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BY SAWTELL & JONES.
CUTHBERT, GEORGIA, ^THURSDAY, JANUARY 27, 1870.
VOL. IV-
<ttjc t£utl)bcrt Appeal.
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Humble JLife.
Tell me not that be’s a poor man, fgF
That his drea is coarse and bare ,
o’ell me aot his daily pittance
Is a woman’s scanty fare;
Tell me not his birth is bumble,
That his parentage is low ^
la be honest in bis action T
That is all I want to know.
la his word to be relied on ?
Has bis character no blame T
Then I care not if he’s low-born;
Then I core not wbate’er his name-
Would he from an unjust action
Turn away wRb scornful eye!
Would he than defame another
Soonor on the scaffold die ?
Would be spend bis hard-gained earnings
On a brother in distress !
Would he succor the afflicted,
And the weak one ? a wrssgs .redress ?
Then he is a man deserving
Of my love and my esteem,
And I care not what his birthplace
In the eyes of man may seem.
Let it be a low-tbatcbed hovel,
Let it be a clay-built cot,
Let it be the parish work-house—
In my eyes it matters not.
And if others will disown him
As inferior to their caste,
Let them do it—I‘ll befriend him,
As a brother to the last.
Point D’Alenoon.
PABT I.—-ALTOS DE LONGUEVILLE.
There are some towns in old Europe
that never appeur to change. They
lee out of the highway of travel, and do
uot possess sufficient attractions of their
own to induce the tourist to deviate
from the beaten path. Tbo inhabitants
know little or nothing of the outer world,
and their sphere of action is hounded
by the walls with which many of these
■old cities are surrounded Such are to
be found in France, Germany, even
■Wales, without mentioning Sweden and
Norway, ilolLnd and Belgium, bowev-
■ev, contain them in their greatest per
fection, Belgium is the more iaterestiug
of the two, historically; and it is in
■one of her seldom visited cUxee that our
story commences.
Courtrai is a very old city; part ol
the Roman wall still remains. Her fea
■dal castle is nearly entire, though now
applied to another pm pose than that for
which it was built ; but at the time we
write of—namely, at the beginning of
the seventeenth century—the position
of Courtrai, with respect to Fiance, ren
dered it expedient to keep the strong
fortification in good repair, for it had
endured many a siege, and more than
once had fallen into the hands of its
warlike neighbors. At the present day,
it has many houses outside the wails,
built according to the taste or fancy of
the proprietors; but the majority of the
intramural buildings have retained the
massive architecture of the Middle
Ages.
In the year 164—, a widow woman
■was sitting in one of the small ^tone-
houses of the Beguinage. Her hands
were busily engagod with her work,
ami a young girl sat at her feet, watch
ing the deft movements of the old lady’s
fingers, who was talking away all the
time that she was busily employed.
“Yes, my dear,” she said, “your fath
er was the youngest of a noble
French family, and was well brought
tip, wanting notliing as long as bis fath
er lived; but when your grandfather
died, all the possessions descended to
bis eldest son, your unde. The second
son went into the army, and married
one^jf the rich Reguiers; but your fath
er, who had just left the University,
could do nothing. His eldest brother
promised to allow him a hundred francs
a month until he got some post fitted to
his birth and education; and his other
brother and married sisters said that
there would always be a place for him
at their table whenever he felt inclined
to visit them. At the end of three
months, however, his brother appeared
to pay his allowance grudgingly; talked
about the increasing expense of his
growing family; wondered why your
father didn’t find something to do, and
so forth ; while his sisters were always
going out when lie paid them a visit—
so that, in short, be felt that he was de
for]), and one day he threw his noble
birth to the four winds, exclaiming, what
a stupid rule that was which forbade the
well-born to work; came to this
place, engaged himself to a manufac
turer of tapestry, and set to work
with a good heart to gain his own bread.
His family was scandalized at this
act; he had brought disgrace on their
name. A De Longueville to work ! One
of that ancient house a tradesman 1
From that day the doors of all his rela
tives were closed to him. His letters
of explanation were possibly not read
—were certainly never answered—and
all intercourse with the Marquis ceased
entirely.
Three years after his arrival ho mar
ried me and that was the finishig blow
to his disgrace; for you must know, my
dear, that I am not of gold birth. Good
birth or not, I loved your father dearly,
and was a true wife to him. Ho got
-on very well, and his scholarship stood
him in good stead, for scarcely any one
here could write, and very few could
read. In the course oi time be set up
for himself, and all appeared to be pros
perous and well.
ll was not till four years after our
marriage that you was born, and your
father, as in duty bound, notified the
head of the house of the fact, as he
had previously done of his marriage,
but, as ia the former case, no notice
was taken of the event. I do not say it
a* a reproach to voupmy dear child, but,
from the day of your birth, nothing ap
peared to go well. First oi all, fire
broke out in the town, which destroyed
a great deal of our merchandise. Then
the French government began to en
couraged the manufactories at Arras;
and after that, worst of all, there were
war, and levies, aud taxes, without aov
trade doing whatever. We got poorer
and poorer, and every thing seemed to
melt away. Your father’s courage,
also, appeared to be gone, and he would
sit all day long in his room, passively
accepting the bad news that poured in
upon him.
