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Im^ n ett herald.
vvERY WEDNESDAY, B\
KePLES* YARBROUGH.
C EB M . PEEPLES, Editor.
M rr u O F^ CKIFTTON -
Mr a r& 3 52 oo
KiiSpiSV are cash " pay
Konej or JJJSS five wbscribert, and
H^ffSriveacnpyfue.
■money;*'" wiping thetr papers
post-office to another,
m fi l. wi sb it changed, as well
LfojLi „ VE BT,SE M K.N^ w
&§F"S l H
ve to sell land.. • g on
e tl f land, per square ••
;tors °- homestead!...... 200
plication W 1,011 3 00
notices.-
q.,lei Of land, by administrators,
or euardians, are required by
on the first Tufflduy in the
M«een the hours of ten in the
llh ' b three in the afternoon, at
sstK-T"* “"'i i " whiei '
»- jg gltU&t£G»*
• pr . OP ! «f thw sales must be given in
i gazette 40 days previous to the
■°uice'to debtors and creditors of an
te must ialso be published 40 days,
otico for the sale of personal proper
;;gf be given in like manner, 10 days
rious to sate day.
-oticc that apphcat.on will be made
the Court of Ordinary for leave to
Lud mast be published for four weeks.
stations on letters o ■administration
r i ins hip, &c., must be published 30
. for dismission from administration,
three months; for dismission
n (raardinnship, 40 days,
tales for the foreclosure of mortgages
, t he published monthly, four months ;
(.tablishing lost papers, for the full
~t 0 f three months ; for compelling
1 ffoin executors or administrators,
n bond has been given by the de-
the full space of three months.
ibcrilTs sales must be published for
r weeks.
is:ray notices, two weeks.
’oblications will always be continued
irding to these, the legal requirements,
« otherwise ordered.
CARDS.
m, WM. E SIMMONS.
H\TNN & SIMMONS,
I attorneys at law,
G F.OUGIA
|H|Vi"\- in Gwinnett and the adjoining
Hintics. mar lii-ly
In. L. HUTCHINS,
■ attorney at law,
G a .
v in the counties of the Western
' mill in Milton and Forsyth of the
Ridge. mar 15-1 y
Ivi.KK M. I'EEPUES,
§1 ATTORNEY AT LAW,
(iA
H' ictiees iii the counties of Gwinnett,
Jackson and Milton.
-ion Claims promptly attended to
15-Gm
| J • N . G LENN,
I ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Ci A.
ill promptly attend to all business
to hi 3 care, and also to Land,
and Pension claims mar 15—6ni
I s ' T-K.&, G. A. MITCHELL,
El LAWRENCEVILLE, ga.,
tender a continuation of
pmfessioual services to the citizens
Keep constantly on hand a
assortment of drags and chemicals.
' l' 1 '' 15 care^ll "y P rc P ar jd-
I--f. SHAFFER, M. 13.,
J^B Y SICIAN AND SURGEON,
II '-tvrenceville, GA.
I Bi l Roberts,
GEORGIA,
t^l-Wetn} 1 * m aß ,)us ' ness entrusted to
■w,:.’ circuit; also
■ "Win circuit U “ d Gwin,,cU ° f
l?Udw Col - " " ' Wil!k ” r ”>
' the . ""ants and Claim eases
■ - .Government. jul4-6m
I Ai R-LINE house,
l| }or Stleet - "CHr the Car Shed,
Hi * Tlant \ ga.
II ill'll, - . Proprietor.
° r l ‘° drjin 9' 50 Cents.
l lAli U:STOx HOTEL
I CIIa RLESTOX, S. c.
Ho e -h. Jackson.
Weekly Gwinnett Herald.
T. M. PEEPLES, PROPRIETOR ]
Yol. 11.
Bury Me in the Morning.
.
bv the late stiphbn a. docol.cs.
Bury me in the morning, mother;
Oh, let me have the light
Of one bright day on my grave, mother,
Ere you leave me alone with the night.
Alone in the night of the gra.e, mother—
Tis a thought of terrible fear;
And you will be here all alone, mother,
And stars will be shining here,
So bury me in the morning, mother,
And let me have the light
Of one bright day on my grave, mother*
Ere I am alone with the night.
