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THE OGLETHORPE ECHO
SUBSCRIPTION.
ONE YEAR nn
SIX MONTHS
THREE MONTHS 50
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or leM! than 10 < **••• 1*75
TEN COJtTES or more, each 1.50
Terms Cash in advance. No paper sent
Until money received.
All papers stopped at expiration of time,
unless renewed.
Written for the Echo.]
ERIN.
“ FRANK O’LEARY.”
Dear isle of the shamrock, my forefather’s
home,
Though thy beauty I never may see,
Wher’er in this wide world my footsteps may
roam
My fancy will wander to thee.
From Mizen to Malin, from Carnsore to
Blyne,
I love thee, bright emerald land—
No fountain, no streamlet, more limpid than
thine,
No hill and no valley more grsjnd.
Dear island of Erin, the heart of thy sons
Has ever been loving and brave,
For the life-giving current that in eaeh vein
runs
Ne’r came from the churl or the knave.
Tbo’ still an enigma forever they prove
To those who can not understand,
A nature so fiery, yet constant in love,
So mirthful, yet brave, true and grand.
Although under bondage, no craven or slave
The tyrant shall find e’er in thee,
For until the proud hearts shall rest in the
grave
They dream of “ old Ireland free.”
Thy children may wander from Ireland to
Greece,
Or dwell on Columbia’s far shore,
*Till the last heart it’s throbbing forever
shall cease,
The “ Emerald Isle” they adore.
Though dark, yawning ocean or mountains
arise
Thy coast and their dwelling between,
When slumber’s soft pinions o’ershadow their
eyes,
Iu dreamland they still “ wear the green.''
The Story of Two Snorers.
[From the Detroit Free Press.]
After the fire old man Bullard found
lodgings on South C street. lie got a
bed in a large room containing two other
beds that was occupied. Mr. Bullard
is a huge, fat, good-natured and very en
tertaining inau. The proprietor of the
lodging house was much pleased with
Bullard, and laughed at his jokes the
first evening of his arrival at his place
till tears rolled down his cheeks. The
tnen who were to be Bullard’s room
mates also thought well of him—that
evening. The next morning, however,
they looked sad and red-eyed. Then
went to the landlord and told him he
must find some other place for Mr. Bul
lard, as he was such, a terrible snorer
they couldn’t stand him. The landlord’s
rooms were all occupied, and he had no
?lace for Bullard uut just where he was.
'he complaining lodgers left, and in two
or three weeks two other men were put
into the vacant beds. Bullard made
short work of them; one night let them
out. The landlord sought an interview
with Bullard and remonstrated with
him. Bullard stoutly asserted that he
did not snore—had never been known to
snore. The lanelord had to give Bullard
up as a bad bargain, and turned bis at
tention to looking up lodgers with which
to fill his vacant beds, but again Builard
cleaned them out in a single night.
.Growing desperate, the landlord went to
Bullard. He told him he must either
leave the house or pay rent for all the
beds in the room—s4s per month. Bul
lard said a bargain was a bargain; he
had paid sls for his bed, and he intend
ed keeping it until his month was up,
and he didn't propose to pay for beds he
had no use for; he didn’t snore, and the
man who asserted to the contrary was a
“ liar and a liorsethief.” The landlord
felt very much depressed after this last
interview with Bullard, as he was deter
mined not to be removed from hisjiuar
ters. A morning or two after.
lard’s landlord was going down town, he
saw standing in his door a brother lodg
ing house man.
“ Thank heaven he’s gone 1” said the
man as Bullard’s landlord came up.
“ Thank heaven, I’m rid of him at
last 1”
“ Rid of whom ?”
“Why, of the big fat man you see
yonder waddling down the street.”
“What of him ?”
“ Enough of him ! He cleaned nearly
every man out of my house before be left.
They wouldn’t stop in the same block with
that snorting, Falstaffian porpoise, sir I”
“ He’s a good one, is he ?”
“A good one? He’s a nerfeet terror!
He’s more different kinus of a snorer
than any man I ever heard, and every
time he changes his key it is for the
worse. While I had him here crowds
were gathering in front of the house
nightly wondering what was the matter
within, and the police came in one night
thinking someone was being murdered.
My dog ran away, and all the cats left
the house, sir!”
“ And the man you pinted out to me
is this snorer ?“
“ Yes, sir, he is, and may he burst!”
“ Good day, sir 1” and Bullard’s land
lord hastened down the street. * * *
The next morning with the first peep of
day, Bullard, puffing and blowing, rush
ed in the presence of his landlord.
“ W hat are you trying to play upon
me?”.]cried he;“ I never slept a wink
mXI night. Of all the infernal noises I
ever heard, that man in my room got off
the worst. Is he going to stay here?”