When you were eight years old, some
French regiments swept into the town.
I can see them now, with the gay civ-
aliers—all plumes and lace, and gay
colors, and large boots with great spurs
—and fine ladies in the tram of the ar
my. I took you to the window, fend
your lather came also to look at the gay
scene. Suddenly, I saw a deep aisb
come to his cheek, as a tall, bandijpme her
man rode carelessly by, apparently
watching some workmen who 'were re
pairing one of the old gateways.
“Great heavens,” cried he, “that is
Armand, my brother, who knows that I
live in this town and has not come to see
me—perhaps knows my house, and will
not look up as he passes it.” He turn
ed away from the window, and sat down
with that despairing look that grieved
me so mneh. For the remainder of that
day he hardly spoke, and I knew that
bis thoughts were with the home of his
childhood, and of the days when he
and that cold brother played together,
thoughtless of the future, little dream
ing that, the time would come when
they should be alien to onejanothc.r
The following morning, he told me to
dress you in your best clothes, and I
remarked that lie, himself wore bis /tie-'
day suit. He theu told me that he was
determined to make one effort to touch
his brother’s heart; and that was to pre
sent himself before him with you. “I
feel,” said be, sadly, “that I have hot
long to live, and God knows wbat will
become of my child when I die. For,
after all, she is a De Longueville,” he
contmsed. “She has never sullied the
family name; her hand has nevur turn
ed to any thing that he might call meni
al. As for myself, I have no right to
allow my anger to stand in the way of
my child’s welfare; and however bitter
it may be to me to humble myself, I will
undergo the ordeal.”
You were a very pretty child then,
my Aiice. Your fair hair flowed oyer
your shoulders, in long curls. Your
dark eyes and eyelashes looked darker
still by contrast with your fair complex
ion ; and, as I kissed you before your
father ted you away, I thought that
surely the stern captain would be mov
ed, aud would take you to his heart.
It is now neatly ten years ago, yet I
well remember every incident of that
day, and how long the time seemed that
you were absent I was sick at heart
at the thought that, perhaps, he might
want you to go away with him ere my
time was come, and what, then, was 1
to do ? My whole life was wrapped up
—not regarded as an iincumbrance.—
He dwelt upon their past affection ; of
the love he still cherished, spite of their
broken intercourse; aud implored him,
ia the name of their mutual father, to
accept Alice as the only legacy that he
coaid bequeath, and bring her up as
bis own daughter.
This letter he confided, on his dead-
bed, to his wife, enjoining her to give it
to Alice, in case of the necessity for so
doing ever arriving.
In less than a year after the above-
mentioned scene between the mother
and daughter, a violent epidemic devas
tated the territory of Ilainault, which
carried off upward -of one-third of tire
inhabitants of Courtrai— Madame de
Longueville among the rest. Alice was
left alone,
AloDe, in the very truth 1—aiooe in
att solitary in her sorrow l—
Ibr old age is selfish, and the other Be-
guinea were more careful to look after
then own health and avoid contagion,
than te comfort or console the poor,
bereaved girl. So that, had it not been
for a good ©id priest, she would have
been the only mourner, as the sexton
laid the remains of one she loved so well
in their last resting place. Her grief
was silent, while the good father ied her
away from the scene of her calamity.
PABT II. MADAME COLBEKT.
Louis XIV, was king and Colbert
was his minister. The ambitious mon
arch, hare escaped from the iron grasp
of Mazarin, had adopted the astute Col
bert as his counselor. Philip IV, held
the Netherlands with a feeble grasp,
and the frontier towns were as often
garrisoned by French, as they were by
the- soldiers of the most Catholic mon
arch. The inhabitants, except during
an actual siege, were not disturbed in
their avocations, aud having no heredita
ry attachment to either ot the contend
ing parties, took little or no interest in
the result of « battle, provided they
could follow their pursuits in peace.
At that time the French had overrun
Hainault, and were strongly fortified in
Courtrai; and a deputation of priests,
headed by their bishop, left that city
for Paris, in order to lay certain griev
ances, under which their order was suf
fering, before the Court. Therefore,
Alice gladly availed herself of their es
cort to seek her uncle, the Marquis de
Longueville, and present her father’s
letter. The Marquis’s chateau was at
Clermont, a few leagues from Paris,
and the good fathers bad to pass
through it on their way to the capital.
The fair young orphan sold all the mov
ables that ber mother had left, reserv
ing only some few relics of her dear
parents, and, with sad forebodings, set
out on wbat was, to her, a long journey,
aud the only event that had hitherto
broken upon her even coarse of life.