You tell me of a Savior's love, mother—
I feel it is in my heart—
But oh. from this beautiful world, mother,
Tis hard for the young to part;
For even to part when here, mother,
The soul is lain to stay;
For the*grave is deep and dark, mother,
And heaven seems far away.
Then bury me in the morning, mother,
And let me have the light
Of the bright day on my grave, mother,
Ere I’m alone with the night.
SUMMER SWEET IN US.
“You might take a basket of those
summer sweetings down to Widow
Small's, Bert.” , »
“Yes, mother mi * f «you say so ”
’“lt won’t lake you ten minutes.”
“No? Where does she live?”
“Follow the orchard wail, and turn
down Lovers’ lane, and it’s the first
cottage on the left—so the servants
tell me; I’ve never been there.”*
Bert took the basket and followed
directions, and just as he reached the
first cottage on the left, the door
opened and out tumbled ten or a
dozen children of all ages.
“Is this the Widow Small’s ?” he
a.-ked of a dimpled young person who
stood just inside, watching the chi!-
dien’s gaiubol’s.
“Qes,” said the sweetest voice in
the world, while two luminous eyes
met his —“ves, this is the widow
Small’s.”
“My mother, Mrs. Greaterex, sends
her these summer sweetings.”
“Oh, thank you? Tell Mrs. Grea
terex that there is nothing 1 like so
well as summer sweetings.”
“She sent them with her compli
merits,” said Bert, fibbing awkwardly,
but feeling that he < wed an apologv
to this vision of loveliness for having
thought of her as an old woman in a
mob cap.
“Your mother is very kind. Won’t
you come iu and see my fiowers ?"
“Yes, I will. Are these your chil
dren, he asked.
“There are inv little scholars You
must have mistaken me for the old
woman who lived in her shoe!”
“Do you take care of all these
flowers yourself ?” lie asked, while she
pointed out her favorites. “What a
poetical employment!”
“Ob, it is not poetry, it is poverty
that moves me,” she replied. “1
make them into boquels to sell. Let
me give you one for your buttonhole.”
“Thanks ; and I will order a bo
quet every day."
“Oh, I shall grow as rich as Crce
sus. You are too generous 1 One of
my little scholars shall take it to you.”
“No; if you please, 1 will come
for it myself.”
“It is time for me to ring my bell
now ; recess has been over these five
minutes.’’
“1 suppose that is a bint for me to
be gone. I wish I was a little chap
in your primer class ! Good-bye, you
will see me to morrow.”
“Wheie have you been, Bert?’
said Caroline ; “the carriage lias been
waiting this half hour.”
“I carried some apples to the widow
Small’s,” answered the guilty Bert.
“Mother sent them.'’
“Oh, did you ? Has she any chil
dren !”
“There were half-a-dozen or more
playing about the premises,” answered
Bert, smiling.
“Poor folks have such a lot. Does
she have to take care of them her
self.?”
“That seemed to be her occupa
tion.”
“It must be disagreeable to be old
and poor, too; to loose your color,
and see your eyes retreating into
your bead, your skin growing yellow
and wrinkled, and your Lair getting
gray. Is she an awful old sight,
Bert ?” .
“Qou had better go and see for
yourself,” laughed her brother, "your
taste is 60 different from mine. The
new panier, for instance, which you
wore yesterday, and thought so styl
ish, is simply hideous to ine.’’
“Oh, no ! I hate the neghborhood
of poverty aud trouble ; squalot
gives me a qualm. No ; I will send
ber some of niv old gowns —without
paniers—if you think she’d like them,
but don’t ask mo to go and see her,”
and then they drove round and called
on the Upton girls, aud Caroline loti
Lawrenceville, Ga., Wednesday, September 4,1872.
sight of the poor widow and her
i large family in discussing the new
polonaise and the latest style of chig
nous. But Bert made amends for
his sister’s shortcomings. All the
time that he chatted with Maria
Upton, holding her scarlet yarns
and saying gallant nothings, he was
comparing her with the widow Small,
and finding Haws in her beauty and
demeanor. Only yesterday he had
thought Marfa Upton the prettiest
girl iu the world, with whom it wonld
not be difliult to get madly in love,
but just now she seemed full of affec
tation.
