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WHITE & MclSTOiSll,‘'Proprietors.
VOLUME VIII.'
A Leaf from a Lawyer’s lliarj^
BY WALTER GARDNER, ESQ.
“Curse him, I’d like to kill him !”
Wilford Anderson uttered the rash
words aloud, and clenched his fists. He
forgot he was on a public street; forgot
everything but the sorrow that lay heavy
on his heart, and which was now turning
to anger and despair by the infliction of 1
anew piece of cruelty.
Ever since his father’s death, he had
battled with the world to get bread for ;
his mother and sister. Denying himself]
comfortable clothes, he had striven to j
lay by a few dollars to pay off the inort- j
gage on his home, and now. when bis
hopes were almost realized, old Bertram i
West had notified him that hi- should
foreclose at once. Only one hundred ;
dollars were wanting, hut the selfish, cal- '
lous creditor would not wait -like a hun
gry beast, he yearned for bis prey. And
this was to Ire the end of Wilford’s strug-1
gh ; this the reward of his self-denial. It
cut deep in. > his soul, and aroused the
worst passions of his nature. In other j
days Bertram West had borrowed money ]
of Wilford’s father, and now- showed his
gratitude by turning the son of his bene
factor out doors, and added insult to in -
jury by refusing to treat with him in
person, but stmt his agent, a low, mean,
crafty wretch, who was as small and in
ferior in statue as he was in mind. All
this rankled the young man’s heart and
inflamed his brain, but there was stiff an
other complication to torture him. Flor
ence West, the beauty of the village, and
one of the dearest, sweetest little women
that ever breathed, had been Wilford’s
companion from childhood, and just be
fore his father died they were betrothed;
but when the estate was settled, and
Bertram West found that Cbarbs An
derson had left comparatively nothing, •
he withdrew Florence from Wilford’s
society, an 1 informed him by letter that j
be must resign all thoughts of Florence,
and pay the mortgage as soon as possi
ble —that now he had no business to love. I
Hard and unk nd as this was, Wilford j
bore it Liavely, and ceased visiting at the
W • •in-,ion; hut he did not erase
~ me, who, true to her hea t .m!
olen views with him in a
ii; i outskirts of the village, j
These rr-■ .its of Miss strengthen-]
e<i VViifor.i. ud hv'pcd him to endure;
the cares ot iff with- ore cheerfulness,
more hope. But at last old Bertram
West discovered the lov-- <’ trusting
place, and to prevent furth . ;m clings,]
sent Florence off to an auui in 11 f lord, i
and warned Wilford, as I have
he should foreclose the mort g ,:
With this accumulation ol grid
foul wrongs, pressing upon his heart and
soul, it is not. to lie wondered at that
Wilford Anderson gave utterance to the
exclamation tbatliegins my story. All]
of us, suff ring intensely, have . lubtless
said hr ,ei words, hut circumstances]
make sueb t v-imfi >nt. or pointless,
and it was Iford’s misfortune to he
overheard, and lienee a mere ebullition
of anger became a serious threat. Pi -
ter Petty, Bertram West’s agent and i.t
tomev, coyiing suddenly round a corner
intberearof Wilford, hud heard his
words, and chuckled to himself with vin
dictive satisfaction; then, assuming a bait
regretful look, he said ;
“Hard words, had words, Mr. Ander- ]
son; lucky for you that I’m friendly to]
you.'’
Wilford turned around, his eyes dilat
ing with wrath, his lips curling with in
effable scorn.
“Friendly to me, you sneaking liar !
Use my luckless words if you can; you '
cannot make me more mis* rable than j uu j
have. One effort of yours would are
my home to my mother an sis’er, hut,
you would die before you’d gi.c ii.
out of my path; ray feelings are like fire
in my breast and your devilish face is]
hateful to me.”
“Hump! I’ll excuse, because you’re
mad; but I’d advise you to control your
self. I’ve no influence wiih my ntei,n,
I haven’t. If you hadn’t made a fool of ]
yourself over that girl—”
“Scoundrel !" The word left Wilford’s
lips with a half shriek, and. el;:- Ling th •
attorney by the neck he shook him until
every bone in hi:;bo; .* rai ded, then slam
ming him down upou his feet he ex
claimed :
“Now go, you deformed toad, and nev
er speak tome again. Because I’m poor,
you think you can jeer at my credlovej
and insult my dearest t notions; hut as
long as these arms last, no man shall
take advantage of ray p- . erty tc off it
mv heart. Begone, or I’ll throw you in
to the gutte:.”
“Sneaking liar !” muttered Peter Pet
ty, glancing at the yosng man like a
wounded snake, “devilish face ! ust
wait, Mr. Wilford Anderson ! Oh, yes, •
you are an honest, hard-working young
man, hut—we’ll see, ’■ "j'U see,” and the
agent crawled off, re eating his words,
with increasing malignity.
Wilford Continued on to his shop, and
worked diligently until sunset; then he ;
went home to his mother :nd sister.— |
They noticed as soon as he entered tr. •
room that he was unusually depressed,
and anxiously inquhfcd ti e cause. He
•ought to elude their queries, bid a*
length told them of his rencounter with :
Pettv.
“Oh, if this had cot happened !” ex
claimed Mrs. Anderson, clasping her
hands tightly together, “lcannot blame
you, Wilford, for you nave been patient
up to this time, and none of us can bear
everyt’ing. But oh! my boy, I fear it;
will not end here.”
“You are superstitious, mother,” he!
•aid with a faint smile, but there was sin-
gular heaviness at liis heart.