After a tedious pilgrimage—for trav
eling, in those days, was difficult and
very wearying—the small cavalcade ar.
rived at Clermont, and passed the night
at the monastery—taking ^fare. belore
in J*m ; I could not .live without you -departing, to leave Alice in good bands.
Nevertheless, I felt that if they desired ,rt ,J —* ■* **-
your presence, I must let you go.—
Again : you might be the means of re
conciliation between your father and
his family. I felt that I would be con
tent to sink unnoticed into my grave, if
y«u and he could be admitted there.—■
And thus the time wore on, and you
came uot back ; so that I was sure that
your father bad forgotten me do his hap
piness, and that you, in your delight at
seeing all the gay uniforms and the
soldiers, would not think of time.
At length you came back and I saw
at a glance that the attempt had been
unsuccessful. Shall I confess it ?—a
thrill of joy passed through my heart—
a selfish sense of preserving my treas
ure. That soon vanished at the sight
of the wretched look in your father’s
face. Yon only saw that something
was wrong, as your father said almost
savagely: “Take off her fine tilings, and
clothe her in rags. Fool that I was,
to think that uffectioc could conquer
pride.” 1 led you away, and when I
returned he was sitting again at the
window, gazing vacantly at the crowd
that passed to and fro in tins busy street.
He turned his head as I entered, and,
in answer to my inquiring louk, Bait!:
“1 went up to him with our sweet child,
in my hand, and said, ‘Armand, brother,
don’t yon know me? I.have brought
your little niece, my child, to see yon.’
He turned fiercely around, and exclaim
ed, 'I have no brother here; he is dead,
aud he and his are blotted out of the
records of our house.’ I could have
struck him, wife, bmt I felt little Alice’s
hand tremble in mine, and she pulled at
me, saying, ‘Let us go away, papa ; I
am afraid.’ So I swallowed my wrath
for her sake, and ior that sake deter
mined on one more effort. ‘Brother,’
said I, ‘I ask nothing for myself; my
time is short on earth, but when I am
gone, will you befriend this little one ?
Will yon take her to the home of her
father’s childhood, so that she may be
brought up like tbe childreu of our
housd'?’ ‘Yes,’ interrupted be, ‘so that
site may act as her father did, and bring
disgrace and dishonor on the name she
bears. No, no; let her go and spin
flax, and scrub tbe convent floors. I’ll
have none of her. I tell you, man, that
I know you not,’ he added fiercely, as a
crowd of his brother officers came up;
‘begone,and never more offend mysigbt.’
My first impulse was to humble bim by
proclaiming who I was, and to what I
was reduced; but I merely walked
quickly away. I could not come borne
then; so Alice and myself wandered
through the city, looking at the soldiers,
who seemed to consider the place as
forever their own.”
It was not long after the events de
scribed by the widow had taken place,
the poor trader, broken in fortunes, bro
ken in spirit, took to his bed, and would
have died with a sigh of relief, had not
the thought of his child racked his last
moments. He knew that the good Beg-
uines would admit his widow into their
community; he knew that Alice would
be safe under her care as long as she
lived; but, after death, what was to
become of her ? His thoughts ever re
verted to his own family. Nothing was
to be hoped for from that of his wife,
she being the daughter of fl Spanish
soldier, who had married a peasant girl.
Surely, thought he, when I am dead
and gone, they will forgive the father,
in the child !—they can not thrust her
from the gates 1 He wrote an earnest
appeal to his brother, the marquis, who
was rich, full of titles and honors, with a
large family of his own, to which this
fairy-like, bright child would, of a cer
tainty, be looked upon as an acquisition
The poor girl could not sleep too
whole of that night, notwithstanding
the fatigue ofhefjourney. Her thoughts
were continually reverting to that
dreaded morrow, which was to decide
whether she should be admitted into
her family or not; and yet, while Joss-
ing and agitated, she feared the day
light.
Yet, as she stood, the following morn
ing, at the portals of the chateau, there
was no servile fear of greatness in her
mind. She felt that she stood on the
threshold of her forefathers ; that she
was of km to those who were reared
under that roof; and, as a lackey ush
ered her into the reception-ball, she trod
tbe floor of the vast apartment as though
she had been accustomed to it from
childhood. It is true that she glanced
around the walls, and looked withyoUDg
curiosity at tbe old paintings, and the
armor, and the great carved oak fire
place; but she no longer felt the dread
of the past night, and, when the Mar
quis entered, stood up before him as
proud as 1 si reset?
She gave him the letter, but, before
he opened it, he looked long and earn
estly at her faee. He partly guessed
the truth, as his brother’s lineaments
came back to his memory. Ho broke
the seal and read slowly; but Alice, as
she watched his countenance, saw no
relaxation of that cold, haughty ex
pression which bis features possessed
when he entered.
“This can not be !” he said, without
a pause, as he finshed readiag the let
ter; “young lady, this can not be!—
Yonr father left us of his own will, ask
ed no advice, confided his intention to
no one, and took that step which forev
er shut him oat from this house. I
have vowed never to keow him or his.
