Newspaper Page Text
VOIJ ME I I
THE EASTMAN TIMES,
IS PUBLISHED WEEKLY AT
Eastman, Dodge Cc., Ga,,
it. s. hit it r r < > tv.
Terms— Out* y. nr, $2 nO ; Six months,
SI.OO. All subscriptions required in advuuce,
invurial ly.
AtfveiUsing katos.
Sqrs 1 M. 3 M. 6 M. 12 M.
1.. .|s4ools7 00 jslo 00 sls 00
2 .... , G *25 | 12 00 | 18 00 ! 25 00
4. . . 075 : 10 00 j 28 00 ) 39 00
4 11 50 22 50 I 34 00 j 40 00
k 20 00 32 50 I 55 00 j 80 00
1 col. 35 00 GO 00 I 80 00 j 130 00
All hills lor advertising are due on t tie first
appearance of advertisement, or when pre
sented, except when otherwise contracted n r.
Parties handing in advi rtiseinents will please
state the required time lor publication, other
wise they will be inserted till forbid and charged
for accordingly.
Transient advertisements unaccompanied by
the money will receive no attention.
Advertisements or Communications, to se
cure an insertion the same week, should be
handed in on Wednesday morning.
All letters should be adddressed to
R. S. IJITRTON, Publisher.
Professional and Business.
11. W. J. HAM. I I THOMAS Jl. DAWSON .
HAM &. DAWSON,
ATTOIi XE V S A T LA\V ,
(Office in Times building.)
EASTMAN, GEO.,
Will practice in the counties of Dodge, Tel
fair, Appling, Montgomery, Emamul, Laurens
and Pulaski, and elsewhere by special con
tract.
Feb 14 tf.
L, i.\. JBIA.IL.Ij,
Attorney and Counsellor at Law,
EASTMAN, GA.
Will practice in the Circuit and District
Courts ol the United States, lor the Southern
District of Georgia, the Superior Courts of the
Oconee Circuit, and all counties adjacent to
the M. AB. 15. R. Half fee in advance ; con
sultation fee reasonable.
70" Oflice in the Court House.
ID.
<>. c. s i<
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
llawkinsville, (i EO.
Oconee Circuit—Court Culendar 1873.
Wilcox 4th Mondays, March and September.
Dooly 3d Mondays, March and September.
Irwin Fridays after above.
Montgomery—Thurs alter Ist Mondays, April.
Laurens 2d Mondays, April and Oct paid Oct.
Pulaski 3d Mondays, April and October.
Dodge 4th Mondays, Apr‘l and October"
Tel a r—Thursdays after above,
jan 31st. ly.
J. LLGLKE HICKS,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Mount Vernon, Montgomery Cos., Ga.
I)R. J. H. LA SHEET,
Physicaii ami Surgeon,
Offers his profession;d services to the p. opl
>jf Eastman and surrounding country.
70" Office near Gen. Foster's house.
My.
WHOLESALE DEALERS IN
Groceries and Provisions,
No. 82, Comer Third & Poplar Sts.,
MACON, - - GEORGIA.
We have just received and in store o. Mesh
supply of
Bacon, Bulk Meats,
Corn, Oats, Hay,
Flour, M lassos, Sugar,
Coffee, Lard, etc., etc.
All of which we offer for sale on as fair
terms as can be had lrom any wholesale house
in Middle Georgia.
T.-O" Give us a trial—We guarantee satis
faction !
J. HOLMES A CO.
2 ly.
Notice.
All persons indebted to the limit rsigned lor
goods bought ot him in the year 1872, are re
quested to come forward and make immediate
payment to the undersigned, or their accounts
will be placed in the hands of an attorney lor
collection.
W, W.ASEBURN.
march 12, ’73 4t.
. G. GRAHAM,
DEALER IN
Family Groceries, & Fancy Liquors,
KEEPS ON HAND AN ASSORTED SUPPLY OF
Flour, Bacon, Lard, Sugar, Coffee, Rice,
C’aned Fruits, Candies, Candles, Oranges, Ap
ples, Cheese, Crackers, Fancy Wines, Brandy,
Mhisky, Gin, Rum, and in fact any and every
thing usually kept in a retail grocery and liquoi
“tore, all of which lie will sell for cash, and
cash only, at a very small advance on original
cost. He invites you to call,
feb 7-1 v.
