Newspaper Page Text
CHOICE STORY.
From the Nashville Sunday American.
LORLE.
“Why, I bicle Tom, I don’t think there is
even the prospect of a storm !”
“Still, there will be a storm and a heavy
one,” said the old man doggedly, showing
a little cloud of smoke that lazily lloated out
to sea.
The girl did not answer, but there was a
half amused, half doubtful expression on the
bright, young face, that nettled him, and lie
asked almost angrily, “llow old are you?”
“Almost eighteen.”
And I almost eighty ! For forty years 1
have lived on the sea, and l say, God guide
the poor sailors to-night.
The girl’s noble face changed instantly,
and a brooding, tender light came into the
wine colored eyes —as she silently gazed on
the rippling, dancing waves.
The day had been unusually warm, and
the sun was setting in all the marvelous
glory of Southern climes—the West was fill
ed high with gorgeous clouds of purple and
scarlet, and the dying day—god sent long,
level bars of golden light o'er sea and shore,
turning each tiny wave into molten gold,
and bathing the two watchers in a rich warm
glow.
It was a lovely picture—the bent figure of
the old gray-haired sailor in a half shadow,
and where the radiance was brightest the
girl in all her lithe, active young beauty. She
stood leaning on her oar looking towards the
sea; the rising wind lifted the soft rings of
golden hair, and fluttered the short skirt of
blue cloth. 'Flic sailor blouse with its em
broidered anchors, was open at the tiiroat,
and only the carelessly knotted scarf hid the
warm white bosom beneath.
The long silence was broken by the girl
saying eagerly, as she threw herself down on
the rocks; •• Do you think there is danger
for our boats ? l’apa and mamma crossed
with the fishers this morning.”
“They are too good sailors to venture back
to-night; but, Lorlc—” lie spoke with a ca
dence of sadness in his voice—“there was a
ship crossed the line this evening, and I have
seen so many, oh, so many, brave lives swal
lowed up by the sea !”
“Uncle Tom,” said Lorlc, leaning her fair
young cheek against the rough coat of her
companion, “tell me, please, about the night
I was cast up by the sea. Mamina always
says when I ask her, ‘by and by.”
I was off on a visit to the old college where
marvelous books of adventure, and the beat
of the sounding sea. turned me from an em
bryo lawyer, to a thorough-built seaman, and
only know, my pet, that a ship was wrecked
on those rooks over there; and all the crew
was lost, but one sailor, who was washed
ashore with a child tightly clasped in his
arms. He was unconscious when they pick
ed him up, and only rallied enough to mur
mur “Lorlc,” “Home.” The ship was Eng
gli.sli, and they sent advertisements to Kng
gland hoping to find some friend of our little
waif, but they were never answered, so our
childless pastor legally adopted you as his
own.
“God will reward him for it,” said the lit
tle girl passionately, but in a voice filled with
tears, “Do you think, she continued more
quietly.” “That the man who saved me was
my father ?”
“No, iay dear. I do not, for he was a com
mon sailor, and you were dressed in the fin
est linen and lace—tut, tut, child, you must
not cry,” seeing the imprisoned tears break
ing bounds, “I thought you were brave!”
“lam brave”—she commenced, but he
seized her arm and pointed seaward. The
sun had gone down, but where he had been,
was the faint outline of a sail! The gem
tints had faded from the clouds, and over all
a sober cloak of gray was spreading. Fitful
puffs of wind stirred the dancing waves into
foam, and mingled with the sullen under roar
of the ocean, that tells so well to practiced
ears of coining storms. In the north hurry
ing clouds drafted inky black athwart the
sky, and joined themselves toothers, till they
rested a huge funeral pall over all the hori
zon. A pale, sickly, yellowish glare seemed
to wrap the world in its sulphurous embrace.
With quickly beating hearts the old man
and his companion made their way to the
little fishing hamlet that nestled at the foot
of the cliff.