“What is on your mind!’’ she
asked suddenly. “Excuse me, but
you don’t appear quite like yourself.”
“Nor you, either,” he might have
replied.
“Allow me to judge about that.
Come, what good have you done
since yesterday ?”
“Good ? Oh,yes; I carried a bas
ket of summer sweetings to the widow
Small. Isn't that good ?”
“Sweetings are good. She’s quite
an antiquity, this widow, isn’t she ?”
“Don’t ask me; a lady’s age is a
sacred subject.”
“How considerate 1 Does she wear
a false front piece and glasses ?”
Is that an index of age? I know
aheap of folk-; whom I never sup
posed aged who wear false fronts, if
it means that they smile when they
would rather frown, and say, “I am
glad to see you,” when they wish you
in the Red sea.’’
“Oh, how provoking you are, Mr.
Greaterex ! But perhaps you will
tell me if this widow Small needs
assistance—if she would like to go
into the Old Ladies’ home which our
society is about to establish?”
“How benevolent-minded vou are,
Miss Maria!” Bert laughed “1 al
most wish myself an old ladv, to be
provided for by your charity ; but 1
don’t believe Mrs. Small would take
kindly to it.” And then the talk
wandered into other channels. Yes
terday their flirtation had been in
danger of falling a more tender
strain ; to day the widow Small pre
served the equilibrium. But Miss
Upton bad no mind to give up ground
once gained. She fancied that he
wished to withdraw from the half
conclusions of the days before—that
he desired to balance the past account
which made up a pretty sum total of
sugared speeches and half-uttered
declarations,.by crediting them all to
friendship. There was an air of in
difference about him which she gieat
ly mistrusted; but she would not let
him slip through her fingers so easily.
Publicity of private affairs was the
bugbear of the Greaterex soul: bad
she not received enough fragrant
notes and letters from Bert to answer
her purpose ? Not that she would
descend to the vulgar necessity of a
breach of promise, but where was
the harm of making him understand
that lie was compromised ?
“I have been reading Madame Se
vine’s correspondence,” said she;
“and it strikes me that you resemble
each other in posessing the secret of
fine letter writing, when most people
run into twaddle.”
“I don’t know how to bear myself
under such a burden of praise. I
feel that it is undeserved.”
“In order to convince you of its
truth, perhaps I had better allow you
to re peruse a few specimens that I
have from one Mr. Bertbold Greater
ex. See! here they are,” unlocking
a cabinet.
“Did I write you all those?” said
Belt aghast. “Let me see them.”
“What are tbev 1” a->ked Caroliue,
¥ *
withdrawing hor attention from the
styles for an instant. “Oh! love
letters ?”
“Love letters?” repeated Maria.
“I don’t know. Were they, Mr.
Greaterix ?” aside.
“I don’t remember," said Bert.
“Let me read them, and I’ll decide.”
“I don’t dare trust you. People
have a way of burning up their old
letters, if they can lay hands upon
them - Now perhaps I’m silly and
sentimental, but mine are worth some
thing to me. By the way.Greaterex,
did you ever go into court when there
was a breach of promise case on ?
Jerome took us in once, when they
were reading the evidence, and it was
so funny ! Everybody was convulsed.
They were very nice letters too!"
Bert turned a little pale. lie
vaguely remembered that at different
periods he had believed himself seri
ously “smitten” with Maria’s charms,
and he had, no doubt, written in a
strain becomiug a lover, but bow ar
dently or how explicitly he could not
recall. He knew that there had been
a breach of promise case away back
in the experience of one of bis ances
tors ; and though the case had uot
gone against him, yet be had never
1 fglly recovered the toDe of bis reosi
“COMING EVENTS CAST THSIR SHADOWS BEFORE!”
bilities, which had received such a
shock.
“Give them to me,” said Bert,
reaching bis hand for them.
“Will you give me anything in
return of equal value? Will you
give me the nosegay iu your button
hole I”
“It is beginning to fade. No, Miss
Upton.”
“Come into the garden, and I will
give you a fresh one.”
“Thanks.”
He followed into the garden, where
she made a selection, and throwing
Mrs. Small's gift aside, put her own
in its place. When she had finished,
lie picked up the faded flower aud
pressed it into his pocket book.