“ Stay ?of course he is. Hain’t he got
the bed for a month ?”
“ Then I leave.” And Bullard was as
good as his word.
An hour afterward the man who had
ousted Bullard arose and waddled serene
ly into the presence of the landlord.
* “ You’ve cleaned him out,” said the
landlord. “ You raised him; he’s gone
for good 1” and the landlord gleefully
rubbed his hands. “Now,” continued
the landlord. “I’ll give you a good,
square breakfast, and then you can go.”
“Go,” said the fat man, “not much I
don’t. Didn’t you sav last evening in
the presence of Bullard and half a dozen
others that I was to stay here a month ?”
“ But that you know was only to—”
“ I know nothing of the kind, and I
shall stay here I I am human; I must
have some place in which to repose I”
The landlord is now trying to get some
man to set up some kind of machine in
his house that will oust the boss snorer,
who now has the whole place |to himself
except a small room in a corner ot the
third story, where he and his wife spent
their nights in a miserable way.
®il|£ (Dgldljoqjc Cclje.
BY T. L. GANTT.
A NIGHT IN A STAGE.
A TRUE STORY OF CHRISTMAS.
The year was 18.50—the month of De
cember—the place Tamaqua. I was a
young man then, and a strong one. I
did a great deal of traveling through the
State of Pennsylvania, from county
tow n to county town from the begining
of the year to the close. It was pleasant
business enough, for there was less rail
roading to be done then than now, and
more staging, and not uufrequently long
rides on canal boats in the summer time.
I was not often hurried on my trips, and
took my own time. My exact business
at the county seats consisted of bunting
up titles to obscure, wild lands, paying
taxes upon them, and getting them in
good condition for immediate sale.
In consequence of the nature of this
business, I knew a good deal about the
topography of Pennsylvania, and a good
deal that, at that time, was worth know
ing about its roads and its inns. All of
the latter were bad, but some were better
than others. One of the worst ot them
was at Tamaqua, and possibly it is there
yet, though when I last slept under its
roof, it was in altogether such a lamenta
ble condition of decay, and its roof was
such a very leaky roof indeed, that I
doubt not it’s long ago disappeared out of
the sight of men and possibly out of their
memories also—Tamaqua having achie
ved a railroad since, and, of course,
grown as only railroad town < do grow.
I arrived there that December of 1856,
on a Monday afternoon, which was quite
as cold and disagreeable a Monday after
noon as I remember ever to have known,
though, when compared with the Tues
day that followed, it might be considered
rather warm than otherwise. I was half
frozen when I got there, and I was not
quite thawed out when I left, for I had
yielded to a burning curiosity to visit a
coal mine, and I fancy that Tamaqua is
nothing but a coal mine, with a thousand
mouths that every morning swallow so
many thousand miners and disgorge
them every night. It was then and I
think it is now, a very black and sooty
place, with a canal in front of it, and a
hill behind it, and a huge mine I have
spoken of under it. It was not, only black
and sooty itself, but its people similarly
black and sooty ; and so was its horses,
or rather its mules, for it seemed to have
few of the former and a great many of
the latter. Even its dogs and cats par
took of the general sootines3, and were
evidently depressed by it. I was very
cold when I went down into the mine—
which had its shaft just behind the hotel
—and I was colder still when I came out
of it. I went to bed cold, so cold indeed
that I thought I would never be warm
any more. When I went down into the
frozen breakfast-room, I looked out of
the window, and saw that the ground was
covered deep with snow, and that it was
still snowing as if it meant to exhaust
the whole winter’s supply in live minutes
or so, being very greatly pressed to do it
immediately. 1 drank my cold, biack
coffee and ate my cold, tough beef-stake
iu gloomy silence, thinking more than I
had done for a long time before of home,
of its pleasant cheer and warmth, and of
the loving boys and girls in it who were
even then expecting my speedy coming,
for this was already the morning of
Tuesday, and Thursday would be Christ
mas day. In that home I was St. Nich
olas himself, for it was I that brought
home in the night the brave tree with its
spreading green branches ; it was I that
planted it firmly in the middle of the
wide parlor ; it was ! that found the in
finite variety of toys, cakes, bon-bons,
and glittering baubles which covered it;
it was I that placed the image of Christ-
Child on the topmost bough; I that
lighted the many-colored tapers, and I
that, at the auspicious moment, sudden
ly threw open the folding-doors and let
in the children to behold the glory of
that wondrous Christmas miracle.
In my frequent journeys through the
State, I had seen many places which I
wanted to get away from quickly, but I
never saw another that I wanted to turn
my back upon so much as Tamaqua. It
was not in any manner a pleasant place,
and besides, if these nephews and nieces
of mine were to have a Christmas tree at
all in this year, 1856, I thought, I must
go home as fast as I could travel. I had
come to Tamaqua in a stage, and I must
go away from it in a stage—not to Phila
delphia, exactly, but to the next railroad
town, and that was distant, I knew not
how far.
