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VOLUME 11
Till; EASTMAN TIMES. I
IS PUBLISHED WEEKLY AT
Eastman, Dodge Cos., Ga.,
B y
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BATES AND RULES FOR
LEGAL ADVERTISING.
Sheriffs sales, per levy, $3 50 ; sheriffs mort
gage sales, per levy, 85 : tax sales, per levy, 83;
citation for letters of administration, $4; eitn
ti ui for letters of guardianship; application
for dismission from administration, 810; ap
plication for dismission from guardianship, $5;
application for leave to soli land (one square)
§5, and each additional square, $3 ; application
lor homestead, 82 ; notice to debtors and cred
itors, $1 ; land sales (Ist squared, and each ad
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erty. per square, Sli 50 ; estray notiees, sixty
days, 87 ; notice to perfect service, $7 ; rules
nisi to foreclose mortgage, per square, 81; rules
to establish lost papers, per square, 84; rules
compelling titles, per square, 84 ; rules to per
fect service in divorce eases, $lO.
Sales of land, etc., by administrators, exec
utors or guardians, are required by law to be I
held on the first Tu sday in the month, between
the hours ol 10 in the forenoon and 4 in the
afternoon, at the court house door in the county
m which the property is situated. Notice of
these sales must be given in a public gazette
40 days previous to the day of side.
Notices tor the side of personal property
must be given in like manner 10 days previous
to day of side.
Notices to the debtors and creditors of an
estate must be published 40 days.
Notice that application will be made to the
t’ourtof Ordinary for leave to sell land, Ac.,
must be published for two months.
Citations for letters of administration, guar
dianship, Ac., must be published 30 days - for
dismission from administration, monthly for
three months -for dismission from guardian
ship, 40 days.
Rules for foreclosure of mortgages must be
published monthly for four mouths —for estab
lishing lost papers for the full space of three
months -for compelling titles from executors
° r administrators, where bond has been given
by the deceased, the full space of throe months.
Publication will always be continued accord
ing to these, the legal requirements, unless oth
erwise ordered.
Profef Blonal and Business.
H. \Y. J. HAM. | | THOMAS 11. DAWSON
HAM & DAWSON,
ATTOII NE Y S A T L-A XV ,
(Office in Times building.)
EASTMAN, GEO.,
W ill practice in the comities of Dodge, Tel
lair, Appling, Montgomery, Emanuel, Laurens
and Pulaski, and elsewhere b} r special con
tract.
Feb. 14 tf
I R. J. 11.
l’liy sican anil Surgeon,
Offers his professional services to the people
of Eastman and surrounding country.
J®®** Office near Gen. Foster’s house.
1-ly.
L, A. HALL,
Attorney and Counsellor at Law,
EASTMAN, GA.
Will practice in the Circuit and District
Courts Ot the United States, for the Southern
District of Georgia, the Superior Courts of the
Oconee Circuit, and all counties adjacent to
theM.AB. R. R. Half fee in advance; con
sultation fee reasonable.
-£#*• Office in the Court House.
1-ly.
J. EUGENE HICKS,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
-Mount, Vernon, Montgomery Cos., Ga
PULASKI HOUSE.
Georgia.
Fronting South, a Frontage of 273 Feet
WM. 11. WILDBERGKP,
vollllo Ftf Proprietor.
Wtyt Eastman fptiwgl
EASTMAX, DODGE COUNTY, 0.A.., WEDNESDAY, MCW' 38, I8?U.
Selected Poetry.
Kindness.
“Be kindly affect ioned one to another .”
Be kind to each other,
O, husband! 0, wife !
Frail, frail are the tendrils
That bind thee to life.
Soon one must be taken,
And one must remain,
To bear all the sorrow,
The parting, the pain.
Death's angel stands ready
At every gate,
And one must go out,
And the other must wait.
Be kind to each other;
This life is so brief,
Let no s<df-reproaches
Be blent with thy giief.
O, think of the dear face,
All covered and cold;
The poor hands that never
Thine own will enfold;
The dead lips that never
(fan answer thee more;
Be kind to each other,
For life is soon o’er.
Be kind to each other,
(), brother ! O. friend!
To one or the other,
Life soonest must end.
Each form must be shrouded.
Each face covered up;
You know not whose lips
Must first touch the cup:
Death’s angel stands ready
At every gate,
And one must go out,
And the other must wait.
HARLEY’S CHANGES.
