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CUTHBERT, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 3, 1870.
VOL. IV—NO. 12.
Vertising:
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ouroal of Commerce.]
he Spring of Nature.
the volume, wearily,
prophet and of seer,
utter all my doubts and dreamt
la Nature’s listening car.
She hears my spirit's •tyaett sigh—
With sympathy divine
Uer myriad treasures she mil olds
A.nd makes their promise mine.
The waves flow ever to the sea,
A nobler path to find ;
The forests all their t oary brows
With fresher garlands bind,
A«d smiling iu the summer sua,
Or beckoning in the stars,
The wide blue sky of freedom tells
Igeyond earths prison bars.
The diamond, monarch of the gems,
Shines with interior light,
As if a spirit flashed within,
Half visible to eight.
And on the ever-sUent hills,
The watch-towers of the land.
The very silence seems to speak
A Presence—calm and grand.
The violet breathes her incense forth
Upon tbc summer fields;
The lily to the wooing ware
Her soul of fragrance yields.
Of beauty and of love they tell,
These flowers that God has given,
*By angels gathered as they fade,
To deck the courts of Heaven.
The rose may die—it lives 'again
In dwelling bud and flower ;
The day departs, but still returns
Reveal the lesson of the workl,
Renewal—not decay.
With morning’s gilded hour.
All voices of the watchful night,
All glorious of the day,
' Ol life and not of death they sing—
Of hope la every change.
A sloricus record flashes out
Through all creation's range-;
•And as I listen, as I read
The mystic volume o’er.
My soul re-echoes Nature's voice,
••Mife—hope for evermore 1”
F. L.
1 Bangor fMe. January ’187(1-
mmm
when
over
than
Simple Story.
'•Whirr I -Whirr !’ :inil 'the Sparks
'flew off the jrrlndJione from llto scissors
held against it. Tlie man who was
-grinding stopped a minute, felt the edge
of tho scissors with his thumb, tighten
ed the rivet, and handed it to the ser-
■vant who stood waiting for it.
■Three pence, miss.; thank 'you':’ and
'he prepared to move on. Kill yeti get
•in, Kitty ?”
‘No, grandpa ; me not tired,’ said a
long haired, blue eyed child of about
•five years old, who toddled alongside.—
She was very poorly dressed, but per
fectly clean; her hair was smooth and
■glossy, and her face had a look of con
tentinent and trusts not a very .pretty
child at first s’ght, ’but 'evidently a
^bright, docile little creature.
All day the man whee'ed his grind-
•'Stono from street to street, with the
•child sometimes awoke, trotting along
side and prattling gaily, ■•sotnetintes sit
ting or lying in her little cradle.
When the darkness came on, he turn
ed from the crowded streets, and ceas
ed his monotonous ci'y. ffie was'bvident-
ly upon his way homeward. West
ward he went, up Oxford street, and
■along the Edgvwater road, and through
a side street to a small archway. Up
this he drove his grinding naachtne into
a small yard ; there, under a cover of a
shed, he stowed away his barrow, and
lifting the sleepiug child out of the
Tough cradle, ho capried her tenderly up
stairs to a room at the top rif the house :
then, laying her down on the bed, he
(proceeded to strike a light. Leaving
the candle burning, he went downstairs
again and out into the crowded road.—
There he bought some hot potatoes
from an itinerant vendor, some bread
and some butter, and a pint of tea at a
•coffee shop. This last he put into a
tin he had brought with him, and then
•went back again to his room.
Kitty climbed up on her grandfath
er's knee, and ate her supper conteuteib
ly, prattling meantime about a thousaud
tilings.
Then she said, *1 have not filled your
pipe, grandpa f and going to a corner,
ifce fetched a long pipe, and filled it
h tobacco from a pouch the old man
‘ her, watched until be had lit it,
held up her face to be kissed,
’on are cumfle,’ she said, ‘Kitty
Wll go'to baid and watch you.’
It waslSotdpiig she watched. In a
%w minutesthe long -fringe drooped
iver the eyes, and the child was asleep.
Either the pipe did not draw well, or
the smoker was more thoughtful than
■usual; lor several times tie relighted it,
•each time in a wieobanical way as i-f he
''vdre thmlflftg deeply. He was a man
oT perhaps fifty years old ; his hair w as
Very gray, but he had an upright car-
riage, and something of the air of an old
soldier. Kis" eye was bright and clear—
A kind and honest, and yet a shrewd
eye,
‘It i» time to try,’ he said at last to
himself; ‘I have put it off long enough.
Bhe can never be more winning tban she
is now. If he does not take to her now,
lbs never will. Poor little pet—poor lit
tle pet 1 I shall miss her sadly.’ And
Jiis grady-CUt lip quivered at the thought.
‘Yes, I will start lo-inonrow,’ he said at
jast. ‘If it is to bo done, it bad better
be dona at once.’
The nest morning a little bundle was
suspended under tbe barrow, and with
this slight preparation the pair of
friends were ready to start upon the
journey; Kilty iu tho highest glee at
the thought of seeing pigs and sheep,
Aud cocks and heus, and geese, and
J»»nv other things.
