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THE EASTMAN TIMES,
IS PUBLISHED WEEKLY AT
Eastman, Dodge Cos., Ga.,
BY
If . S . T? IT If, TO N .
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Professional and Bnslness.
J •>.. J 111 i . ASIIER,
Pliysican and Surgeon,
Offers his professional services to the people
of Eastman and surrounding country.
pO" Office near Gen. Foster’s house.
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3U AV liALLr,
Attorney and Counsellor at Law }
EASTMAN, GA.
Will practice in the. Circuit and District
Courts of the United States, for the Southern
District of Georgia, the Superior Courts of the
Oconee Circuit, and all counties adjacent to
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THOMAS H, Haws OH,
Attorney and Counsellor at Law,
EASTMAN, GEO.
T. L. r r AYLOI^
Attorney at Law,
EASTMAN, - GEORGIA.
<>. C. IIORNIdT
ATTORITE Y AT LAW,
Hawkinsville, Geo.
Oconee Circuit — G/nd Calendar 1873.
Wilcox—4th Mondays, March and September.
Dooly—3d Mondays, March and September.
Irwin —Fridays alter above.
Montgomery—Tliurs after Ist Mondays, April.
Laurens—2d Mondays, April and Oct (and Oct.
Pulaski 3d Mondays, April and October.
Dodge 4th Mondays, April and October 1
Telfair —Thursdays alter above,
jan 31st, ly.
GUANO! GUANO!!
Cotton Bale Brand,
TIIE BEST NOW IN USE,
Cun lie found for sale by the Ton or Sack,
by applying to
J. J. ROZAR.
Eastman Lodge, F. A. M. 279.
The following Officers of Eastman Lodge
riVe elected for the ensuing year :
James Bishop, \V. M.; R. A. Harrell, S. W.;
A. C. Page, J. W. ; 11. Coleman, S. D.; J. J.
Ttozar, J. D.; B. A. Herndon, Treas.: W. A.
Morgan, Sec’y ; C. P. • Mills and C. I?. Murrell
{Stuarts ; C. D. Parkerson, Tyler.
First and third Fridays regular meetings.
PEACOCK BAR.
The proprietor of this well-established and
higldy-reputed bar begs leave to inform hisnu
lnerousTriends and generous patrons that he
is still at liis old stand, and, as usual, prepared
with an assorted supply of liquors of all
grades, to supply their every demand.
Call and see him.
L. M. PEACOCK.
1-ly.
Asa iiAmuiLi.,
TM3AOEK IN
Dry-Goods, Family Groceries, &c.,
keeps constantly on hand
Goods of all kinds in his line, and is like
wise prepared to do any work in the lino of
Blacksmitliing,
And furnish to farmers, on reasonable terms,
farming implements of all kinds.
He hopes to merit a liberal share of public
patronage.
1-lm.
CHARLiE MURRELL,
DEALER IN
Fine Family Groceries and Liquors,
Keeps on hand Flour, Sugar, Coffee, Tobac.
tfo, Candles, Soap, Caned Fruits, Oysters,
Candies,! Cheese, Crackers, Sardines, Pepper,
Spice, Starch, Potash, Powder, Shot, Caps, Ac,
nil of which he proposes to sell cheap for cash.
My. .
■ ~ j m t . sit ■,- - 4 ' f •• •' -hJ .y.
Selected Poetry.
The Poet and the Proof Reader.
Ah ! here it is ! I'm famous now—
An author and a poet!
It really is in print! Ye gods!
How proud I’ll be to show it!
And gentle Anna ! What a thrill
Will animate her breast,
To read these ardent lines, and know
To whom they are addressed.
Why bless my soul! here’s something strange :
What can the paper mean
By talking of the graceful brooks
That gander o’er the green?
And her /s a t instead of r,
Which, makes it tippling rill **
We'll seek the shad, instead of shade,
And lieU instead of hill.
They look so —what ? I recollect,
'Twas sweet and then ’twas kind,
And now to think, tlie stupid fool
For bland has printed blind !
Was ever such provoking work !
Tis curious, by-the-by,
How anything is rendered blind
By giving it an eye.
Hast thou no tears? the t’s left out,
Must thou no ears, instead;
I hefpc that tliou art dear, is put
I hope that thou art dead.
Who ever saw in such a space
So many blunders crammed?
Those gentle eyes bedimmed, is spelt
Those gentle eyes bedammed.
The color of the rose, is nose ;
Affection is affliction ;
I wonder if the likeness holds
In fact as well as diction ?