The glare faded, an 1 the stillness of that
awful darkness was appaling—even the sea
had ceased its moaning, and with all nature
seemed to hold its breath—waiting. Sud
denly, like a giant, loosed in his wrath came
the wind, howling ! raging ! groaning; now
shrieking like demons in hell—now moaning
like a God-forgetting soul in agony !
Tt danced the waters into froth, then toss
ed the foam-crested waves mountain high, or
Cast them thundering on the beach.
Hour after hour passed on, and the storm
raged in all its fury. The darkness was split
at intervals by pale, lambent tongues of light
that, leaping from the clouds, ran along the
earth and filled the blackness with its ghastly
glare. The thunder, like dreadful artillery
in heaven, reverberated peel on peel, until
at last it sunk rumbling into distant si
lence.
“Uncle Tom, did you hear that ?” exclaim
ed Lorle, as she stood with a group of fright
ened women watching the boiling, seething
sea.
“No ; what was it ?”
“A distress bell. There, now ; don’t 3-011
hear it? And oh, there is the gun !” as over
the angry waters came the boom of the can
non. “ I will see what it is !” and before he
could interfere she was speeding towards the
cliff. The wind threatened to blow her from
her feet, as it wrapped the short skirts around
and around her; but now she has reached
the rock, and grasping it with both hands
stood looking seaward.
I he lightning pla3’ed as in mockery around
the disabled mast of a stately ship, that, driv
en by wind and tide, was approaching her
sure destruction on the sharp rocks that like
huge, cruel fingers, pointed far out to sea.
The bell kept up its mournful ringing, and
ever and anon the cannon made its appeal
for aid, when aid there could be none.
Breathless the little group listened for the
shock they knew must come. They heard
the dull crash as the good ship struck the
rocks ! the ofaffrighted women, the hoarse
voice of the crew and as they lowered the
boats, then the death-wail as "the frail boats
went down beneath the engulfing waves.
Moments went by like hours ! The light
ning showed the anxious watchers on shore
the ship at the mercy of the rude waves that
tossed her hither and thither as a thing of
naught. Then the crash as she was the sec
ond time cast headlong on the rocks. “She
can’t stand that much longer,” muttered the
old sailor, lowering his night glass, and turn
ing to Lorle, who was standing beside him.
“Could any one reach the ship by swim
ming ?’’ she asked quietly, so cjuietly that
hi, knowing her so well, looked up quickly.
but the lightning as it played on the calm,
serene face, told nothing.
“Well,” after a pause, he answered, “a
strong, expert swimmer might reach the ship
from the shore, for 1 have noticed since the
tide turned that there is a kind of path where
the Far Hock turns the current, that is not
near so rough as the rest of the sea; but it
would lake a stronger &rm than any ofthese,”
pointing regretfully to his own withered frame,
then to the few old and infirm men that were
alone left alter the fishers had gone out on
their weekly cruise.
“I will go,” said Lorlc, calmly.
“You !” with a gasp. “Lorle, my darling,
you must not, my child ; no !no ! r.o ! You
must not throw your life away like that!
“My life is in God’s hands, and it is my
duty to try and carry relief to those poor
wretches, and not let them perish before my
eyes without one effort to save them. If the
men were here I would not go; but as it is,
1 must. So get the ropes as quickly as you
can, for there is not one moment to waste.”
“Your father,” lie moaned, as lie held her
frantically.
‘Would say, ‘God bless you, my child !’
(and a light, half divine, filled the soft eyes),
“and you, Uncle Sam., arc endangering my
life by not making everything as secure as
possible.”
“My God ! oh my God !” lie cried, in his
anguish, and though he wrung his withered
hands as he loosed his frantic grasp, lie knew
the quiet, resolute nature too well to inter
fere again. There was no one to control her,
and heedless alike of the dismayed expostu
lations of the men and the prayers of the wo
men, she made her preparations.