It was ft Iono journey, and they did j
fry, but went quietly ong, stop
ping at the various village and small
towns, and earning a few j ce by the
"sharpening of knives, settin >f Seissors,
and patching up of leaky ! then nteh-
sils.
It was more than a foi ght after
they»had left-Londoif that I y reached
the end of their journey, a iet village
down in Leicestershire. Ti dttv’s un.
bounded astonishment, bei -randfath-
er had lift the grinding mafce at their
halting place the’night befcj He had,
though, dressed himself in hat Kitty
called his Sunday clothes, Ad had pro
duced from the bundle a ( ss fer her
self which she had never en before,
made df a light gray stuf with blun
shoulder knots. ‘Greatly 1'Kitty ex
ulted and danced over thi inery, bot
was rather subdued when was 'told
that she was not to put it until this
next evening. HoWeverjs she was
dressed in what bad prep^K been
her frock, she was content
was indeed delighted whih
father told her that upon this
were to go in a carriage—ji a real
carriage.
There was some little astoniftnent in
the miud of tbe landlady of tin Barton
Arms when a fly stopped at t door,
and a quiet looking person, win by bis
upright walk and composed ik she
took to be a gentleman, thouglk poor
one, got out, lifted out a little pi in a
broad-brimmed straw hat, and itb on
ly a small bundle in his band, ntered
the door.
‘Can I have a private room, la
he asked. ‘1 shall be stoppi
with my little granddaughter
days.’
'Yes, sir, we have a private
It was late in the afternooi
they arrived, and when tea w
Kitty went to bed, more slee
usual after her unwonted excitt ent.—
Her grandfather sat by her bed e un
til she was asleep, and -then ret’ led to
tbe sitting roOm and rang fhe"b .
‘Willyou ask tbe landlady tos »up?’
The landlady came up giiudly nr she
had been not a little mystified a puz-
■feled as to Whont'the gentleman th the
little girl could be, or what c dd be
their motive in coming to sjx J two
days in Laverton.
‘Pray,-sit down',’ said her gutj, when
she entered. ‘I daro say you some
what surprised at my coming h e ; but
at the present moment I canno! txplain
matters, although, no doubt, o will
know shortly. Will you be kin mougli
to answer one or two questio , even
if you do not understand my nftive in
asking them V
■ Tho landlady expressed hrriA'illing-
ness to do so.
* Sir John Barton’s place is cite here,
is it not ?’
‘ Quite close, sir; his gate isjust at
the entrance of the village.’ j
‘ Has he any head Servants—Is but
ler for instance—who have bcStSn the
family many yeais ?
1 Lor, yes, sir 1 He is not a gedhtanui
to change his servants. Mr. Merritt,
his butler, has been with him, man »d
boy, nigh thirty years.’
‘ Do you think I could get to spea
to Mr. M onion ?’
* Nothing easier, sir; he is dodo
■stairs now. He steps over sometimes f
an'evening to smoko a pipe with fe'
husband in.the bar parlor.’
‘Would you kindly tall him that t
stranger would be glad if he wotri
come up to speak to him for a few n>
ments on a subject of importance V
The landlady left the room to caty
out the request, more and more puzild
by all this mystery.
In a minute or two there was a tp
at the door, and a rather stout maii,in
undress livery, entered.
1 Please take a seat, Mr. Merrion.—
Excuse the liberty I have taken in us
ing you to come up ; but when yui
hear what 1 have to say, I am sure yu
will do so.’
‘Excuse me, sir,’the butler said-; ‘Ms.
Malin has just told me about you, aid
I don’t know what you want to ask r* ;
that is, I don’t know whether you art a
lawyer, or what you want; and I Cm
only say anything I can tell you I till,
but not if it’s going to harm—no tor
worry Sir John.’
‘■Not at all, Mr. Merrinn, and you ire
qifite right. Yon have. 1 hear, beei a
long time in tho family, and arc, I 3*0,
attached to your master. ' He is, I ie-
lieve. a proud man,’
‘ Well, yss, he’s a right to be thal, I
cxipcct,’ the butler said cautiously.
‘ Quite so, quite so, Mr. Mcrrion ; >ut
it is a sad thing to think he has bo clild
to come after him.’
‘Ay, ay,’ the butler said, ‘it is all
that.’
‘ Bis only son, as I halve heard,’ bis
interrogator said, ‘ made a match be'
neath him, and his father never forgave
him, never saw him again.’
‘ Ay.’ said the butler, ‘ but that wasn’t
master’s fault. He was away, snd the
letter telling as how Master Charles
were ill never got to hirt) fer a week ;
and then he went off post baste to
Fiance. I know, for he took me with
him ; and when wo got down to Marsel,
we fouud ho was dead and bnri’ d, and
his wife, too; and that the child, who
was only a month old, was gone--rto
■one knew where. He’d give half his
money to know.’
' Thank God, thank God ;’ tho other
said ; ‘ this is good news, indeed. Poor
little Kitty 1 Thank God 1’ and he cov
ered his face with his hands, and cried.
For some time the hutler could only
gaze at him in astonishment; at last he
said,
I And who may you be, sir ? and
wbat do you know of the child ?’
I I am her grandfather, too,’ the man
said. ‘ And the child is asleep in the
next room.’
