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V OLUME I ] THE EASTMAN TIMES IS PUBLISHED WEEKLY AT Eastman, Dodge Cos., Ga., BY IX. S. 15 X 7 IX TO IV, Terms— One year, $2 DO ; Six months, SI.OO. All subscriptions required in acjvanee, invariably. Advertising Kates. Sqrs IM. 3M. |G M. 12 M. 1 $4 00 s7oo|s 10 QP sls 00 2 G 25 12 00 | 18 00 25 00 4 975 19 00 j 28 00 39 00 4 11 50 |2250 j 34 00 46 00 t ‘Jo 00 I 32 59 ! 55 80 U 0 i col. 35 00 |GOOo j 80 00 130 00 All bills for advertising are due on the first appearance of advertisement, or when pre sented, except when otherwise contracted for, Parties handing in advertisements will please state the required time for publication, other wise they will be inserted till forbid and changed for accordingly. Transient advertisements by the money will receive no attention. T Advertisements or Communications, to se cure an insertion the same week, should be handed in on Monday morning. All letters should be tydddressed to R. s. BURTON, Publisher. Selected Poetry. The Story of Lilith. BY LOUISE SOHPLEEP.N. Come to my arms, my Alice, Lay your bead on my shoulder—so, ■While i tell you a sorrowful story Of the children long ago. Once in the dark old ages Ere the Saviour's name was known, A cloud hung over tne people, And fear was in every tone : pver the house of the ruler, And the peasant’s hut as well, [try] Through the length and breadth of tl|o eoun- A sickening terror fell. And many a sad-eyed mother With shuddering fear oppressed, Clasped with a passionate fervor Her baby unto her breast Twas said that the beautiful Lilith, Adam’s wicked demon wife, Over the earth was wandering In search of each infloeent life. And oft she was seen at nightfall, With a scowl on her face so fair, While over her arms and shoulders Boiled her tawny golden hair. When was heard, so runs the legend, lu the twilight chill and late, Far off with a sullen cadence The clang of an iron gate, Men knew that the wicked Liiith in the dusk of evening gray, II .and darkened the eyes of a mother And taken a child away. Away to her drear dominion, — And the gate with sullen roar, Barred out each hope of rescue From the darling, seen no more. For those hands, so wlpte ai.ri shapely. Ne’er relaxed their cruel hold Till the innocent life was strangled In meshes of tawny gold. What, you are trembling, my Alice, Hush, darling, mother is here ; the dear Christ loves little eluidren. And so you have nothing to fear. And if you should waken sorqe morning, Listen, dear, tq what I say, It you should waken some morning And find the baby away, lou would know that at night while sleeping; His forehead the angers kissed, And he was nqt enfolded by Lilith, But by Mary, Mother of Christ. And perchance on hinges of music Turn the beautiful Gates of Pearl, As their white wings at the threshold The guardian angels furl. So to-night, my own little Alice, When “Now I lay me,” you say, Remember the old time children Who never were taught to pray, And thank tho Merciful Father That Mary, the Mother mild, Has banished the wicked Lilith, And watches o’er every child. GOLD BEADS. Jane Ford had a string of peal gold beads, and they so completely dazzled Lizzie Caxton that slje lay awake half the night wondering now she could possibly come honestly by such an adornment. Now Lizzie was a sewing-girl at a qLollar a day, and gold beads do not grow on every tree. She paid half her week's wages for board, and the other three dollars bought her clothes, paid for washing and the fuel she burned evenings : for she always left Madanje 2sias’§ at sev en o’clock. In truth, there diijp't secro much surplus with which to purchase gold beads, for somehow or other niQ pey always dribbled away in Lizzie’s bands like water through a sieve ; for one must have under-clothes and stout •>hoes, and a best gown for Sunday, though it should be only a black ai and a hat in the fashion, and a shawl for every day to save the best cloak, and watey proof and umbrella and rubbers ; and there were car fares in bad weather, and medicines, and something 1 for her seat in church, and the mission box and oh deaf 1 six dol lars seemed like such a fortune when she held it in her hand on Saturday night, but, like fairy gold, it went such a very little way 1 Any one who has had to pay in hard earned cash for every needleful of thread and every button, will readily understand why Lizzie was in despair before the question of gold beads. And some how, gold beads she must have; it seemed absolutely imperative She had seen others resplendent in ear and finger-rings without a sigh ; it was re served for Jane Ford’s gold beads to give Lizzie