Newspaper Page Text
THE i,!,-
B. gs | « \ & • v ? f. &, » * / ~ w
H. M. Bl'R.\S, Editor. 1
VOL. 111.
THE HERALD
PUBLISHED WEEKLY AT
GREENSBORO,’ GA.
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ments.
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dressed to'heeditors will receive prompt
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vertisement.
F. L. LITT L E
Attorney at Law-
SPARTA GEORGIA
WILL pav Bfrict8 f rict attention to all business
entrusted to his care, nov23
J T JOUDJLKT
ATTORNEY AT LAW
ST? A-TriT 1 A_, G-A_„
Office in Law Building
Special attention give to cases in
ruptcy
nov23
G. F. PIERCE, Jr.,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Office Law Building,
dec 14
MEDICAL.
DkS ’ v m Lk E D Alfriend hnvin? associnfi
tbenselves as the firm of A1 friend & Son; respect
fully offer their profisssonal services to the pubs
lie
Office on Public Square
Sparta Ga
mar 19
SASSEEN’S
United States Hotel.
SASSEEN, YORK & JOI'RDAN,
PROPRIETORS,
w ITII IN 100 Yards of theGcnerai Pas
senger Depot, Corner Alabama ad Pryo
streets, Atlanta, Ga.
J. YV. F. BRYSON,
R. T. JOURDAN,
July 2nd, 1868-ts. Clerks
1868. 1868
AMERICAN HOTEL
Alabama Street
ATLANTA, GEOR IA
Nearest House to Passenger Depot
WHITE & WHITLOCK, Proprietors.
W. D. WILEY, Clerk
Having rc-leased and renovated the
above Hotel, we are prepared to entertain
gneatß in a most satisfactory manner.
Charges fair and moderate. Our efforts
will be to please.
Baggage carried to and from s he Depot
free of charge april 23 68. i
CITY HOTEL
, Mrs. J. A. SNELIINGS, Proprietress,
GREENSBORO.' GA.
Plf-Porters wil 1 be found at every Ttain
febfitf ;
| ISAAC T. HEARD # Cos.
WAREHOUSE
AND
Commission Merchants
Corner Reynolds and Mclntosh Streets,
Warehouse formerly occupied by MeS'rs Ausiin
& Walker
ISAAC T HEARD ) . r<
OM STONE t Aufeusta, <»;«.
Will evote thoir strict personal attention to
the stora-re and salo of cotton and all other
produce Coinuiissn-n for Sel ling Cotton 1* per
Cent. Orders tor Bagging Rope. Etc., prompt
ly attendedto, Liberal CASiI advances made
at all fim s on pruduoe in at ire
BJTAgonts for Gullett’s Patent Improved
Steel Brush Cotton Gins Septl7
W C Courtney & Cos.
Factors
AND
Coinmi ssi o n Merchants,
No. » Itoyce's Wharf,
CHARLESTON, S. C
W.G CnUTNEY,
OBT MURDOCH
J S MURD CH
8. 11. Heard A Sou,
WAREHOUSE
AND
Commission Merchants,
Augusta, Ga.
S D HEARD,
R W HEARD
SBptl7 *
J J Pearce & on,
Cotton Factors,
AND
Comm'ssion Merchants,
Jackson Street. Augus a, Ga, Store and sell
Cotton and other Produce
CASH ADVANCES.
Bagging 1 Repo and lamily supplies furnished as
usual
J J PEACE
C A PEACE
Septl7
Wheless & Cos.
Cotton Factors
AND
COMMISSION MERCHAANTS
Bejmoids Street- Augusta, Ga, Store and se 1
Cotton nnd other produce Bagging and Rope
furnished-at MaketcespTr Sept 17
M STOVALL, D E BUTLER
Os Augusta, Ga, Os Madison, Ga
Stovall A Butler.
Cotton Warehouse
AND
General Commission Merchants,
New Fire Proof Warhoase, Southwcs Corner
of Bay and Jpckson Streets, Augusta, Ga,
Sept 3 2m
POLLARD, COX 4- CO.
Co!ton Faciors,
WAREHOUSE
Commission Merchants,
Cciiui cynolds and Campbell Streets,
AUGUSTA, GA-,
Agents for Reed's Phosphate, Aug 27 tl
T. MARKWALTER.
MARBLE WORKS,
Broad Street. AUGUSTA GA
MARBLE MONUMENTS,
TOMH Stones, Marble Mantles, aud Furniture
Marble of all kinds from the Plainest to
the nr<8 r laborate, designed and furnished to
order at short notice.
tfiT All work for tho Country carefully
Boxed
GREENSBORO’, GA., Tit f* '1 j Lj, |
j POETRY.