However, you are his daughter; you
still bear our name. If you will change
that name, aud assume another, I will
graut you an annual stipend that will
be sufficient for yonr support during
yonr life.”
As Alice rose and stood opposite the
Marquis, there was a marked resem
blance between them. Her pale face
was as rigid as his, her forehead was
held as high, aud her voice as firm, as
she said :
“Is this your final answer to the let
ter ?”
“I have no more to say.”
Alice de LoDgneville bowed her head
and walked through the broad hall, re
turning the salute of the seneschal with
the air of a duchess ; passed along the
avenue that led to the great gates with
the same composure; but once outside
the domain and unobserved, the hot
blood rushed to her cheek, even to her
eyes.
She went baok to the convent, and
hid herself from all eyes. The whole
of'that day her looks were turned to
the great oak-trees that surrounded the
manor. She pictured to herself the
time when her father had played there,
a boy, and had hunted there as a man—
and now he was in his grave, and she
was forbidden to cross tbe threshold.—
All that morn and afleruoon she sat at
that window. The summons to dinner
was unheeded, and a little before sun
set an irresistible impulse urged tier to
see for tbe last time the house and park
of her ancestors.
She made her way to the old ruined
wing, with its fallen tower, and silting
'on the ivy-clad stones, watched the
sinking sun. She was far enough from
the inhabited part of the house to bo free
from interruption ; and there she sat ti 1
tbe cold evening dew made her shudder,
and tbe full moon cast black shadows in
tho angles of the walls. She felt weak
and faint: her long fast, joined-^fp tbe
excitement of the day, had been too
much for her. She dragged herself
slowly along the paths that led outward
—growing weaker and weaker, until at
length she found herself iu the highway,
cling to some iron raiiigs for suppotkaud
then all grew dark, and she knew no
more. Before this house, which she had
fondly hoped would bo her shelter,
and where she would find the calm
peace of home, the poor orphan felt her-
seif dying. Worn ont and prostrated,
she sank down with her face to the
ground, and lay there utterly senseless.
In a short time the noise of wheels
and horsemen was heard approaching,
and soon a carriage drawn by four hor
ses, and surronnded by an escort of cav
aliers, came in sight. One of these lat
ter reined up bis hone suddenly, as be
saw,-feyrth* light of the moon, the dark
'veil wadmaefc dress of Alice, as it
on the light-colored gravel of the path
way.
“What is the matter, D’Arteviile?”
said a young and pretty woman, putting
her head out of tbe window; and then,
herself seeing the caose, she stopped tbe
carriage, and alighted. “Great heav
ens 1 it is a woman that has fainted,”
said she, raising her in her arms, and
lookiBg around for some house. No
sign of a habitation was to be seen; so
calling some of her people, she ordered
them to carry the young girl into her
carriage, and then turning to M. D’Ar-
teville, said: “Be so good as to stay
here I can see, by tbe beauty and the
youth of this girl, that some one will
claim her. You will tell them that Ma
dame Colbert, the wife of the king’s
minister, has taken her off to Versail
les”
M. d’Arteville bowed acquiescence,
and Madame Colbert got into her car
riage, placed herself by the side of Alice,
who had not recovered her senses, and
whirled away as fast as tho lour horses
could go.
Marie, daughter of Jacques Charrons
—the lord of menars and high steward
of Blois—had married the great minis
ter, Colbert. She not only brought bin
a considerable dowry, but, what was of
greater consequence, a mind and under
standing that, while superintending the
brilliant fetes, or inventing some sew
costume for that extravagant period,
never lost sight of any thing that would
aggrandize her husband’s power, or in
crease his influence.
Early the following morning, D’Arte-
villo, having learned a portion of Alice’s
history and conjectured the rest, repair
ed to Versailles, where he bad an audi
ence of the wife of the minister. Her
own physician had been immediately
sent to attend tbe young girl and he rep
resented that there was no serious dan
ger—only excessive weakness, the re
sult of past nervous excitement. He re*
commenled absolute repose for one day,
and insured a cure for the following.—
Bo Madame Colbert determined to hear
her story from Alice’s own lips, and if it
was as she supposed, she would take
her into ber household.
Alice’s story was soon told, and she
thankfully accepted the home that was
offered to her. Her health was quickly
restored, and the bloom that returned to
the cheek, together with the vivacity ot
her manner, endeared her more and
more to her newly found protector.
One morning early, the minister sent
to beg an audieDce, and was in such
haste that he followed close upon the
heels of his messenger.
“You see me in the greatest distress!”
he said, so much excited as not to no
tice that Alice was in the room.—
“Mme. de Grespigny has married the
Duke de Nevers.’
“I know that; bat what then ?” an
swered Madame, in vain seeking tbe
meaning of this speech.
“But he has given an entire trimming
to her wedding dress, of Venice point-
lttco ’’
“Well, wbat’s the harm of that ?” said
bis wife, almost laughing.