a pang of desire. How becoming they were ! How they would set off her rich color, and lend a sparkle to her hazel eyes, and make the white column of her throat more apparent, and—and —perhaps if she looked her best, if any thing should give her an air of prosperity and fash ion, Lon Lovell might prefer her to Jane after all, as he had once seemed to do. Ah, what a heartache his defec: tion had given her! And she fondly fancied that a string of gold beads would set all right again, would serve as a talisman, would give to her glance the fascination of Jane’s. least, if Lon were to be lost, it should be through qo fqult of hers; she wished to do her best tq eplipse Jane. And her mirror told her that she only needed Jane’s luck in wages, that fine feathers make fine birds—never once guessing, in her narrow experience, that Lon wasn’t worth the trouble she was taking for him; that a heart so fickle could never yield the repose and reliance that she craved. The very first morning she had seen Lon walking to church with Jane Ford gave her such a shock that for half an hour she had stood like one in a trance, with a curl wound about her finger ; and she could never recall the thought that possessed her during that time : she only knew that it was like a bleak frost falling in the spring, when buds begin to start, and blighting all the premise of the year, making a famine in the land. Ever since thqt tirpe she naa lived under a cloud, as it were trembling at every unwonted sound, at every knock or footstep, daily ex pecting some explanation, some over tures toward reconciliation on Lon’s part, utterly unable to accept the fact of his abandonment, till it became like an ache which from being long borne, seems to be a part of one’s existence, and in no wise aliep. But and sunsets had multi plied and Lon had failed to appear with any peace offering of tender apol ogies ; he had simply behaved as if it were the most ordinary and trifling thing in the world to bo on with the new loye fiefore J;.e was off with the old ; as if hearts, like foot-balls, were elastic, and did not mind hard knocks. When Lizzie put her needle aside and folded Madame Bias’s work away, it was with an infinite sense of loneliness thinking that another day had vanish ed, to mark it as sweeter than the rest. Lon had always been used to meet her on the way home, usually under the old stone archway at the foot of the street, and now she never passed beneath it without a trembling cer tainly that he would join her there, without starting at every shadowy outline, and yet pursuing her way on the other side mere lonely, more deso late than before, from the fading away of a precious hone. Once, indeed, when the twilight deepened and a few faint stars leaned out of heayen, she yealy fiid meet him under the old stone archvyay. There he was waiting for her ! How her [heart bounded and rejoiced! Oh! why had she evjsr upbraided him ? Why had she not beep patient ? She might have known that God would not leave her Cumfortless, that He was more kind than she could com prehend, that He had only deprived her of Lon for a little while that she might more perfectly appreciate the sacred sweetness of love, its ineffable satisfaction its depth and breadth ! Words of welcome were shaping them selves on her lips: all her pulses p.YSTMAN, I COUNTY, QA., AVEDMCSDA V, APRIL Q, 1873. throbbed to the tune, in fact, she had for the moment quite forgotten that he had ever beep to blame, that he had neglected her at all! All at once the half uttered words gasped and died in her throat—he passed her without a look, and it was Jane Ford whose arm he drew within his own, and to whom lie murmured some half te.pder. noth ing. The revulsion cf feeling was so intense that for the instant Lizzie fan cied she was dying ; she reeled and leaned against the masonry for sup port, till one of Madame’s girls over took her. “How you frightened me !” said this Samaritan. “Are you sick?” ‘I had a faint turn, that was all; give mo your arm, if you please.’ {Madame’s work-room is so sti fling, and she is so cross/ said the other, ‘that I thought my own head would split. 1 had to take Mrs. Serge’s flounces off twice. Madame says you’re falling off in your work, Liz; you’d bet ter look out, or it will be a pretty how d’ye do. Did you see Jape Ford’s gold beads? I wish I had a string; don’t you? They’re so dressy, and make folks think you had a grand mother. I heard that she and Lon Lovell were at the Museum last night. She looks mighty fine when she has on her bettermost clothes, but the girls do say that she paints ! Here we are! Shan’t I come in and fix you some paiqphor? it’s awful good for dizzy spells and all-overish sort of aches. ‘No thank you ; I shall get on very well now, Good-by.’ There was no drug tiiat could medicine poor Lizzie’s pain; only time was capable of soften, mg it; and who in the first frenzy of sorrow, regards such alleviations with anything like pleasure ? Time works miracles; but how? Through our own infirmity, by virtue of our forget fulness , not by remedying the cause. One survives the blow sure ly, but who can estim ite its ejects on the constitution and temperament ? So Lizzie was left to work cut her problem alone, and at first no solution seemed possible ; her love was so much a part of herself, so interwoven with every heart-beat, that at first it appeared utterly beyond her power to dissolve partnership. How was she to do without that which had been her daily inspiration, which had sustained her through up-hill work ? How many times she resolved to be strong, to give him up once and forever— when he was no longer hers to resign —to be brave, and make no more ado! She knew that every tear she shed, e v ery sleepless night sfie spent, made the distance greater between them, inasmuch as they clouded and defaced her beauty; but all the same, tears fell; the heavy nights wore on to wea ry mornings ; she resigned bin) to-day only to long for him inexpressibly to morrow. But what could she do at single combat with fate? Now Lizzie was not so silly as re ally to believe in £lm power of gold beads to work miracles ; but did they net constitute part of the witchery which had infatuated Lqn ? At least they were pretty; and why should she not depk herself in finery, and perhaps attract her love to fiis tnje orbit? Why got match charm with charm? Therefore Lizzie went to work with a will, and as everybody knows, where there’s a lyill there’s a way. Madame Bias had no longer reason to complain of her—only once, when Lizzie made a mistake in cutting, madame remark ed, briefly, “This must come out of your wages, Miss Caxton,’ which made things so much harder. But difficul ties only appeared to sharpen her fac ulties and quicken her energy. She had thought so much qf the beads that they already assumed a factitious value ; she had a sort of superstition that it would bring i’ll luck to give them up moreover, it would seem to argue an infirmity of will; and in the meantime the pursuit diverted her mind, gave her something to think of besides her trouble. She worked like a Trojan ; she took in extra sew ing after her clay at Madame Bias’s was over, and sat up late and rose eaily. She had really do idea how much the gold beads would cost, but she calculated that after saving fifty dollars she might give herself the pleasure of dropping into tfie jeweller’s an pricing them. And why should she not spend her hard earnings in beads, if she pleased, rather than in dry-goods and millinery? When our comforts drop away or desert us, don’t we seek out others ? And if Lizzie expected to find her happiness in gold beads, was she less wise than we. You may depend upon it that it was a long time before her hoard reached the required amount, that she pinched in her fuel, and boarded herself on oat-Mical jporridge w ith a pint of blue milk for dessert on Sundays ; for the idea of saving had become a kind of mania with her. She met with se rious discouragements, to be sure, in the shape of pickpockets and fire, but at length the day arrived when her week’s wages made up the sum All Saturday, while she fluted and piped and gimped the silks and velvets and cashmeres, she was thinking about asking for vacation on Monday, and spending the morning in selecting her beads, and she was somevyhat surpris ed, withal, that the prospect gave her nq greater satisfaction, that her pulse did not quicken in view of the pleas ure. And after the beads—what ? Was she one jot nearer Lon’s heart than in the beginning! Had she not met lijm day after day, week in and week out, and passed with a nod that had never once ripened into ‘A pleas ant morning’ qr T hope I find you well/ or a hand-shake? Would gold beads make amends for golden hopes postponed—nay, strangled? ‘But would they not be better than nothing V asked Roxy, who was trim ming a sijk with thread lace at her elbow. Lizzie started and rubbed her eyes : had she spoken her thoughts : ‘What, the gold beads V she asked, not quite awake yet. ‘Grout beads, indeed ! You hear with your elbows, Liz?, No, diamonds in the rough : we were speaking of coals ’ ‘Oh, they ar*3 twelve dollars a ton ; they come higher still by the basket ful. Isn’t, it odd, if you can afford to buy a lot of anything, you get it cheap, but if you’re so poor you must buy ia driblets, you pay more for the privi ‘Vo ' 'T es, we were just wondering if we couldn’t raise some money to buy coals lor poor Miss YY ade. You know she was a real born lady, as good as any body once ; she taught painting, and went among folks that were folks.