A mighty rope was knotted around her
waist, and a smaller one tied to the brave
right arm. The frenzied wind had almost
sobbed itself to rest. The flickering light
ning, as it lit the darkness for an instant,
showed the fearless girl standing with up
lifted eyes and clasped hands—praying.
The affrighted women gathered weeping
round, and the rough Irish “mother,” franti
cally kissing her well used rosary, “All, the
Holy Virgin will bliss you entirely, entirely,
so she will, and all the blissed saints will
take care of ye, darlint, so don’t ye fear.”
'Flic yeasty waves threw themselves angri
ly on the shore, and when they receded they
bore a brave young swimmer on their bosom.
Three times she was east almost unconscious
at their feet, and three times she threw herself
into the boiling, turbid waters that whirled
madly around her, as slowly, steadily, she
made her way to the doomed ship. LHce a
plaything in the hands of an irate child, she
was tossed by the angry billows, here and
there, now half buried in water that looked
soft as carded wool, and was as cruel as the
grave. She was raised high above the shore,
then in ink}' darkness, going down ! down !
to almost the very doors of hell! On, and
on—praying, struggling, almost hopeless—
still hoping, trusting to that Father who car
ries the seas in the hollow of Ills hand, and
then, as the loud shout told that the brave
young deliverer had reached the ship, falling
almost fainting on the deck. * * * *
Standing where the shadows were thickest
Lorlc saw the basket make again and again
its perilous passage on the rope, and when
ever the hoarse cheer told of its safe arrival
on the shore, she would clasp her hands and
joyfully murmur thanks to God for Ills great
mercies.
Escaping from the weeping thanks of the
women, she had told how the rrpe being fast
ened to the Land—and basket guided by
careful handling of a “guide rope,” could
reach the shore in safety—then had sought
this place—“ waiting.”
Suddenly, close beside her, she heard a
curious moaning sound, and stooping she
found huddled close to the rails, a bov of
about four years old watching beside a baby
sister, who with a little dog clasped in her
cubby arms was quietly sleeping even in that
pandemonium !! !
“My name is Arthur Dennis.” he told her
in answer to her questions, “and that is lit
tle Kate. Mamma is dead and the}- frowed
her in the sea, “lifting childish blue eyes to
hers. “ I was drejful feard when the wind
blowcd” lie told her confidentially, “the Cap
tain told me to stay right here with Katie
and he would take care of us, but I guess he
fordot." and the babyish lips quivered.
Lifting the baby, who woke and smiled,
in her arms, she made her way to where the
group of wearied sailors kept anxious look
out for the coming basket.
Capt. Allen was a brave man, but he start
ed as turning at tlie touch on his arm. he saw
the pale face shining like a star from the sur
rounding darkness.
“Great God, it was a woman,” he exclaim
ed in his intense astonishment, almost drop
ping the rope on which their very lives de
pended.
In the excitement that prevailed when she
reached the ship, he had very naturally been
deceived by the closely cut hair and changing
suit of sailor bine, into thinking her a boy.
the very boy in fact that had gone over in the
first basket.
“There are two children that have been
forgotten,” she said calmly, trying to quiet
by her calmness the enthusiasm of the sail
ors, and blushing painfully when the Cap
tain, his manly eyes filled with tears, knelt
and raised the wet skirts to his lips.
The emptied basket touched the rail, and
she scarcely demurred when the>- placed her
in it with her self-assumed charge, only- in
sisting that the binding ropes, should fasten,
not her, but the helpless children.
As the light basket swung loose, the flick
ering torch poured its red light full upon the
little group. The sailors saw the radiant
smile and heard the softly uttered “Good
bye.”
The hungry waves eager for more prey
leaped madly beneath them throwing their
foam crests aloft and filling the cowering
children with spray, or opening 3-awning cav
erns as if to swallow the frail basket that
tossed like a feather before the wind.
The rope creaked and swung back and
forth, but on and on they crept. They were
almost safe, when the ship was thrown with
a loud crash upon the rocks and the sadden
jerk swung the light basket over and over
the rope like a withered leaf whirled upon the
wind.