The minister continued with increas
ed excitement: “And this lace cost thir
ty six thousand frances; and what is
worse, created a great sensation at the
last Court ball.”
“Very well,” she again replied ; bnt
without sgiiliug, although she could not
conceive what all this would lead to.
“What, Madame, can’t you see that
all the ladies of the Court, yourseff
among the first, will send to Venice for
your lace.”
“If that would vex you, you may rest
assured that I shall not.”
“You are speaking for yourself, Mad
ame; bat the other women will all go
to Venice for their lace, and will drain
France of her capital. France is not
rich enough just now to allow our wo
men to buy their dresses of foreigners;
and all the money we send there enrich
es them ami impoverishes ns. We
haven’t one single Jace manufactory to
oppose that of Venice.”
He rose to go, and his wife said,
“Whoever should see the Minister’s
aDxioos face to day, would little think
that tbe cause is a bit of lace.”
“Ah 1 Marie, Marie, after all, you are
only fit to talk lace to.”
He went out, and after he was gone,
his wife said bitterly, “I would give a
great deal that he had not said that to
me.”
“You must -make him repent of it,
dear mistress,” said Alice.
“But how !” said Madame Colbert,
“Is it possible to see this famous
lace?”
“Certainly ; the Duchess is my great
friend.”
“Well, then, quick, dear lady, give
me but one fine, so that the Ducbtss
shall show me this magnificent and uni
que robe, and—but I will say nothing,
until I am certain of success—I fear—I
hardly dare tell you—but if I can devote
the labor of my life, as a recompense for
you kindness, I will do it; therefore, I
entreat you, for a word to the Duchess.”
“You silly child. You will be tired.
You want to go out”
“Ob, I shall not be in the least tired;
I have only one desire, and this is to see
this lace.”
“I can easily satisfy you on that
head;” so, taking up a rich tablet of
ebony and gold she wrote :
‘•Deab AsrrotsEn-E—Accept this tri
fling souvenir, and let one of my women
look at your Ve iice lace, the beauty of
which has made so much noise in the
world. Your affectionate
“Mabie Colbert.”
Alice seized eagerly tbe tablets, aDd
flow out of the room. W ben she re
turned, instead of repairing to her mis
tress, she shat herself up in her apart
ment, begging that she might be left
undisturbed for one week. Partly be
cause she hoped something from tbe
young girl's enthusiasm, aud partly be
cause her affection for ber prompted the
yielding to tbe whim, Madame Colbert
gave ordeis that Alice’s request should
be respected—indeed, she respected it
herself. At the end of the week, Alice
reappeared in her mistress heudeir, and
her face was radiant with joy.
“Madame,” she said, “I addressed
myself to you, to ohtaia a moment’s au
dience with Monseigneur the Minister.”
“Without letting me know the rea
son 1” replied Madame Colbert. “Well
come along”
It was the hour when Colbert was
scheming those vast plans which shed
such lustre over the reign of Louis XIV.
No one fexcept his wife dared knock at
hi*d oot at that moment; and, as they
Uy want gjjjpg, Marie told ber companion
itr£ wnat atxnd stip they were taking.
At the noise of tbe door creaking on
its hinges, Colbert turned sharply round,
with an angry expression; but, at the
sight of his wife and tho young girl, his
brow cleared, for he was Bure that only
something very important would make
Madame Colbert interrupt him. So,
with a charming smile, he waitod for his
wife to speak, when, to her great aston
ishment, Alice broke the silence.
“Monseigneur,” she said, opening the
boa, “will you do me the honor to ex
amine this lace, and say ii that of Ma
dame the Duchess is superior ?”
“It is the same—the very same! Why
this is a miracle 1” said Colbert, whose
baud almost trembled under the light,
vaporous material. “Where does this
work come from—who has made it ? In
vhat part of the world does that fairy
Sve who can imitate so well f”
“It is no fairy, ;Mon»eigneur; ODly a
»oor young orphan, too happy to repay
by tbe work of her hands, the goodness,
that your wife lias bestowed on her.—
Flemish by birtb, I have often watched
the working girls making lace, and
learned all tbe mysteries of the trade.—
At Courtrai, I used to amuse myself by
making new patterns aDd fresh stitches
for the youDg girls, and they used to
come to me if anything difficult or out of
the way was wanted. At last, it was
only necessary for me too see a piece of
work twice, in order to understand it;
and if your Lordship will give me a
building and some young girls, I will
make a workshop of the former, and
skilful lace-makers of tbe latter."
Colberts quick intellect seized upon tbe
idea at once ; but be said, sadly ; “They
will be made in France, and our grand
ladies prefer to buy from the foreigner.
What will compel them to buy this lace,
when made ?’
“The Fashion, Monseigneur 1” said
Alice. “Let the King command that
the first lace that comes from the work
shop shall be given to the Duchess, who
will prefer her royal present to her Ve
netian lace ; and tbe second to Madame
Colbert. They will both wear them at
all balls aDd pnblio spectacles. If it
does not become the rage, then I will
cfose my workshop.”