A STORY OF THE WEST.
BY CAPT. CIIABLES HOWARD.
Prior to the great financial crisis of
1837, Joshua Martin was deemed the
most prosperous merchant in the then
frontier city of St. Joseph, Wiscon
sin. He was noted for his sterling in
tegrity and stainless character; and if
he reveled in wealth, he did not parade
it before the eyes of the people.
He came to St. Joseph in 1831, and
at once began to amass a fortune.
Those who pretended to know, said
that the merchant operated in eastern
stocks, and that the bulk of his wealth
was staked among the bulls and bears
of New York.
Tue memorable crash of that decade
which embraces the dates above writ
ten, ruined Joshua Martin, lb; had
staked everything in eastern securi
ties, and he found himself a compara
tive beggar Poor blind man! 11c
could save nothing from the wreck,
and he sat among the ruins of his for
tunes, like Marius among those of
Carthage. Forced to relinquish the
imposing residence which, in his ea
gerness to delve deeper into stocks, he
had mortgaged away, he was obliged
to remove his family, consisting of a
wife and one daughter, to an humble
dwelling: and from the date of that
removal, the Martins were no more
mentioned in the fashionable society
of “St. Jo.”
The troubles of the bankrupt’s
family did not end here. The blow
killed the merchant. Though a strong
man, he could not bear up under his
loss. If a few thousand had been
taken from him at intervals, he might
have recovered and regained his lost
position; the destruction of tens of
thousands at one sweep of the waves,
overwhelmed him. He sank rapidly,
and died, leaving his family to bullet
the waves of the world, and to do the
best they could among those who
once knelt at their feet; but now who
did not deign to recognize them on
the streets
When a rcih man suddenly becomes
poor, the grave is the best place for
him. It is a house of refuge, where
lie is safe from the scorn of those
whose equal and superior in social
position he once was.
Mother and daughter took quite
readily to their new life. They sold
much of their gorgeous furniture
which had ornamented their late home;
but kept the piano, and a few other
pieces which Maumee loved.
Maumee Martin had grown to be
witching womanhood during her lift*
in St. Joseph, and her accomplish
ments rivaled her beauty. After the
death of her father—after her trans
foimation into the child of a despised
bankrupt—she did not shrink from
the duties that fell to her lot.
She must live; she must earn her
daily bread; and a week after the
change of life, we find Maumee Martin
ply'ng the seamstress’ needle or Hvii.-’
lessons in music lo a few children
whose parents sent them to her be-
cause she taught cheaper than regu
lar perceptors.
By and by, the house which they
occupied was sold over their heads;
but the new owner—a great middle
aged but somewhat handsome man—
assured them that they should not be
turned out. The new owner was a
stranger in St. Joseph; but immedi
ately after purchasing the property
above mentioned he opened a commis
sion store, and at once drew a thriv
ing partronage about him.
And re as Ilarley, for such was his
name, came often to the home of the
Martins, and reports went abroad that
he intended to wed the bankrupt’s
widow.
‘My chances are decidedly good,’
said the merchant one evening, as he
bent over the counting-room desk.
‘The girl appears coy, but she will
come about in time. People think
that I am after the widow; but 1 nev
er entertained a thought in that direc
tion. The beauty of the daughter
would draw the widow’s most devoted
adorer to her side. That girl’s a
beauty. She must become Mrs.
Harley: she shall! Yes,’ after a long
pause, and as he slowly turned from
the desk, ‘llarley your chances are
good decidedly good. Yon own
their home, and in the depth of winter
you can turn them out, it Maumee be
comes stubborn and says ‘No!,
He was the sole occupant of the
counting room: but as he crossed the
threshold and turned to lock the door,
lie heard a footstep and a voice down
the dark aisle.
‘Hold on a moment, Mr. Harley.
Reopen the counting room, please.
T wish a few words with you.’
r ihe merchant recognized the voice
of one of his clerks.
He did not reply, but stepped into
the cosy counting room closely follow
by Phillip Lee.
AY el!?’ he enquired, turning sud
denly upon the handsome young clerk.
Speak quickly, Lee; 1 must be going.’
‘All I desire to say is, that some of
he funds of the li mho have mysteri -
ously disappeared.
‘\\ hat?’ cried the merchant. ‘Say
that again, bov.’
The young man repeated his words
and added—
‘One afternoon while you were ab
sent East, I placed nine hundred and
fifty dollars in the safe, and the fol
lowing morning forty-five were miss
ing.’
