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H. M. M R NS, Editor, 1
YOL. 111.
THE HER A ED.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY AT
GREENSBORO’, GA.
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orders, communications, &c,, ad
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vertisement.
F. L. LITTLE
Attorney at Law*
SPARTA GEORGIA
WILL pay strict attention to all business
entrusted to his care. nov23
J T JORDAN
ATTORNEY AT LAW
SPARTA, O-A..
Office in Lew Building
Special attention given to cases in
ankruptoy- 80v23
J. F. PIERCE, Jr.,
attorney at law,
Office Law Building,
dec 14
MEDICAL.
Dlts Wm L & E D Alfriend having assoeine
themselves as tbo firm of Alfriend A Son; respoct
fully offer their professsonal services to the pubs
lie
Office on Public Square
Sparta Ga
mar 19
SASSEEN’S
United States Hotel.
SASSKEJf, YORK k JOIRDAN,
PROPRIETORS,
TV irniN 100 Yanis of the General Pas
senger Depot, Corner Alabama and Pry o
streets, Atlanta. Ga.
J. W. F. BRYSON,
R. T. JOURDAN,
July 2nd, 1868-ts. Clerks
1868 1868
AMERICAN HOTEL
Alabama Street
ATLANTA, GEOR3IA.
Nearest House to Passenger Depot
WHITE & WHITLOCK, Proprietors.
W. D. WILEY, Clerk
Having re-leaaed and renovated the
above Hotel, we are prepared to entertain
guests in a most satisfactory manner.—
Charges fair and modulate. Car ellurt*
will be to please.
Baggage carried to and from *he Pepot
ree of charge. aprii 23 '6B.
CIT I HOTEL,
Mrs. J. A. SNELLINGS, Proprietress,
GREENSBORO.’ GA.
en will he found at everyTraia
fit>6 ts
THE GREENSBORO’ HERALD.
poEtS?: 0
AT ririIAIUHT
We sit by the window, my baby and I,
I In the fading sunset light,
j Watching the darkness creep over the sky,
Out from thceasK'ru night.
We see the stars come trembling out
In the the track of the fallen mil,
And we feel quiet within and without,
That domes When the day is don-.-,
If'hat have we hoert doing all day.
Since tbe'resy morning smiled?
Playing at work, winking at play,
God help us, mother and child.
But much I fear those little bands
Hare put me to shame to-day ;
Por God, who is earnest, understands
Traly onr work and play.
I think of kindness left undone.
That might bare brightened the day ;
Os dutie* dreamed of, but nev«r begun.
Scattered along- iny way
You lie with peace in your violet eyes—
Tou have not learned regret—
For the sorrowful years that makes us wise
Have not come to my baby y«t.
And skill, as I sit in this twilight hour,
At the elose ol the weary day,
Even sorrow and sin do not quite have
power
To keep a blessing away—
A blessing that falls like the dew from
heaven
Ou the parched and thirsty gronnd ;
And in loving much, because much forgiven
My deeper peace is found.
Your life, my baby. Is just begun,
And mine is growing old.
But we ! r e children both in the eyes of One
Who years are all untold,
He holds us bo'b in If is loving hand,
He pardons all our sin,
And, by and by, (o the same sweet land,
He will geuely let us iD.
THORWALDSLNS FIRST LOVE.
Some fifty-five years ago, a young
woman of prepossessing appearance \
was seated in a sn#dl back-room of
a house in Copenhagen weeping bit
terly. In her lap lay a few trink
ets and other small articles, evi
dently keepsakes which she had re
ceived from tame to Dime. * She took
up one after the other, and turned
ftSflly "UMSlfeiSlT ‘ them ’ttmmgG"
her blinding tears. Then she bu
ried her face in her hands, and
rocked to and fro in agony.
“Oh !” moaned she, “and is it
come to this? All my dreams of :
happiness are vanished—all my j
hopes are dead ! lie will even go !
without bidding mo farewell. Ah,
Himlen I that I have lived to see
this bitter day!”