I arose shivering from the dreary break
fast, and huntel up the landlord of the
inn. He was easily found, and was no
better or warmer looking a man than his
accommodations promised him to be. I
paid liis extravagant charges, and then
informed him that I wished to reach as
quickly as possible the nearest railroad
station, and to take the first train for the
eas.
“ The nearest station is at Ilium ; Ili
um is 22 miles distant; you can not get
there before night, if at all. I think you
won’t get there at all.”
All this was spoken reflectively, and
with deliberation.
“ If I can get thereby ten o’clock to
night, can I make the eastern express !”
“ You can, but I doubt if you can get
there at all.”
“ Why ?”
He was not a man to waste words. He
only said:
“ The stage won’t go—on account of
the storm.”
“ Are you sure of that?” I ventured
to ask.
“ Quite sure,” and he closed his lips
with a snap, as if he knew all about it.
“ Who owns the stage?”
“ I do,” he replied. “ And I won’t let
it go ; because the road lies over that
mountain yonder ; it runs close to the
edges of precipices several hundred feet
high, it is rough and slippery, the snow
is deep now, and getting deeper every
minute, and I don’t believe any horse
eould pull through it.”
I thought of the little children waiting
for me yonder; of their bitter disappoint
ment if I did not come. Then I said :
“I am very anxious to go, and I am
willing to pay well for being taken.”
The landlord leaning over the bar
asked:
“ How much?”
I told him what I was willing’ to pay.
“ I’ll go and get the stage ready,” he
said. It was an ordinary box wagon on
good strong springs, having a cotton cov
er open in front. The horse was a half
starred, jaded looking beast. I took all
this in as I stood on the porch waiting
CRAWFORD, GEORGIA, FRIDAY MORNING, FEBRUARY 4, 1876.
for the driver. Getting impatient at last,
I asked :
“ Where is the driver?”
The landlord, without speaking, point
ed to an ill-clad boy standing at the
horse s head. I looked closely at him.
He might be, I thought, fifteen years
old, or he might be no more than ten.
His eyes were clear blue, and he, hear
ing my question, turned them full upon
mine, a frank, boyish smile rebuking the
distrust my words implied, and lighting
up every feature of his delicate face.
His complexion was like that of a girl,
his mouth small and tender, his hair
yellow, his figure slight and sinuous.
I looked at him, standing there shiver
ing with the cold, out through the dri
ving storm, along the suow-covered
mountain road we were to travel together
and asked :
“ Are you not afraid to go ?”
The landlord interrupted ;
“It don’t matter if he is afraid. He
belongs to me. He shall go.”
“ No,” I said ; he shall not go, if he is
not quite willing.”
“ I am not at all afraid,” the boy re
plied, “ and lam quite willing to go. I
liave gone often and often, through worse
storms than this.”
There was an earnest, manly grace
even in the way be shook the gathered
flakes from his tattered cap, and in his
voice there was such a hearty, cherry
ring, that from that moment I trusted
and loved the boy.
I jumped into the stage, took the back
seat, drew my great frieze coat close
about my legs, and we drove off from
among the gaping, sooty crowd of miners
into the lonely mountain road ; into the
crudest storm of wind and snow that I
ever saw.
The boy sat on the front seat, waiting
to be spoken to, looking straight ahead.
When we were quite clear of the strag
gling huts of the miners on the outer
most limits of the town, I asked him his
name.
“ They call me Lewis Shively,” he
said.
“ How old are you, Lewis?” was my
next question. *
“ Fourteen next April, sir.”
“ Do you live at home, with you father
and mother?”
“ That man yonder is all the father or
mother I have, and his stable loft is the
only home I have had since he took me
from the poor-house. That was better
than the stable though, for they thought
me something there.”
There were no complaining chords in
the tones in which these bitter words
were said, and while he was speaking ho
was drawing the whip gently across the
horse’s back, brushing off the snow that
had fallen on it.
“ Have you been driving on this road
long ?” I inquired.
“ Going on three years. It will be
three years in March.”
“Is it cold out there? Colder than
here, I mean ?”
“ I think it is,” he replied: “ the wind
and snow cuts so ; but I don’t mind, sir I
We get use to tough weather up in these
hills.”
“ I wish you would come in here; my
coat will cover us both.”
“ No, I can’t,” he said. “ I must
watch the road now. We have to go
pretty close to tbe precipices, sometimes.”
“ How close?” 1 asked.
“ Within a few inches. I can’t see
now five yards ahead, the snow falls so
heavily.”
“Do you think it safe, then, to go
on ?”