What she desired was accomplished.
The Court was going to Aleneen and
Colbert sent to Flanders for thirty young
girls, whom be established at his cha
teau of Lourny, near tbe city, with Alice
de Longueville at their head, to whom
he advanced 50,000 francs.
When the first pieces of lace were
made, the King, instigated thereto by
Colbert, appointed a day to inspect
them, informing his conrtiers that he
would show them something better than
Venice point The King and the whole
Court were delighed. The former or
dered large sums to be given to Made
moiselle de Longueville out of the treas
ury, and commanded that no other lace
should appear at Court
And thus rose aDd prospered the fa
mous Point d’Alencon; and Colbert
said, as lace-making schools spruug up
all over tbe couatry :
“Fashion is to France what the mines
of Peru are to Spain.”
And Alice became Comtesse d’Alen
con.—Overland Monthly.
SA VANN AH CARDS.
P- H. BEHN>
COTTON and RICE FACTOR
AKD
General Commission Merchant,
West of the Exchange-,
BAT STREET, * : SAVANNAH, GA.
ang!9 6ra*
AUSTIN & ELLIS,
COMMISSION
FORWARDING MERCHANTS
aud Cottou Factors,
SAVANNAH, < • s < GEORGIA-
X^T Bagztng and Ties and other articles furn
ished, and advances made upjn Cotton on Con
signment or for side. aagl9-6m
COTTON TIES! COTTON TIES
Doan’s Patent Self-Adjusting
HORIZONTAL COTTON TIE
A S AGENTS for the above narasd Patent, we
beg leave to commend it to the attention of
Planters and Merchants.
This TIB is a decided improvement, aad contains
the advantages of
GREAT STRENGTH,
GREAT simplicity.
EASE IN MANIPULATION.
Being superior to any other TIE manufactured,
we can confidently recommend it to the public.
JN0. W. ANDERSON'S SONS A CO.
angl9-6rn Agents in Savannah, Ga.
JOSEPH FINEGAN & CO,
Cotton Factors
AND
COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
BAT STREET,
SAVANNAH, GEORGIA.
Liberal Advances ma ie on Cotton consigned
to os or to our Correspondents in New York and
Liverpool. auglt-ly*
PALMER & DEPPISH,
WHOLESALE AMD RETAIL DEALBS Ilf
HARDWARE,
RUBBER BELTING,
AGRICULTURAL IMPLEMENTS,
Powder, Shot, Caps and Lead.
148 Congress & 67 St. Julian Sts.
SAVANNAH, GEORGIA.
ang!9 6m #
SAVANNAH CARDS.
A. M. SLOA*.
J. H. Sloan.
A. M SLOAN & 00,
COTTON FACTORS *
ajto
General Commission Merchants
CLASfloax a Cunningham’s range,
BAY STREET,
SA YANNaR, i .• GEORGIA*
Bagging and Rope or Iron Ties, advanced on
crops. Liberal c sh advances made on consign,
ments for sale in Savannah, or on shipments to re*
liable correspondents m Live! pool, New Yor
Philadelphia, or Raltimohe. aagl9-6m*
SA VANNAH CARDS.
H. H- LINVLILE,
WITH
S. W. GLEASON,
v * *
Iron and Brass Foundry and Ma
chine Works,
Manufacturer and dealer in
S UGAR MILLS, SUGAR PANS, Gin Gear,
Cotton Screws, Shafting, Pullers. Portab’e
and Stationary Steam Engines, Corn Mills and Ma
chinery of all kinds.
St. J alias Street, West of the Market,
SAVANNAH, GA.
Orders respectfully solicited.’ ang!9tf
M. ECTCHCM.
A. L. MaBTEIDC*.
KETCHUM & HARTBIDGE.
BANKERS
- .AUD • ’ *
commission’ '-merchants,
EXCHANGE BUILDING,
SAVANNAH, : : : GEORGIA
Rkfirksccs :— Mo.es ?*ykir, Preside,t City
Nome, Ceahier Pint National Bank, Baltimore;
M. McMichaei, Caahier First National Bank, Phila
delphia.
auglS 1,
a. A. scBwan.
Isaac a. laafix.
Ccxiosrrv.—The Dunkirk Journal
says that a curious individual was
greatly perplexed, at the opening of the
Masonic rooms, to understand the wbys
and wherefores"of the three large can
dles which ha3 conspicious positions.—
He viewed them on all sides, thought
fully summing up in bis miud their pro
bable use. At last his patience was
exhausted, and be asked a Mason wbat
those candles were for. The Mason,
looking about him to see that no one
was near, and exacting the most sol-
emn promises of secrecy, got close up
to the ear of his friead, and with bated
breath said : “The candles are to burn.”
The curious man hasn’t told any per.
son about it, but somehow such things
will leak out.