Evening's on the Balcony
’Gainst a veil ot sunset fires
Loom the slowly darkening spires,
Pina cled in dusky glare ;
Through ti e twilight ceaseless coming,
Lo / the eity’s mighty humming
Palpitating on the air,
Rippling down the ornate fretwork.
Flowers in a tangled network,
Bathed in flood of silvery light ;
With the soft wind weirdly woven
Comes the music of Beethoven,
Breaking out upon the night.
From the open window gleaming,
Leaps a warm glad lustre, streaming
Through the custians’ filmy haze ;
Underneath the trellised roses,
Fondly tended, one reposes
Eloquent of other days;
Davs when frame and mind were youthful,
" hen the earnest arid the truthful
Ruled the atmosphere of life :
Recollections of a mother
And a bold, true-hearted brother—
Recollections of a wife.
Bright-haired Lilian, dark eyed Edith,
Listen while ’he old man readeth
From the book ot dear ofd times ;
Galling from tile palace tower,
Lo ! the voice- of the hour
Fill the air with solemn rhymes.
From the Sunday Herald.
The Trials oi' a Bachelor
I am a bachelor, and am, there
fore, necessarily a miserable man.
My age is “uncertain hut tills is
of no fonsequence, not being a wo
man. In the dispensations of an
inscrutable and afflictive Providence
I am, for the present, living at a
boarding-house. This circumstance
is enough to drown oneself, not to
say one’s friends, in tears. I have
never committed any great crime
that I know of, and hence it is dif
ficult to understand why I should
be so punished. Perhaps it is be
cause lam a bachelor, this being
about the most heinous of all my
oflf<,«oo« against society, ami espe
cially against myself. But what
ever may be the train of circum
stances, evil or good, that led to so
unhappy a mode of life, it is never
theless, pro tempore the method of
my unfortunate existence.
And since I am so placed, and
since it is the duty of us all to
warn others against untoward ex
periences into which we have drift
ed or blindly run, and since a sim
ple recital of what hourly crucifies
my inmost spirit, will or ought to
tend to this benevolent end, I here
by hint at rather than describe the
cause of my inward laceration.
Love is said to be a flame. This
—which for the sake of not going
counter to the dictum of such as
are learned in this tender lore, we
will admit to be true—would not
matter much if it only burned those
in whom it is kindled but, like oth
er flames, it scorches also those who
are near. Now, lam not only
near to one, hut to several of these
Hames. One is so very near that
it shines with exceeding fervor on
my face; it half blinds my eye.—
When I look down into the “dem
nition moist” depths of my cup of
coffee, it wholly disqualifies me for
distinguishing between a mutton
chop and a muffin. Tennyson
speaks of the storm making “the
rose poll sideways.” Even so do I
find it necessary to turn mv face
“sideways” to escape the intenser
heat, and what Tennyson might
call with poetic vigor, the storm of’
love.
Well, just by me jjs I have said, j
is this scorching fire of the affec- !
tions and simmering of the blood. |
In two congenial and mutually con
fiding breasts reigns a happy chaos.
It is literally love broken loose, and
in need of the bridal. They look
liquidly at each other, and put their
close together to speak and to lis
ten to each other’s dainty breath
ings. Beside them cooing doves
are merhawks. It is a positive
crime to he near them to jar with
unsympathizing sight of sound the
music of their being. Compared
to it the sweetest song of the locust j
is “out of tune and harsh.” They j
are ready to dissolve with tender- j
ness, and one cannot
stant apprehension
moment of e po.-t 1 ! 1 JHh
melt away and di-a B|
rents of alVi"-:i.ot . ■
it- 1 h ’ ..ftet: - *r~
like them, the heart of a supeJWP
sort of dove, that I might sigh a
way and be at rest.
Blessed are they who can lqak
little cupids at each other—arrows
and all—and be not pained, but
made happy by the piercing. Bless
ed is the man who, over a beef
steak in the morning, can look ado
ring eyes upon protesting lips,
which, when the beefsteak arid the
day are both done, and darkness
veils all doting things, he may, in
a eazy and unconscious cormgjjj
press with his own.
i Ye gentle and kindly powers LSI
can, if ye choose, mix love and Iv
or. caresses and cantelope, sighs
and sausages, and make a baked po
tato radiant, can ye not, as Byron
hath it, “accord me such a being?
As it is, I only sit in the heat and
burn outwardly. My soul is vexed
and my spirit disquieted within me.