At this moment a hasty tap at the
door was followed by the entrance
of the object of her grief. He was
a young man about twenty-fivp j
years of ago, his person middle- \
sized and strongly built, his fea
tures massive, regular, and attrac
tive—his long hair flaxen, his eyes
blue. This was Bertel Thorwald
sen—a name which lias since then
sounded throughout the world as
that of the most illustrious sculptor
of modern times. Ilis step was
firm and quick, lnscycs bright, and
his features glowing as he entered
the room ; but when ho beheld tho
attitude of the weeping female a
shade passed over his countenance
as he gently walked up to her. and
laying his hand on her shoulder,
murmured “Amalie!”
“Bertel!” answered a smothered
voice.
1 The young Dane drew a chair to
her side, and •silently taoj* her tear
bedewed hands.
“Amalie, said he, after a pause
broken only by her quivering Bobs.
“1 am come to bid thee farewell. 1
go in the morning.”
She ceased weeping* raised her
face, and releasing her hauds, push
ed hack her disheveled hair, then
she wiped her eyes; and gazed on
him in a way that made his own
droop. “Bertel,” said she in
cmn tone, but vid of nil r< proacu
—“Bertel, why did you win my
young heart why did vou lead
me to hope that F should become
the wife of your bosom ?”
“I—l always meant it; I mean
it now.”
She shook her head mournfully,
and taking up the trinkets, contin
ued: “Do you remember what you j
said when you gave me this, and
this, and this ?” j
“What -would you have, Amalie? j
I said I loved you , 1 love you still (
—but—” * |
“But you love ambition, fame,
the praise of men far better!” add- !
ed she bitterly.
Thorwaldsen started, and his fea
ture flushed j for he felt accutely
the truth of her words.
“Yes, you will leave Denmark—
GREENSBORO’, GA., THURSDAY, JULY IC, 18(58.
you will leave your poor, fond, ( ohl
father and. mother, whose only Lope
aud only earthly joy isiu you—you
will leave me, and alt who love th<i
sound of your footstep, and go to
the distant laud, aud forget irs ail 1”
“Dear Amalie, you are cruel and
unjust. I shall come back .to my
old father and mother—come back
to thee, and we shall ’all be happy
again,”
“Never. Bertel! never ! When
once yon ha ve gone thore is no
more happiness for hs. In heaven
we may all meet aghin ; ; on earth,
never ! O no, never mole will you
see in this life either yonr parents
or your poor broken-hearted Ama
lie !”—and again her sobs burst
forth. *
Thorwaldscn abruptly arose from
his chair, and paced th 6 room in ag
itation. lie was much distressed,
and o-nco or twice he glanced at
Amalie with evident hesitation..—
His past life, the pleasures of his
youth, the endeared scenes and
friends of his chihlhoud, the affoc
tions of Amalie, the anguish of his
parents at the approaching separa
tion, all vividly passed in review,
and whispered him to star and be
happy in the city of his birth. But
a vision of Rome rose also, and
beckoned him thither to earn re
nown, wealth, and earthly immor
tality. The prido of conscious ge
nius swelled his soul, and lm felt
that the die was east for ever.
He re-seated himself by the side
of Amalie, and once more took her
hand. She looked up, and in,one
glanco rend his inmost thoughts.—
“Go,” said she, fultill your
destiny. God's will he done ! You
will become a great man—you will
be the companion of princes and of
kings, and your name will , extend
the fame or yonr country the ut
termost parts of the earth. I tee
it all ; and lot my selfish l.oyo Der
you are hereafter in the fun maze
of your triumph, sometimes turn
atshlo from the high-born, -lovely
dames who. ate thronging around,
and drop one tear to the memory of
J the lowly Danish gjrl who loved
[you bettor? than bar self. Bertel,
farewell / ’
The next day Thorwaldscn quit
ted Copenhagen for Rome, where lie
resided nearly the wbule remainder
of his long life, and more than re
alized his own wildest aspirations
of fame. But the prophecy of poor
j Amalie was literally fulfilled—he
! never more beheld his parents, nor
her, his first true love t
Nearly half a century had elapsed
and again the'.scone was Copenha
gen. The streets were densely
crowded with eager, sorrowing
spectators, and every window of ev
ery house was filled with sadly-ex
pectant faces. At length the cry,
••They come!” was echood from
igronp to group, and the crowds
| swayed to and fro under the syin-
I pathetic swell of one common emo
tion.