Selected Poetry.
Another Old Story.
15Y MINNIE MAY.
“Cru 1 only to be kind.”
I)o you r.man’o.r the evening
At tiie elo.se ol the Hilton b 11.
When we two stood , l >ue together
At the door Oi the great widen 11?
You whispered, “l’im ; shall have ended
Er * file sua ol our 1 ive shell set,
But the year.; in iy be l rug ot wooing,
So I beg of you, do not forget.”
Then you pi iced a ring on my finger -
How it 11 isiit and and shone in the light!
Then as 1 looked, Floy iiilion
Swtpt past us with a luce so white.
Could she have heard? I woadkr,
1 knew that she 1 ax cl you \v, 11 -
How the j. a lons pain must li ivo maddened
The petted society’s bv lie.
Ikr <;lmce li 11 the hate of a serpent,
An;l h r wr dh was intended lor two.
But why Lug, r o\\ r the st< ry ?
Ere the year past, you proved uni rue.
And now in the Jiikon mansion.
You sit l.ke a lord so gr aid.
And I, in my humcl • cottage,
Am the happiest wife in the 1 md.
MY HEROINE^
BY r. W. MORRIS.
Sin* made a very pretty picture as
she stood there in the orchard, beneath
lhr shade of an apple tree, Margaret
Graeme! She was as iresli and fa.r
and sweet as the Dowers that grew m
the meadow on the other side of the
road, across from where she was stand
ing. The twenty years of her life had
been to her only those of innocence
and joy and peace, so that she was a
merry, happy girl.
Margaret was the daughter of Squire
Graeme, whose rambliu • but comfort
able farm-house was half concealed by
tree s, a quarter of a mde down the
road. lie was a farmer, a plain and
honest man, who had never any desire
to be anything else than what he was.
Margaret was standing' there ir. the
orchard bareheaded, having thrown
her bonnet down at her feet. Indeed
she was pretty. Her hair was golden ;
her forehead white; her eyes were
brown and sparkling; her die ks had
a delicate color in them, that seemed
< ver ready to depart, yet ever re
mained; her lips were like crimson
berries, and her teeth gleamed through
ihen; when she smiled like pearls.—
’l on perceive that there are not many
iae.'S as sweet as hers.
The scene upon which the girl looked
was a calm and peaceful one. She
mid stood there a thousand times and
viewed it, yet it always seemed beau
tiful. The orchard was on a hillside
’hat sloped gently back from the road.
It was a meadow, too, as vv 11 s i*
<’hard, and h:vng just been freshly
nowm, the p. flume of a thousand
cm died iiowers w< > fried i > Marg'a
ivi’s senses by the summer breeze.—
•!nst in front ef her. the hard road
stretched away, ai.d a Lai. m’le d.s
■>n 1 a liv r w amd along, sh'mng 1 ko
s lver beiK'atli llie rays of the sun.—
Many an orchard an 1 mead >w and
Held could be seen, with here and there
h • residences of ti e owners of the
lands. Across the river stood a quiet
lit lie town, and back of that gr a h 11s
were on: lined against the I lac skies.
M ;i’gar- t was standi g adm ring
and! ties, when she heard e lining along
the road from the direction opposite to
lit r fatlu r’s house tin* clatter of a
horse’s hoofs. In a short time the
horse vv.th its rider came into v i w.—
that rider Margaret knew distantly
was a young man. He h and almost
passed her b fore he b held her; I u
noticing her then 4 , h reined in h s
horse and addressed her.
‘Does a gentleman by die name of
Graeme reside near here V he asked.
‘Yes, sir.’ Margaret replied ; ‘the
next house L iiis.’
‘Thank you,’ ti e gentleman said.
He scrutinized her face a little close
ly for an instant and then rode away.