“ Quite safe, sir! and I don’t mind
tbe cold.” But his teeth chattered as he
said it, and the ruddy glow was all gone
from his cheeks.
I did not talk more then. There were,
I discovered, wide cracks in the bottom
of the stage, through which the wind
poured mercilessly. I was chilled
through to the heart in less than an hour
after starting. I do not know how far
we had gone, or bow long we had been
upon the road, when I heard the boy’s
voice, cherry and bright, asking :
“How are you now, sir? Feeling
pretty comfortable, sir?”
I nodded my head, and crept closer in
to the corner. But he was wiser than I
and would not let me have the sleep I
coveted.
“ You are in a hurry to get home,” he
said, for want of something better to say
with which to rouse me.
“ Yes,” I replied. “ I want to be at
home on Christmas eve.”
“ The best days I.ever knew were on
Christmas—a good while ago.”
He said it as if he were ever and ever
so old, and what was saddest of all, as if
he were done with Christmas forever. I
told him of the tree I was to get, and
how Christmas day was kept in the great
cities. He was most ieterested in the
tree, making me tell him again and again
about it. But after awhile, as if he were
tired of it, he said :
“ I never saw a tree like that. I know
about Christmas, though. About the
star and the sheepherds, and, the Christ
child you spoke of—they that laid in the
manger.”
“ Then you know all that any one in
the world need ever care to know,” I
said.
It may have been an hour, or two hours
but it seemed but a minute after this
that the boy shook me roughly by the
shoulder.
“ We are to get out here,” he said.
I was very stiff in my joints, but I
could get up and climb out of the stage,
and no more. If I was cold I did .not
know it; my limbs were numb, but I
was comfortable enough. I crawled out
and followed the boy to a miserable-look
ing shanty by the road-side, in front of
which we had stopped. There was a
rough bar running across the room, there
was a thick, black-haired, brawny look
ing man b ;hind it, and there were two or
three kegs of liquor behind him. There
was an iron stove in the middle of the
room, a bench along the wall, and that
was all. The boy asked for some brandy,
drank a glass of it after handing one to
me, whieh I drank, and felt so much bet
ter for drinking that I called for another
and got it, but the boy refused the glass
I offered him. “ I have had enough,”
he said.
We were going out, when the landlord
opened the door before us. Looking out
in the storm, he asked incredulously
“ Are you going on ?”
“Yes!” said the boy, “ I was told to
drive this gentleman to Ilium to-night,
and I’m going to do it.”
If you get there at all, it will be night
sure enough,” the landlord said.
“ I will get there all the same,” was
the boy’s reply.
“ Let us stop here to-night,” I Baid.
“W e can go on in the morning.”
“ I would rather take you on, sir!
There’s no danger. I can’t put my horse
up here, and my master would kill me if
anything should happen to him.”
That decided me to go on. Besides, I
did not care to talk. I was begining to
feel cold again standing in the wind.
It was 3 o’clock now, the light in the
west growing dimmer and dimmer —the
glooms of the mountains and the bare
woods coming nearer to us, making their
meaning felt in their souls, filling mine
with an awful dread of the snow covered
road beyond. Ten miles to go yet, the
night coming quickly on, the cold grow
ing more intense, tbe road rougher, more
precipitous, the horse evidently giving
out! But the boy took up the lines, the
bright, frank smile upon his face, the
cherry word upon his tongue. “ Good
bye,” he said to the man in the doorway.
The man stood for an instant in the
door-way looking after us. “ Good-bye.”
he said.
We went on along the road that from
the begining of time it was ordained we
were to go. I crept back into my cor
ner.
Do not go to sleep,” the pleasant
voice warned me from the front.
“ Thank you,” I replied, cheered and
warmed by its nearty glow. “ I will not
go to sleep.”
Then followed a long silence, in which
I had views of the falling snow, the
white hills above us, the white hills still
below us, in which I heard sounds from
creaking, crooning branches, from the
wind sweeping savagely past us. Then
unconquerable drowsiness, fast coming
darkness—then night.
I felt a hand on my face, then on my
shoulder, shaking me roughly ; a sweet
cheering voice in my ears, calling me
back to life.
“If you go to sleep now, you won’t
wake up again,” it said.
I woke with a sudden start, for an in
stant, to a full conciousuess of time and
place. I was not cold, only sleepy. “ I
am quite awake,” I replied. “ Have we
far to go ?”
“ Five miles,” and the voice was the
same cheery voice I had heard from the
first. He spoke to me often after that;
then I saw him as in a dream, fixing a
blanket that he had taken from the
horse’s back, to the hickory bows over
head, to keep the snow from driving in
upon me,for I was covered with it to my
knees. As God is my judge I did not
then clearly know what be was doing, or
I would have stopped him. I did not
feel cold, though I knew afterward that I
was then freezing, and I did not think he
was cold. I did not think at all. I was
far past that. I had begun a longer
journey than I had started upon.