“Oh,” said Maria, “a souvenir of
some—” The words broke off in
her thioat. “Who gave it to you ?’’
abruptly.
“The widow Small,” said Beit,
smiling.
“Come, you are teasing me. You
shan’t see a single letter; and they
are ever so interesting!”
“How oould they tU otherwise
when you were their subject ?”
And then Caroline called tq them
that she was going home and the
conference ended.
So it happened that Belt tempo
rized, with the dreadful hint of his
letters being read in court tor the
diversion of the towns fo'k hanging
over his head. Had he been quite
certain of their contents he might
have defied them ; but lit was aware
that a young man in the first enthrall
ment of fancy allows his enthusiasm
to run away with his prudence. But
all this did not prevent him from
going daily to Mrs. Small’s for his
boquet, which, by the way, he some
times carried to Maria Upton, a sacri
fice to Nemesis ; and these daily calls
at tlie cottage in Lover’s lane became
like daily bread to the hungry. He
lived for them, counted the hours till
it was time to set forth, prolonged
them till the hostess wus fain to
spread her little teal table and invite
her guest to drink nectar from china
and to taste ambrosia home make
i Sometimes when the nights were
warm they took tea in the arch-way,
and honeysuckles climbing the lattice
and mignonette spicing the dewy air;
and there the moon would find them,
listening to the sleepy notes of thrush
es in the hedge, or talking of the
din, delicious future as if it were
some enchanted land toward which
they were journeying together.
One evening as she bade him good
night on her door step, he felt her
hand tremble in bis.
"What is it?” he a-ked. “Did you
see a ghost among the plum trees ?”
“Something startled me. I saw—
I thought I saw a face among the
shrubbery.”
“Whose face ?”
“Ob, perhaps I was mistaken. It
was a shadow projected from a fancy,
maybe.”
“You are getting nervous, little
one. You must not live here alone.”
And the next evening when Mr.
Greaterex loitered to the cottage, he
found had followed bis advice;
thn doors of the house were closed,
and playcards, “To Let,” were in the
windows. The widow Small had
vanished like the vision in fairy sto
ry. Mr. Bethold Greaterex was be
side himself, and ready to brave any
thing in Maria Upton’s power.—
What did a breach of promise signi
fy in comparison with losing his
love? Yet those may laugh who
win.
Somebody had seen a person an
swering to the description of Mrs.
Small take the noon train for New
York that day. Bert followed with
out more delay, wasted a week in
hanging about the city before he be
took himself to the house of his
friend Mrs. Aberneth in the suburbs.
One afternoon, as he was turning
over some engravings in the parlor
with Kate Aberneth, little Charlie
burst into the room in tears, sobbing
out—-
* Miss Van Orrne’s gone and dead
herself—in the school-room ! Charlie
didn’t do it! Charlie only said,
“Mr. Greaterex is courting sister Kate
in the parlor, Miss Van Orme ;” and
Mary said, “Hush, you silly boy ;” j
and Charlie was mad, and told ma j
aside so herself, and threw the primer,
at Mary ; and then Ainu Van Orme
looked all white and shut her eyes, j
and won’t talk ; and Mary said, ‘Now
you’ve done itCliarlie!’ Bid Charlie?”
“Oh, you horrid boy !’’ cried Kate
Aberneth. “You are always in mis
chief. I suppose Miss Van Orme has
fainted, tie and tell mamma.’
“Who is Miss Van Orme?” aiked
Bert
“Only the nursery governess. We
do have such a bother with them.
One has a temper ; auother lias bead- j
ache*-; an 1 uow, when we supposed 1
we bad got a joweil, here she Is
fainting l”
“I think we ought to try and revive
her,” said Bert, taking Chnrlis’s hand,
while Kate led the way. But when
they had reached the school room
Miss Van Orme had recovered her
senses, and was sitting in an arm
chair, while Mary vigorously fanned
her pallid face.
“For mercy’s sake, what made you
faint, Miss Orme ?" cried Ksto
“You almost throw Charlie into con
vulsions.”
Miss Van Orme stood up and look
ed beyond Miss Aberneth to Mr.
Greaterex, standing in the door way,
who came forward to her relief in
stantiy.