' I see the close proximity of cheeks
and eyes ; I catch this inward and-j
j mysterious winking of heart to
heart; I hear the buzzing of a ten
-1 der whisper; and I am sad. Be-
I side the aroma of such a tropical
| scene, my coffee is insipid, my liiaf
; fins cold, and I feel an unaccounta
ble impulse to proceed at oneo to
irty landlady and declare to her that
I hers is the most comfortless house
I ever met with. No wopder.—
j What is the hum-drum of daily
| bodily food when compared to the
; sublimated nourishment of the af
fections ? What is eating beefsteak
i or eating anything, to being in love!
What is a muffin or brown bread to
|a soul-shaking glance of the eye!
i What is salt to sighs, or butter to
the beatific vision of your “soul s
i idol” looking up into your face ! —•.
What is anything, in fact, that
keeps this mortal clay together,
when compared to the rapturous
consciousness that there is a sweet,
j soft, melting image sitting beside
1 you, in an extatic agony to put her
; arms around your neck and exclaim,
iin the words of .Mrs. Browning,
i “my own, my love !”
: I now think I have made mv feol
j iitgs understood. 1 advise all who
! sit at a hoarding-house table, when
there is love-making at hand, to
shut their eyes. .It puts you out
; of conceit with yourself, ami espe
cially with your landlady, to be an
J observer of such things. To par
ticipate in them is well enough, but
lto be a mere looker on makes one
'groan down to his toes. Shut your
j eyes, therefore, and save yourself
the wear and tear of which you
know nothing, until you have seen
people kiss each other in the dark,
dine off the same thoughts, love
fancies flying backwards and for
wards, like a weaver’s shuttle,
whisperings “gentle and low,” and
j meltings-away that threaten to
'drown “the bases of your life in
. tears.
Beautiful Passage. —The fol
lowing is from the “Reveries of a
Bachelor,” by Ike Marvel :
“A poor man without some sort
of religion is, at best, a poor rep
robate, the football of destiny, with
no tie linking him to infinity and
the wondrous eternity that is even
worse, a flame without heat, a rain
bow without color, a flower without
[ perfume. A man may, in some
j sort, tie his hopes and honors to
I this weak, shifting ground tackle;
jin his business, or the world, hut a
| woman without that anchor called
i faith, is a drift and a wreck. - A
j man may clumsily continue a sort
lof moral responsibility, out of re
j lation to mankind, but woman, in
j her comparatively isolate sphere,
J where affection and not motive, can
find no basis in any other system,
j or right action but that of faith.—
I A man may craze his brain, or his
thoughts to trustfulness in such
poor harborage as fame, and repu
tation may stretch before him, but
a woman—where can she put her
hopes, in storms, if not in heaven ?
And the sweet trustfulness—that
abiding love—that enduring hope
mellowing every page and scene of
life—-lightening them Avith pleasant
radiance, when the world’s storms
break like an array with cannon!
Who can bestow its all hut
| soul, tied to what is stronger th.^K
n JHKv though/ r+Jf Si
wj < f * A utumu.
by day the pulse of
nature Tedder heats, as the warm
life-blood, which with the Summer
coursed in all her veins, returns
back to her heart its vital streams,
ere Winter with its ice and snow
shall seal the sluggish fountains.—
Already grow the days serene, as
the warm sun withdraws his fiery
beams and the shadows of morn and
eve lengthen across tho earth. A
pfciil and melancholy calm on nature
K|ts like the holy serenity of Ilea-
Hn. The birds are silent in the
groves. At, morn they sing no ca
rol to the day. Now they have
ceased to charm the ear of eve with
vesper tones, and all the ministers
of song are mute as death. At
night the solitary cricket on the
hearth, sends forth a monotone.—
All sounds are tempered to a
solemn dirge, as if to fill with silent
awe and majesty the contemplative
soul. Change now is busy; with
impressive hand upon the fading
flower, the falling leaf, or in the j
sober stillness of the wood tracin°-
the foot prints of Deity. All i
sounds are pleasant to the ear,
stealing through air like spirit
whispers from a far off world. All
sights are pleasing io the eye, as
on the canvass of cur dreaming
thought they paint the fading pic
tures of the beautiful. And yet
with nature is no change. She
never grows old. The same seasons
mark each year. The same gay
Spring, bright Summer, staid Au
tumn, and Winter, come and go.
with fresh luxuriance, golden fi'uits
and flowers, harvests of plenty, and
winters of decay. The same stars
that shone upon our childhood still
shine above our heads. The same
sky that hung above our youth
looks serenely upon us now, and
the same earth beneath us is teem
ing, with its mysteries. Change
marks only man. Sad are its vi
cissitudes in him. Day by day,
like Autumn leaves, friends drop
into their graves, and hour by hour
our proudest works nro crumbling
into nothingness. Faces that once
greeted us with the flush of beauty
and the the smile of love are long
since faded ; and the joyous laugh
of youth is silenced in tire sober
tone of age. The maiden's cheek—a
matron now—is laded, the youth
grown up to manhoods sterner
tasks, and manhood in its strength
anil pride totteridg toward the silent
borne. It is a time wljcn memory
is thronged with the gayer images
of Spring ; when hope stretches its
vission over the perishing things of
j earth to that Paradise beyond.