Exhausted b3>- her long swim, the girl’s fin
gers could only cling for a moment to the
basket, then with a low prayer for mercy, she
fell down ! down ! ! down ! ! ! and the beating
waves closed over her bright young head.
All next day tearful watchers haunted the
coast; scattered pieces of the wrecked ship j
strewed the troubled sea or was tossed with
every wave upon the beach; but that for i
which they waited did not come! All night |
the gleaming torches wandered up and down
in an unavailing search—the sea gave no ,
trophy of its victim.
As the sun was rising on a sea of
the wearied watchers met and waited in a '
strange pathetic silence for what the tide
'might bring. For what it did bring ! A slight
breeze was blowing, and ever}' ripple seemed
washed with colors as it flowed gently to
ward the land, and bearing the lustre of the
radiant morning on its breast. And as they
came they coyed lightly but caressingly with
the form they bore upon their bosom. Not
a breath was drawn —nearer and nearer. The
waves seemed loth to relinquish their fury,
for when it seemed their eager hands could
almost touch the passive form they drew it
back to themselves. All uttered a quick cry.
Then as gently as a mother surrenders a
sleeping child, they laid it at their feet. It
was Lorlc, with hands lightly folded as in
prayer, and a divine smile frozen on the per
fect mouth. The sea-weeds clung damp to
her clustering curls, and the knotted rope
told its silent story of her bravery.
Sadly, reverently they lifted her, not even
a sob breaking that perfect peace that pass
eth understanding. The old gray-haired pas
tor, as he pressed his lips to the icy forehead,
murmured low, “Greater love hath no man
than this, that he lay down his life for his
friend.”
THE FARM.
Winter Pastures.
It is desirable to avoid, as far as possible,
an annual expenditure for labor in the man
agement of our lands. We require a certain
amount of forage for winter. Pulling fodder
is one of the most expensive and least profit
able of the operations of the farm. Well
cured fodder is the most palatable forage
which can be given to horses. So is cham
pagne the most agreeable of all artificial fluids
for man. But the fodder is too expensive for
the farmer’s horse, and the champagne too
expensive for the farmer man. Just think of
a farmer going into a hundred acre corn field
with a gang of hands and handling every
separate blade of every corn stalk. Contrast
this with a mower cutting down eight acres
of grass a day, say sixteen tons, raked up by
a horse rake, tedded by horse power, loaded
into the wagon and thence into the barn by
a hay-lifter, untouched by human hands in
the whole process.
But there is a cheaper process than this.
It is one which cannot be adopted at the
North, because the climate will not allow it.
This cheaper plan is to provide winter pas
tures for our mules, horses, colts, cattle, and
sheep, thereby enabling them to mow and
save their own hay without cost to us, either
in the way of negroes, mowers, hay stacks or
barns.
The way to obtain a good winter pasture,
is simple and not expensive. Take a piece
of wood land, thin out the worthless timber,
leaving rail trees and mast-bearing trees.—
The exact distance cannot bo given, because
trees differ very much in the amount of shade
which they produce. The Kentucky rule is
to thin the timber, so that the ground shall
get sunlight at least a portion of the day,
otherwise the grass will be sour and rejected
by live stock. The ground should be well
sprouted ; grubbing is not necessary, though
it is best. The tree lops and brush should be
piled and burned, and the ashes scattered.
Except for appearance, the logs need not be
piled and burned. The ground should not
be plowed ; grass seeds should be sown on
the unbroken ground, and then all the avail
able live stock of the farmer should be turned
upon it, to trample in the seeds. Hogs are
excellent for this purpose, feeding them shell
ed corn, scattering as widely as possible, and
feeding in a different place every day.
The seed sown should consist of orchard,
blue, herd’s and meadow oat grass, if the lat
ter can be obtained. One bushel of this mix
ture to be sowed to the acre—one-half orchard
grass and the other half of the other seeds,
in equal proportions.