Margaret’s thoughts returned to tin*
scene spread out before her. For
some time longer she remained where
she was. and then wended her way
homeward by a path that led through
the orchard. Beaching the house, she
ascended the steps that led up to the
long, vine-covered porch in front of it.
She paused there a moment before en
tering.
‘Well, Margaret!’ said a voice.
She turned and beheld her father.
EASTM AN, DODHE COUNTY, C AWEDNESDAY, MARCH 1873.
lit- bad spoken to I an*. But he waft
tot alone, lor by his side was seated
tin* young gentleman wh > had passed
and mg the r >ad b\ her as s!ie sto >d in
the orchard.
‘Mr. M lymird,’ her father said, rising
?< h s feet, ‘this is my daughter Mar
garet.’
M a-garcc how; and, md Mr. M tynard
rose, murmuring her iiaiuc, and that
he was very glad to make her uc
piaintance.
’Mr. M lyn.trd has come to the neigli
borh od on business, amd will remain
with us lor several days,’ Mr. Graeme
u tored J>y way of an i-xplamition.
l'him Mirg'irc left tit in, anv they
res in i led their conversation in reference
to business matters.
At snppt M irgaret met Mr. M iv
ii iid again. The meal passed off
pleasantly, and the acquaintanceship
o. ;he two progressed Frank Miy
Hard was a gentleman in manners and
education, and knew vcr\ well how to
m ike linnself agreeable.
Alter lie ret.red to rest that night a
iair lace, tiiat of Margaret Graeme,
floated across Ins dreams. He told
li.mself, too, that she was as sweet
and pretty a creature as lie had ever
beheld.
A few days passed. Frank May
nard attended to his business, but at
the same time contrived to see Mar-a-
O
ret frequently. Once or twice he
walked with-her through the orchard,
and oftener sat in the parlor, while she
played tor him, sometimes accompany
ing her playing with Ins voice. Mar
garet w.,s toe daughter of a farmer;
but, it may as well be stated, had re
ceived an education out of wliicu ac
complishments were not by any means
left.
The time came when Mr. Maynard’s
business was all attended to. But he
still lingered. What.kept him ? Per
haps you can guess.
Yes, Maigaret was the cause of his
remaining. The girl’s beauty and
sweetness had touched Ins heart in a
manner that he could not avoid feel
ing. It was for the sake of being near
her, he acknowledged to himself, that
iie was stay.ng.
But these doubly pleasant summer
days could not last forever. The end
ol a month of his stay at Mr. Graeme’s
came, and he saw that he could not
remain much longer.
Then there was a struggle in Frank
Maynard’s heart. Tliat struggle was
; necause he wanted Margaret Graeme
n>r Ins own, and because some obsta
cles lay in the way of his having her
as such, il is to be understood that
the question ol . cr loving or not loving
iuui, was not the one that lie w.ts con
s.dermg ju. t tin'll. He w.s tile mein
bt i of a | > 1 oud and wealthy lannly, and
ne km w that his haughty relatives
wortid tijjjn.se h s weud ng tin dangii
or~l a s.mjile larmer. Gould he brave
...e.r auger mr the s..ke ol Margaret’.',
love ?
He announced that he was going
‘*"’ay lie fixi and the tune at wlneh he
Wi.n'd go. And tin* battle still went
on in Ins Heart.
On the i ven ng before the day on
whieh he was to it ave, he and Mar"’;.-
ret look a ramble through the orchard.
From place to phun- they went, till at
iengdi they stood at the spot from
which Margaret had first beheld him.
1 hey had been conversing lightly, but
n-’W they stood lor a few moments in
sd; nee i; was an alternoon as gio
r.oiis as t sat lirst one had been. fin*
ser ne was just as brightly beautiful as
it had been on that day when Frank
Maynard rode alone: the road.
‘Do you remember that lirst day you
saw iiu ?' lie asked, pr< st ntlv.
‘Yes, 1 remember,’ the girl returned.
1 lien there was silence again.—
There was something in the youn at
man’s heart that was struggling up
for utterance.