“Yo must not stand,” be said, le ad
ing her back to her seat. “I think 1
have found a friend o: mine" turning
to Kate. “Why did you run away
from your friends,” he questioned,
relieving Mary of the fan.
“I ran away from my enemies, if
joti please.”
“Do you call me one I”
“Perhaps we had better withdraw,”
said poor Kate, tossing, her head to
conceal her chagrin. “Come, chil
dren !"
“Thank you,” Bert answered her ;
“I should like a few minutes alone
with Miss Van Orme, if you please.”
“Oh, you had belter go to Miss
Kate in the drawing room,” said Miss
Van Unite, when the door had clused
upon thorn ; “It w ill he a shame to
disnppoiut Mrs. Aberneth ; and, in
doed, I can get on very well without
you, sir.”
“But I can’t along without you.”
“And yet you know nothing at all
about me ?”
“I am satisfied with my knowl
edge. I know that you ate chat in
ing, and that I love you.”
“You love a woman sailing under
an alias? lam neither Mrs. Small
nor Miss Van Orme.”
“I don’t care a fig who you are.
I will marry you to-morrow, if you
cobsent, under whatever name you
choose.”
“Generosity in catching. I will
a4t you my story.” *
“I wi.l hot listen to it exeepj from
the lips of Mrs. Berihoid Greatcrex.”
“Please yourself.”
“Thank you. Then I will come
for you to morrow, and we will be
married in church.” But when he
returned to the drawing room ami
told his story to Mrs Aberneth, she
insisted that the wedding should take
place at her house.
Everybody was taken aback at
Greaterex when Berthold wrote that
he should bring his bride home the
following week. “You may have
seen her,” lie wrote, “w hen she was
Mrs. Small, and lived in the cottage
in Lover’s lane. You remember,
perhaps, that you once sent her some
summer sweeting*. I owe my hap
piness to those precious apples. Car
oline will remember the occasion,
because she offered to part with some
of her wardrobe to the poor widow.”
“Oh ! oh !” cried Caroline, “he has
married the widow Small and all hoi
children! How could he? She’s
old enough to be his grandmother.
Oh, dear! dear! dear! I shall nevet
want to see another summer sweet
ing as long as I live. I wish you
would order Spades to cut down the
tree, mamma. No wonder an apple
brought trouble into the world and
shut folks out of Paradise ! It keeps
its reputation up finely. To think
that the heir of Greaterex should
marry a hideous old widow !”
Guess ber surprise when Berthold
opened the cariiage door, and there
descended a little person, who threw
aside her veil and disclosed a dazzling
skin of rose and lily hues, eyes like
summer brooks, brown and liquid,
hair a ripple of sunbeams —the re
semblance of an angel in flesh and
blood !
“Where—are the — the —chil
dren ? gasped Caroline
“Yes,” laughed Berthold, “and
where are the wrinkles, and the gray
hairs, aud the sunken eyes ? Is she
an awful old fright, Carrie ?”
“Summer sweetings are not to sour
after all, mamma,” said Caroline,
later. “I guess Spades may spare
the tree.”
The next week Berthold overtook
Maria Upton in his walk.
“I saw Mrs. Greaterex at church,"
said she.
“Did you see an antiquity with a
false front piece ?”
“Now, don’t he disagreeable; how
could I know V By the way, 1 have
some news to tell you. I am en
gaged.”
“Allow me to congratulate your
lover. I suppose you mean to enter
tain him with those procious letters
of mine."
‘Your letters? Ob, I haven’t the
ghost of one left: I curled my hair 1
[*'J A YEAR, IN ADVANCE.
on them long ago ; ft was only the
empty Envelopes with which I tensed
you. But tell me about Mrs. Gren
terex.* I bear it is like a story.’
‘Yes ; perhaps you have heard of
! the Frttdbonwne heiress t I refltem*
! her when the affair was much talked
of, and thinking it aad enough. You
see, Pauline Was tl*e last of her fam
ily—she nnd a cousin who inherited
incase of her death. The common
report was that her loneliness and
sorrow worhtd upon her mind till
she was pronounced insune, and car
ried to an asvlum ; and the cousin,
being guardian and nest heir, was
left in irresponsible charge of the for
tune, which was very large.’
