Newspaper Page Text
VOLUME 11
THE EASTMAN TIMES.
IS PUBLISHED WEEKLY AT
Eastman, Dodge Cos., Ga.,i
i
BY
Ifc . S- I S UTI TO.X •
Terms—One year, $2 00 ; Six months,
SI.OO. All subscriptions required in advance,
invariably.
Advertising Rates.
L M. , 0 M. 0 AJ. , 12 M.
1 .IS4oois7ooiS 10 00 iSIS 00
o I 625 I 12 00 1 8 00 1 25 t OO
. 075 • ’9 00 i 20 00 3a 00
’ ... | 11 50 22 50 34 00 40 00
.. 20 00 32 59 55 00 30 00
l col. 135 00 00 00 30 00 130 00
Advertisements inserted' at $ 1 per square lor
first insertion, and 75 cents lor each subsequent
insertion.
A squ ire is the space of ten solid lines bre
vier type.
Advertisements contracted for a specified
time, and discontinued before the expiration of
time contracted for, will be charged for the
time run at our schedule rates.
Marriage and obituary notices, tributes of
respect, and other kindred notices, occupying
over ten lines, will be charged lor as other ad
vertisements.
Advertisements must take the run of the pa
per when not contracted otherwise.
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 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 Monday morning.
All letters should be adddressed to
It. S. B UPTON, Publisher.
BATES AND BULKS FOR
LEGAL ADVERTISING.
Sheriffs sales, per levy, $3 50 ; sheriffs mort
gage sales, per levy, $5 ; tax sales, per levy, $3 ;
citation for letters of administration, $4; cita
tion tor letters of guardianship; application
for dismission from administration, $10; ap
ple ation for dismission from guardianship, $5;
application for leave to sell land (one square)
s>, and each additional square, ; application
for homestead, £2 ; notice to debtors and cred
itors, $i ; land sales (Ist suuare), and oaclx ad
ditional square, si*; sale of perishable prop
erty, per square, 50 ; estray notices, sixty
days, $7; notice to perfect service, $7 ; rules
nisi to foreclose mortgage, per square, $4 ; rules
to establish lost papers, per square, $4 ; rules
compelling titles, per square. $4 ; 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
held on the first Tuesday in the month, between
the hours of 10 in the forenoon and 4 in the
afternoon, at the court house door in the county
in which the property is situated. Notice ot
these sales must be given in a public gazette
40 days previous to the day of sale.
Notices lor the side of personal property
must l;o given in like manner .10 days previous
to dftv Ot sale.
Notices to tiie debtors and creditors of an
estate must be published 40 days.
Notice that application will be made to the
Court of Ordinary for leiveto sell land, Ac.,
must be published for two months.
Citations for letters of administration, guar
dianship, Ac., must be published 30 days—for
lisniission 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
hv the deceased, the full space of three months.
Publication will always be continued accord
ing to tiiese, the legal requirements, unless oth
erwise ordered.
Professional and Business.
11. W. J. HAM. | [ THOMAS 11. DAWSON
HAM & DAWSON,
ATT 0 R NEYS A T LAYV ,
Office in Court H >use.)
EASTMAN, GEO.,
*' \Vill practice in the counties of Dodge, Tel-
U'Ui. Appling, Montgomery, Emanuel, Laurens
nd Pulaski, and elsewhere by special con
tract
Peb. 14-tf
O. C. HORNE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW
llawkinsville, Geo.
Oconee Circuit—Court Calendar 1873.
V> ilcox—4tli Mondays, March and September.
Dooly— 3d Mondays, March and September.
Irwin Fridays after above.
Montgomery—ITliurs 1 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 -
Telfair—Thursdays ” after above.
4an.3lst, ly.
L, A. HALL,
Attorney and Counsellor at Law,
EASTMAN, GA.
YY ill practice in the Circuit and District
qurtsof the United States, for the Southern
District of Georgia, the Superior Courts of the
uconee Circuit, and all counties adjacent to
ft* ft* Half fee in advance; con
sultation fee reasonable.