* Vre you sorry that I am goingaway
to-morrow ?’ lie said.
‘1 am always sorry to part with my
friends, Mr. Maynard, Margaret re
plied
Margaret was calm enough. Per
haps her heart was beating more rap
idly than usual. At any rate she be
trayed nothing of agitation.
T suppose that I am only a summer
friend, and that I will be forgotten
V
when'the summer is past,’ Maynard
said more coldlv than was necessary.
‘Why, Mr. Maynard!’ Margaret cried;
‘what causes you to speak so?’
That which he had been holdim*-
b
back rose up for victory.
‘Your coldness maddens me!’ he ex
claimed. ‘You are, seemingly, not
sorry to part with me, while I am in
despair at the idea of our separation
M ii’garet, I love you. I cannot leave
y 'it until I* have my fate decided.’
It was now till 1 girl’s turn to he agi
tated. She did love Frank Mai nard,
and i/m ugh she had never betrayed it
by aii.v sign, stil] a great fear had been
be-s-**t'oe hair that in* might not love
i '
her. Of course such a girl ns Marga
ret w uld n t betray any love until it
was eminently proper to do so. Hi. *
going away had weighed heavily upon
her heart, but she had .scorned to take
Iso coi l lv that it was enough to cause
hire to think her indifferent.
‘Oil, Margaret,’ lie continued, ‘can
you bid me hope.’
He was standing by her side. She
turned her face towards him.
‘Yes you can hope, more than hope,’
she murmured, tears moistening her
eyes, a quiver in her voice.
‘ And you love me!’ Margaret said.
‘Yes, 1 love you.’
And so it came about that when
they two returned to the house, they
were betrothed.
Frank Maynard left Margaret the
next day, telling her that ere long be
should return and claim her for his
wife.
Margaret’s heart was very light, for
was not the world very bright for her!
She loved! She was loved! Oh, sweet,
sweet words, which thong]} so simple,
told such a wondrous story !
******
The girl was seated on the sofa.—
Maynard ban been oactng Racy and
forth before her. They had been apart
for three months, and just a t< w min
utes bad met At first M.uafiiret, in
her joy, had noticed nothing peculiar
in her lover, but now it seemed that
there was something strange in his
manner. His face was white, and he
kept throwing his hands about nerv
ously.
‘Frank, are you unwell?’ th° girl
asked, when h<* had paced back and
forth before her a dozen times.
‘No,’ he answered. Then he stopped
before her.
‘Margaret, vou know 1 love you?’
he said, interrogatively.
‘Yes. I know it,’ Margaret answered,
| with a smile But a vague uneasiness
sank down upon lx r heart.
‘Am! you trust me ?’
‘lndeed 1 do.’
‘Margaret, my love, I shall speak
plainly,’ Maynard continued, hurriedly.
‘I have told my relatives of my love
for you, and— ’
M lynard stopped.
‘Go on,’ Margaret said.
4 They violently oppose my wedding
1 y m. 0!i, Margaret, what shall we and >?’
‘Have you told me ah? Margaret
asked.
‘I have stated the fact, only. My
father even goes so far as to say that
he will cast me off-—disinherit me, il
1 do not comply with his wishes and
g vc you up.’
M< s . ui-v's lips had set firmly. S e
now rase to lx r feet.
‘I am sure,’ she said, ‘that I do not
desire to become an unwelcome mem
ber of any family.’
Her eyes met Frank Maynard’s,
there had been some tire in Hiem, but
the next instant she broke down, and
the. tire was quenched with tears.
‘Oil, Frank, I love you,’ she cried.
He caught her in his arms and
kissed away her tears.
‘Margar t, my love, my love, I can
not give you up,’ he murmured softly
‘My darling, will you flee with me ?’
os'd she flee with him? she loved
him. How could she refuse what lie
asked when she loved him
‘Dear Frank,’ she uttered, ‘if von
want ine to be your wife in spite of
your relatives I have not the power
to refusQ. If you will risk their an
ger l(T my sake, 1 will be your wife.