‘Yes, I know it,’ she answered
gliUy; ‘the Prudhomines lived ip J
great magnificence while they did live*
‘Well, Mrs. Grealrix was Pauline
Pnidhonmie. It appears she was no
more crazy than you are ; but having
infused to marry her cousin, and lie, '
fearing that she might marry else
where aud will the fortune away from ■
: him forever, represented her as insane,
btibed two physicians to serve his
j turn, and dispatched lie;, to the asy- 1
linn. One day she made her escape,
and caine hero under the name of
I Mis. Small, widow, to support her- j
self By her own exertions, thinking
the title of Mrs. would prole more 1
protection than that of Miss, and 1
insane respectability. But she was
discovered in her seclusion. Site i
lock flight immediately. She met I
the keepers getting out of the tr-ain
in which she took refuge, but they
passed her unsuspecting. 1 followed
on the next day, aud the rest you
know. I don’t suppose that you ever
heard of the cousin ; but in case you
{Mould ever chance to meet him, bis
name is Lucein Thornton !'
‘Lucein Thornton !’ cried Miss Up
ton, turning deadly pale, and support
ing herself on tbs ar.n of Greatercx.
T thank you. There can bo but <£ne
Lucein Thornton. You have done
mo a great service, Mr. Greatetex, in
marrying Miss Prudhomme. 1 am
engaged lo her wicked cousin, but
iou have saved me tlie ignominy of
(coming bis wife. Will yon please
call a carriage nnd send me home ?’
And it was the summer sweetings
that brought it all about.— Harper'*
Weekly.
Sawdust. —The London Held, one
of the highest authorities, says of
sawdust:
I litter the horses on it to the
depth of nine inches raking off the
damp and solid surface every morn
ing, and spreading evenly a little
fresh, removing the whole four or
five times >*■- year. It* advantages
appear to be tnahy, of which I will
state a few which give it, in my esti
mation, its greatest superiority over
straw. It is much cleaner and more
easily arranged, and, of course, much
cheaper at first cost, mnkitig in the
end excellent manure. It is pecil
iarly beneficial to the feet, affording
them a cool, porous stuffing, a sub
stitute for the soil of earth we always
find in the hoofs of a horse at grass,
and presents the nearest resemblance
to the horse’s natural footing,—the
earth. We never had a diseased foot
since the introduction of sawdust in
the stable, now some years since.
Horses bedded on sawdust are also
freer fiom dust and stains titan when
on ordinary litter, simply because
sawdust is a better absorbent, per
haps, and testify their approval of it
by frequently lying down for hours in
the day. It has also the recominen- ,
dation of being uneatable—an advan
tage which all iu charge of horses
with tho habit of eating their litter j
will readily admit.
Is, Into, asd Undkk.—The vexed
question of the proper mode of hap
tisin was thus disposed of lately dow n
South by Uncle Csesar, a colored
preacher : ‘Now, bredren,* said lie,
‘I hear great fus* about djeso words
in and into ; and folks want us
to believe dat dey mean under,
and dat when de Scriptur speaks
of an individual going down into
de water, de Bible mean to say
dat be went under de water. S*pose
some day I gees ober to see Brudder
Solomon, and Brudder Solomon wery
politely say, ‘Uncle Ciesar, come into
de house, 1 do anybody »‘pose dat dis
nigger, would go under de house f
How to Set Gate Posts. —Alonso
Bradt, Skaneatelas, New York, says:
lu that viciuity, for seveial years, the
manner of setting has been with
hydraulic or water lime, and coarse,
clean sand or fine graxel, the propor
tion one of the former to five of the
latter. It should be mixed tlior
“uglily, rather thin, and the bole
filled to the surface. There may be
small stones thrown in as the hole is
being filled, which should not be le#s
than three feet deep.
RATE* OF ADVERTISING.
stags j 3 ae's. e mo’s. 12 mo’s.
1 square * l OO'T cW fP) 66
2 sq’rs G 00 10 00 16 nu
3 sqr*a BUO UOO 20 00
hi col. 12 00 20 00 30 Oft
X col. 20 00 35 00 GO 00‘
one col. 40 "ft fio luc ou
The money tor wlvertbenicuts is doe
on the first insertion.