A withered old woman was seat
ed at the upper window of a house,
and when the cry was taken up,
she raised her wrinkled counte
nanco, and passed her handa over
her eyes, as though Pi clear away
the mist of more than seventy win
ters. An immense procession drew
niffh. Appropriate military music
preceded a corpse being conveyed
to its last resting place. The king
of the land, tin* royal family, the
nobility, tbe clergy, tho learned,
the gifted, the renowned, walked
after it. The banners of mourning
were waved,- the trumpets walled,
and ten thousand sobs broke alike
from *tern and gentle breasts, and
tears from the eyes of warriors, as
well as lovely women, showered like
rain. It was the funeral of Bertel
Thorwaldscn, with the Danish na
|tion for mourners ! And she, the
l old woman who gazed at it as it
fdotfly wound by — she was Amalie,
his first love ! Thorwaldsen had
[never married, neither had she.
“Ah, ilimlen !” murmured the
old woman, wiping away her tears
'from a source which, for mauy long
I years, had Iteen drv, “how marvel
lous is the will of Uod ! To think
| that I should .live to behold this
sight! Poor, poor Bertel! All
! that 1 predicted cause to pass, but,
;ah me ! who knows whether you
[might not have enjoyed a happier
life after all, had you stayed with
1 vour old father and mother, and
imarried me? Ah, HimUn, there's
“ YIACIT AMOR PITIUAV’
j only Ouo can toll! Poor lor tel!”
. Four years more sped, md. one
j line Sabbath morning an a;ed and
decrepit painfully 1 ragged
her weary Ijraps through tR. crowd
ed lower rooms ot that woadrous
j building known as Thorvaldsen's
Museum. She paused not balance
at tho matchless works of
tor,' but crept onward u.itil sjie
reached nn open doorway leading
(into*theirSouef i|uadrangm, jri the
canter of which <1 low tomb of gray
marble incloses the mortal remains
of him whose hand created thy
works which filled the edifice. Step
by step she drew close to the tomb,
and •sank on the -pavement by its
side, Then she laid down her
crutch, ivnf pressed her bony hands
tightly over her skinny brow. “Ja
ja V' murmured she ; “they told
mo he lay here, and I prayed to
God to grant aw strength to crawl
to tho spot—aud He-has heard mo.
Ah, Hindu*, I can Jie'huppy now !” |
She withdrew her hands, and
peered at the simple but air-compre
hensive inscription of “Bertel
Thorwaldscu,” deeply cut on the
side of the tomb. Then She raised
her foro-fiijgpr, and earnestly traced
with it every letter to tho end—
Smiling feebly, she let fair her
hand, and complacently sighed,'
while an evniiescent gleam of sub
tile emotion lighted up her linea
ments. “’Tia trus: ho moulders
here. Poor Bertel, We shall meet
again—in heaven t”
Her eyes closed, and her head
slowly sank on'her breast, in whleb
attitpde She remained until one of
the - officers of tho museum, who had
noticed her singular behavior, came
up “ GammtX kone ,” (old wife)q[{vkl
he, “what are you doing ?” *- '
She answered not] and he slight
ly touched her shoulder, thinking
she was asleep. Hor body gently
tn?
A Story About a Head.
Jake was a little negro who be
longed to Dr* Talliaierro ; aud Was
said to hare in his little frame' a
heart as big as General Jackson’s,
to say nothing of Napoleon Bona
parte aud Zachary Taylor* He
didn't even fear -that respectable
fellow, Old Nick; and as for cool
ness he was as cool as the tip-top of
tho Nprtli Pole.
One day Dr. Talliaferro, upon
the occasion of the commencement
of a Medicaliiolijjge,, of which he
held the chair of anatomy* gave a
dinner. Among his guests was a
well-known ventriloquist. Late in
the evening thmbottlo had done its
work, and the conversation turned
upon courage, and the doctor boast
ed cofi Merable of the lion heart of
his favorite man Jake. He Offerod
to bet that nothing w ould scare him,
arid the ventriloquist t6ok up his bet
naming the test he wished to impose.
Jake was sent for and came.
“Jake’,” said the doctor, “I have
bet a large sum of%ioncy on your
head aud you, must win it. Do
think you cap ?”