Aon have committed an error in
counting possibly.’
‘ll I cannot count money correctly
when it is before my eyes, I deserve
to be thrown out of employment,’ said
the youth, in a insulted air. several
times during your absence, have I
noticed the speculations of some un
known person.’
‘Who had access to the safe?’
‘I held the keys sir,’ answered Phil
lip quickly. 1 have not missed them
for a single moment. But the safe
has been opened by keys.’
Audi eas Ilarley dropped his head
n deep though , while the clerk step
ped to his desk, and summed up vari
ous columns on the back of an envel
ope which he drew from an inner
pocket
‘iliroG hundred dollars have been
pui Joined within the last four weeks,’
turning from the desk.
‘lt staggers me,’ returned Harley.
But we will watch the thief, and if we
catch him, he shall have his reward.
the merchant began buttoning bis
great coat, and the clerk walked from
the room. Andreas Harley heard him
close and lock the outside door of the
store and then stepped toward the
desk, his dark eyes fixed upon an ob
wliich lay thereon.
It was the envelope upon which
I hillip Lee had been figuring.
111 look at his figures,’ he murmur
ed, but the next moment he turned
the envelope and looked at the super
scription. It was merely ‘ Phillip
Lee Present ; ‘but the chirography
startled the merchant. Those deli
cately formed letters he had encoun
teied before. And after closing the
counting room door, he half fearfully
diev the letter from its hiding place
For a moment his eyes remained j
fixed upon the briel communications, 1
when he started from the desk while
something like an oath fell from- his
lips.
‘So Miss Maumee Martin,’ he cried,
hurling the letter to the floor, and
gazing angrily at it, ‘you possess a
lover besides Andreas Harley. Girl!—
woman—l will not submit to this.
If you prefer the employee to the em
ployer, you must hunt another home.
But, by heavens you shall not wed
him, as he stands before, the world
now. He has held the keys to the
safe. He has robbed it! The crime
shall be fastened upon him. Harley’s
chances do nottloolc so bright now:
but I fancy that a little sternness will
bring the girl to terms. She’s a beg
gar now almost. Does she want to
marry another?
Then he picked the letter up and
read it again, and placed it on the
desk where the youth had left it.
The contents of the missive did not
amount to much. It was merely a
reply to one which, during business
hours, Phillip Lee had sent her; but
appellation of ‘Dear Phillip, had open
ed a mine of information to Andreas
Ilarley. He had never encountered
his clerk at the home of the Martins.
They had spoken of him but once or
twice, and then casually; and he had
suspected nothing until the letter was
thrown in his way.
Several days of quiet proceeded the
bursting of the storm.
Clerk and employer encountered
each other often, but no unusual words
passed between them. It was evident
that Andreas Harley was displeased
at something, but he took care to con
ceal his displeasure as much as possi
ble.
The night following the one that
witnessed Ihe scene in the counting
room described above, witnessed the
robbery of the safe.
This time thirty dollars were ab
stracted, and "Andreas Harley called
one of the clerks, Theodore Mason, to
his desk and acquainted him with the
facts.
Mason, upon being asked if he sus
pected anybody, said:
‘Lee.’
The merchant started at the an
nouncement, but a flush of triumph
stole to his temple.
‘I saw Lee standing by the store
last night at eleven, while I was go
ing home from the club,’ continued
Mason, evincing an eagerness to un
burden himself of something that
preyed upon his mind. ‘lie did not
speak as I passed him, but perhaps
he did not see me, as it was raining
and he carried his umbrella low—a
little lower than was necessary, I
fancy.’
‘I am on the right trail,’ said Andre
as Harley, exultingly. ‘And yet,’
feigning a sorrowful tone, ‘I do not
want to think the purloiuer is Philip
Lee.’
‘Nor do 1/ said Mason; ‘but circum
stances condemn him. I could tell
you more, Mr. Harley, but I do not
like to speak ag’ainst Philip.’
Andreas Harley persuaded Theodore
Mason to unburden his mind further
concerning Philip Lee, and that night
the accused clerk found himself in the
clutches of the law.
The arrest was so quietly conducted
that the public was unaware of the
transaction until the morning papers
placed it before their eyes.