* I am glad, the butler said, excitedly;
‘ ay, as glad as if it was my own. But
why did yon never come before ? I
know master advertised in every paper.’
* I never saw them. I only knew he
had been written for on the same day I
bad. He never came, and I supposed
would not. I buried my child and her
husband, and took the baby, and I have
kept her ever since. And 1 love her as
I loved Tier mother before her. Bat she
is over five years old now ; and I
thought that it was time to try if her
grandfather—whol believed had never
forgotten his son, even when he knew
he was dying—would now take his
son’s child. Thank God that from
what you say, lie will do so.’
‘ Do so ?’ the butler said ; ‘ proud as
Sir John is—and lie is proud—there is
nothing in the world lie would not
b»ve done to find her out.
Thf conversation lasted some time
longer, and then Mr. Merrion took hie
leave and went straight home, without,
to Mrs. Malin’s great disappointment,
revealing one word of what had taken
place at tbe long and mysterious inter
view.
Tbe next evening Sir John Barton
Was sitting alone after his dinner. A
tall, stately man, but with marks of deep
sorrow upon bis face. A proud re-
served'tnaD, the world said, and in his
youth no doubt truly ; a reserved man
still, but scarcely a proud one. At tbe
present moment Sir John was wonder
ing Over the behavibr of his butler, Jolin
Merrion, at dinnec-Jubn was ordinarily
Otie'of the most staid and respectful of
domestics ; but John had behaved
throughout dinner in a maunfir quite
unlike himself. If such a thing had not
been out of the question, he slidit!S ! La.ve
said that John Merrion was drimk. Ilu.
had broken two glasses; he h«d spilled
the ’wine in filling his glass, and the
man’s eyes were certainly full of tears
His master had asked him what was the
matter, and he replied, ‘Nothing, Sir
John ;’ but, of course, something was
the matter, although, Bs the footman
was in the room, Sir John had passed
tbe matter over. Sir John now turn
ed it over in his mind. John Merrion
had been a widower fdr many years,
and bis only son was now head-groom.
Perhags one of his children was ill.—
Sir John had heard nothing df it,'but be
thought be wouid ring and ask. At
this moment the door opened a little,
and tbe sound of a man crying was dis<
tiuctiy heard through it, and then the
baronet thought he was dreaming, when
a little child with long golden hair, with
a blue ribbon round her head, came up
towards him, with-an air half timid, yet
frank and confident, and putting her
hand in bis, said :—
‘Please, grandpa, my Dame is Kitty
Barton, and I am come to stay with you
and love you, Please, this is papa’s like
ness, and a letter.’
And she held out a gold locket, and a
letter directed in the well remembered
handwriting of his dead son.
'For a moment the baron stood speech
less. Then, with a cry of ‘Thank God,
thank God for His mercy 1’ he caught
the child tip and held her to his heart,
while his tears rained down upon her
sunny head.
‘•Don’t cry, grandpa; don’t cry,’ she
said, presently beginning to sob herse'f
at the sight of bis emotion. ‘If grandpa’s
sorry, Kilty go way again.’
‘No, no, gry child; I am not sorry, I
am ODly glad, only very thankful you
have come.’
Kitty looked up a little doubtfully.
‘Kitty never cries when she is glad,’
she said'; ‘she'eriea when she hurts her.
self.’
For some time the bardnet held 'Iter
closely in his arms, kissing her; then,
when he became calmer, he put her
down on, the rug before the fire, placed
the letter and portrait by to be examin
ed when no qte could see him, and
rang the bell. John Mdrrion entered,
his eye red with crying.
‘You knew of this, John ?’
‘Yes, Sir John ; thank God she has
’Come!’
‘Ah, indeed, John, thank God !’ and
the master and servant wrung each oth
er’s hands in the fullness of their feel
ing. ‘Now, John, send the other ser
vants here.’
In a fdw minutes they entered. They
had all heard from the butler what had
happened, and many of them who had
known their late young master, were
wiping their eyes as they entered.
‘Listen all of you,’ thtrbaronet said,
with a proud jov. ‘This young lady is
my granddaughter, Miss Barton. She
will live here in future. lou will look
upon her as your future mistress, and
the heiress of this place. Mrs. Leth-
ridgo,’ he said to tbe house-keeper, ‘will
you see a bed prepared for her in the
little room next to mine?’
Several of the elder women came for
ward and kissed Kitty, who was rath
er alatmed at all this ; and the house
keeper said, ‘will you come with me
dearie ■?’
‘No, thank yon,’ Kitty answered, tak
ing tight hold of the baronet’s hand ; 1
would rather stay with grandpa.’
When they hud aTi left the room
Kitty took her seat on a footstool at Sir
John Barton’s fedt and looked gravely
into the fire, while the baronet-stroked
her hair quietly, and had difficulty in
persuading himself it was all true.—
‘Presently Kitty spoke.
‘What a big"■fire, grandpa ! 1 never
eavr such a big fire, and it is hardly
cold at all. What a left -Of money it
■most cost !”
“it is a large Toorn, Kitty, and 'ym
see I was all alone ; so I had ft fire for
company.