_7Sir- Office in the Court House.
My,
EASTMAN, DODGE COUNTY, GA., WEDNESDAY", AUGUST 13, 1973.
Selected Poetry.
From the Lafayette (Ala.) Reporter.]
The Ballad of Farmer. Brown.
A SONG TOB THE TIMES, WITH A MORAL.
Old farmei Brown came into the house.
And wrathfully slammed the door,
And flopped himself down into a chair,
And flopped his hat on the floor.
For farmer Brown was dreadfully wroth,
And his dander it was up ;
And he looked around with an ngry scowl,
And wrathfully kicked the pup.
“I’m tiro* from head to foot,” he said,
“And hungry as I kin he ;
I’d like to have a mouthful to eat
Is dinner nm.it ready ?” said he. ?
the fanners wife sue was pile and thin,
And hungry anci wan was she :
•ini h .r <.yo was dim and her step was slow,
And her dioss was a sight to see.
“Your t i mor is ready,” she meekly said,
“And tne dodgers is smoking hot,
But I’ve scraped the meal all out of the box,
And the last jint s jest irom the pot.”
“The mischief you have 1” said farmer Brown,
Leaving a doleful sign ;
“Thar’s plenty of bacon and corn in town,
And I’ve no money to buy.”
Up spoke the farmer’s daughter, Marier—
And she hadn’t spoke before; —
“Thar’s cotton out under the shed,” said she,
“Some dozen bales or more.”
“Cotton, the devil!” said farmer Brown,
(It’s dreadfully wrong to swear).
“My cotton’s all mortgaged for last year’s work,
YYhtli never a bale to spare. ”
“Well, then,” his daughter upspoke again,
“If that won’t do for feed,
You’ve two or three wagon loads or more
Of Dickson’s Prolific Seed.”
“Do you think mo a beast?” said farmer Brcvm,
“I’m neither cow nor steer;
And what if I was? I’ve hardly enough
Of seed to plant this year. ”
Then said his daughter, Marier, again,
‘ ‘Thar’s guano, lots, ” she said,
“Thar's twenty sucks full into the barn,
And barrels under the shed.”
“Guano? Oh, Lud !” said farmer Brown,
“I need all the precious stuff
To put on my cotton land this year,
And then not have enough.”
But when the farmer had eaten his fill,
He fell into thought profound,
And smoked his tobacco, which cost at Last
Some ninety cents per pound.
And then he muttered—“ Thar’s something
wrong
About my farming, I swear !
YVe don’t have even enough to eat,
Nor half enough to w ear !
“My mules are starving almost to death,
My cows are dreadfully thin ;
Thar’s hardly a ear of corn in the crib ;
And nary oat in the bin !
“The times ain’t like they once have been,
.When I was young and spry ;
YY e had tat horses and mules in the lot,
And fat hogs left in the sty.
“My cribs were always chock full of corn,
My smoke-house groaned with meat;
We then had plenty of clothes to wear,
And always enough to eat.
“By jings! I'll change my habits at once
From woeful experience lern —
This year my cotton I'll plant in a patch,
And plant my fields in corn.”
moral :
All you wdiose farms are going to wreck—
YV ho’ve neither corn nor meat—
Just make the resolve of farmer Brown,
And go for something to eat!
Sandy Higgins.
BIIjLs,
Ralph Hazleton sat before the fire,
liis head bent forward on his breast,
•nd a dark frown shading his hard
wrinkled face He was alone—for
since the handsome boyish face and
ringing voice which had been wont to
lighten tin* gloom of the quiet bouse
had gone, the old man had admitted
no one else into his life or heart.
Just three years ago he had looked
his last upon tlje young fellow, whom,
“for Amy’s sake” at first, and then for
his own sake, lie had given the one
warm place in his heart, and loved
and cared for most tenderly. Just
three years ag - o—and hard and stern
as the old man was, lie had missed him
terribly—and to-night, sitting there
with the gloom of the silent room set
tling down upon him thickly, he
thought of “Rex” until the fire burned
low and the “wee ema’ hours” were
at hand.