In that longer journey I dreamed of
home, of the wondrous Christmas miracle,
the lighted tree ; of the glad faces of chil
dren, whose voices I heard. I heard one
of them repeat two or three times, with
startling distinctness, “We are lost.” I
was conscious that the child who said it
had thrown herself into my arms, and
was lying there a dull heavy weight.
But aside from the cry all bright
and pleasant—this real, joufijjajr
through the snow, over the rough
gerous mountain road, in that
cember. The dream lasted a long while,
through all that night, and the day fol
lowing and the night following that.
When I awoke from it I was in a large
room, which I had never seen before.
There were piles of the softest blankets
upon me, there was a great wood fire
burning on the hearth, and I had never
felt so warm and comfortable in all my
life. There were two strangers in the
room, a man and a woman, whose faces
were kindly ones, but sorely troubled.
When I stirred, and they saw I recog
nized them, they came and stood by my
bed.
“ Where am I?” I asked them.
“ At Ilium, in the house of a Metho
dist minister.”
“ How long have I been here ?”
“ Since night before last. You came
in the stage, and the horse stopped before
our door,” the man said.
“ What day is this?”
“ It is Christmas day,” the woman re
plied, taking my hand in hers.
“ I have been ill, then ?”
“ Yes 1”
“ There was a boy brought me here.
Where is he ?”
“He is here too.” The voice that
said it was husky with tears and the
hand that held mine shook.
“ He has been ill, too.”
“ Yes!”
“ Is he better now ?”
“He was never so well. He will nev
er be ill a^ain.”
I looked into the face of the woman
who said this, and I saw that her eyes
were red with weeping.
I disengaged the band she held, and
turned my face to the wall.
The woman laid her hand upon my
arm.
“ You must not feel like that. It is
better so. He had only one friend, and
he is with him this beautiful Christmas
morning. He had no home here. It is
Christmas day, and he is at home there.”
I took in mine the comforting hand
that lay upon my arm.
“ I would like to see him,” I said, “ He
gave his life for me.”
They took me down afterward to what
had been the family sitting-room. There
were warm, red curtains at the windows;
a bright, glowing carpet on the floor ;
there were bunches of holly and laurel
scattered here and there, and over all
was the atmosphere of home.
They left me at the door. I went in
and stood by the side of the couch on
which they had laid him. The eyes of
tender blue were closed forever, and the
yellow hair was parted over his boyish
brows, and still about the brave, sweet
mouth the bright smile played as it did
at the first moment of our meeting, when
my implied doubt of him called it there.
He lay before me dead, in all the glow
and promise of his youth.
But the smile which triumphed above
death’s ruin, rebuked me, ana as I stoop
ed to kiss the lips of the beantiful boy, I
knew, as well as man could know, that
he was not dead; that He who had given
more life to the dead girl and the widow’s
sen had given it also to him ; that he had
onlv gone farther upon his journey than
I—into a sweeter, roller, more gracious
life than he had ever known. £ad J
also knew that I should see him again if
I but made my own life as brave, un
selfish, and true as his had been.
—A Boston editor says he wrote as
plain as cotfld be, ** The sacred heavens
around him shine,” when the blasted
printer went and made it, 7 The scared
hyenas around him shine 7
DEVILTRIES.
A little nonsense now and then
Is relished by the wisest men.
—The first thing in a boot is the last.
—Why is a kiss like a sewing ma
chine ? Because it seems so good.
—Whiskey is like an internal furnace
and an infernal turn-us.
—Stage-struck—the man who was
knocked over by an omnibus.
—What horn produces the most dis
cordant music? The drinking horn.
—The acrobats of every household—
the pitcher and tumbler.
— ’Tis sweet to wait, but oh how bitter,
To wait for a girl and then not git ’er.
—lt makes a great difference whether
glasses are used over or under the nose.
_ —Jones says he loves two charming
girls—Jinnie Rosity and Annie Mation.
—Babies are described as coupons at
tached to the bonds of matrimony.
—“ Heat generates motion.” Illustra
tion—A small boy sitting down on a hot
coal.
—A fast train telescoped a hog the
other day and threw the squeal a mile
distant.
—Professor—“What important change
came over Burns in the latter part of his
life?” Student—“ He died.”
—A person looking at some skeletons
asked a young doctor present where he
got them? He replied: “We raised
them.”
—“ They fired two shots at him,” wrote
an Irish reporter; “the first shot killed
him, but the second shot was not fatal.”
—A negro minstrel said he would rath
er be a jackass than a horse, because a
jackass was liable to go to Congress.