Kitty opened her eyes a little wider
even than usual, nod remained for some
time in thought- The result of her re
flection showed itself in her next speech.
‘Please, grandpa, Kitty is bangry ;
she would like some supper.’
Tho baronet hastily rang the bell.—
Tbe butler appeared.
‘John, briug a tray with some tea
and cold chicken.’
‘And potatoes’ said Kitty.
‘And potatoes,’ added the baronet, ‘ii
you have any ready.’
‘Yes, Sir John ; there are sure to be
some ready for the supper down stairs.’
‘With their skins on,’ Kitty said
again.
‘With their skins oti, of course,’ the
baronet said gravely.
When tbe butler had left the room,
Kitty again climbed up ou her grand
father’s koee.
‘Ain I going to have chicken for sup
per ?’ she asked.
‘Yes, my dear, if yon like it’
‘Kitty doesn’t know,’ she said rather
doubtfully. ‘Kitty never tasted chicken.
Will it have its feather’s on ?’
‘No, Kitty ; the feathers are all taken
off.’
Kitty looked relieved.
‘Sometimes Kitty ha9 had Sausages
for supperj she said in a confidential
tone;‘hot you know, my other grand
pa’—she nodded—‘always saved one
for Kitty to eat cold for breakfast.’
The baronet’s brow clouded for a mo
ment at the mention of this other rela
tion of his grandchild ; and then he said
kindly.
‘Was he very kind to yon ? did you
love him very much, your other grand-
pa ?’
‘Kitty love him so much,’ the child
said, bolding out her arms; ‘bigger,
much bigger; be so kind to Kitty.—
Poor grandpa very sad to-day and cry,
f ou know; that made Kitty sorry.—
‘oor grandpa !’
The baronet felt by his own -ioy at
finding her how great nfnst be the sor
row of the other In given her up.
‘Is he in'the village now ?’ he asked.
Kitty nodded.
‘Gave Kitty message. If you want
to see him, you write ; be come here in
the morning ’
‘Very Well, dear,’ the bartmet said; ‘I
will send for him. And dow, Kitty, do
you like dolls V
Kitty nodded very decidedly this
time. ^
‘Kitty got two dolls, one new, only
lege broken ; old one got no bead.” 1
‘I will get you a sew one, Kitty, and I
a doll’s house, and a noab’s ark, and all
sort* of toys.’
‘Kitty’s eyes opened wide in astonish- ]
meiit at all this wealth of things which
was to pour in upon her; bat further
conversation was stopped by the entry
of the butler with the tray. ^John Mer
rion pat the things on tbe table, and
then, in some perplexity, placed a chair,
and put a cushion upon it to raise tbe
segt.
•Nu, do, Kitty said,‘me sit on grand
pa’s knee. Grandpa, move chair to ta
ble.’
The baronet did as he was told, and
Kitty ate her supper then in triumph,
and pronounced the chicken to be very
good, but dot so good as sausages.—
The potatoes she pronounced to be de
cidedly ioferior.
‘Man at corner,’ She exclaimed, ‘sell
bigger than thatand She held up her
two tiny closed hands; ‘much bigger for
a penny. Good mau always give Kitty
big, big later.’
When she had finished, she said :
‘Kitty go bed now, grandpa,; Kiftv
sleepy. Me say prayers firjt.’ Ami
then, kneeling upon her grandfather’s
lap and clasping her hands, she repea
ted her usual little evening prayer, end
ing with “God bless both my grandpas,
and make Kitty good child, for Christ's
sake Amen. Now me sing hymn,’
she said, and standing by the baronet’s
knee, she sang two verses of tho Eve
ning Hymn.
The baronet was deeply affected.
‘Praise God, from whom all blessings
flow,’ indeed,’ he repeated to himself
when she had been carried off by the
housekeeper. ‘I am indeed thankful for
this darling ; at least, if the mao robbed
me of a son, he has restored to mo a
child in my old age.’
At ten o’clock the next day the knife,
grinder was shown into the library of
Sir John Barton. The men bad never
seen each other before, and both had
cherished a deep feeling of wrong
against the other. Before a word was
spoken, each looked the other full in the
■face, and tbe scrutiny in either case was
satisfactory. There was little difference
’between them in height; Sir John Bar
ton was perhaps five years the elder,
but be Jooked mom thaw* his real ag*.—
Both were proud men in their way, but
the baronet was the least uubendiog of
the two.
Tho guest commeecefl the conversa
tion :
Sir John Barton, until yesterday I
thought as ill of you as you have, no
doubt, thought of me. I have learnt
my error; it is for me to convince you of
yours. I come to you frankly. Our
ranks in life are different, but in our
grand child we have the one great aim
and object in common.’
Up to this time both men had boon
standing; but here, in compliance with
a gesture fiom the baronet, each took
his seat facing tbe other across the
hearthrug. The guest then contimtefl :
•I will tell yon my Story -first, srr. I
■Was the'teon of an iron-monger in a large
way in Nottingham, and was intended
by my father to succeed to his business.