Thou art a friend, the r is gone—
Who ever would have deemed
That such a trilling thing could change
A friend into a fiend.
Tliou art the same is rendered lame—
It really is too bad !
Aud here because an i is out,
My lovely maid is mad ;
They drove her blind, by poking in
An eye—-a process new ;
And now they’ve gouged it out again,
And made her crazy too.
Let’s stop and recapitulate ;
i ve dammed her eyes, that’s plain—
I’ve told her she’s a lunatic,
And blind, and deaf and lame.
Was ever such a horrid hash
In poetry or prose ?
Ive said she was a fiend, and praised
The color of her nose.
I wish I had that editor
About a half a minute ;
I’d bang him to his heart’s content,
. And with an n begm u , -
Id jam his body, eves and bones, . !
And spell it with ad,
And send him to that hill of his—
He spells it with an e.
r l he It ejected Manuscript.
BY CLARA JULIEN.
‘Twas evening in the great city.
Crowds of people thronged the busy
thoroughfare, each seemingly intent
upon some particular object. Some
had come from luxurious homes, and
with happy faces seemed in pursuit of
pleasure, while others were trudging,
with dejected countenance, towards
and ens of poverty and despair.
Through the crowded street a ycung
girl clad in the habiliments of mourn
ing glided swiftly, her rapid move
ments and firmness of countenance
indicating the importance of accom
plishing her object. Before a brill
iantly lighted mansion on Fourteenth
Street she paused as if dreading to
enter; then as if life depended on this
one action, she hurriedly ascended the
steps and rang the bell. A servant
answered the summons, whereupon
the young lady inquired lor Mr. Malin,
and was invited to enter. The domes
tic proceeded immediately to the libra
ry of Mr. Malin The room was luxu
riously furnished. Books, paintings,
and stauary were profusely yet taste
fully arranged, and every surrounding
betokened the wealth of the occupant,
who was editor of a very popular jour,
rial. He was a middle-aged man,
seated in his lounging-cliair, perusing
one of a number of newspapers by
which he was surrounded.
As the servant entered, he seemed
provoked at the intrusion, and upon
reading the Card, his irritation did not
lessen. “Alice Malin !” he read aloud.
In a gruff tone lie commanded the do
mestic to “show her in.” Timidly the
young girl trod the velvet carpeting
to the library, and as timidly entered.
Before proceeding further we will
relate some of the past history of both
individuals Reared in the bosom of
wealth and luxury, Alice Malin had
disdained that purse-proud spirit
which so often imbues the minds of
children who are favored by fortune.
All the advantages that parental love
and wealth could procure wer* lavish
ed upon her, and at the age of eighteen
she was innocent and pure-minded as
in childhood, yet endowed with a
gifted and cultivated intellct. Her
father had one brother, the editor bc-
EASTMAN, DODGE COUXTY, GrA., FRIDAY, FEI3. 7, 1873.
fore mentioned. Atlhough his journal
was in wide circulation, he had ac
quired the reputation of selfishness,
being unwilling to pay reasonably for
talented productions which were often
sent him for publication. From her
childhood Alice had intuitively shrunk
from this man. Although he was a
frequent visitor at their house, and
was ever agreeable during those vis
its, yet with a child’s foresight, she
always imagined a disagreeable some
thing behind bis pleasant exterior.
Alice had just returned from school
when her father was stricken with Se
rious illness. He sent for his brother
—his only relative— and intrusted
him with all his earthly affaire should
he never recover, at the same time
telling him that his business was in a
very complicated state, but' entreated
him to promise that his widow and or
phan should never suffer for the neces
saries of life, apparently much affect
ed, he promised his protection to the
dear ones of his dying brother.
The next day Alice Malin was father
less. The blow was so stunning to
the mother and orphan that a long
time elapsed before they realized their
utter loneliness. They thought not of
troubles in store for them since the
loss of their only protector. The whole
world seemed a blank without him
they loved so dearly.
A few days were allowed them for
grief at the end of which the uncle
made his appearance; and informed
Mrs. Malin that his brother’s property
would be insufficient to satisfy his
creditors, and that they must ex
change their elegant home for one bet
ter suited to their circumstances :
henceforth they must labor for them
selves. This intelligence was shocking
to them in their deep affliction, but
Alice preferred to labor with her
own hands, to dependence upon this
man whom she so entirely distrusted.