He wondered if Rex’s wife (liovv
strange it seemed to think of the boy
ish young fellow with a wife!) —was
really as sweet and lovable as Rex—
poor foolish boy!—had said: he won
dered if Rex’s home was a pleasant,
one—if Rex himself was happy. And
then the old anger rose up in his heart
that he, for whom he had cared so
much, should have turned away from
him for the sake of a stranger.
“You must choose between us,” he
had said on that last night, “and if
you choose her—take her and never
let me see your face again.’ And Rex
pale and proud, had turned away
without a word, and left him.
That was three years ago—and
since then there had come no word
from the boy. He seemed to have
dropped out of the world entirely—
his name was never mentioned in his
uncle’s house; and his unde seemed
ti> grow sterner, harder, and more
silent than ever, now that his cheerful
influence was gone
To-night, however, it had come
back again—and the old man, reading
over and over the letter wh’;h he
had received that day, said sternly to
himself-—‘He chose between us. TL
never fogive him —but tire child is
not to blame.’ And the next day a
letter was sent to stockbridge, con
taining just these words:—
“Willie is sentimental—call the
child Bill, and I’ll look out for it.”
From that day Ralph Hazleton had
an object in life—his money had a
new value to him now, for ‘some day
Bill would have the spend'ug of it/
and often as he sat apparently en
gaged in. abstruse calculations, he
was in reality thinking of ‘Bill’ and
‘Bill s’ future
Not that he ever thought of him as
a little child—no, indeed, he was too
grim an old bachelor for that—it was
always as anew edition of the old
time, gay, handsome, reckless Rex,
that he thought of him. 11(3 had the
old room brightened and kept in or
der with a vague idea of having the
boy down some time during his holi
days. But one time, just as he was
on the point of sending for him, a
letter came from Rex, containing the
information that the young hero was
for the time being laid low with an
attack of the measles, and so it was
given up. 'Boys are noisy/ said Ralph.
I’ll wait until he gets a little sobered
down/ but the months grew to years,
and still, although Ralph Hazle
ton sent occasional checks t
his nephew, accompanied, always by
two words, “For B:!*/ he had never
seen him since the day he laid quitted
his house, nor had lie seen the son
for whom iie was planning and work
ing so earnestly.
To a busy money-making man like
Ralph Hazleton, the time passed quick
ly—every moment is so crowded—and
it was not until an attack of sickness
compelled a season of rest that he
found an opportunity to think quietly,
and then a sudden realization of the
flight of time startled him.
‘By all that’s good!’ he exclaimed
one day during nis convalescence,
after a little process in mental aritli
metic, ‘that boy is eighteen years
old and buried in a little country
town oil this time! H’ell not be a bit
like his father if this goes on. Rex
was city bred, and though a little
wild, was just the kind of a fellow
that Bill ought to be I’ll send for
the be to-day—it,s time he saw a little
of the world; And that day a mes
sage was dispatched, containing
these peremptory words, Send Bill at
once. Briggs will be at the depot/
Four days later, on a dreary rainy
morning, Ralph Hazleton sat awaiting
the arrival of his young visitor. lie
knew he would come to-day, for Rex
had sent word to that effect. The
train was due. Briggs had gone to
the station, and Ralph Hazleton was
nervous—actually nervous.
It had occurred to him at this late
moment that perhaps Bill was* not ex
actly as he had imagined him. Per
haps he was not like Rex—at all—
children do not always resemble
their parents. Perhaps he was
awkward, conceited and disagreea
ble.
If lie’s a donkey, said he savagely,
I’ll send him back to-night!’ And then
there was a sound of a carriage stop
ping at the door, a little rustle and
contusion in the hall, and then Briggs
appeared at the door.