He gave me a fair education at the
grammar school of the plac8, but
like moat boye, I had a taste for adven
ture,-and when I was seventeen I had
an altercation with my father about the
shop, run away, and enlisted in tbe 10th
Foot. My father fonnd out what I had
done, and wrote to offer to purchase my
discharge, but 1 refused, and went out
to India with iny regiment. I was a
steady, well conducted man, and soon
obtained my sergeant’s stripes. When
in India, I heard of the death of my
father—my mother had died many years
before--aiid also that when his business
was wound up, tbe surplus remaining
was very small, a few hundred pounds,
which was placed to my credit in Eng
land. After I came back I fell in love
and •married. My wife was tbe daught
er of a French emigre, with nothing but
ber good, looks and her kind keart. 1
purchased fey discharge, and with my
little property bohght and furnished a
house at Deal, where we let lodgings.—
My wife managed the house, and 1 gave
lessons in fencing and drill to the few
schools there, and to casual visitors.—
We had o.ne child. Wheo she was ten
years old I lost my wife, and after that
ail iny feelings centered in my child. I
watched over her and loved her as only
a man can love his only child. So
things went on until your son came as
a lodger to us. I knew nothing of him;
was ignorant that he was the olny son
of a baronet and heir to a large estate.
I knew nothing of H until one day 1
came home and found my child was
gone, and a letter from her saying that
she was secretly married, and telling me
the rank and position of your son. I
was proud, sit, of my good name asyos
could be ol yours. I shrank from the
idea that it should be said that I had
been a party to my child taking in—I
knew how the world would put it the
heir of a rich and ancient family, and
I wrote to say that until you acknowl
edged the marriage and approved of it,
I would not do so. My pride, sir, was
less deeply grounded than yours was.
Kate wrote to me from the sooth of
Franco, where they had taken up their
residence, to say that you would not
relent, and that they were penniless.
Now, sir, my pride urged me to do
the thing which it had before prevent
ed my doing. I sold my bouse and
furuitare, sent every penny to them, and
set to work with my own hands to
support myself. Hush, Sir John Bar-
ten, there are no thanks, ho acknowl
edgements due. I did what I conceiv
ed to be my duty; votl did what you
believed to be yours. Months after, a
letter reached me from my dear child.
Her husband was attacked with chol
era. She had a little girl, and had no
friend bat myself. She implored me
to come oat. Fortunately I had a
lew ponnds by me, and I.harried to
Marseilles. I found Kate dying, and
that her husband bad expired three
days before. She told me you had been
written for at tbe same time with my
self. I have since heard yoa did not re
ceive that letter until a week after. I
closed my dear child's eyes, I laid her
by the side of ber husband, in the
strangers’ cemetery at Marseilles, and
then finding you did not come, and sup
posing you would not forgive, I took
the baby and came home to England.
Since then, sir, I have kept her—have
brought her op. T trdst, "kindly and'
well. At first the nomad life I led
obuld do her no harm, but as she grew
up I saw that it was for her good that
she should regain her 'lost place in the
world. I thought you might grant for
giveness to the grandchild, 1 belidved
you bad refused to 'the son. I came
down here and found that I had mis
taken you ; that it was only an unfor
tunate accident which kept you from
standing beside your son's grave; and
then I was able to resign Kitty to you,
secure at least, of ber future.’
Tb» baronet had listened, deeply
moved; once or twice he had tried to
interfere, but tbe speaker had stopped
him with a preemptory gesture. YVhen
be ceased, Sir John Barton rose and
took both the hands of the other.
‘I have, a8 you supposed, long mis
taken you, as you have, with greatly
moro reason, mistaken me. Yours now
is the triumph. Be generous, sir. You
give up this child to me—this child,
whom much as I already love, you must
love far more. At least, share her with
me. Make this yonr home. My whole
hfcpe, tt:y tobole aim in life, now is iu the
child aDd her happiness. Stop and aid
me to bring her up.’
•I thank you, sir,’ the ex sergeant said ;
'I thank ybu from my heart, for I feel
that your iavitation is no idle compli
ment; but it is out of the question, your
rank in life is infioitely above mine; and
I—yes, I am oniy proud to accept a po
litico like this.’
‘Your pride, thee is worse than mine,’
the baronet said warmly. 'I am, I ac
knowledge, a proud man; but I am not
too proud to feel without bitterness that
my son was supported by yocr generosi
ty that your hand laid him in the grave,
that you have brought up his child.—
Think you that I, a rich man, with no
means of spending my wealth, can evtr
repay such obligations as these ? Do
you think that sharing this home with
you could ever make me feel that my
debt was cancelled ? And do you forget
the child ? Will you go away from her,
and take from her the friend who
has heretofore been a father to her ?
Sir, you have thought me proud; what
is iny pride to yours ?’
The old soldier was evidently movod
with tho address, and at the extreme
earnestness and sincetrily with which it
was spoken. Tbe Baronet saw bis ad
vantage, and rang the bell.
‘Seed Miss Barton here.’
Tawre Was si lance nnti! Kitty entered.
With a cry of joy she ran up to tbe old
soldier.
O, grandpa, grandpa! I am so glad !
Kiss Kitty I’m so happy 1 Now grand
pa so kind to Kitty; but me want old
grandpa too.’
