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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.