But wo need not flee, lor we # can be ;
married here. •
Ilie man,s face flushed. ‘Darling,
you misunderstand me,’ he caid, in the
same low tones tiiat he had been us mg
’I dare not risk their anger. But i
you will go with me to the city I wil’
love you just as well as if you wer<
my wife. Will vmi go ?
Not before bad the girl seen tie
deadly poison that was concealed be
neath his honied words. But she was
comprehending now. She struggled
reefrom his embrace, and stood up
before him.
‘I hen I will not be your wife*,’ sh
uttered with a calmness tiiat astoi -
ished herself.
‘No’ M ynard faltered.
Margaret Graeme’s fact' crimsoned.
1 hen every particle cf color departee
from it, till it was white as death. I
there were any tears in her eyes, thev
were drank up by the fire there. M ly
nard shrank away from before her, for
she was the very p’eture of righteous
indignation. She lifted her hand to
ward the door.
‘Go, go J’slie cried, ‘quick before 1
shall call someone to throw you from
the house. Go, and never let me loo 1
upon you again !
‘But Margaret/ lie commenced
pleadingly.
‘Not a word,’ Margaret continued
T wdl not listen to a word from y m.
I should hate myself if I did. Go, 1
say for the last time.
And lie went.
Then Margaret sank hack upon the
sofa, and sat there for a long time
wdh her hands folded upon her lap.
A stony calmness was hers.
But that could not last always.
Directly a sob shook her. Then an
•flier, till at last she bowed her head
and a rain of tears flowed from lie 1
eyes.
Door Margaret! The sweetest
brightest hopes of her life had fad- 1
Ihe keenest agony that ceuld over b
hers v?as upon her. Poor M irgaret !
her pain was as great as her love had
boon pftre, tier faith as strong
M.v dear reader, a word abou! Fraid
Maynard. Not in bis defence is it, flu
he is not worthy of it. But 1 don’
wish you o> think that he was a wild,
oissipated wretch. He was not. IF
was known among his friends as a g< -
ninl, companionable, pleasant sort o'
a felhov I know not how much of a
struggle there had been in his heart
before his evil genius got possesion n ;
him, and compelled him to harbor
that terribly wicked plan of his.
W ell, that awakening did not kif
Margaret. For awhile her cheek was
pale and her step slow. But as tli
weeks ana months passed, the pain ;r
her heart lost its keeness. At last tli
bloom came back to her cheeks and
her step was as clastic and light as
ever
A year fled away One afternoon
-die was in the orchard, when alone
the road, just as he had come the first
time, came Frank Maynard. He saw
her, and dismounting from his horse he
entered through a gate and came t<
her side. To her surprise she felt m
rising anger.
hMiss Graeme—Margaret/ lie said ‘I
have come to ask your forgiveness.
W .11 you grant it V
i here was a world of eagerness ii
his face, am 1 manner, and tone.
‘Yes, I grant it,’ she said quietly.—
‘\\ l 1 you come to the house ?’
‘1 hank you, n >t just now • not im
h'ss—Tie stopped. She said nothing
hut waited for him to proceed.
‘0 Margaret” he cried, T love you
stdi, madly, and I want you to he mv
wife, You liave forgiven the past.
Tell me— ’
‘Your father might disinherit you,
she interrupted, with a touch of scorn
in tier tone.
‘My lather is dead, and 1 am now a
wealthy man in my own right. 0
Margaret, I ask you to love me one<
more. For the sake of your love, 1
will humiliate myself to the dust
Can you love me again?
‘Mr Maynard,’ the g'li said, withou
a tremor in her voice, ‘you know I
loved you once. But my love died on
a day that you certainly have not for
go'ten. It wi’ n verc me to i “again.
I forgive you fully, hut I can never
speak any warmer words to you.’
‘ls there no hope ?’
‘None.’
He saw tncra was not. Turning he
[NUMBER 10.
walked slowly oik of the orchard, with
the western sun’s glories shining over
him. lie mounted his horse and waved
an adieu to her with his hand. Then
there was the clatter of his horse’s
hoofs, and an instant he had van
ished from her sight.
lam almost done. Margaret’s love
was strong, but her life now goes on
candy and happily without Frank
Maynard.