Flushed with triumph, Andreas Har
ley, on the morning following Philip
Lee s arrest, hastened to the home of
the Martins. He often made such calls
on his way to the store, and this morn
ing he £ound the bankrupt’s family
pleased to see him,
Maumee was in the parlor preparing
tor her class in music, and Andreas
Hailey thought she looked lovelier
than e\ ei in her plain dress and un
netted hair.
He did not dofl his overcoat ; he
said he had not long to stay ; he had
stepped in to impart a piece of infor
mation which might interest the ten
ants of his house,
dhe merchant’s daughter wondered
what the news might be, as Andreas
Hailey drew a morning journal from
his pocket.
I am sorry* that I have occasioned
this paragraph,’ he said, touching the
top ot a column of city’ news : ‘but I
could not help it.’
Maumee took tlie paper, and, in a
moment, mastered the account of Phil
ip’s arrest.
•Mr. Harley, cannot you be mistak
en V she asked, when she looked from
the paper with pallid face.
‘No, Maumee ; the proofs are con
vincing against him,’ he answered, and
then, while the fair girl’s head lay on
her bosom, and her eyes, swimming in
tears, fell to the floor, he left his chair
and came to her side.
‘Girl,’ he said, ‘is Philip Lee any
thing to you V
Maumee quickly drew her hand from
his grasp, and started to her feet.
‘He is something to me,’ she cried,
facing the merchant, through whose
scheming she seemed to have seen in
stantly. ‘He is much to me—and more,
Andreas Harley, lie never robbed your
safe !’
The merchant, for some moments,
did not know what to say, but at last
he found his tongue.
‘Girl, he is guilty, I greatly regret
to say ; but you can save him/
‘llow. Mr. Harley V
‘By becoming my wife ! I can lib
erate hint, and on such conditions the
doors of the jail shall be open to him.’
Fire flashed in Maumee Martin’s
dark eyes.
‘Andreas Harley/ she cried, ‘yonder
is the door that leads into the street,’
and with quivering fingers she pointed
to the portal
‘This house is mine,’ he said.
‘1 care not.’
‘I can turn you out into the snow.’
‘There is tlie door ! I wish to live
under such bountv as vours no longer ’
* * O
‘I will not go until you promise to
| become my wife,’ said the merchant
j sternly.
At that moment the widow entered
the room, and Maumee sprang into the
chamber, which her mother had just
vacated.
An instant later she reappeared,
bearing a musket of quaint and clum
sy workmanship.
‘Go, Andreas Harley,’she cried, in a
determined tone. ‘Mother, please open
the door for the plotter.’
Wondering what had transpired to
mar the friendship existing between
Maumee and the merchant, Mrs. Mar
tin opened the parlor door, and An
dreas Harley, with clenched hands
and vengeful visage, strode from the
room.
No sooner had he departed, than
Maumee dropped the gun, and threw
herself into her mother’s arms.
‘Oh, mother! mother !’ she cried,
‘how swiftly one misfortune follows an
other- But,’and she lifted her head,
‘Philip shall not be condemned ! He
shall not fall the victim of a conspi
racy—never !’
Yet that day the Martins were driv
en from beneath the roof which had
sheltered them since their first great
misfortune, and they found a tempo
rary abode with Philip Lee’s widowed
mother.
Maumee soon learned the particu
! Urs of her lovers arrest and preliin
| inary examination, and the following
day she purchased a pistol with a por
tion of her musical earnintrs
O •
hen night came she made her way
to Theodore Mason’s chamber, and
startled the clerk by her abrupt ap
pearance. The young man’s face as
sumed a deathly hue, and Maumee’s
mental ejaculation was:
‘Pve found the right man.’
She knew much of Theodore Mason’s
habits, and she judged him to be the
robber of the Merchant’s safe. At first
he denied the charge, but when he saw
the piste 1 clutched by the girl’s taiy |
white hands he changed his tune.
He wrote his confession on paper,
and Maumee called a young lavvver
into the room to witness the signature.
That confession implicated Andreas
Haile}’. The clerk had been detected
in his crimes by the merchant, who
had promised to pardon him if he would
aid him to convict Philip, who, in time
wedded Maumee Martin.
oung Mason was permitted to es
cape, and when Harley heard of the
confession, he hastily disposed of his
store and followed him. The guiltv
clerk left behind the skeleton key
with which he had opened the sate,
and they wtdl bang in the luxurious I
home of Philip Lee, now one ui Cliica
go’s merchant princes.
IM'MUKTt 1!>
Selected Poetry.
More Cruel than War.