_ —Now pick almanacs. They are dead
ripe, and are worth about two-and-a-half
cents a pound, rag measure.
—Always suspect a man who has ar
rived at the age of thirty and isn’t at
tached to a piece of calico.
—An exchange warns young girls to
look out for the men who want to make
“ sisters” of them.
—lt is said to be a sign of a submis
sive husband if his back is so sensitive
that he can tell when a fly lights on it.
—Willie was disputing with his sis
ter. “It is true,” he said, firmly, “for
mother said so, and if she says so, it is
so, if it ain’t so.”
—The story of a man who had a nose
so large that he could not blow it with
out the use of gunpowder, has turned
out to be a hoax.
—McDermott, the man who claims
Bessie Turner as his long-lost sister, is
lecturing on that subject in New Eng
land.
—When a lady is eclipsed by a con
tiguous toilet she sighs and says : “ Ah,
, how worldly and extravagant the butter
’lffes are.”
—A Chicago paper says : “We may
forgive Jeff Davis his responsibility for
Andersonville, but let us not forget he
has been an insurance agent.”
—There is a Connecticut widower who
declares that nothing reminds him of his
poor, dear wife so much as to live with
in ear-shot of a aaw-mill.
—When a millionaire dies nowadays
his friends always ask: “ How many did
he leave ?” and are answered, “ Three
and sixteen children.”
—“ My client is no more guilty of
stealing that hog than a frog ainft got no
tail,” was a young Elbert county law
yer’s address before Judge Vanduzer.
-—Touching conclusion of an obituary
notice in an Indiana paper: “He was
an elder in the Methodist church and
the leader of the brass band in the vil
lage.”
—“Will this pipe smoke free?” ask
ed a gentleman who was purchasing a
pipe. “Of course it will, if you can get
your tobacco for nothing,” was the re
ply.
—At a leap-year party in Wilming
ton, N. C., last week. Joseph Walters
was chosen “ belle” of the evening, and
was duly crowned as Queen of Love and
Beauty.
—The average length of a Minnesota
courtship is five days. Girls are scarce
and the men busy, and so they “ pop,”
and marry, and fight, and repent, and
divorce.
—A man can fully appreciate the ter
rors of winter when he awakes near mor
ning and finds the bed-clothes on the
floor and himself engaged in a gigantic
struggle to crawl under his shirt.
—The Atlantic continues, as usual, to
swallow up a vessel and passengers
about once a week. The sea nominally
causes the trouble, but of course there is
a woman at the bottom of it.
—A negro in South Carolina, who w'as
complaining of hard times, declared
they were the hardest ever known.
“ Why,” said he, “ I works all day, and
steals all night, an’ yet I’m blest if I kin
make an honest libin.”
—A doctor and a military officer be
came enamored to the same lady. A
friend asked her which of the two suit
ors she intended to favor. She replied
that “ it was dificult for her to determine,
as they were both such killing creatures.”
—The latest fraud is a man who makes
a regular business of deserting his wife
and children among strangers. The lat
ter usually gave them money and needed
articles, after which the family joins the
husband and they repeat the game in
some other place.
—A rural editor, wishing to be severe
upon an exchange, remarks : “ The sub
scriber of the , in this place, tried a
few days since to carry home some lard
in a copy of that paper ; but, on reach
ing home, found that the concentrated
lie had changed it to soap.”
—Jap Hopkins set a hen on thirteen
eggs, and she came off with one chicken,
and as he took a stick and knocked it on
the head, he was heard to exclaim : “It’s
of no use for me to try to get rich. That
chicken cost me twenty cents, not count*
ing the hen’s time as anything.”
— “ Please, sir, have you anything to
rive a poor unfortunate ?” inquired a
beggar of a druggist. “ Nothing but
pills,” was the reply. “Well, then,”
answered the beggar, “ I will take a
bread pill the size of a loaf.” “ Git out,
you pil-ferin-loafer!” ejaculated the
druggist, as he fired a mortar at the re
creating pauper.
VOL II—NO. 17,
THE MOSEL DISASTER.
Unroll Kronen at Breiucrhnven—Oath
oriiif; the Remains—The Victims are
Mostly Blown to Atoms.
The Bremen correspondent of the
London Times says:
A gentleman who visited the scene of
the disaster a few hours after the event
said it looked more terrible than a field
of battle. Hospital attendants and
policemen, aided by volunteers from all
classes of the population, had, indeed,
removed those remnants of humanity in
which the vital spark was not wholly ex
tinct, but what remained was a human
shamble. As in an anatomical dissect
ing-room, all the individual limbs of the
human body might be seen lying about
separately in ghastly isolation. Here a
head was stuck on a railing, while a
hand was seen pointing at empty space
from a window sill. More horrible,
perhaps, than the lacerated limbs whose
outward shape was sufficiently preserved
to admit of recognition, were the form
less masses of flesh strewn in every di
rection, mixed up with armes and feet.