‘Has he come?’ demanded the impa
tient gentleman. ‘ls lie like his fath
er? Where is he? You impudent old
raven, why don’t you answer me?’
Brigg’s ordinarily solemn visage
was lightened by a grim smile—his
eyes twinkled, aud he coughed depre
catingly. ‘The young person—’he be
gan, but his master interrupted liim
fiercely.
‘Who taught you to call mv r la
lives perons?’ Say gentleman, or
leave the house.’
‘The young gentleman/ said Briggs
‘if I must say’ so—which I don’t wish
to sir— ’
Ralph choked with anger. ‘Why
in the’—he commenced, but Briggs
hastened to condense his information
into two words
‘ls here/ and departed hastily.
There was a rustle in the hall, a
little tap at the door, and then it
swung open, and on the threshold
stood - w'th Rex’s blue eyes and guld
en h o , * , h Rex’s r-iorr.y a*.J
with Hi Lfex’s beauty, only softened
and refined into a sweet girlish loneli
ness—a young lady—blushing, and
with a shy appeal in her face which
went straight to Ralph’s heart, grim
old bachelor as he was.
‘lf you please, sir/ said the intruder,
dropping a low curtsey and smiling
up at him bewitchingly, ‘I am wilhel
mina Elliot, otherwise Bill;’ and then
(as looking at the radiant vision he
saw the little anxious shadow in the
blue eyes) he forgot to be disappoint
ed or to mourn over the old illusion,
but with one word of welcome he
opened wide liis arms and took the
new-comer to his heart,
You see when your first letter came
—abor t calling me Bill—father laugh
ed at the joke ant let it go on, until
at last, he almost dreaded to tell you
of the mistake when he found that you
were so earnest about it, explained
Willie (or Bill as her uncle called her
still) —and so it went on until your
last letter, then he sent mo to tell you
all about it. He never meant to de
ceive you—he never used a penny of
the money you sent, but he thought
that you might some day be recon
ciled to him. He has missed you so.
He has told ur so much of you, and
the old days in this great house, and
he wants to see you so much. If you
are very much disappointed because
1 am a girl —there’s a boy at home—
my brother Rex, and you can love
him instead of me. But Bill’s place
was never taken not even by hand
some brother Rex.’
It was she who, by her loving ways
and gentle oleadings broke down the
barrier of pride, which had seperated
him from his nephew for so long,
and it was she, who, in a flutter of
happiness, accompanied him dowm to
Stockbridge shortly after.
From that day ‘Uncle Ralph’s’ world
liness and hardness melted away, the
sunny sweetness of his favorite seemed
to dissipate the clouds which had hung
around him for so long. The genial
home atmosphere at Stockbridge
seemed to change him greatly; he grew
to consider ‘Mrs. Rex’ as the most
charming woman in the world; the
children \vere 4 all marvellous, aitd Rex
was' a lucky fellow’ in every sense of
the word.
The great house in town was no
longer silent and dreary, for after a
while the family at Stockbridge came
there to live. Tam an old man/ said
Ralph, ‘and I have few friends, and
those I want near me,’ and so they
came.
Rex, junior, was a fine handsome
lad. Amy and Fannie were dear little
girls, but the. one best beloved in
all the family circle by uncle Ralph,
was the sweet-faced girl who had
come to him that dreary morning
and brought into his life so much
happiness and gentle, loving,
golden-haired ‘Bill.’
A lieu CJiase in Danbury.
Mr. Cobleigh, of Nelson street,
bought three hens Saturday night and
put them under a box he could
build a coop. Sunday mornin* he
saw one of them in the street, and be
stowing a brief curse on the somebody
who had overturned the box and jeop
ardized his property, he started out
after it to drive it back into the yard.