I whose beauties never fade. It is a
time when then the heart losing its
hold upe? the visible, turns to that
viewless world within whose flow
ers with no season fade; and
though
“Tli ■ Spring of lift; bn past.
With its budding iiopns and fears.
A id the Autumn time becoming
With its weary weight oi yeais,”
they live on ’midst every season I
untinged by Autumn, unseared by
Winter, in life's eternal Spring.—
Constitution
Old Deacon H was the own
er and overseer of a largo pork-1
packing establishment, and placed |
himself at the head of scalding
trough watch in hand, to time the
length of the scald, crying “hog
in” when the slaughtered hog was
to be thrown into the trough ; and
“hog out,” When the watch told
three minutes.
One week the press of business
compelled the packers to usual
hard labor, and Saturday night
found tho deacon complete exhaust
ed. Indeed, he was almost sick
the next morning when church time
came, but he was a leading member,
and it was his duty to attend the
usual Sabbath service if ho could.
lie went but soon fell asleep.
The minister preached a sermon
well calculated for effect. His pe
roration was a climax ol beauty.—
Assuming the attitude of one in-
lie recited to the
rv wh'iqi'w , sir”
4n ' doa-
V »; ' | N . i ■
Mow to Tell our Storj r
ABROAD.
The widow of Stonewall Jackson
has presentented Mr. David Macrae,
of Glasgow, with the coat in which
our peerless hero fell; and, accord
ing to the Herald, of that city, the
present owner intends to deposit it
in some museum together with such
other relics of the great American
war as he has carried back to
Scotland.
We confess ourselves surprised
and grieved at this. The cloth
dyed by the blood of Stonewall
Jackson in passing from the posses
sion of his family, should have gone
into that of the Virginia Historical
Society, in trust for the State, un
til such time as Virginians rule
Virginia.
But as the donation lias been
made, and the precious gift is to be
placed on exhibition, might we not
send Mr. Macrae the full outfit, if it
deserves that name, of a Confeder
ate soldier?
j This could be done with little
j trouble, and the tale which it would
tell would he more eloquent than the
pages of any history which has been
or may yet he writen. The thin
jacket, the scanty shirt, the ragged
trousers, the fragmentary shoes,
and the one slazy blanket, would
tell a story of which the European
mind is as yet ignorant.
But if the Englishman or the
cannie Scot once see the poor,
pathced clothes in which our no
blest and our bravest breasted the
; blasts of winter they Avould then be
| gin to comprehend something of the
I heroic fortitude which the soldiers
jof the South dispalyed in their
j long and desperate struggle with
J the imperial power of the North.—
j Then, as this gift has been made,
let measures be taken to surround it
with all the homely articles of
equipment and apparel necessary to
tell at a glance something of the
privations suffered by the men
Stonewall Jackson led. —Norfolk
I Virginian
—«. *
From th c Wav rley Magazine.
Q-entleii'-ss.
Gentleness is the great avenue
to mutual enjoyment. Amidst the
! strife of interfering interests, it
I tempers the violence of contention
| and keeps alive the seeds of harmo
ny. It softens animosities, renews
endearments, and renders the coun
tenance of man refreshing to his
fellow-men. Banish gentleness
from the earth, and suppose the
world to be filled Mith harsh arid
contentious spirits ; what sort of so
ciety would would remain ? The
solitude of the desert would he pre
! ferable to such associations.
It is indeed strange that when
j people have one common interest in
j view, avc frequently rvitness their
efforts becoming antagonistic with
J each other, and that they often con
! our in defeating their own aims and
purposes. Has not the heart of
man already provided and incurred
upon the human race sufficient
quantity of evils with which to
contend? Do wo not suffer enough
from tho storm which heats upon us
from without ? Or must we co tn
spire also, in the society where we
assemble, in order to find other an
tagonisms to harass one another
with ?
Gentleness is opposed to anger
We ought to try and cultivate our
better—-and not our baser—desires.