On the fatal spot were boots and shoes,
coats and shawls, and countless splinters
of iron and wood. Where the wagon
stood from which the deadly chest was
thrown yawned a hole over six feet
deep and seven feet wide. Horses, ve
hicle, driver, and porters were literally
blown into atoms, without a trace of
them left. On the brink of the opening
which marked the spot where they dis
appeared, an infant’s shoe was seen,
empty, aud asking for the tiny foot
which had tenanted it that morning. A
note-book was there containing the
memoranda of a dead man. Later in
the day the most horrid indications of
the catastiophe were carefully collected
and carried away to the churchyard,pre
paratory to removal; but many of the
shivered fragments were thrown too
great a distance and had been lodged in
too improbable localities to be found at
the first search.
For two or three days after the event
terrible discoveries were continually
made in houses and courtyards, in sta
bles and river boats. A man would go
up to the loft to fetch fuel, and find a
leg flung across the coals. A woman
feeding poultry in the henhouse was
shocked to behold a finger fought for by
the feathery tribe. In the harbor,
bloody trunks rose and fell with the
stream for several days, presenting a re
volting aspect, and causing the author
ities to have the river dredged. The
most harrowing spictacle was that presen
ted in the deadhouse of the churchyard
before the first burial of the remains.
Heads without trunks, trunks without
heads, legs without feet, and arms with
out hands were displayed in hideous
rows for identification.
Picture for yourself a woman looking
for her husband among these gory relics,
and the thought beggars description.
For two consecutive days these visits to
torn members continued. For two days
farewells were taken of heads and hands.
For two days portions of the cadaverous
array were gradually removed by rela
tives bringing full-sized coffins for a sin
gle limb, and having it carefully sown
up in linen before consigning it to its
last inclosure. Then the grave hid its
own. Meanwhile some thirty persons,
not wholly killed by the explosion, were
lying in an improvised hospital not far
from the scene, an unascertained num
ber of other persons having been receiv
ed in private houses. There was a great
want of lint, linen and other necessaries
at first, but the Bremen people, prover
bially liberal and kind-hearted, soon
supplied all requisites. Physicians,too,
arrived from the country, offering assist
ance and helping their colleagues at the
haven in the first ministrations. But it
soon became apparent that there was lit
tle occasion for doctoring. Only the
milder cases admitted of the services of
the healing art. If there was anything
calculated to render the effects of the
catastrophe more appalling it was that
the infliction is confined to comparative
ly few families. Whole families having
gone to see their relatives off, whole fam
ilies were killed or wounded. A terrible
instance is that of Mr. Etmer, who, with
all his nearest and dearest, accompanied
his eldest son to the boat to wish him
God-speed on his departure to the West
Indies. The father, the elder and youn
§er son, one son-in-law, and a cousin are
ead. The mother has had her arm bro
ken. One of the daughters has lost her
right hand; another daughter is wound
ed in face, hands and legs; a third
daughter wounded in the arm ; while the
sister of one of the sons-in-law had her
left foot blown off. The son-in-law
whose brother is dead is terribly lacera
ted in the abdomen. This is the worst
case, but others might be recited hardly
less melancholy. The explosion was
heard for many miles around. It is af
firmed that a low, muttering noise pene
trated to the very environs of Hamburg.
—As the train on this branch came to
a dead halt this week a passenger ex
claimed: “ Well, I wonder what we’ve
stopped for now ?” “Why,” explains a
fellow passenger, “ it’s to take off the
cow-catcher from the engine and put it
on behind, to keep the cows from run
ning over us.”
Colonists, Emigrants and Trav
elers Westward. —For map circulars,
condensed time tables and general information
in regard to transportation facilities to ail
po nts in Tennessee, Arkansas, Missouri, Min
ne ota, Colorado, Kansas, Texas, lowa, New
Mexico, Utah and California, apply to or
address Albert B. Weeks, General Rail
road Agent, Office Atlanta, Ga.
No one should go West without first getting
in communication with the General It. R
Agent, and become informed as to superior
ad\ antages, cheap and quick transportation of
families, household goods, stock, and farming
irnj lements generally. All information cheer
fully given.
W. L. DANLEY, G. P. A T. A.
O
To Drnggiat, Hardware and
General Merchant#*. —l carry in stock
from 1,000 to 3,000 boxes of window glass,
(the largest stock in the South,) embracing all
sizes, from 4x6t040 x 60in single or double
thick and polished plate. Standard brands of
French and American made Stained, Cut,
Ground, Enameled, and Church Glass. Putty
by the bladder or ton. Glaziers’ Paints,
Knives, Diamonds, Ac.
