy fork of solid silver, richly chased with a court of arms and tho letter ‘D.’ ‘That is it, sir ; pardon me, I will give you another/ Much vexed at this last uncon scious piece of rivalr 1 between himself and Delavigne , Rendeau Hillaire completed his dinner in silence, paid for it, and left the res¬ taurant, merely saying as he went cut: ‘"Waiter, has Monsieur DeTavgines used up all the toothpics ? If not, I trill take one.' Sauntering out from the place, the young man perceived an ele? gant carriage drive up, and on glan¬ cing M it, he discovered the same coat of arms on its panels as that engraved on the fork. Having by tbis time conceived almost a dis¬ like for Monsieur Delavignes, he hastened away, without looking at the qccqpants of tho vehicle, and bent, his steps toward the hotel jvhere Madame Fieurdoree, the reigning beauty of the day, resjd ed. 1 - Rendeau Hillaire had for some months cherished a secret passion for this fair lady, and had, with much difficulty, succeeded in pro¬ curing an introduction to her, since which time his attention to her had been most undivided. But she seemed to regard him coldly, and rumor whispered that she had a friend who possessed her withe affections. Who thut frioud was, rumor did not see fit to say. Madame Fieurdoree was at home, and was happy to see Monsieur Rendeau Hillaire. She chatted pleasantly with him about the op era, the gay season, and similar topics, but carefully* avoided any¬ thing which could lead the conver¬ sation into a more serious or ton dor path. This required some tact, for the young man missed no opportunity for pressing his suit, and ere he had been twenty minutes in her company, w^s verging, in spite of her, on the forbidden subject. There was only one thing to do ■—change the conversation, which she did, abruptly. ‘Are you fond of flowers, Mon¬ sieur Rendeau Hillaire?’ ‘Extravagantly. My smoking room is a perfect conservatory.’ ‘Are not these camellias beauti" ful ? They are of very rare colors.’ The charming widow handed him a large bouquet of camellias which had ornamented the mantel, in a delicate vase of Sevres ware. ‘They are indeed lovely. What garden are they from ? I have seen none like them in Paris.’ ‘I do not know where they were procured. They were given me this morning, by a connoisseur in such things--a Monsieur Dela vignes.’ Rendeau Hillaire started. ‘I have heard of the gentleman,’ lie said. After this his visit was tame.— lie was almost frightened by the persistency with which fate threw that mysterious personage across jrath, and left the presence of the fair widow much earlier than had intended, although not uu til he had gained her promise to him to a grand masque to be given at the house of a friend. The night of this ball arrived, without any father contretemps be¬ tween Rendeau Hillaire and his un¬ known rival, and the former found Madame Fieurdoree quite charm¬ ing in her pink domino. The sa¬ loon of Count Vendiron, where the ball was given, was crowded, and everybody agreed that there had not been a more brilliant fete in all Paris for a year. At four o’clock in the morning Rendeau Hillaire and his fair part¬ ner prepared to depart, after hav¬ ing greatly enjoyed the occasion, but as they passed down the great stairway, a somewhat unpleasant occurrence took place, which rather marred their pleasure, A tall man in a Spanish majo’s costume, closely masked, opposed himself before them, and in a voice more or less affected by wine de¬ manded why they were going so early. ‘I do not know you, sir,’ said Rondeau Hillaire, sternly; ‘let me pass, if you please.’’ ‘I am appointed,’ said the majo, with an unsteady gesture, ‘by my friend, Count Vendiron, to see that no one leaves at an unreaagM^e ! hour. He has commissioned me to stop all who try to pass, and if they refuse, to exact a kiss from each lady.’ Madame Fieurdoree trembled, and drew close to her cavalier’s side. ‘This pleasantry is sadly out of place here,” said Rendeau Hillaire; 'if you are a friend of Count Ven¬ diron T will lot your impertinence pass unpunished, but I warn you not, to continue ig it.’ ‘Come, come,'cried the stranger, balancing himself with difficulty, tyoii are top hasty. I have nothing to do with you but I must claim my due—a kiss from your fair dom¬ ino!’ ‘Stand aside, fellow!’ ‘Do you call me fellow ?’ . ‘Stand aside, or I will throw you oyer the balustrade!’ The majo sprang upon Rondeau Hillaire, and seizing both his arms, would have hurled him down tho stairs, had not a young man, who was deeending just behind, come to tho rescuro. This latter laid hold of tho short jacket aud ample scarf of tho majo, FORT VALLEY, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, JUNE 4, 1880. whirled him round like a feather, and raising him clear of the low balustrade, dropped him easily to the door some ten feet below. A tremendous excitement now arose, in consequence of tho scream of Madame Fieurdoree and the crash of tho fall. The staircase was instantly crowded, and the ball broken up in confusion. The impudent stranger was taken up and found to bo only bruised a little. He walked to Rendeau Hillaire, demanded his card, hand ed him one in return, and disap pearded before anybody could Speak to him, or make more than a conjecture as to who he was. Rendeau Hiliaire now endevored to find his benefactor—tbe young man who had thrown tho ruffian over the balustrade—but he was also missing. In the struggle his mask had slipped down, and expos¬ ed a pale, handsome faco, with a black mustache, Jmt Rendeau did not recognize it, although should they meet again, he would certain¬ ty remember it. Tbe man in the majo’s dress he thought ho should know, too, by a large, curiously carved antique ring, with a blue stone on bis litilc fingei. On entering his apartments, after returning home, ho examined the card which he had received. It bore the name of Delavignes, and an address. The next day Rendeau Hillaire dispatched a friend to tho place men¬ tioned in the card with a sarcastic note, saying that as Monsieur Delav ignes had stood in this way on many occasions, he should be happy have him stand in the way of any weapon whoso use monsieur under¬ stood, at a certain time ana place, to be arrainged by their friends. Tbis note brought an answer in due time, presenting Monsieur Dela visites’ complements to Monsieur Rondeau Hillaire, and saying that a meeting with small swords would be very did agreeable to him, although he not quite understand the cause of quarrel between them, as he was not aware that lie 'had ever had the honor of Monsieur Ren dean II ilia ire's acqnanfance. To this the last-named gentle¬ man been teplied in another note that Monsi¬ he hau grossly insulted by eur Delavignes, but if ho was too drunk at the time to know - ivhat ho was about, an apology would • be accepted. Delavignes replied in turn that he did not get drank, and had insulted no one. Furthermore, that tbo stigma of intoxication thus put upon him allowed him to listen to no further explanation. The result of all this correspond¬ ence was that the affair was arrang¬ ed to come off on the morning of the Thursday following, in a meadow on the country estate of one of the seconds, not far from Paris On the morning designated, the parties met at the meadow and com menced to make preparations. . The. two principals did not look at each other until all was in readi¬ ness, but when led forward by tho seconds, an exclamation of surpriso fr6m tho lips of Rendeau Hillaire : ‘Heaven bless me ! This is not the man !' He recognized the pale, hands face and black mustache young man who had thrown tho in the majo costume down stairs at Count Vendiron’s ball! ‘What do you say, sir?’ ‘I say that you are not tho person insulted mo. 1 ‘What do you moan?’ ‘I mean that I was insulted by at a masked bal ! , and that you him over the ballustrade, saving me from boing by him. Instead of fight you I wish to tender you my sincere thanks, and to beg pardon for this awkward mis¬ 1’ ‘But yon challenge;! ^ie—my is Delavignes/ ‘Stay! Is that your card ?’ ‘It is.’ ‘It was given me by the man you down stairs 1’ ‘Ah. ha! there is somo strange here.’ ‘Give roo your hand, and let us ihc solution of it together as ‘With all my heart!’ Aud tho two young men other a fiiondly hand-shake, burled the deadly feelings with lmd first " in they met, natural good-fellowship which is common to all who are brave aip good-natured. second ‘Now,’ said. Delavignes’ whose meadow had so providentially escaped being stained with blood; ‘now, let 11 s dine here, at my ckal cau, and return to Paris togeiluy- is one carriage.’ * The iucitation was accepted, and at a late hour the four returned ii spirits and on excelleit terms with each other, As the carriage entered tho suL urbs of Paris, Monsieur DalaVignes started in his seat, ‘Here, driver, stop. I have a duty to perform !’ ‘What now?’ chorused the rest. ‘Do you see that man ?’ pointiig toward a richly-dressed but villi* nous looking fellow,* just issuing from a gaming house. ‘Yes, we see him.’ ‘Well, that is the Marquis de Revillac Brizy. He is a profession¬ al gambler, but having the entree of many respectable saloons, has mads almost a fortunff hy plajiug unfair¬ ly. One night I detected him in cheating, and denounced him before the whole company as a swindler of the worst kind, r.liose title nnJ an¬ cient family gave him all the better opportunities to fleece unsuspecting gentlemen. Ho said he was insult¬ ed, and wo exchanged cards, but I have heard nothing of him siuce. - Coachman give u^your whip.’ Before tho party could hardly see what Delavignes was about, bo had taken the carriage-whip and ap¬ proached the Marquis do Revillac Brizy. ‘Do you know me ?’ lie asked. ‘Ido. You are Monsieur Dela¬ vignes—(ho man who ’ ‘Who is about to administer is you the punishment which a cow aid and poltroon deseivcs.’ With which he took tho decayed marquis by the collar, and gave him the most artistic horse-whip¬ ping that that part of Paris had ev¬ er seen. When tho unfortunate had re¬ ceived sufficient flagellation Defn vignes compelled him to apologize, and beckoned bis friends to leave the carriage in order to witness the apology. ‘Now, then, rascal,’said he, ‘we are quits. You skinned me at cards, and I have returned the c@jn pliment with a whip. You \fcre afraid to fight when I desired, so I have taken all iho fight into my own hands. I mistook you for a |en lleman when I met yon, and you mistook me for a fool, or you would never have cheated me first, then challenged me, and finally let the whole aflair drop. Good night, Monsieur de Marquis do Revillac Brizy. I hope you will profit by your lesson,’ ‘Pardie!’ growled the marquis; ‘if I remembered your address, yon would have seen whether I dared to fight, or no !’ ‘But I gave you my carty’ ‘And I lost it at a ball the very next night.’ ‘At Count Vendiron’s baity was it not?’ asked Rendeau Hillaiije, who had been intently regarding an ao tique ring, with a blue setting, on the marquis’ little finger. ‘It was.’ ‘Ah, ba! then J, too, have a little score fo settlo with you. You were drunk that night, and insulted a la¬ dy who was with me.’ ‘I do not reccollect anything about it.’ ‘You were too much intoxica¬ ted?’ ‘Yes.’ ■And are you sorry for what you did?’ ‘Well—yes.’ ‘That is sufficient. Gentlemen, wo have no further affair here. Let us return to our hotels,' They re entered their carriage. ‘Here is a curious coincidence,’ sajd Delavignes—'that yog and I should both have a quarrel with a mau, and that you should bo gear killing me for him 1 By tho way, who was tho lady who was with you at Count Vendiron’s hall J’ ‘Madamo Fiourdoroe.' ‘A eharmiug woman 1’ ‘Yes, indeed—but unappronebn hie.’ ‘How 8 ) ?’ ‘She has a favorel suitor already.’ ‘No.’ ‘flow do you know?’ ‘I am exceedingly intimate with her, and^ would be aware of it if anybody was.’ ‘But you yourself—perhaps you arc tbo one! 1 ‘Hardly likely.’ •Why so?' ‘She is my half sister.’ Twelve months afterward; the beautiful widow Fieurdoree became Madame Hillaire. Love in Pa's Hat Mr. M. was a retired manufactu¬ rer and possessed of considerable fortune. He also had a daughter, nineteen years of age, of great per¬ sonal attractions. What wonder, then, that she should have made a young fellow’s heart beat quicker who tried to gain her virgin aflec tions? But ‘papa’ M. took care of his treasure as if she were the pu¬ pil of his eye, and many were the unhappy mortals who left his hos¬ pitable table never to return.— “Plenty of time,’ said he, ‘when the right comes, and I approve,’ etc. But the right one had conte long ago, only papa didn't know it, and he had come in the person of a young engineer, who, had had business transaction with pa¬ pa M. The young people had Seen each other, spoken to each other, looked at each other, and a kind of understanding had been come to. Yes, and tbe affection was deep enough to last, even when Mr. M. retired from trade and the gnliantliail ho further excuse coming on business. Then was a succession of dark days.