He promised to find rooms for them,
and came the next day with the in
formation that he had taken lodgings
in the lower part of flic city, whi|>
they might occupy immediately. With
many tears Alice tore herself away
from her beloved home and all its fond
associations, and resolutely deter
mined to become her mother’s support
and comfort.
Once installed in their new abode,
Alice began to look around her for em
ployment. She had never boon taught
to do plain sewing, therefore could
not rely upon that as a means of sub
sistence. She thought of applying to
the friends of her prosperity for pupils,
hut resigned that idea when she re
flected that they had proved them
selves only summer friends, not hav
ing visited her in adversity. At last
she recalled the little triumphs of her
school days. When composition day
camo around, Alice Malin was always
awarded the victory over many of her
ciders. Her teachers were ever
praising her, and encouraged the idea
that her name might one day swell the
list of fame.
But with a true woman’s instinct,
Alice shrank from publicity, and
wrote because slie loved to express in
beautiful language her varied
thoughts. Her portfolio contained
many little bits ol poetry and romance,
and she resolved to plot a beautiful
story and weave into it some of the
former productions of her pen. She
confided the plan to her mother, who,
knowing her superior talent, encour
aged her. They had money sufficient
to last them a few weeks, and Alice
resolved that her MS should be fin
ished before that time. No one could
have worked more diligently in those
few weeks than Alice Malin. She en
tered into the planning, writing, re
reading, and revising with an energy
that could not fail of success.
The excitement she had undergone
placed her mind far distant from all
doubt, but now that she had finished
her task, her first misgiving arose.
What if the publisher to whom she
would apply should reject her story
under the plea that it was sentimental,
or the first effort of a young author.
At first she had not intended to apply
to her uncle, but when all these doubts
arose, she felt that claims of relation
ship ought to demand for her a hcar
ing.
With a heavy heart she prepared for
the street, grasping her thrilling MS.
in her hand. Emotions of doubt and
despair were struggling in her mind,
for upon the success of this story de
pended all her earthly happiness. We
left her in Mr. Mai in’s library, and as
we return, she is about parting from
him. Her uncle had refused even to
read her work, and with despair writ
ten in every feature of her counte
nance, she uttered these words :
“Farewell, sir ! You promised to pro
tect your dear brother’s widow and
orphan. God knows how you have
failed to fulfill that promise. May the
entreaties of your dying brother ring
in/your cars until death !”
With a heavier heart than when she
entered, did Alice Malin retrace her
stops, rowing never to cross this
man’s threshold again. If her own
uncle would not encourage her, would
not even test the merit of her efforts,
upon whom could she call ?
“Surely there must he men of heart
in this great city. My labor must not
be lost. I will try again to-morrow.”
She sallies forth in the morning, re
solved not to be discouraged until
after the publisher had tested the real
value of her work. Three or four ap
plications were met with, “No young
authors employed,” yet she persevered.
At last she was shown into an office
where an elderly gentleman was ex
amining MSS. Alice’s heart beat joy
fully as she met his kindly eye and
heard his gentle voice. She took
courage from his gentlemanly demean
or, and broached her errand. lie gave
her no false hope, but told her that
success seldom crowns the efforts of
young authors-, yet assuring her that
her story should be thoroughly criti
cized, and she be remunerated accord
ing to its merit. Upon examination
lie found evidence of great talent in
the simple story, his noble heart de
cided him to encourage her in the
work she had begun.
He published her first MS., and ac
cepted all others she chose to send, for
in each succeeding narrative higher
and more beautiful ideas were re
vealed. AVith each successful effort,
she seemed to take fresh courage and
write as ii' by inspiration.
Years passed on, yet Alice Malin
continued to wield her pen with in
creased facility. Her vivid imagina
tion was over in readiness, and her
wonderful command of language never
failed her. She had written books,
whose contents had been eagerly pe
rused by thousands, for no one could
read one of her productions without
realizing the gifted mind of the author.
Wealth had come to this noble girl
through the medium of her mighty pen.
Meanwhile, what has become of the
uncle? We will look at him again, en
tering the same library into which Al
ice Malin was ushered ten years ago.
He is thinking of this literary star who
has attracted the world’s attention and
admiration to secure her service, re
solving to call upon her publishers the
next day
The next morning found him at the
publishing house of M. & S., the same
place where Alice had left her Jirst
manuscript. He wished the name and
address of the lady who had recently
wrtten many beautiful articles for his
journal. The brother publisher dotted
the following on a slip of paper: “Miss
Louise Selden, 223 West 23d Street.”