A correspondent of the Kansas City Times
revises a striking poem, of which this is the
history: A Southern prisoner of war at Camp
Chase, Ohio, after pining in sickness in the
hospital of that station some time, and con
tiding to his friend and fellow-capiive. Col. W.
A. Hawkins, of Georgia, that he was heavy at
heart because his affianced bride in Nashville
did not write to him, died just before the arri
val oi a letter in which the lady curtly broke
off the engagement Col. Hawkins had been
requested by his dying comrade to open any
epistle which should come for him thereafter,
and, upon reading the letter in question,
penned the following versified answer. The
lines were imperfectly given by the Southern
press just alter the war, and deserve revival if
only tor the sake of the corrections requisite
to do justice to their sentiment and win for
them a wider appreciation:
MY FRIEND.
Your letter, lady, came too late,
For Heaven had claimed its own:
Ah, sudden change—from prison-bars
Unto the great white throne!
And yet I think he would have stayed,
To live for his disdain,
Could he have read the careless words
Which you have sent in vain.
So full of patience did he wait,
Through many a weary hour,
That o’er his simple soldier laith
Not even death had power;
And you—did others whisj>er low
Their homage in your ear,
As though amongst tlieiv shallow throng;
His spirit had a peer?
I would that you were by me now,
To draw the sheet aside
And see how pure the look ho wore
The moment when he died.
The sorrow that you gave to him
Had left its weary trace,
As twere the shadow of the Cross
Upon his pallid face.
“Her love,’* he said r “could change for me
The Winter’s cold to Spring
Ah, trust of fickle maiden’s love,
Thou art a bitter thing!
For when these valleys, bright in May,.
Once more with blossoms wave,
The northern violets shall blow
Above his humble grave.
Your dole of scanty words had been
But one more pang to bear,
For him who kissed unto the last
Your tress of golden hair;
I did not put it where he said,
For when the angels come,
I would not have them find the sign
Of falsehood in the tomb.
I’ve read your letter, and I know
The wiles that you have wrought
To win that noble heart of his,
And gained it—cruel thought?
Y lavish wealth men sometimes give
For what is worthless all ;
Wnat manly bosoms beat lor truth
In folly’s falsest thra\l!
You shall not pity him, for now
His sorrow has an end;
Yet would that you could stand by me
Beside my fallen friend;
And I forgive you for his sake,
As he —if it be given—
May e’en be pleading grace for you
Before the court of Heaven.
Tonight the cold winds whistle by,
As I my vigil keep
Y ithin the prison dead-house, where
Few mourners come to weep.
A rude plank coffin holds his form;
Yet death exalts his face,
And I would rather see him thus
Than clasped in your embrace.
To-night your home may shine with lights.
And, ring with merry song,
And you bo smiling, as your soul
Had dope no deadly wrong;
Your hand so fair that none would think
It penned these words of pain;
Your skin so white- would God,’your heart
Y ere half as free from stain.
Id rather be my comrade dead
; Than you in life supreme;
lor yours the sinner’e waking die.d,
And his the martyr's dream.
Whom serve we in ‘this life, we serve
In that which is to come;
j He choose his way; you yours; let God
Pronounce the fitting doom.
A Jealous Husband Cured with
iAcoriee Water,
There is a man in this city who is so
affectionately tond of his wife that he
is jealous if a man looks within forty
live degrees of the direction in which
she may happen to be. The other day
a gentleman spoke to her, and he im
mediately threatened suicide. His wife
was dispatched for a bottle of poison,
which she had put up at the druggist’s
consisting of a little water, colored
with licorice, and bottle, with a glar
ing poison label outside. When he
threatened to take some of it, and ac
tually pouied it into a wine glass, she
screamed for help and ran into another
room, where she could watch him
t uougii the key hole, and saw him
coolly open the window and throw it
out. She then rushed back, apparently
1 1 antic with grief, and implored him
not to do the rash deed. He merely
pointed at the glass, and laying down
on the floor began to kick out his legs
like a jumpiug-jack. She told him she
was determined to share his fate, and
swallowed the rest of the licorice wa
ter, whereupon he became really fright
ened, called the neighbors, confessed
that he only shammed, and said that if
she only survived lie never would
trouble her again. Then she explained
the ruse, and he was so mortified he
tiiea to buy up the silence of the neigh
bors, but the story was too good°to
koep JIIo is thorouglih cured. — Titus
cdie (Pa.) Herald.