— But love is inventive, and in this instance also proved to be so. Mr. M. was in the habit of visi¬ ting twice a week at his hair dress¬ er’s to have his beard and wig look¬ ed after, and on this fact love built its structure. Ono of tho younger assistants was taken into confidence and consequently considerable at¬ tention was paid by the young man to Mr. M.'s hat, receiving it on liis entering, giving it a caielul brush and handing it back on departure and in tbis wise poor, dear papa became, unconsciously, of course, the postilion d’mour between his daughter and her swain. This thing continued for four long months; but the best silk hat let it be ever so carefully brushed— wants an iron now and again. Mr. M.’s. hat was several years old. and just about Christmas it wanted ironing badly. So Mr. M. instead of proceeding to the hair dresser as usual went to the hatter's and pre¬ sented his hat for renovation. Mr. batter says, after inspecting it. ‘Is this hat too largo for you?’ “No. Why do you ask?’ “Because you put paper inside.’ “Paper! Paper! Not I; how does it get there, I, wonder?’ Not long did he wonder, for on carefully unfolded the paper, he read: “Don’t be down-hearted, dear Edward; my father is good and generous of heart; let us speak openly to him of our love; he will not say no, if we promiso to make tyffittld age happy. On my knees I Ail confess my love to him. Be¬ sides our correspondence can not last much longer; the continued bppshing has so worn papa’s hat that I fear from day to day that he will have it done up/ &c. Mr. M.’s hat having been refresh¬ ed he went as usual to his bairdross er’s having previously carefully re¬ placed the letter. In the saloon lie kept a steady, though covered lookout on tho officious young assistant, and found his surmise oovrect. Tho operations finisho<ty he gravely received his hat, handed the assist as usual his pour boiye, departed. Botoro returning homo, however, ho took occasion to inspect his hat, aud extract and read a mis¬ sive from no other than the engin¬ eer. Among other things, young man swore that not u did he want of bis love’s father— his position, thank goodness, bring¬ ing him more than sufficient to live happy and comfortable. “Well,’ said papa, ‘he seems to be an honest disposed young man, and if,’ &c. For some time he allowed the cor¬ respondence to goon, reading reg¬ ularly and watching the letters from both sides, unknown to them of course, until one day, when the letters had been particularly de¬ sponding and good, he put an end to it and made them happy as might be seen by the cards sent to all whom it might concern. What Law Does Y or Want? Several days ago a whito man was arraigned before a colored justice down the country, on charges of killing a man and stealing a mule. “Wall,’’ said the justice, “defacks in dis case shall be weighed wid carefulness an ef I hangs yer, taint no fault ob mine.” “■Judge, you have no jurisdiction only to examine me/’ “Dat sorter work ‘longs ter de raigular j rretiee, but yer see I,ee been put on as a special. A speci¬ al hes de right tee make a rnouf at Spremo court ef he chases ter.” “Do the best for me you can, Judge.” “Dat’s what I’se gwine ter do.— I’se got two kinds oL law in dis court, de Arkansaw and de Texas jaw. I ginerally gins a man de right to chuse fer himself. Now what law does yer want, de Texas or do Arkansaw i” “I believe I’ll take the Arkansas.’ “Wall, in dat case, I’ll dismiss yer fur stealin’ de mule—’’ “Thank you, Judge.” ‘An’ hung yer fur killin’ deman.” “1 believe, Judge, that I’ll take the Texas.” “Wall, in dat case, I’ll dismiss yer for killin’ de man-r' 1 “You have a good heart, Judge.” “An’ hang yer fur stealin’ de mule. I’ll jjs takede ‘casion beak ter remark, de only difference tween de two laws is de way yer state de case.”—Litilc Rock (Ark) Ga zette, H:w the War Was Ended Graphic the Pen Surrender Picture of the Scene at of Lee From a Decoration Day Address by Gen. George H. Sharpe, United States Army. I remember—and it was to me to-night in conversation when the name of Gen. Grant came up in the course of conversation—the wonderful scene that transpired in that little place in Virginia on the 6th of April, 1865. It was late iu the afternoon when it became known that Gen. Lee had sent for Grant to surrender to him. It was between 2 and 3 o'clock when we met in the little room in the house where the surrender of Loo’s army took place. I know there is a be¬ lief that the surrender took place under an apple tree, whera Grant and Lee met and exchanged a few words. The surrender took plac3 in tho left hand room of that old-fashion¬ ed double house. Tho house had a largo piazza