Politely thanking him, Mr. Malin left
the office, and calling a hack, started
for 23d Street, During the ride, his
reveries were of a plesant nature, for
lie was considering the increased val
ue which the new contributor would
add to bis journal He was never in
better humor than when lie found him
self in the drawing-room of Miss Sel
den, taking a seat fn an obscure cor
ner that he might readily criticize the
lad} r when she entered. Five minutes
elapsed, then the door opened and ad
mitted the hostess.
“Beautilul!” you would have ex
claimed, upon gazing at her fair face
and graceful figure. From her sweet
countenance was reflected a pure heart;
Irom her lofty brow, a noble mind,
b rom a timid, shrinking girl, she had
developed into a beautiful, self-possess
ed woman. Mr. Malin sat as one
charmed. Suddenly lie seemed to re-
cover his self-possession and advanced
to introduce himself. As Alice met his
glance, every feature of her beautiful
face seamed distorted. She had recog
nized in the. gentleman before her her
uncle. As he knew her only by her nom
de plume, and did not seem .to remem
her her, she concluded not to reveal
herself until he had made known his
errand. Said he:—
“I have read many of your charming
works, and count you among the most
talented authors of the day. If you
•will contribute to my journal, I shall
consider it a great favor, besides pay
ing you liberally.”
She replied “Air. Malin, my numer
ous engagements prevent me from con
tributing to any other magazine; yet,
were 1 at liberty, an event which oc
curred some years ago would cause me
to decline the honor of writing for your
periodical. Ten years ago, your bro
ther exacted from you a promise to
protect his family. Ten years ago,
your brother’s only child.. Alice Malin,
asked you to publish her first manu
script. You unkindly refused even to
read it, scorning to encourage one so
young to obtain a livelihood for herself
and mother, and striving to extinguish
every spark of ambition in her nature.
Sir, lam Alice Malin. I have been
successful in the course marked out by
myself. My mind has increased in
vigor from constant action, and my
soul has been purified with contempla
tion of the true and beautiful; yet,
were I to write for so base a man, my
success would end. This is the first
time you have crossed my path since
my early days of adversity. The prom
ise you made my dying father must
ever ring in your ears. God pity you!”
During this time, the uncle sat mo
tionless, with eyes dilated, scarcely
willing to believe his ears. That this
boautiful, talented lady could be the
once timid, shrinking girl whom lie
had so shamefully neglected, seemed
incredulous. AVith out a word he left
the house, feeling that his prosperity
was at an end. Conscience was a
roused, and he felt that he had signal
ly failed in his greatest earthly duty.
So great was his remorse that in a
few short months he became incapa
ble of attending to business, and was
lain upon a bed of sickness a deserted
man. At last he summoned courage
to send for Alice, knowing that she
would not refuse to come to him. The
noble girl left all her duties to minis
ter to the wants of her only enem}’ on
earth. AVhcn she saw how his awak
ened conscience caused him to suffer,
she granted her forgivness for all his
shortcomings to her and her mother,
and remained by his bedside until he
breathed his last.
Alice is yet in prosperity. *AII her
spare moments are devoted to the sick
and afflicted. In doing this she is her
self blessed, and is to-day one of the
most successful authors of the age.
Miss Prymm On Babies.
BY WINNIE.
Of all created human ertters, said
Miss Priscilla Prymm, emphatically, 1
dew despise a baby! I used to reckon
a snake about the most hateful; but a
body knows in ginoral where to look for
snakes, and how to keep clear of 'em,
whereas there’s no pitting 1 out of the
Way ot a baby. Go where you will,
in town or country, on land or sea, you
find the pestiferous little critters; and
as for street cars and steamboats, a
body'd think they were made for their
special accommodation. If I was a
railroad president, ora steamboat com
pany, I’d have “babies,” as well as
“ladies,” cars; and the wonder to me is
that it hasn’t been done before this;
Twould pay, sure.
The first thing a baby does is to
holler, and it hollers till it’s old enough
to use its hands and feet as well as its
voice, and then the mischief it does do
is beyond calkilation. Why, I’ve had
my ink-bottle upsot on my new list
carpet, and my best cliany tea set, with
the yaller rosebuds on’em, knocked off
the table—leastways a plate and two
cups; and my “Book of Beautiful Ex
tracts” (that was given me by Porti
field Grubbs before he took to keepin’
company with that bold minx Aiathusy
Wilson) turn to atoms a’niost. And
[MT3II3ER -1.
all by a baby, or leastwise by a variety
of’em for they’re all alike as a basket
ol peas. And what’s most aggravatin' of
all is the foolish mothers excusin’ the
“little darlin’s,” on the score of “cut
tin’ their teeth,” or “being so remarka
bly precocious,” or something else
equally interesting. I’ve always no
ticed that whatever badness a baby is
guilty of, it’s always set down by its
mother to either its teeth or its smart
ness.