— Hut her eyes gave out one day, and she had to begin to spend her sayings, and now she hasn’t got a dollar to bless herself with. She’s out of every thing, and as proud as Lucifer, and won’t 'near of the Home.’ Lizzie let Mrs. Shoddy’s blue velvet train slip from her hands upon the floor. - ‘So poor as that 1’ said she, be neath her breath. ‘Where does she live, Rosy ?’ ‘She stays at No. 8 Starvation Lane, up tinee flights. Such a looking hole! Goodness sakes, Liz Caxton, what are you doing ?’ ‘Tell madame that I was obliged to leave while it was daylight, if you please.' ‘ißut don't you know that Mrs. Shod dy wants her dress to-night!’ ‘Mrs. Shoddy must wait •/ and Lizzie closed the door after her, and picked her way through Starvation mounted the stairs that rocked under her, and found old Miss Wade lying in bed to keep warm. Tve come to take you home with me,’ can you walk ?’ 'll you re one of the ladies from the ‘Home/ I can’t., ‘No, I am one of the girls who sew for Madame Bias. ‘l’ve got a nice room of my own, where I am often very, very lonesome ; and I heard of you, and thought perhaps you would like to come and keep me company/ Biess you, so I would. I never thought of it before/ and without more ado they went off to Meaner Court together. Lizzie felt as ii she were really at housekeeping when she spread "her light-stand for a tea-table, toasted her bread, and made coflee, adding a plate of jumbles in honor of her gucot, hose appetite frequent fasts had sharpened. She had never known the luxury of playing hostess before. Wasn’t it equal-to wearing gold beads ? . ‘And what shall I do for my board?’ asked Miss Wade, the spirit of inde pendence still flickering. ‘You shall keepHhe fire b,lazing, if you please, and water my mignonette, and put the tea to steep. Qh, \ye will be happy as larks 1’ ‘lf I only had my eyes/ she made moan, ‘what pictures I -would paint ! I would paiqt you. They say \ coqld have the cataracts removed fox* fifty dollars ; but. law sakos i they might as well ask fiye thousand.’ ‘Can it be dope V said Lizzie. ‘I never knew’— ’ But the next week she asked Dr. Hyacinth on her way home from work, and the upshot of it was, a day was set for lhe operation. ‘Now, ir.y dear/ said Miss Wade, T’ye got q trifle for you—a souvenir, as tl;e French say ; and when my eyes are all well, if J doifit see it about your neck I’ll just leave yoq apd go to the Home out of spite, or out clear-starch ing. I used to wear it when I was young like you ; it belongs to youth. It was my great-great-grandmother’s. I hid it away in the straw bed w’hen I was down in Starvation Lane, for fear folks would make me sell it, and some how that didi/t seem genteel to do.— You see I’ve got some scraps of senti ment left, for all my beggary; it would have been equal to selling one’s birth right, But I’ll giye it to you—that’s a different thing; yqu’v? been a friend indeed. I should never have- seen the light of day but for you ; and if you refuse to take it, I shall sell it to pay my board.’ And she p f ul}ed f+iqip her pocket a necklace of gold beads, like little suns, each one a solid globe, wrought to the last degree of perfec tion, as you may have seen Chinese balls ot ivory, till they appeared to be nothing but gold bubbles of exquisite designs, through which the sunlight passed in anfi out. ■Qh !oh!oh !’ cried Lizzie. ‘lt is a sin to take them !’ A fiddlesticks ! Let me put them round your neck this instant. There, you shall be married in them ! llow becoming* they must be ! I know that you haye a beautiful soul, and that al ways casts a reflection qii tfie face.— Now hush. If you make a fuss, I shall take them to the jeweler’s, and break my heart ! I should leave them to you in my will, any way—you couldn’t help that—but I’d rather see them on your neck, child. They make me young again. Every bead has its history. When I was all alone in the cold and dark, I used to lie awake nights and count them like a good Catholic ; and this bead would brinsr back the day when I was twenty-one, and wore violets ip my hair, and danced half the night with—well, no matter ; and this other reminded me of the songs I sang in summer twi lights, rocking on the tide and dipping my fipgers ip the waters of the bay ; and this other—it brings me face to face with one who called the necklace his blessed rosary. Heigho ! I should beggar your patience if I told you all!’ And so Lizzie wore gold beads ; but did they afford her the thrill of joy she had predicted for herself ? doesn’t our imagination lend more than half the charm to those things which we would fain possess ? However, the cataracts were re moved from Miss Wade’s eyes, and Lizzie took care of her through all the gloomy days of uncertainty and band ages, taking her vacation from Madame Bias’s, apd discovering that she had as great a vocation for nurse as for seamstress ; while Dr. Hyacinth came and yvent, somewhat oftener than was needful, thought his patient. T hope it isn’t in order to swell the bill,’ she grumbled- But when JAzzie one day found courage to ask for the bill, the doctor frowned splendid \y in answer ing, ‘I am already paid. YO4 will oblige me hy not referring to it again. It has been a great, a positive pleas ure; you surely do not wish to rob me of it ? I do not have so many.’ ‘You ? I thought you had everything you wanted.’ ‘Oh, did you ? Why, I want some- [XUMBER 1% thing now, this minute, that I never expect to have. What do you think of that V ‘I think that you are not the first one.’ ‘Perhaps you can sympathize with me, then?’ ‘Yes—no, no; I don’t recall any thing I want very much just now,' positively. Lizzie was thinking how at dusk yesterday, when she had gone out to the grocer’s just beneath the old stone archway the string of her gold beads, rotten with age. gave way, and sent the dazzling globes tumbling into the mire ; how as she stooped to gather them another face leaned out ot the shadow, another hand met hers. ‘Let me help you find them/ said Lon Lovell's voice, ‘flow many were there V ‘Thank you;’ there were twelve/ Lizzie had answered, without more emotion than it she had been speaking to Madame Bias. ‘There, three, nine, twelve ; yes, they are all here. How kind of you !’ ‘Lizzie, Lizzie !’ he had called, fol lowing as she moved away, ‘don’t be in 6uch a burry ; stop and speak to a fellow a moment. I know I don’t de serve it, but— ’ ‘Why not ? I’m glad to see you, Lon. W hat else do you want me to say V ‘I don’t want to dictate. If yoq don’t say anything of yourself, it wouldn’t be any good for me to put words into yogr niouth. Only if you could forgive me, Lizzie— ’ ‘Oh, yes, Lon, I forgive you heartily ‘And that’s all, I suppose ? ‘All ? \\ by, no, Lon : I wish you well. ‘Well away, perhaps? It \youldn’|; give you any pleasure now, would it, to have me tell you that I can’t get over loving you, Lizzie ? W r ould it V He had| # drawn nearer, and put his hand on her arm while he spoke ; and she had been silent for a moment, ask ing herself the same question. ‘Oh, Lon, don’t ask me/ she had cried then ; ‘don't say it. Hush ! hush ! Say good-night, please ;’ for in that moment she had found him no nearer to her heart than tiie little boot black that brushed her by ; his touch aroused no responsive thrill, his late assurance found no echo. She had suffered without him till he was no longer necessary as a part of her life. r lhus having dismissed Lon Lovell, Lizzie returned to Dr. Hyacinth, whom she had left unceremoniously standing, hat in hand, leaning against the wood en mantel, as it he were waiting fur something—waiting for his adieux, perhaps. ‘Perhaps/ she said, taking up the thread where she had dropped it— ‘perhaps you will get what you want one of these days ; or it may be you will survive the desire/ Won are consoling ! But I mean to ask for wfiat I want first, Miss Lizzie!’ Acs ! That’s a good way. What isn’t worth asking for isn’t worth hav : ing, they say/ ‘To be sure: ‘He either fears his fate too much, Or his desert is small, ho dares not put it to the touch, To lose or gain it all. ’ Miss Lizzie, I want you ! Will you be my wife ?’ ‘Dr. Hyacinth, I never thought of it.’ ‘But it isn’t too late, I hope V ‘But lam afraid of you—a little.’ ‘Pm glad of it, for then you won’t dare to say me ‘Nay.’” And so Lizzie lost her heart, but not the gold beads, since fate I*6 not so hard as we fear ; and if it docs not al ways accord us our wish, it makes amends in unexpected ways, denying us only those things whose value we over-estimate and survive.— Harpers Bazar. How to Kill a Town.—Wc find the following recipe in an exchange : ‘To kill a town, underratp /every present and prospective enterprise, speak ill of the churches apd schools, tell everybody the hotels are bad, with hold the patronage from your mer chants and tradesmen, and buy your goods and groceries at some other place; and by all means go to the city for your millinery and such like; and if you are in business, refuse to adver tise.*