What a Single Dollar WilY Do.—
A paper in Illiuois talks in this way;
“It yon owe but one single dollar, go
and pay him, when there is so little
money we ought to keep it moving
around lively. Jim owed us, and we
owed Bill, and Bill owed Jim. Jiin got
mad because we made him pay oue
morning last week; but we paid Bill,
and Bill paid Jim, and Jim went to bed
that night happy as a clam, with just as
much money as he had in the morning,
and three men out of debt.”
GROOVER, STUBBS & CO.,
COTTON FACTORS
AN»
General Commission Merchants
Baj Street, SAVANNAH, GA.
Bayyinj. Ties, Bops and other Supplies
Furnished.
Also, Liber*! C*sb Advances made on Consign
ments for nls or shipment to Liverpool or North
ern Forts. C. E. GROOVER, Savannah,
C. F. STUBBS, “
aagl9-6m A. T. MACINTYRE, Tbomasville
R. H. Amdewmx,
John W. Anderson,
G. W. Anderson, Jr.,
A. H. Cole.
JOHN W. ANDERSON’S SONS & Co
COTTON, FACTORS
AND
COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
Anderson/i Block, Drayton St., near the Bay,
8AYAVHAH, GA.
L IBERAL CASH ADVANCES made on CON
SIGNMENTS for sale in Savannah, or on
Shipment to reliable correspondents in Liverpool,
New York, Philadelphia, Boston or Baltimore.
To old patrons we return thanks ; to naw ones,
promise our best services.
ALSO—
Agents Empire Line of Side Wheel 8‘eimers
to New York- sagllMy*
SCHWARZ & BRADY,
Wholesale and Retail Dealers in
O -A. IFL PETS,
Floor Oil Cloths. Mattings,
SHADE LINENS,
WALL PAPER, WINDOW SHADES,
COBNICKS, CURTAINS, CORDS, TASSELS,
115 Brouyhlon Sired, Wyllg's Building,
(South Side, Between Bull end Whitaker Ste.)
SAVANNAH, GEORGIA.
tw Poit Office Box 494. ao e lS-lr*
THOMAS M. ALLEN,
WITH
COLQUITT & BAGGS,
COTTON FACTORS
AND
Co minis s ion Alerch ants
Savannah, Ga.
Liberal Advances on % ConfiignmeDtawhen
pesiicd.
niayl3-6a
CLAGHORN & CUNNINGHAM,
Wholesale and Retail
Grocers,
And dealers in
Fine Wines, Liquors, Segars, Etc.,
Corner Drajtoo and Bay Street,.
SAVANNAH. GA.
All Goods Warranted. Orders from the
onntrj promptly attended to. auz19-!y
A. J. MILLER.
C. P. HILLER.
Light.—Light moves with a velocity
of one hundred and ninetytwo thousand
five hundred miles in a second of time.
It travels from the sno to the earth in
seven minutes and a half. It moves
through a space equal to the circumfer
ence of our globe iu the eighth part of
a second; a flight which the swiftest
bird could not perform in less than three
weeks.
SS^An orator, who had raised his audi
ence to a great height by his lofty soar-
ings, exclaimed, “I will now close in tbe
beautiful aud expressive language of tbe
poet—I forget his Dame—and—and I
forget what he said too.”
The fireside is a school of infin
ite importance; it is important because
it is universal, and because the educa
tion it bestows, being woven in with
tbe woof of childhood, gives form _ and
color to the whole texture of life.
JW A newspapac just started in Os
wego, N. Y., declares that it will be
neutral in religion aud politics, as it
“knows very little of the former, and
nothing whatever of the latter.”
A. J. MILLER & CO.,
Furniture Dealers,
134 Broughton St.,
SAVANNAH, : : : GEORGIA.
W ALNUT Bedroon Seis, Imitation French
Seis, Parlor Sets, Bureaus. Wash Stands,
Bedsteads, Chairs of all grades. Children's Carri
ages, etc.
X3T Jobbing and Repairing neatly done and
with dispatch. Mattress making, Fe«tb-rs. Up
holstering, etc. aujcl9-<5tn*
A. S HARTBIDGE,
General Commission Merchant
AND? FACTOR,
9H Bay Street, SAVANNAH, GA.
Raving had over twenty years experience in
said bus mess, he will pat? the same strict attention
to the sale of Cotton and other Produce, and to
the purchase of Supplies, as ia former years.
S3T He will not have any interest ia the pur
chase of Cotton.
Liberal aivaoces made on Consignments.
sog19-iy*
- ¥. M. DAVIDSON,
Wholesale Dealer in
FOREIGN and DOMESTIC
Wines and Liquors,
150 Bay Street, Savannah, Ga.
(Established in 1844.)
H AS constantly on hand a large assortment of
French Brandies, Holland Gin, St. Croix and
Jamaica Rum,
Scotch and Irish Whiskey,
Port and Sherry Wine, (the latter direct importa
tion from Spain.)