1 wonder what the worrying little
varmints arc made for, and why nature
couldn’t hev sent folks into the world
ready grown up, or at least old enough
to he of some use. Now, of what
earthly use is a baby, I should like to
know? A little shapeless lump of flesh
and blood, with its bald head lolloping
on one side, and its two goggle eyes
staring straight at nothing, and its
flabby lists catching at everything in
its way, crying at everything sensible
and grinning at everything foolish.
And what nonsense mothers dew talk
to their babies! Why, ’twas only just
now 1 heard Mrs. Simmons, next door,
chattering on the back stoop to that
baldheadcd monkey of hers.
dor’s owny daiTm’ itty piggy-wiggy!
Is be hoongry? Den be sail hab one
tacker for caty. One nicey-ticey itty
tacker for mudder,s itty precious plum
pie, apple-dumpling, sugar-tandy ba
by!’’ Fab! it’s enough to make a body
sick, and I, for one, don’t wonder that
children are so long in learning to talk
plainly, with such outlandish, gibber
ish ding-donged into their ears day
and night! To my mind it’s more bar
barous than French or Injun.
And the ridick’lous way in which
some folks dew dress their babies! All
smothered up in satin, and feathers,
and laces, and furs, for all the world
like a milliner’s figger-head. I declare
to goodness that I sometimes feel a
Sort Ol pity I'>r ’em, jeev n-\ wimu -*
a organ-grinder’s monkey sewed up in
a milingtary coat and trowsers, with
a wooden sword by his side, showing
off to a grinning crowd in the streets;
and which of the two is most laffable
I’m sure it’s hard to tell.
“Innocents,” indeed! Jest as if they
don’t know the badness they’re about,
and don’t mean to dew it! Why, I’ve
*
seen ’em kick, and screetch, and bite,
and scratch, and pull people’s hair like
young grizzlies; and to this day you
can’t convince me that Miss Jones’s
baby didn’t mean it when the little
wretch grabbed hold of my new curls
as I was purtendin’ to kiss it afore
Deacon Peabody (the week after poor,
dear Miss Peabody departed this life,
it was), and pulled the hull on’em
right off afore his face, comb and all!
If it hadn’t a’bccn for that I might hev
—hut, ahem! All that I can now say
is that I’m truly rcj’iced I’m not likely
to be pestered out of my life with one
of the ugly, dirty, good-for-nothin’ lit
tle varmints. Of all the troubles and
trials of this mortal state and vale of
tears, deliver me from a hahy!
Another Horse Epidemic. —The New York
papers reports the existence in that city of a
new disease of horses, or rather the develop
ment of a disease supposed to originate from the
seeds of the late epizootic, which is said to l>e
more fatal than the original disease. The pa
pers represent that since the disappearance of
that epidemic, horses, apparently in good health,
have suddenly dropped down, often while in
harness, and died as if of apoplexy. Veteri
nary surgeons call the disease eerebro-spinal
meningitis. The suddenness and fatality of
the attacks, and the paralysis accompanying it,
were the features that seemed to warrant the
dragnosis, and as that disease is almost inevi
tably fatal, very little study has been wasted on
this new phase of it. Inquiry has invariably
shown that the horses attacked by the new dis
ease had v ly severe cases of the former epi
demic, and it is probable that the present trou
ble is due to their having been put .to work too
soon. So tar the trouble has been most noticed
in truck horses. The ear companies and other
l arge owners of horses Mill not admit loss from
it. A large number of horses have died in va
rious parts of New York, and not a few been
killed in the earlier stages of tlie attack to curtail
their sufferings.
A Warning. —To the men, and particularly
the young men and boys, I would say a few fare,
well words. Look at me, lam on the scaffold
about to be launched into the other world.
What has brought me to this? Let me tell you
and let these words ring forever in your ears.
It was whiskey and the carrying of fire arms.
V bis key and the bearing of pistols have ruined
me It you do not want to be imprisoned,'and
in the end be brought to the scaffold, don’t
drink liquor, don’t carry fire arms.— Jeremialt
M'oly, on the scaffold, at Xeic Madrid, JJc. 10,
IS7U.