‘He won’t stay with you Kitty,’ the
baronet said; ‘he Wants to go away, in
stead of living here with ua. Come sir,’
he said, ‘give way for the sake of our
dear child. This house is large enough
for us both. You shall have your own
apaftmente, where Kitty can spend a
part of the day with you. You can
iive the life of a hermit there, if you like,
aid can join us here when you like.—
Nothing I can do for you can ever make
me otherwise than deeply you debtor.—
Sarelv the bouse is large enough to
hold Kitty’s two graudpas, eh ? Kitty
tell him so.'
Kitty, who was nestled in her old
grandpa’s arms, now whispered to him.
‘Naughty grandpa, why do you want
"to go away and make tbe cry ? Me Ibve
you ; why'you go away from Kitty ?’
And so the ex-sergeant gave in. For
a time he went away and then came
back again and took up his residence—
he said at first temporarily, but he nev
er left it—at tbe Hall. At first he hepl
to the suit of apartments appropriated
to him ; but gradually he responded to
the heartiness of the baronet’s chanuer,
and became his permanent guest; and
none of the visitors at the Hall who
were introduced to the fine military look
ing man who was,Miss Barton’s grand
father ever guessed that he had for
years supported Miss Barton and him
self by grinding knives and scissors,
and mending pots and pans. Under
tbe joint care and grandship of the two
wee, it may be imagined that Kitty
grew op rather spoiled bat a very lova
ble girl; and when she married, at the
age of eighteen, the son of a neighbor
ing nobleman, with the perfect appro
bation of her two adopted fathers (aed
upon that occasion, by the express wish
and assent of Sir John, the first grand
father gave her away,) it is difficult to
say which of tho two she most loved
and honored. Both lived in perfect ac
cord and friendship long enough to see
the happiness of their darling, and to
ntfrse ber children upon their knees.
Th* Tower of Babel—A writer de
scribes the present appearance of the
place where languages got mixed : —
‘After a ride of nine miles, we were at
the foot of the Bier-Nimrood. Our hor
ses’ feet were trampling npon the re
mains of bricks which showed here and
there through tbe accumulated dust
and rubbish of ages. Before our eyes
uprose a great mound of earth, barren
and bare. This was Bier-Nimrood, the
ruins of the Tower of Babel, by which
the first builders of tbe earth had vain
ly hoped to scale high heaven. Here,
also, it was that Nebuchadnezzar built,
for bricks bearing his name have been
found in the ruins. At the top of the
mound s great mass of brick-work
pierces the accumulated soil. With
your finger you touch the very bracks—
large, square-shaped, and massive—that
were thoroughly burned, the very mor
tar, now hard as granite, handled more
than 4000 years ago by earth’# iMpious
people. From the summit of the
mound, far away oyer the plaiti, we see
glistening the gilded dome of a mosque,
reflecting the bright rays of the morn
ing son. Thia was the tomb of the
holy Ali. To pray before this at some
period of bis life; to kiss the sacred
dust of the earth around therd at some
time or other; to bend his body and
count his beads, is tbe daily desire of
every devout Mohamedau.’
SAVANNAH CARDS.
P. H- BEHN,
COTTON and RICE ‘FACTOR
AND
General Commission Merchant,
West of the Exchange.
BAT STREET, : : SAVANNAH, GA.
aug!9-6m*
AUSTIN & ELLIS)
COMMISSION
—Aitb—
FORWARDING MERCHANTS
and Cotton Factor#,
SAVaiWAH, : : GEORGIA.
Bagging su'd lies mn’d other srlictes fore-
ished, and advances made upon Cotton oh
ot or for sale.
au<?19-6m
COTTON TIES! COTTON TINS
Bunn’s Patent Self-Adjusting
HORIZONTAL COTTON TIE
A S AGENTS for the above namsd Patent, we
beg; leave to corqmend it to the attaotion of
Planters and ifercbahfs. ,
This TIE is a decided improvement, and contain*
tbe advantages of
GREAT STRENGTH,
GREAT SIMPLICITY.
EASE IN MANIPULATION.
Being superior to any other TIE manufactured,
we can confidently recommend it to the public.
JNO. W. AN PERSON'S SONS* CO.
ao*;19-6m Amenta in Savhnnnh, Ga.
JOSEPH FINEGAN & 00,
Cotton Factors
AND
COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
BAT STREET,
SAVANNAH, t GEORGIA.
pT Liber ii Advances male on Cotton consigned
to us or to our Correspondents in New York sod
Liverpool. aug!9 ly*
PALMER & DEPPISH,
WHOLESALE AMD RETAIL DBALES IK
Sardware,
RUBBER. BELTING,
AGRICULTURAL IMPLEMENTS,
Powder, Shot, Caps and Lead.
148 Congress &. 67 St. Julian Sts.
SAVANNAH, GEORGIA.
sopl9-6m*
GROOVER, STUBBS & CO.,
COTTON FACTORS
AXE
General Commission Merchants
B»y Street, SAVANNAH, GA.
Bagging. Tiet, Ropa and other Supplies
Ekr naked.