Persons wishing an immediate use of this
pasture, may plow or harrow the surface, and
sow r3-e with grass seeds. In such a case the
logs must be burned. The rye will not make
good grain, but will give excellent winter and
spring feed. This operation must be perform
ed in August or September. But most per
sons will prefer the cheaper plan, and sow in
February grass seeds alone. As soon as the
native grasses and weeds appear, live stock
should be turned in to eat them down. They
will not hurt the 3’oung grass, but benefit it
by consolidating the soil. So long as these
weeds and native grasses continue to spring
up they must be fed down, hi the fall they
cease to grow, and the sown grasses should
be left ungraded until New Year, when the
stock should be again put upon them. In a
a year or two, the native grasses and weeds
will disappear b3’ close grazing and tramp
ing, and a good sward of the artificial grasses
will be formed.
If the land has been sprouted, not grubbed,
the sprouting must be repeated two or three
years, unless goats are used. Such a park or
woods winter pasture will not only be an
ornament to the farm, but a source of much
profit to the owner.
We have a great deal of dead capital in
woodland. By adopting the course above
suggested, we preserve our timber and make
our dead capital active. The cost of such a
I woods pasture need not be large. It is in
creased if rye or fall oats are sown, from the
necessary plowing or harrowing, and burning
the logs. For grass alone, the whole expense
need not exceed five or six dollars an acre.
In Nashville, grass seeds can be bought at
the following rates : Blue and Herd's grass,
sl.lO per bushel; Timothy and Orchard grass,
$2.50 to $3 per bushel. If the lot be already
enclosed, the whole expense will be the sprout
ing and burning the brush, and grass seeds
and sowing. A leisure time
is approaching to the farmer; he cannot bet
ter employ it than in putting some of his now
useless woodland to this valuable use.
Almost every farmer can raise, without ap
preciable cost, as much stock as he can win
ter. If he goes to his corn-crib for stock food,
they will soon eat off their heads. With good
winter pastures, he may raise them to profit,
and measurably cease his connection with the
Chincha Islands.—C. W. Howard, in Geor
gia Grange,
SUNDAY READING.
HALF WAY DOINS’.
Brudder Sambo’s Sermon, in Scribner , is better
than some wc have heard not in rhyme :
Belubbed fellow-trabelcrs, in boldin’forth to-day,
1 doesn't quote n© special verse for what 1 has to
say,
De sermon will be bery short, and dis here am de
tex :
Dat half-way doins’ ain't no ’count for dis worl’
or de nex’.
Dis worl’ dat we’s a libbin' in is like a cotton row,
W here ebery colored gentleman has got his line
to hoe,
And ebery time a lazy nigger stops to take a nap,
I)e grass keeps on a growin’ for to smudder up his
crap.
W hen Moses led the Jews acrost de waters ob de
sea,
Dey had to keep a goin’ jes’ as fas’ as fas’ could
be;
Do you s’pose dat dey could ebberhab succeeded
in dcir wish,
And reached de Promised land at last—if dey had
stopped to fish?
My frien s, dar was a garden once, whar Adam
libbed wid Eve,
M id no one 'round to bodder dem, no neighbors
for to thieve ;
And ebery day was Christmas and dey got deir
rations free,
And ebery ting belonged to dem except an apple
tree.
\ on know all about de story—how de snake came
snoopin’ roun’,
A stump-tail, rusty moccasin, a-crawlin’ on de
groun’—
ITow Eve and Adam cat de fruit, and went and hid
deir face,
Till the angel obersecr he came and drove ’em oil*
de place.
Now s’pose dat man and oo’man hadn't tempted
for to shirk,
But had gone about deir gardenin’ and ’tended to
deir work,
Dey wouldn't hab been loaiin’ where dey no busi
ness to.
And de debbil nover’d got a chance to tell ’em
what to do.
No half-way doins’, bredren ! It’ll never do, I
say !