“Berry well, maplcr,” replied
Jake; “jest toll dis niggar what
he's to iio aud he'll do it* Sure ”
“I wamtyou to go into the dis
secting room. You will find two
dead bodies there. Cut off the head
of one with a large, knife which you
will find there and bring it jo us.—
You must not take a light, and
don’t get frightened.”
“Dat’s ail, is it (’’’inquired Jake.
“Oh! berry well. I’ll do dat for
swtin. and as for being frighten, do
jJe'diii hisseif ain't agwino to fright
en me. 1 ”
Jake accordingly set off, and
reaching the dissecting room groped
about until be found the knife and
the bodies, lie had just applied
the knife upon the neck of one of
the bodies, when from it a hollow
and sepulchral voice exeh med,—■
“ljct my head alone ! ’ ■
“Y'es, sah,” replied Jake;
“haint "ticular and tndder head’ll
do jest as well.”
lie accordingly put the knife to
the head of tho next corpse, when
another unearthly voice shrieked
out.— - • •
“Let my head alone !’* Y
Jake was puaaled at first, but
answered presently,—
a-yali! Master Tolliver
sed must bring ouo dc heads, and
you isn't gwine to fool me, no
Irow f” .-And Jake hacked away un
til he separated the head from tlm
body. Thereupon a half a dozen
voices screamed out, —
“Bring it back V*
Jake had readied the door, but
on hearing this turned and said. —i
“Now, see yah ! Jest kqcp quiet
yor fool, and don’t wake up .the
women folks. Master’s only gwine
to look at de bumps.”
“Bring back my head at. once 1”
cried tho voice.
“Tend to you right awav, sab,”
replied Jako, as he'marohed off with
tho head, and the next minute de
posited it before the doctor.
“So you havo got it, I see,” said
his master.
“Yes sah,” replied the unmoved
Jako. “But please he done lookin’
at him soon; cas tho geubium tole.
me,to fetch him back right away.”
A Grave .Romance.
Death laid his irresistible hand
upou a young shoemaker during
the year lSfi?, and the conlwainer
of course “pegged out,” as is said j
in the cheerful gamo of cribhag*'.— !
He left a widow aud a nice little
property. X should have called him
a manufacturer, and not a maker.
The widow mourned long and loud,
and drapped her person iii expen
sive weeds. She never should lo.ok j
upon his like again ; her grief could
never he assuaged; as for marry- |
ing again—commend her to a gen- j
erous dosQ of strycjuiinb as the al
ternative. She was n eoncSientioiis
woman, and living in the country,
couldn't spondall her income
ob purple srgj fine linen and other
traditional luxuries of wealth. So
she resolved to invest some of her.
accumulating greenbacks in a
“storied urn,” or some such monu
mental monstrosity, commemorative
of her defunct husband’s virtues—
She called upon a marble-worker of
f dtf .jtjyl tejok coun
sympathetic sculpture. Tho bar
gain was struck—for the monument
I mean. In due season it was fin
ished, and the artist came to the
village of the lady’s residence to
superintend its erection. She was
a constant attendant at tho cemete
ry, watching the progress of tho
work. It was slow progress for!
some reason. Day after day she ;
put in an appearance at the i
melancholy enclosure, and wept I
silently while tho work went on, j
except sometimes when the defer
ential marble man ventured to beg
for her advice on some doubtful
point. Marble man though be was,
he had a tender heart, and that or
gan was touched by the sight of her
devotion. He pitied and anon ho
loved her, that Niobo in bombazine.
One day, as the two stood • contem
plating the white memorial of the
departed, ho spoko ; she listened ;
her sobs ceased; she placed her
black kid glove in his muscular
palm, and to make the story short,
they are to be married soon. Ido
not know whether the marble -man
got his pay for tho monument—
Boston Post.
Fortune Telling
Those of our readers who w ish to
engage iu tho business of fortune
telling Will find the following hints
useful-
January— Ho that is born in
January will be laborious aud a
lover of good wino, will bo very
subject to infidelity, and withal a i
fine singer - . Tho woman born in j
that mouth w ill be a good house- ;
wife, rather melancholy, but good j
natnred.