Also, Liberal Cash Advances made on Consifn*
meats for tile or shipment to Liverpool or North
ern Ports. C. E GROOVER, Savannah,
■C. F STUBBS.
aupl9-6ih A. T. MACINTYRE, Tbomasville
R. H. Andersok,
John W. Anderson,
G. W. Anderson, Jr.,
A. H. Cole.
JOHN W. ANDERSEN’S SON'S &lo
COTTON, FACTORS
ego
COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
Anderson's Block, Drayton St., near Ou Bay,
SAVANNAH, GA.
L IBERAL CASH ADVANCES made on CON
SIGNMENTS for sale in Savannah, or on
Shipment to reliable correspondents in Liverpool,
New York, Philadelphia, B««ston or Baltimore.
To old patrons we return thanks ; to new ones,
promise our best services.
—ALSO—
Apents Empire Line Side Wheel S^etmers
to Heir York- Ra*l9*ly*
THOMAS M. ALLEN",
WITH
GOLQtlTT & BAGGS,
COTTON FACTORS
mStd
CommissionMerchants
pesired.
Savannah, Ga.
* Liberal Advances ou Consignments when
CLAGH0RN-& CUNNINGHAM,
Wholesale and Retail
Gtro oersi
And dealers in
Fine Wines, Liquors, Segars, Etc-.,
Corner Drayton and Bay Streets,
SAVANNAH, GA.
gay AH Goods Warranted. Orders from the
onntry promptly attended to. augl9-ly
A. J. MILLER.
C. P. MILLER.
A. I MILLER & CO.,
Furniture Dealers,
134 Bronxhtort S’t.,
SAVANNAH, : : : GEORGIA.
W ALNUT Bedroon Set*. Imitation French
Sets, Parlor Sets, Bureaus. Wash Stands,
Bedsteads, Chairs of ail grades, Children’s Carri
ages, etc.
fSJT Jobbing and Repairing neatly done jmd
with dmpatch. Mattress making, Feathers, Up 1 -
holsteriDg, etc. au?19-6m*
A. S HAKTRIDGrE,
General Commission Merchant
AND FACTOR.
92 Bay Street, SAVANNAH, GA.
Having had over twenty years experience in
said business, he will pa/ the same strict attention
to the sale of Cotton and other Produce, and to
the purchase df Supplies, as in former years.
pT He will not haVe aiy interest in the pur
lase of Cotton.
Liberal advances made on Cdnsignments.
augl9-ly*
J. J. DldKISON & CO,
COTTON FACTORS snd
Gea^ral Cemmissiea Merchants.
SAN ANNA C, GA.
r Liberal advances made on Consignments.
nugl9.6m
SAVANNAh CARDS.
A. M. Sloan.
J. H. Sloax.
A. M SLOAN & CO,
COTTON FACTORS
Alfa
General Commission Merchants
claghorx * Cunningham’s raxgi,
BAY STREET,
SAVAXB&B. ■; ': GEbRGlA.
Bagging and Rope or Iron Ties, advanced on
crops. Liberal c sh advances made on consign,
meats fur sale in Savannah, or on shipments to re
liable correspondents in Liretpool, New York*
Philadelphia, or Baltimore. aag!9 6m*
H- H. UNVLILE,
Vrrfc
S. W. GLEASON,
Iron an8 Brass Foundry and Ma
chine Works,
Manufacturer and dealer ia
S UGAR MILLS, SUGAR PANS, Gin Gear,
Cotton Screws, Shafting, Pullevs. Portab'e
and Stationary Steam Engines, Corn Mills and Ma
chinery of all kinds.
St. Julian Street, West of the Market.
SAVANNAH, GA.
£&* Orden respecifblly solicited. aug!9tf
M. KETCH CM. A. L. HARTRIDGE.
KETCHUM & HARTRIDGE.
BANKERS
AND
COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
EXCHANGE BUILDING,
SAVANNAH, : : .- GEORGIA.
References:—Moses Taylor, Presideat City
Bank, N. Y.; P. C. Calhoun, President Fourth Na
tional Bank, N. Y.; John J. Cisco k Son, Banker*.
N. Y.; Morris Ketch urn. Banker, N. ,Y.; J. N
Notria, Cashier First National Bank, Baltimore;
M. McMicbael, Cashier First National Bank, Phila
delphia.
auglS ly
a. A. SCHWARZ.
HAAC A. BRADT.
SCHWAEZ & BRADY,
Wholetale and Retail Dealers in
CARPETS,
Floor Oil Cloths, Mattings,
SHADE LINENS,
WALL PAPER, WINDOW SHADES,
C0RSICK8, CURTAIX3, C0RD3, TASSELS.
115 Broughton Street, Wgllg's Building,
(South Sid*, Between Ball end Whitaker Si*.)
SAVANNAH, GEORGIA,
tar" Post Office Box 494. *n*l 9-1 r*
W, M. DAVIDSON,
Wholesale Dealer ih
FOREIGN and DOMESTIC
Wines And Liquors,
150 Bay Street, Savannah, Ga.
(Established in 1844.)
TJia constantly on hand a Urge assortment of
11 French Brandies, fiollhnd Gin, StCroik and
Jamaica Rum,
Scotch and Irish Whiskey,
*Fort and Sberry Wine, (the latter Sirtct Importa
tion from Spain.)