Cos at your task and finish it, and den’s de time to
play—r-
Vor cben if de crap is good, do rain’ll spile de
bolls,
Unless you keeps a pickin’ in de garden ob }'our
souls.
Keep a plowin' and a hoen’, and a scrapin’ ob de
rows,
And when de ginnin's ober you can pay up what
you owes;
But you quits a-workin’ ebery time de sun is hot,
De shcriti \s gwinc to lebby upon ebery ting you's
got.
Y\ hateber 'Lis you's dribin’ at, be sure and dribe
it through,
And don't let miffin' stop you, but do what you's
gwinc to do;
For when you sees a nigger foolin’, den, as sure
as you're born,
You’s gwine to see him coinin’ out de small ccnd
ob de horn.
1 thank you for dc ’tention you has gib dis after
noon.
Sister AY illiams will oblige us by a raisin’ ob de
time—
-1 see dat brudder Johnson's bout to pass around
dehat,
And don’t let’s hab no half-way doins’ when it
comes to dat!
The Converted Atheist.
I have been much impressed by an account
in the ‘-Philosophy of the Plan of Salvation,"
of a converted atheist.
lie was an old man, who unhesitatingly ex
pressed his disbelief of the existence of a
God. lie had become misanthropic in his
feelings, used profane language, and looked
with the deepest hatred on the ministers of
religion.
The old man had been for 3'cars the sub
jeet (if special prayer on the part of his pious
(laughter and son-in-law ; and he was finally
persuaded by them to attend a season of re
ligious worship in the church of which they
were members. During these services, which
lasted several days, by the divine blessing,
he passed from his atheism, and became the
most simple and implicit believer.
One of the first things which he did after
his conversion was to love in a practical man
ner his worst enemy ; he sought him out, ask
ed his forgiveness, and endeavored to benefit
him, by bringing him under the influence of
truth.
After his conversion he ceased not to do
good, as lie had opportunity. Although he
had heard of no such thing having been done
by others, lie made out a list of his old asso
ciates then living within reach of his influ
ence, and for the conversion of those he de
termined to labor as he had an opportunity,
and pray daily. On his list were one hun
dred and sixteen names, among whom were
skeptics, drunkards, and other individuals, as
little likely to be reached by Christian influ
ence as any other men in the region.
Within two years from the period of the
old man’s conversion, one hundred of these
individuals had made a profession of religion.
The Resurrection.
Cannon Miller says : “We cannot read
the New Testament with ordinary attention,
without coming to the conclusion that God
would have our faith and hope centered upon
the filial consummation of our glory, at the
second coming of the Lord. Some have writ
ten so speculatively, and some even so pre
sumptuously, of this, that not a few Christians
are prejudiced against the truth that the sec
ond coming of Christ, and the resurrection of
our bodies at his coming, is the great hope of
the Church. With Christ now, the foretaste ;
with Christ at his coming, the fullness. 80,
then, as we gaze at the vacant chair, and miss
the‘vanished hand’and the ‘voice that is
still,’ when our dead seem so far off—let faith
realize their nearness. “ The next room, not
even another house, only another room in
God’s great home, the Church. The power
of death to separate has been terrible to us
—it has robbed us of so much—awhile it has
cursed us. But it has not touched the union
of our sleeping dead with Christ, nor ours, if.
indeed, by the power and indwelling of his
Spirit, we be in Christ. They and we have
life in him. Only they are ‘delivered from
the burden of the flesh,’ we vet struggle un
der it.”
Men’s lives should be like the day—more
beautiful in the evening, or like summer—
aglow with promise; and like the autumn,
rich with the golden sheaves, where good
works and deeds have ripened on the field.
BARGAINS!