My 1 leroine ! Would that there were
more like her—more as strong as she!
If there were, how much of sin and
shame and sorrow would never be
written that othcrw ise goes down oil
the great record of human lives !
The Chi id’s Etiquette in Ten
Comma tidments.
1. Always say yes, sir; no, sir ; yes, papa ;
no. papa ; thank you ; no, thank you ; good
night ; good morning.
Never say how, which or what ; use no slang
terms. Remember that good spelling, readiug,
writing and grammar, are the best of all true
education.
w. Clean faces, clean clothes, clean shoes,
and clean finger-nails indicate gooeflj reeding.
3. Rap before you enter a room, and never
leave it with your back to the company.
Never enter a private room or public place
with your cap on.
4. 11 ways offer your seat to a lady or old
gentleman. Let your companions enter the
carriage or room first.
5. At table, eat with your fork ; sit up
straight; never use your toothpick
Europeans do . ; and, when leaving ask to be
excused.
G. Never put your feet on cushions, chairs,
or tables.
7. Never overlook any one when reading or
writing, nor talk or read aloud when others are
reading. \Y hen conversing, listen attentively,
and do not interrupt or reply till the other has
finished.
8. Never talk or whisper aloud at public
pi ices, and especially in a private room where
some on a is singing or playing the piano.
9. Loud coughing, hawking, yawning, sneez
iiig, and blowing, are ill-mannered. In every
case, cover your mouth with your handkerchief
which never examine —nothing is more vul
gar except spitting on the floor.
10. Treat all with respect—-especially tlio
poor. Be careiul to injure no one’s feelings by
iukiiul remarks. Never to]l tales, make faces,
'■•dl names, ridicule the lame, mimic the uu
ortunate, or be cruel to insects, birds or ani
mals.
llmnoious.
\\ hen Judge Howell, of Rhode
island was at the bar, Mr. Burgess, to
qlay a joke, wrote on the lining of his
nat vacuum cabut (empty head.) The
Circulated about exciting a smile on
very countenance, except that of the
ovner, who deliberately took it up,
oid repeated the words, and, well
knowing the author, addressed the
court as follows : May it please the
court, I ask your Honor’s protection,
(holding up his hat), Tor’ said he, ‘I
mid that Biother Burgess has written
ais name in my hat, and I have reason
to believe he intends to make off with
it.’
‘Look here, stranger, that’s my wife
you’re dancing with.’ Well, what of
t said Racensack. ‘W hv, this you
lance with her again and I’ll blow the
,0 P of your head >fif 1 ‘Now, look
icre,’ said Racensack cooly, ‘do you
: ee that umbrella setting there?’
‘ A ell. s’pose Ido ?’ ‘Well, you han
ilc that umbrella—you touch that
imbrclla ; you even look at that lira
reel Ih , and I will ram it down your
throat, and I'll—l’ll spread it.’
Jenkins an old whiskey bloat, had a
m)\\ the other day. The nurse put bis
irst born in bis arms, and Jenkins, re*
warding it lovingly while a tear
rickled dovv i his grog be-blossonied
iose, said :—“Twenty years hence he
v’dl keep me in whisky.’
A Norwegian lady has arrived in
i Iwaukee witii some twenty of her
i ldren. She says there are so many
accidents she didn’t think it safe to
•ring them all on one boat, as in the
tsc ot a wreck she wouldn’t have
teirt to commence life in anew
uiOry. She expects the rest of them
iiortly.
A party of F n’t Wayne young gen
lo.men dined sumptuously at a restau
" pit, and each one insisted on paying
ae lull, fo decide the matter it was
imposed to blindfold the waiter, and
it* first one he c inght sli mid pay the
nil. He hasn’t caught any of them
><*t
V\ hen a Connecticut deacon nudged
i somnolent worshipperavith too sub
a-ription box, the sleep}’ individual
iwoko partially, smiled, murmured,
I don’t smoke/ and dropped off again.