It took fifteen minutes to convince him
that that hen could not be driven into
that yard, and then he attempted to
catch it. Three times he rose up with
his hands full of feathers and his chin
full of sand, but still that hen eluded
him. Once he got it cornered, and
thought sure he had it, but it flew
straight up over his head and flapped
its wings in his face and filled his eyes
v. i.h do; t Oh bow mad Mr. Cobleigh
was. It w I*3 Sunday morning. The
bells were ringing, people were start
ing to church, and there he was in the
street, with no coat or baton, and with
nothing but slippers on his feet, and
every once in a while one of them
would come uff and fly through the
air, and his naked foot would come in
contact with the cruel gravel, before
he could stop himself. Then he would
have to hop back on one foot after that
slipper, while the hen stood on the
walk and elocuied, and the little Sun
day school children stopped and
' laug):. an- 4'po. /T nally, the hen g u
awav from him and started down the
street at ajwonderful speed for a hen,
and he started after her, his face red
der than ever, and every time he
cleared a rod he would stop and hop
back two after one of those slippers.
When he reached the corner of Essex
street, he jumped out. of both slippers
at once, but instead oL stopping to go
back, he picked up a stick of wood,
and kept on. Then, as the lien dodged
into a gateway he hurled the ' stick,
and broke the leg of a strange dog,
which added its piercing ‘ki-yfi to the
entertainment. But Cobleigh didn’t
stop. He tore into the yard after his
property in his bare feet, and chased
the hen into a woodpile and caught it,
just as the owner of the premises
came out and wanted to know what
Cobleigh was going to do with his hen.
and what he meant, anyway, by get
ting drunk and kicking up such a hul
labaloo in a peaceful neighborhood.—
Cobleigh first thought ho would knock
the man down with an. axe, and what
he could not eat of him bury under a
barn, but the new corner succeeded in
proving to Cobleigh that the hen was
his, and then the miserable man burst
into tears and limped back home,
where he found the three hens under
the box. — Danb.ury News .
Marrying the Wrong Man oat cl
Spite.
On Friday, Mr. J. B. Clark, of Tip
ton county, came to this city und en
gaged rooms at the Central Hotel for
himself and wife. Lute in the after
noon he arrived there with a beautdul
young lady from Tipton county, who
is visiting her brother-in-law in this
city. Mr. Hastings, who is tiie polite
proprietor of the Central, asked Mr.
Clark if that was his wife, and the lat
ter showed him his certificate to mar
ry, stating that lie wanted the nuptial
ceremony to take place at once. Jus
tice Miller was immediately sent for,
and upon arriving commenced looking
as serious as a stone fence. But he
did not marry the couple, because the
young lady wanted him to return the !
marriage license as soon as the cere
mony was performed. She did not
Want the marriage made public, but
wished to conceal it. Mr. Clark, with
heroic energy, then repaired to Justice
Hall, who complied with the wish of
the lady, and married them. The couple
then went back to the hotel, and the
license was left in charge of the hand
some young clerk, who comes on watch
at 4 o’clock in the morning. The young
bridegroom drove his wife to her broth
er-in-law’s residence in this city, and
lea\ iug her there, returned to the hotel,
where lie slept by liimslf during the
night. Yesterday he went about as if
he had never been married, and dined
with his wife’s brother, who knew noth
ing of the mama re. Later in the af
ternoon it was reported that the broth-!
er and two kinsmen were said to be ’
on the lookout for Mr. Clark, toward
whom they entertained no very pleas
ant feelings, upon learning that he had j
secretly married the young lady, who j
is of one of the wealthiest and most
esteemed families in Tipton county.—
Mr. Clark, however, is not a scary man,
and was seen at the Central Hotel very
late yesterday evening. It was re
ported that the young wife had filed a
petition for a divorce in one of our
courts, but while iliis strange conduct
cannot be well conjectured, much less
explained, we give the above tacts as*
we have been informed, suppressing
the name of the young lady at the in
stance of acquaintances, and through
courtesy due the feelings of her rela
tives, whom we understand are verv
1 %/
much grieved at the result of her at
tachment for Mr. Clark. The young
lady has been engaged two years to a j
young man well-known in Memphis,!
but now a resident of Arkansas. Her
mother opposed his suit, and now her
daughter has married Mr. Clark :
[NUMBER *2O
HUMOROUS.