A square is the space of one inch in
depth of the column, irrespective of the
number of lines.
Ml.iiages and deatha.net exceeding
six lines published tree. For a man ad
vertising h« wife, and all other personal
matter, double rates will t«e charged.
No. 25.
Letter from General Averill.
Amongst the Federal officers
of cavalry who served dnVing the
late war, none made a better rep
utation than Major General W.
V\. Averill. In the Shenandoah
Valley he was aw a
skillful soldier, whilst his kind
treatment of the people of that
section and respeet for private
property won hint hunt* ut friend*
even among that thoroughly South
ern population. It having been
announced with a flourish of trum
pets that General Averill had
signed the call tor a soldiers’ and
sudors’ convention, to be held in
Pittsburg, in the interests of
Grant, the General has written a
letter declining any participation
in the proposed convention After
sketching hastily the cuuse and
results of tire lute, war, General
Averill says:
'These results, which cost u* so
many lives and so much money,
were accepted by the South. Ttie
people, with the habit ol conceit
liuttug ail praise or ail blame on
an individual, ncicclcu Geo, Grunt
as liie ideal, 01. whom they be-
Slowed all honor and alt potter.-
Since George Washington, U* no
A met IC!H» citizen lias lieeu afford*- 1
such great <>pp itunittcs to Utvs
uces S. Grant, and no man, living
or dead, bus ever exhibited Mice
absolute lack of intelligence to
undeistand, or of will to embrace
them. S i liter In; bad ilte necessary
power has been shown by lus
ability lo make extraordinary ex
ei'lious lor the success ol many
unworthy and unconstitutional
schemes without provoking ufti
elca of impeachment. Ills J.rsi
great opportunity to tccuucilc
ill a people, to heal the National
wounds by the first intention, was
utterly disregarded. What had
lie lo fear? No human power could
alter the rcaul s of the wm. Union
and DiUiociucy vvcie assured
i forever. The soldiers ot the South
! had not only laid down their aruiS,
i but had at once gone to hard work
at various uv< uputiuna, formerly
; despised, show ing that, they had
[ Well learned the lessons ot the
i war. kvery consideration ol honoi,
| dignity, and even of mercy, de
; manded that vve should encourage
them iu their struggle for life ami
peace, no leas heroic than their
conduct iii battle. The shattered
fragments of their former social
struc mo wete ready at hand to
reconstruct society on a Demo
cratic foundation, but those frag
mdnts have been ground into dun
under the vindictive heel of U. N.
Grant and the men who control
him. Ignorant, superstitious ne
groes, who will abide with us
forever, have not been instructed
in the duties of selLgoVcrnmcnt;
but by the special iff--its of the
President and his Cabinet and
other officials, they have had their
apprehensions aroused and a race
hatred begotten. If thin he peace,
then the firmest rallying cry of
his partisan*, 'Let us have peace,'
is a cruel peace.’
Iu Conclusion lie says he shall
make every proper effort in his
power toward securing the elec
tion of Horace Greeley.— Sev.
Newt.
A negro held a cow while a cross,
eyed man was to knock her on the
head with an axe. The negro, ob
serving the man’s eyes, iu some fear
inquired, ‘You gwine to hit w bar you
look V ‘Yea 'Ben hold l* - ® cow
yourself. 1 unit gwiue to let vou hit
me.
——•-- ——
They have a new way of getting
up surprise parties A peison ro
ceivea an anonymous loner, stating
that a surprise party will be with him
on a certain evening. He prepares
lor it. NoboJy comes and tho sur
prise is complete.
Thu Philadelphia Inquirer call*
Grant a sell made man. Judging
by the Hist specimen ol his handi
work, it is to be hu|>ed that lie wi.l
nevet attempt another such piece til
w oi k.
- —~
A New Haven doctor quieted a
clamorous landlord by showing him a
skeleton in a closet, and faying, “that
man came here just two weeks ago
with a bill.
——— —
Old Gent to Boy : “Did you ever
figbt in the wrong!" Boy—“Often.’’
Gem—“ Dear me, why!" Boy—
‘Didn’t kuow until 1 got the worst of
it, that l had hold of the wrong fel
low r
The deeper the foundation i*
laid, the higher the •npcratrncturu
can be reared.