which ran along the full length of it. It was one of those ordinary Virginia houses with a passage-way running tho centre of it. In the little room where the mooting took place sat two young men—one a great grand son of Chief Justice Marshall of the Supremo Court, reducing to writing tho terms-of tho surrender on behalf of Gon. Robert E- Loo and the other a man with dusky countenance, noting under Gon, Grant. They two wore reducing to writing the terms of the surren¬ der of tho army of Northern Vir¬ ginia to tho army of tbo Potomac. Gatherod around the room were several officers, of whom I was ono. At somo distance apart sat two men, Tho larger aqd older of tho two was the most striking in appearance. His hair was white as tho driven snow. There was not a speck upon hi# coat; not a spot V0I.-9 No. 4? upon the gauntlets that he wore, which were as bright and fair as a . lady's glove. That was Lee; the other was Grant, whose appear¬ ance contrasted very strangely with-, that of Lee. His boots were near ly covered with mud ; ono button off his coat—that is thebutten-hole was not where it should hare been —it had clearly gone astray, and he wore no sword, while Lee was fully and faultlessly equipped. The con versati on was not rapid by any means. Every body felt the overpowering influence of tho scene. Every on a present felt they were witnessing the proceed¬ ings between the two chief actors, in one of the most remarkable transactions of tbis nineteenth cen tnry. The words that passe 1 between Grant and Lee were few. Grant endeavored to apologize for not being fully equipped, and noticing; the faultless appearance of Lee, while the secretaries were busy, said: ‘Gen. Lee, I have no sword ; I have been riding all night.' And. Lee, with that coldness of manner and all the pride—almost haughti¬ ness, which after all. because himi wonderfully well, never made any reply, but in a cold, formal manner, bowed. Grant, in the endeavor to tako away the awkwarkness of the scene, said: ‘I don’t always wear rsword, because a sword is a very incon venint thing.' Lee only bowed again. Another, trying to relieve tho awkwardness of the occasion, in¬ quired: ‘Gen. Lee, what became oi, the white horse you rode in Mexi¬ co ? He might not be dead yet; he-' was not so old,’. Gen. Lee bowed coldly, and re¬ plied, ‘I left him at the white houso on the Pamun key river, and I have not seen him since.’ There was one moment when there was a whispered conversation’, betweeu Grant and Lee, which np., body in,the room.heard. The surrender took the form of ■ correspondence; tho letters were. all signed in duo form by the chief actors in the presence of each oth¬ er. Finally, when tho terms of surrender had all been arranged, and the surrender made, Loj arose,, cold and proud, and bowed to eve-, ry person in the room on our side. I remember each ono of us thought lie had been sjiecially bowed to.—-. And then lie went out and passed’ down the little square in front of the house, and bestrode that gray horse that carried him all over Vir • ginia ; and when he had gone away we learned what that whispered conversation had been about____ Grant said : ‘You go to the Twenty-fourth,^ and you go to the Fifth,’ and so on, naming the corps, ‘and ask every ■ man who has three rations, to turn over two of them. Go to the com-,., missaries and •quartermasters; Gen.. Lee’s army is on the point of star¬ vation!’And 25,090 rations; were carried to the army of Northern^ Virginia. A good white wash for cellars,. out buildings and fences, may be, prepared as follows: Put a half a. bushel of lime in a clean, water-, tight barrel, and pour over it boil¬ ing water enough to cover it four, or five inches deop, stirring it, briskly until the lime is thorough-, ly slaked. After tho slaking is> completed add water gradually,, stirring it well until thin enough to uso ; then add a pound of salt,, and two pounds of snlphato of zinc. This will cause the wash to harden well and prevent it from cracking or rubbing off. Almost any dosir • od shade of color may bo given it by adding different and inexpen* sivo pigments, Tel]my will give shades ranging from a deli¬ cate cream color To yellow, accords, ing to tho. quantity employed.— Lampblack produces shades from gray to lead color. A good stone, color may bo obtained by adding, two pounds of kmpback and' foqr. pounds of raw umber to tbo qiian-. tity of wash made by tho above re,-. coipe.