All the idnve Liquors art guaran
teed n bs genuine as imported.
Also on hand,
JOHN GIBSON’S SONS ft 00 ’S
Celebrated Whiskies, of all grades.
Sole ageot for Georgia and Florida, for Massey,
Huston 4 Co.’s celebrated Philadelphia Draught
Ale, ia barrels and half barrels.
angl9 6m*
WM. HENRY WOODS,
COTTON FACTOR
AND
&E1ERAL C8KI0I MERC HAT,
BAT STREET,
Savannah, Ga,
It prepared at si! times to advance liber
ally oa consignments for sale in Savannah, or
for shipment to bis correspondents iu New York
and LiverpooL
aug5-6m*
L. J. GUILMARTIN & CO.
COTTON FACTORS
Bay Street, Savannah Ga.
Agent* for Bradley's Super Phosphate of Lime.
Bagging, Rope, & Iron Ties, always on hand.
Usual Facilities Extended to Customers.
angl9 6m
DENNIS FALVEY,
FURNITURE DEALER,
153 Drou;hton".Street,
SAVAXKAJT, : : : GEORGIA.
¥. I. STARK & CO.,
WHOLESALE:
G-IFt.Q CBRS,
*
COMMISSION MERCHANTS
AND
Cotton Factors*
M AHOGANY, Wslaut and Chestnut Bed-Room
Suites; also Imitation French and Teaster
Suites; Mabngany and Walnut Parlor Suites, in
Haircloth aod Reps; Sofas, Marble-Top Tables,
Bureaus, Sideboards. Wardrobes, Book-Cases,
Wash stands. Chairs and Bedsteads of all kin J.
New Work made to order, and Country or
ders promptly filled.
aag!9 ly.
W. Doxcah, J. n. Johnston.
DUNCAN * JOHNSTON,
COTTON FACTORS
J. J. DICKISON & CO, g en eral Commission Merchaits,
coma Victors ud
General Commission Merchants.
SAN ANN AH, GA.
E7* Liberal adranoe. made on Ctraaijin
•oglMfei
76 BAY STREET, SAVANNAH, GA.
wp»Iy-
RANDELL-&CO.,
WholsMl* G-rooerfe,
301 A *03 Bay St., West of Barnard,
SA. VAES'All, GA
ran General Areola of (be Orange Rifle.Pow
der lor Georgis, Florida aud Alabama.
auglttm*
Igenti fur tha sak of Gdiioa's Steel Break
COTTON GINS.
ALSO,
E. P. COE’S SUPERPHOSPHATE of LIME,
Careful attention given to Sales ot
Shipments of Cotton, and all
kinds of Produce.
Liberal advances made on Censignmsnts,
BAGGING, ROPE »nd ARROW TIES
Constantly on hand. sepSO 6m
ADOLPHE SACK!"
Importer of
SILVER AND GOLD
"W -A. T CHB8
CHOICE JEWELRY,
BIJOUTERIE, CLOCKS, Ete., 13*.,
Corner Bryant A Whitaker Slrreta,
SAVANNAH, : t : ; GEORGIA,
Repairing of Watches and
Jewel-y executed with dispatch, and
Warranted to Give Satisfaction,
attglft 6m
Wm. H. Tisow. Wm. W. Gobdok.
TISON & GORDON,
COTTON PACTO]
6ESERAL COMMISSION MERCHASTS.
sfuu^ Savannah, Georgia,
Begging and Rope or Iras Tie* adraaeed oa
Crops.
Libers! oash advances made on consignment! of
Cotton.
Gratotnl for liberal prtrohage in tbs past, a son*
tinnance of the same is respectfully solicitedv
sep2-6m*
ISAACS’ HOUSE,
Cherry St Macon, Ga,
E. ISAACS, Proprietor.
T HIS HOTEL is located in tbe central portion
of the city—convenient to Ware Houses and
bn-iness bouses gens rally. It being the only house
in tbe city kept un the
EUROPEAN PLAN,
Offers unequalled advantages to the planter aid
traveling public generally.
The table is supplied with tbe best tbe market
& Scads, and the rooms furnished with new and neat
I um if are.
I33T ▲ FREE Hack will be in attendanoe at all
trains. jySOtf
EACH CARGO OF THIS
XT A. O
IS ANALYZED
Before Being Offered for Sale,
And Warranted Equal to tha
Original Standard Value.
WjTo le used on all Crops precisely a*
Permian Guano.
H. H. JONES, Agent,
ang26tf Cntbbert.G*.
Now is the Time
TO HOT
Drugs, Paints, Oils, Glass, Chemicals, Etc,
C EL E AP-
marl 1-1 y J. J. McDONALD.
Dr. M. A. SIMMONS’
GENUINE LIVER MEDICINEl
D RAKE’S Plantation Bittern,
UoatatUt’. St
Bnrlay’a and Van
' 1
Jnst rearival and for sak at