Ff.bri’arv— The man born in j
this month will love moary much, i
but Jatli&s more. He will he mingy j
at home, prodigal abroad. Tbo la
dv will no humane and affectionate i
to her mother.
March —The man boro in March
will be rather handsome. He will
be honest and prudent, but will die
poor. Tbd lady will be passionate,
jealous and a chatter-box.
April -The man who has the
misfortune to be Imm m April Will
be subject to maladies. He will
tra-vel to his disadvantage, for be
will hairy's rich heiirss who will
prove a virago. The lady who suf
fers the same misfortune will siifiVr
the same fate.
Mat—The man born in this
month will U, lian-bome and amia-
hie. Ho wijl make his wife happy.
Tho laily Vill be cqdally blest in
every respect.
June— The'man born itj this
month will be small of stature, and
passionately fond of children The
lady will be a personage fond of
| coffee, and will marry yrtung,
I J buy—The man born iif July
'will be fat, and will Suffer death fur
the woman ho levee, dflie female
(will be very handsome, with a sharp.
! nose and » fine bust. She will be
of a rather sulky temper.
August —The man born in the
month of August will he ambitious
and courageous. He will have two
wives. The lady will he amiable,
and twice married, hut her second
husband will cause her to regret the
first. m
SicrTV.Miikb— lie who is born in
September will he strong and pru
dent, hut will be too easy with his
wife, who will cause him great un
easiness. The lady will be round
faced, fair-haired, witty, discreet,
and loved by her friends.
October—The man horn in this
I month will have a handsomer face
land florid complexion. He will he
wicked and inconsistent. lie will
promise one thing arid do another,
and remain poor: The lady will he
pretty, a little foud oF talking, will
have two of fTirffc" husbands,'whe
will die with grief—she will known
Nov EMnkft —Tho man bom in
this month will have a fine face, and
be a gay driceiver. Tluj lady ‘of
this month will be largo, liberal and
Original.
Df.ckmkkr-— The man hern in
this month will be a good sort of a
personage ihough passionate.* He
will devote himself to politics, and
beloved by bis wife. The lady of
this month will be amiable and
handsome, with a good mind, a fine
figure, and very honest.
A Sad Story--Woman's
rift-tT’ V h I AAm.i I.GU L . «~
thd South now in this city, whose
sensibilities we would not wound by
giving publicity to her name. Ev
ery calamity that War may' beget
has befallen her family, kindred,
fortune, and home. The residence
in which she dwelt from childhood
was in the path of a destroying ar
my that swept wide districts with
unsparing desolation. Every spe
cies of property was destroyed, and
she and an only brother beggared,
and fated to encounter even greator
calamities, wandering amorig stran
gers. Ths mother, a weaker wo
man than ilia daughter, accustomed
to ease and flattery, and everv
pleasure that wealth ctmld buy,
yielded, never to tfto
flattery of an urfny officer, and
overstepped rule's of ilcecirnm pre
scribed by the social habits of the
South. The father wreaked terri
ble vengeance upon him who dc-'
stroyed the delights of his once
happy home, and while tho people
approve tha deed; there waS'.hifter
uc#s insufferable in the cup of grief
pressed to the lips of thd faultless
daughter. The brother hove accu
mulated misfeatuiie* uusustained
by that divine faith which hgv«j , i
fails to give consolation and
strength. His sorrows ma le him
insane,, and in moody madness he
dragged out a miserable existence.
Life at length became insufferable,
and in an evil hour he pnt a period
to his own ex is! euro. The sister
lived to noothe a father’s sorrows'
and lighten anguish that almost de
throned his vCoson. She was di
vinely Inspired; her soft, sweat
voice never lust its tenderness, and,
its very tones' wefc silvriry with
hope thafboamed from her lustrous
eges. She was a did initv, to guard
jhija in tfio midst of adversities
Erisi>t an th*t. eh/ too traii ccudent vision,
Wlivn hi*,u t rct'Ctr heart in dreams Kljsi&a.'
Sweet a* th» mroiory of hnried love,
| I’ure m tbs prayer tbat childhood walls
| above.