Anger is prompted from an evil act
or word ; while a gentle and for
giving spirit '.fill suffer an injury
of slight importance to pass by un- i
heeded ; and this is much tho bet- ,
ter way in the end. Let us all be i
kind, cheerful and gentle in all j
things, loving our neighbor as our- [
selves, and ive shall get along far 1
better in life Ilian by fretting and |
finding fault. Encourage the good, 1
the true and the beautiful, j. t. y. i
Two Sucker girls driving a |
buggy on a plank, road were stop- j
ped and asked for toll.
“How much is it ?”
“For a man and a horse,” re- ;
the gate-keeper, “the charge!
At’ cents.” 1
then, git out of the way,
two gal- 1 a ui ire.—
■Bl. lag ilia
If, H. MORGAN, Printer.
NO. 24.
i A Young Lady’s Soliloquy.—
j Useless, aimless drifting through
life.—what was I born for ? For
somebodp.s wife, my mother says.
Well, that being true, Somebody
keeps himself entirely from view
and, if naugnt but marriage will
sectle my fate, I beleivy / shall lie
in an unsettled state. For, though
I am not ugly -- pray wLat woman
is?-- you m'ght easilv find a more
beautiful phiz ; and then, seeks for
perfection will seek here in v ; an.
! Nay, in spite of these drawbacks,
| my heart is perverse, and 1 should
j not feel grateful, “for better or
worse,” to take the first booby
j that graciously came and offered
ime tho-e treasures -his home and
| his name I think,then’ my’ chances
jof marriage are small; but why
| should / think of such chances at
jail '! My brother? are allot them
j younger ihan I yet they thrive ui
| the world, and whv not'let me try ?
/ know that in bu-iness Frn not an
I adept- because from such business
j most stricklv I'm kept ; but—this
jis the question that troubles my
mind—why am I not trained up to
I work of some kind ? Uselessly,
; aimlessly, drifting through life,
i whv fhonld I wait to be some
| body’s wife ?
Do\V.\ on Curlew !—The Salt
' Lake J idetle say’s: A wayfarer
; dropped into the Occidental Hotel,
|in this place, recently, to get a
j square meal. Having planted him
j self in a chair at one of the tables,
Ihe was confronted by the waiter
I with :
j “What'll you have ?”
The hungry one fastened his eyes
ion the astacka la soup, and said :
I “What you got that’s good.”
| “Oh, w’e've got roast beef,corned
; beef, roast mutton, boiled mutton,
| fried ham, and boiled curlew !”
“What is curlew?” said the
| stranger.
j “Curlew-, why curlew is bird
j something like a snipe.”
“Did it flv ?”
j “Yes.”
j “Did it have wings?”
! “Yes.”
j “Then, I don’t want any curlew.
Sin mine; anything that had w’ings.
| and could fly, and didn’t leave this
| hard country, I don’t want for din
-1 ner.
‘Tups of Life.—Between the
: years of forty-five ard sixty, a
. man who has properly regulated
| himself may be considered in the
j prime of life. His matartfd
■strength of constitution renders
j him almost impervious to the at
tack of disease and experience has
■ given soundness to his judgment.
His mind resolute, firm is equal :
; all his functions are in the highest
j order ; he assumes mastery over
j business; builds up a competence
jon the foundation he has laid in
I early manhood, amt passes through,
a period of life attended by many
| gratifications. Having, gone a
| year or two past sixty, ke arrives
■at a stand still. Bat athwart this
j is a viaduct called the turn of life,
which if crossed in safety, leads to
j the valley of ' f old age.” round
I which the river winds ancf then
beyond, without a boat or cause
way to effect its passage. The
bridge is however, constructed.
Ladies should Read Newspa
PER3.--It is a great mistake in fe
male education to keep a y’oung la
dy's time and attention devoted to
the fashionable literature of the
day. If you would qualify her for
conversation, you must give her
something to talk ; give her educa -
with this actual world, with its
I transpiring events; urge her to
! read the newspapers and become fa
| miliar with the present character
J and improvements of trade. Ilis
| tory is of some importance, but the
i past world is dead, and we have
i nothing to do with it. Our tho’ts
and our concerns should be for thy
j present world—to know what it is,
and to improve the condition of it.
Let us have an intelligent opinion,
and be able to sustain a conversa
tion concerning the mental, moral,
political and religious improvemsnts
of our times ; see that each other’s
feelings, thoughts and rctions are
pure and true ; then will our life
be such. The wide pastures are
but separate spires of grass ; the
sheeted bloom of the prairies but
isolated flowers.
The worst featue in a man’s face
is nose—when stuck into other peo
ple’? business.