NEW GOODS 5 REDUCED PRICES
STANLEY & PINSON,
HAVE JUST RECEIVED A FULL ASSORTMENT OF
Dry Goods, Groceries, Ilats, Caps, Boots, Shoes, Hardware, Earthenware, Hollow
"*T? P
Ready-Made Clothing,
Ladies’ and Misses Dress Goods, of various styles ; Medicines, Drugs, Dye-Stuffs p
Oils, A FULL VARIETY OF NOTIONS to please the little children as We jj
those of a larger growth. All of which, together with many other things
Will be sold Cheaper than Ever
FOR CASH. {U ;|
Zu SCHEVENEIX <fc I
Broad street, Athens, G-a.,
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Clocks, Jewelry, Silver and Plated Ware,
—{| BRIDAL PRESENTS, |)-
GUNS, PISTOLS, AMMUNITION, SPECTACLES, EYE-GLASSES, MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS
CANES, FANCY ARTICLES, csc.„ #c.
HAVING BEST AND EXPERIENCED WORKMEN, WE ARE PREPARED
To do Repairing and Gold and Silver Plating in superior stlye.
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Established, 1785!
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Specimen copies of any issue sent free.
\\ ALSII \\ RIGHT, Proprietors,
Augusta, Ga.
Jackson County.
George Gathright vs. Sallie GathrighC-Libel
Divorce. Rule to Perfect Service.
It appearing to the Court that the defendant
floes not reside in this count} 7 ", and it further ap
pearing that she does not reside in this State, it
is, on motion of counsel, ordered that said defend
ant appear and answer at the next term of this
Court, else that the case be considered in default
and the plaintilf allowed to proceed. And it is
further ordered that this Rule be published in the
Forest News once a month for four months pur
suant to the next term of this Court. This March
3d, 187 b M. M. PITTMAN, Pl’fPs Att’y.
Granted .
GEO. I). RICE, Judge S. C.
A true extract from the minutes of Jackson Su
perior Court, Febiuaiy Term, IS7G.
march*2s T. 11. NI BLACK, Clerk.
Warning to Trespassers.
ALL PERSONS are hereby warned not to
H****®- I'isli or otherwise upon
the lands of the undersigned. Under Full Penalty
of the Law. [fo] S. D. MITCHELL.
Family Bibles.
I CAN sell better bargains in FA MILY BTBLES
than any travelling Bible Agent. Elegant
Quarto Bibles, new type, splendidly illustrated,
at from $3.00 to $5.00. With heavy gilt clasp, com
plete Bible Dictionary, history of the Bible, Con
cordance, £c., and 500 illustrations—so.so toSS.OO.
Call and examine my stock before you buy. T
guarantee satisfaction. T. A. BURKE.
Bookseller and Stationer, Athens. Ga.
Legal Weight.
The following is the Legal Weight of
bushel, as fixed by an Act of the General Ai
sembly, approved February 20th, 187a:
Wheat, .... 60 pound)
Shelled Corn, ... 56
Ear Corn, ... 70
Peas, - 60
Rye, - ... 56 “
Oats, 32 " j
Barley .... 47
Irish Potatoes, - - - 60
Sweet Potatoes, - - 55
White Beans, - - 60
Clover Seed, - - 60
Timothy, - - 45
Flax, - . 56
Hemp, - - • 44
Blue Grass, - - - 14
Buck Wheat, - - - 52
Unpeeled dried Peaches, - -33
Peeled dried Peaches, - - 38
Dried Apples, . . 24
Onions, - - .57
Stone Coal. - - 80
Unslaked Lime, - - - 80
Turnips, - - 55
Coni Meal. - - - - 48
Wheat Bran, - - 20
Cotton Seed, - .30
Ground Peas, - - - 25
Plastering Hair, - - 8
SEND 50 CENTS FOR A YEAR’S SUBSCRIPT! 0
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M FOUNDRY, 3
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TYPE FOUNDRY.
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York, for Pamphlet of 100 pages, j
ists of 3.000 newspapers, and estimates
cost of advertising.
IVT OTICE. —All persons are hereby
i. \ to Fish upon the lands of the uD
under full penaltvW the law. „TcTll'b
May lath. J. • J l *’ 1