A young fellow who was recently
committed to jail in Portland, Maine,
for an assault, sent a pathetic appeal
to the judge, in which he said—T have
onley ben married to months A I hanto
had my Honey Mouu yet,, this is tho
first time I ever was in jail or errest
ed. If you will Consider ray case A
'let me off on a fine I will return to
My Darling Wife.’ The stern decrees
of justice were carried out neverthe
less f
9
| Nr‘W 4-rrsey people don’t say ‘liar'
right out, but, remark: ‘Sir, you re
| nund me of my lamented brother, who
j could pervert truth with the greatest
I eased There is a great deal of refine*
! ment in New Jersey.
An Ohio dog has been trained to
| walk home with a handsome school
teacher—and he has chewed up about
forty young men who have tried to se
cure bis friendship.
Humor of tue Graveyard.— A stone
cutter received the following epitaph
from a German, to be cut on the tomb
stone of his wife:—
‘Mine vile Susan is dead, if she had
life till next friday slic’d bin dead
shunt two veeks. Asa tree falls so
; must it stan, all tings is impossible
mit God,’
Any one who visits Childwald, Eng
land, can read in the cemetery there,
the following epitaph:
‘•Here lies me and my three daughters,
Brought here by using Seidlitz waters.
If wo had stuck to Epsom salts,
We wouldn't have been in these here vaults,' 1
The following lines are said to have
been copied from a stone in Oxford,
New Hampshire:
“To all my friends I bid adieu,
A more sudden death you never knew.
Aa 1 was leading the old mare to drink,
Sho kicked, and. killed me quickcr’n a wink.”
On a tombstone in South Carolina is
the following beautiful tribute to de
parted worth:
“Hero llos fine buddy of Robert Gordin,
Mouth almighry, and tooth nokordin.
Stranger tread lightly over this wonder,
If ho opens his mouth, you are gono by thunder.”
A little girl wanted to say that sho
' had a fan, but had forgotten tho name,
|so she described it as ‘a thing wliafc
1 you brush the warm off you with.’
A gentleman was chiding bis son
for staying* out late at night, and said:
‘Vv hy, when I was of your age, my
lather would not allow me to go out
of the house after dark.
‘Then you had a deuce of a father,
von had/ said the young profligate.
* Whereupon the father very rashly
vociferated: ‘I had a confounded sight
better one than you have, you young
rascal/
1 hey say that the chief astronomer
at th.e Washington observatory was
dreadfully sold a few days ago. A
wicked boy whose Sunday-school ex
perience seems only to have made him
more depraved, caught a fire-fly and
stuck it with the aid of some mucilage
in the centre of the largest lens in the
telescope. That night when the as
tronomer went to work, he perceived
a blaze of light apparently in tho
heavens, and what amazed him more
was that it would give a couple of
spurts ana then die out, only to burst
forth again in a second or two. Ho
examined it carefully for a few mo
ments, and then he began to do sums
to discover where in the heavens that
extraordinary star was placed. lie
thought he found the locality, and the
next morning he telegraphed all over
the universe that he had discovered
anew and remarkable star of the third
magnitude in Orion. In a dav or two
ail the astronomers in Europe and
America were studying Orion, and
they g4zed at it for hours until they
were mad, and then they began to tel
egraph to the man in Washington to
know what he meant. The discoverer
took another look and found that the
new star had moved about eighteen
billion miles in twenty-four hours, and
"upon examining it closely he was
alarmed to perceive that it had legs !
When he went on the dome the next
morning to polish up bis glass he
found the lightning bug. People
down at Alexandria seven miles dis
tant heard part of the swearing, and
they say he infused into it much
whole-souled sincerity and vigorous
energy, file bills for telegraphic des
patches amounted to twenty-six hun
dred dollars, and now the astronomer
wants to find that boy. He wishes to
con-fhlt with him about something.