J3C All the above Liquors Are hk&ran
teed to be genuine as imported.
Also on band,
JOHN GIBSON'S SONS & GO ’S
Celebrated Whiskies, of all g-ades.
Sole agent fur Georgia and Florida, for Massey,
Huston k Co.’s celebrated Philadelphia Draught
Ale, Iu barrels and half barrels,
auglt) 6m*
WM. HENRY WOODS,
COTTON FACTOR
AND
limit [Mini HIBCIiTS.
BAY STREET,
Savannah, Ga,
I* prepared at all times 16 advance liber
ally on consignment for terle in Savannah, or
for shipment to his correspondents iu New York
and Liverpool.
a::g5-6m*
L J. GUILMARTIN & CO.
COTTON FACTORS
AND
mm turn i»
£ ay Street, Savannah Ss.
Agents for Bradley's Super Phoephale of Lime.
Bagging, Rope, A Iron Ties, always on hand.
Usual Facilities Extended to Customers.
aog!9 6m
DENNIS FAEVEY,
FURNITURE DEALER,
153 BronghtonlStreet,
SA YAXXAJf, : : : GEORGIA.
M AlYOGANY, Wslant and Chestnut Bed-Room
Suites; also Imitation Frerch and Tea*tvr
Suites ; Mabcguny and Walnut Par’or Suites, in
Haircloth and Heps; .Sofas, Marble-Top Tables,
Bureaus, Sideboards. Wardiobes. Book-Cases,
Wash-stands, Chairs and Bedsteads of all kin J.
ty New Work made to order, and Country or
ders prompOy filled.
augl9 ly.
W. D'cxcaN. J. H. Johnston.
DUNCAN & JOHNSTON,
COTTON FACTORS
AND r
General Commissiei Merchants,
76 BAY STREET, SAVAJSJtAH, GA.
RANDELL & CCL,
Wlioleanle Grocer*,
*Ot saos Bay St, ol Bafifrrd,
BA VAXXA IT, GA.
Gwersl Areata of the Orange Rifle Pow
der for Gaor-gis, Florida and Alabama.
angU im* .
SA VANN AH CARDS.
¥. H. STARK & CO.,
WHOLESALE
GRO CERS,
COMMISSION MERCHANTS
and
Cotton Factor
Agents for tbe ami* of Gullett"* Steel Brtuh
COTTON GlNSv
ALSO,
E. F. COE’S SUPERPHOSPHATE of LIME.
Careful atlentifih given to Sales (fir
Shipments of Cotton, and all
kinds of Produce.
Liberal ad ranees made on ‘CoriiCgtOKihlt.
BAGGING, ROPE and ARROW TIES
Constantly on hand. sep3o 6m
ADOLPHE SACK.
Importer bf
sTlveu an'D g6lP>
"W" -A- T o BRED S
CHOICE JEWELRY,
BIJOUTERIE, CLOCKS, Eta., Etai,
Corner Brvadt & tVLitdVer Lireefa,
SAVANNAH, GEORGIA*
I^-Hepa iring of Watches anil
Jewel-/ executed With dispatch,
* A
Warranted to Give Satisfaction-,
auglO 6m
W*k. H. Tihox. W«. W. Gombox.
tison & Gordon,
COTTON PACTOR9
AND—
mil eaiiissni khcubts.
strUiU Savannah, Georgia.
Bagging end Rope or Iron Ties advanced oh
Crops. , ^
'Libera! dash advances made on conalgumeiifa of
Cotion. , ,
Grateful for liberal prtronage i n tbe past, a ebi-
tinuance of the same is respectfully solicited.
sep2 tint*
ISAACS’ HOUSE,
Ctterrt 4 ...V—...Macon, Ga.
E. ISAACS, Proprietor.
T HTS HOTEL is located in tbe central portldh
of tbe city—convenient lo Ware Houses rim
bu tines* houses generally. It beixrg the only hoafce
in the city kept un the
EUROPEAN ?LAN S
Offers unequalled advantages to the plaeter and
travelim* public generally.
Tbe table is supplied with tbe best the market
affoads, and theTObt&sftrniished with new and neat
furniture. .
|JTA FREE Hack will be in attendance .at Ul
trains. jjrSoif
EACH CARGO OF THIS
U ANO
TS ANALYZED
Before Being Offered for Sale,
And Warranted Equal to tha
Original Standard Value.
19“ To be used on all Crops precisely as
Peruxian Guano.
H. II. JONES. Agent-,
ati»26tf Cntljbift.Gn.
Now is the Time
TO BUY
Drugs, Paints-, Oifsi 6km, GhemfcaK, Eft:
O Et IS A
narll-lr J. 1. kcOo.VALD.
Dr. M. A. SIMMONS’
GENUINE LIVER MEDICINE>
T'lRAltE’3 Plantation Bitiara,
IJ & dataller's Siomapb Bitter*,
Drorouta’s English Female Bitten,
Ward a Enreka B.ttara,
„ . , . _ „ Brade’a Chic a.
Harley s and Van Deusea'a Worm Confection*,
, . - acenr O l, Etc.,
Jtut receired and lor sAt at the f)ntg S.om .»f
“P*** i. i. McDJNAHk