Tjme sped. Tho futhci’s grief
bacarac a fixed melancholy, and the
j church his roiource. The daugh
ter, who reached this city a few
( dayssince from a Southern city,
i has sought repose iu the besom qf
, the holy diabolic Church, Dur
i in<j tH® w * e .h “I l ® will assuuio vows
jol a sisterhood lamed the world
,over lor those chanties winch Ibis
j daughter of the South has leurned
so well bow to practice within the
! precincts ol ber own unfortunate
|household. Wo are induced to
write tifissimple r«c(tal*o! her iata»
IT. U. MORGAN, Priutcf.
NO. 13.
I fortunes that a sad chapter of per
sopM M(jtprj-.an episode in that
mighty volume of human woes to
• which war gave origin— mfght find
a place in the memories ol men
and ho conned over by tho good
and brave and true women of the
land.— St. Lon's Times, June 21.
Working Cheap—“ What doc*
Sutan pay you for swearing*?” ask
ed One gentleman of another.
"He don't pay me anything,”
was the reply. .
“Well you work very cheap to
lay aside the character of a gentle
imtft to inflict so much on your
friend and civil people to suffer,
and ljistfy to risk losing yonr pre
cious son£ and all for nothing. -
You certainly (loAvork cheap—very
cheap indeed.’’
A.yonug lady gives the follow
ing catalogue of different kinds of
love; “The eweete*t—a mother’s
love ;. the longest— r-a hpother’s love;
the strongest—a w oman's love ;
the dearest --a nan's love; and the
sweetest, longest, strongest, dear
est love—a ‘lore of a boruiei.”
A two-faced chllil was bom at
Lock ITavcri recently. It should
be named Chicago PlatforM,
“Rollon silver moon,” is the ti
tle of a popular song. We would
advise that moon not to roll as far
as Washington. Ben. Butler is
there vot.— Ex.
A raw Irishmnn, Just over, went
into a restaurant and was aaked'by
the waiter what lie would have.
“Why. wittle? to ate, or coorßC,’ ,
was the reply.
A plate of hash was placed be*
fore him.
“F what’a ibat ?” demanded
Mickey.
“ That’s wittles,” wag answered.
MreUey eyed the compound bus*.
mciousiy for some time, and jluuL
ly exclaimed,—
’ “Ba jahers, the man that chewgd
« Jk l «AM . ' hi. Ltd * *
%IU Uu iVii BS wv
man, said to ono ol her sisters, —
“Tain t the rale grace, honey:
tain’t sure glory. You hollers too
loud. When you gets de dove in
your heart and de lamb on yonr
bosom, you’ll feel as ft you was in
dat stable at Bethlehem, and do
blersed virgin had lent you the
baby to hold.”
Quibble, reading that fit had
been decided in the Court of
Queen’s Bench fn Dublin, that A
clergyman of the Chureh of Eng
land can legally marry himself,''
observed that that might be ail ve-<
ry well as a measure of economv,
but that even in tho hardest times
bo would rather marry a woman.
An Old bachelor in New York
offered a j'oung ladv a pony for a
kiss; she gave him the kiss : he
refused her the posy, she need
trim; “he pleaded no considera
tionthe court decided that a
kiss was a legal consideration and
made him “pony over*”
A reader, wc judge lie is hen
peeked, writes that He takes no
stock in the “new woman’s club/'
He says the “old woman’s club is
enough lor him, and frequently too
much. ■
Man was never intended to be
idle. Inactivity frustrates the ve
ry design of bis creation; whereas
an active life is tho bust guardian
of virtue, and the greatest preser
vation ot health.
There is no funeral so sad to
follow, as the funeral of oar own
youth which we have bceu pamper
ing with fond desires, ambitious
hopes, aud all the bright “berries
that hang in poisonous clusters
over the path of life.
Time.—ol serve a method in the
distribution of yuur time. Every
hour will then know it3 proper
employment, and no time will be
lost. Idleness will be shut ontut
ever? avenue, and with her numer
ous body of vices that make up her
train. . -*
A child is- never happy from
having its own way. Decide for
him, aud he has but one thiftg to
do; pot him in the wav to please
himself, and ho is troubled with
everything aud satisfied withnotin
insp - M - h «
A small piece of paper or linen,
, inJlsfOned with spirits of turpen
tine, and put into a bureau orward
robc for a single day or two, or
three times a year, is a gend pro
tgWiotf against moths. »