Above are imported directed from the freto
-1 ies and I guarantee bottom prices. Send late
est quotations.
Truly yours P. P. TOALE.
0
Now in Store, a fine stock of Canned
Goods, plain and fancy Candies, Crackers oi
ill kinds, French aud common Blacking,
standard Drugs and Medicines, Tin-ware, Cut
lery, etc., cheap for cash at R. S. Maktih’s.
THE OGLETHORPE ECHO
ADVERTISEMENTS.
First insertion (per inch space) $1 00
Each subsequent insertion . 75
A liberal discount allowed those advertising
for a longer period than three months. Cara
of lowest contract rates can be had on appli
cation to the Proprietor.
Local Notices 15c. per line first insertion,
and 10c. per line thereafter.
Tributes of Respect, Obituaries, etc., 600.
per inch. Announcements, $5, ; n advance.
BUSINESS AND PROFESSIONAL. -
POPE BARROW,
ATTORNEY IT LAW,
CRAWFORD, - - - GEORGIA,
Jno. L. Moon. Geo. F. Wooten.
MOON & WOOTEN,
at Law,
ATLANTA, GA.
Office, opposite National Hotel, No. 7 Rail
road Block, [up stairs.] jan2l-6m
georgOToates
DEALER IN
SCHOOL AND MISCELLANEOUS
BOOKS,
AND STATIONERY, and everything else
kept in a first-class Book Store.
SCHOOLS supplied at reasonable prices.
BLANK BOOKS in great variety.
JOHNNIE MINES,
Fashionable Tailor 9
BAIRDSTOWN, GA.
Will be in Lexington the first TL T ESDAY
in every month, prepared to do all work in
his line. Cutting and Making, in the latest
style, done at short notice. Satisfaction in
sured, and prices very low. my7-tf
Fine Boots & Shoes
HENRY LUTHI,
CIRAWFORD, GA., IS NOW PREPARED
J to make, at short notice, the FINEST
BOOTS and SHOES. I use only tlnf best
material, and warrant my work to give entire
satisfaction, both as to finish and wear.
REPAIRING AND COARSE WORK also
attented to. octß-ly
Dr.D.SOUTHWICK,
85 & 37 Whitehall Bt., Atlanta, Ga.,
STILL CONTINUES TO CURE ALL
eases of
OBSTACLES TO MARRIAGE,
BLOOD IMPURITIES,
OBSTRUCTIONS OF MENSES
from whatever cause, every ailment or sick
ness which results from abuse or imprudence,
with unparalleled success. Havingnad largo
experience in bis Specialties, he has perfected
remedies that are effectual in all these cases.
His patients are being treated my Mail and
Express every where.
Call or address with stamp, in confi
dence, as above. declO-ly
Drags, Dentistry.
Being permanently located at CRA WFORD,
GA., I aw now prepared to do all kinds of
DENTAL WORK
at short notice, in the best style and on mod
erate terms. My references are those who
have kindly favored me with their patronage.
Having also opened a
DRUG STORE I
I am prepared to supply Physicians with all
Standard Medicines!
and the public with all such articles in the
Drug Line usually needed in families, inclu
ding a full line of
Leading Medicines,
Patent Medicines,
PAINTS, OILS,
Lamps, Chimneys, Perfumery, Stationery,
Soaps, Toilet Articles, Cigars, TOBACCO ,
Blue Stone, Ac., Ac.
When you have given me a trial and failed
to do as well or better than elsewhere, I will
not complain if you withdraw your patron-
IH. THOMAS, I. D.
Druggist and Dentist.
MESON
ACADEMY!
LEXINGTON, GA.
Tiie exercises of this institu
tion will be resumed on the
Second Monday in January Kelt,
MRS. J. R.;SIIACKELFORD~wiII take
charge of the
MUSIC DEPARTMENT,
and a competent Assistant will be employed.to
aid the Principal in the
LITERARY DEPARTMENT.
BOARD can be obtained on reasonable
terms.
BATES OF TUITION
Peb Quabteb:
Primary Classes $ ft 00
Intermediate Classes 7 60
Higher English Studies 10 OO
Languages and Higher Mathematics... 12 60
Contingent Expenses, per quarter Bft
Those having sons or daughters to educate
will find few towns superior to Lexington in
good society and moral influence.
Board and Tuition payable quarterly, jj
For farther information address
THOS. B. MOSS,
PRINCIPAL.
Lexington, Dec. 3, 1875. dec3-2xn
General Ticket Agency
RAILROAD TICKETS
For sale, by all routes, to all principal point*
In the United States.
Buy your Tickets in Athens, and get all
nformntion from
Caft. WM. WILLIAMS,
Agent Southern Express Cos., Athens,***