His sister Lola was crying softly, her
head bent forward on her l ands. The
thought of losing their dear old home,
and the undefinable fear her mother’s
remarks had sent over hernature, opened
the flood-gates of her grief. Wilford
sought to cheer her, hut she only cried
more violently, and elumj to liim with a
strange tenacity. All together, it. was a
miserable evening, and ail were glad
when it was time to retire.
Next morning Wilford was up at' five
o’clock, id ut six he started for Foxville,
a tow., s ven ■ ! ward, in compa
ny w.th l’i n workmen. llis
mother wept v, hen be left her, and hung
around bis neek until he w obliged to
release himself. Many a t. ho had ]
gone a far greater distance, and she had
thought nothing of it; hut, there seemed
to he a cloud hanging over him, and the
mother’s yearning In art would fain have
e.. o. “Come hack ! come hack !” but her
r n argued that her continued trials
made her weak and fearful, so she tried
to smile through her tears as she saw her
handsome boy ride off in the sunshine.
At six i*. m., the job was completed,
and Wilford supposed iis companions
would return home at once: hut no; they
had decided to remain over night to at
tend a party at the house of a mutual ac
quaint. m >. No persuasion, however,
could in him to remain, for he know
his uiothi, would be anxious, so lie start
ed at 7p.m., to walk home. When he
arrived at Coos Village, a small hamlet
three miles east. «.I Foxville, ho met a
friend whom he had not seen for years,
and who, in brighter day;;, had been his
college chum—for Wilford had been edu
cated fur the law, hut circum dances had
sent him to the carpenter's bench. The
force of old association compelled him to
pause and go to the hotel with George
Arnold to h.v. ■ a cosy chat and supper.
But dear as were t.h; 1 memories of the
past and the society of lib; old friend, he
broke awav from him at ten minutes past
eight, and resumed lbs joii’iiey. (in
hour later he drew near the Black Brook
—a rivulet running through a dark,dense
glen of willows end elders. Thinking he
heard a strange noise in the coppice, he
pan- 1 u and listened. Suddenly a half- '
suppressed sliri k souinc'd hoarsely on
the night air, am! In united into the re
cesses of the g : ii. As lie reached the
side of the hro 'li. the clouds parted, and
a faint ray i ; light from the moon dis
closed a scene that made his blood run
cold with horror: There, waLt-deep in
the water, stood-an old man, his face dis
torted with fear, and eno hand imploring
iv up ed, while, half-kneeling upon
the bank, was a younger man, with a
large .stone men leingiy uplifted in his
hand. There vies u \rder ill his eye and
attitude. \Vil:o and uari 1 forward, hut,
the underbrush trippej*bun up, and ho
fell heavily, and at the same instant he
heard the awful . rash of the stone ns it
met its victim’s skull. Appalled, for an
instant he remained motion' •=», and then
sprang up, only to ’• Jn Ito earth
by the flying assassin. Bruised and be
wildered, he struggled to his fee. again,
and neared the fatal spot. Groping
about in the darkness, lie caught .Le
serisle:body of th ■ old nnd drag
ged it partially a.shore, v.he.i Mm rays of
a lantern burst full upon him, and the
squeaking voice of oeti r Petty rang out
with maiieious sharpness:
“Ho! we've caught him! Surround
him. my men.”
Stupefied for a moment by the accus
ing eircumstaiicoa that .surrounded him,
and which w- rc now • ;,'y too terribly evi
dent to himself, Wilford groaned aloud
and pressed his hand to ins brow. It,
was the worst thing h could have done ;
-—it wan taken :•» a proof ol remorse. I
instantly In wa.i • mst-el 1 firmly
bound, and thcr. the cons*» hi 1 • hade hi: i j
look u.icn h ; - ■ iii.e. Milford turned |
deathly • ’ P- JM am West;
until this ir-.iu.' whom he
was trying to ji-vu- . old man was
nearly dead, and insensible; hut Peter
Petty cashed water in hi* i; forced
brandy between his lies, arid th- a there
were signs of returning life.
I “Look a this can, Mr. A best—look
quick! Did be do it ?”
“Y-.-s, lie did it,” came in /aim whis
] j»er froei the pale, bloody lips, find tim
spirit -1 Bertram West passed from i
earth.
* * # * » *
In alow, narr. w, dismal cell rat Wil-!
ford Anderson, his arms fV 1 -d acres.-, his j
chest, his wild, sunken eves directed
upon tne cold floor, at intervals he trem- 1
i bled, and a lot: moan e wap’db his iipe.
Thoughts of his mother and Lola, and ]
their heart,•!->. -king anguish, bad worn !
him almost , i ask de-ton. He had hut j
one hope now and that was God. His]
heavenly Father and himself fate*: of bis j
] innocence, hut the few others of earth I
■ that loved him could only believe, and j
; that belief could not give them faith.— :
Anon he started and raised one hand, for
he he;.rd steps along the stone corridor.
! Then his cell was opened, and Florence
West cans - in, her face blanch- and white,
and traces of tears on her cheeks. He
darea not look up. Could she believe !
him guilty ? liis frame shook witu sup- 1
pressed emotions.
“Willis!” the voice was low add trem- I
ulous.
“Oh, Florence! Oh God' do you he- j
j licve me gir ty ? Speak dearest ! lam '
willing to yy knowing you believe me j
inubseiib”
“I do! Oh, my poor love, I do!”
He clasped her in his arms, and her j
tears mingled with bis, her sobs seemed ]
to become part of his. and for moments j
thw were as little children swayed by !
grief. The jailor at the door wiped his j
eyes and coughed down his rising sobs ;
HERE SHALL THE PRESS THE PEOPLE’S RIGHTS MAINTAIN, UNAWED BY TEAR AND UNBRIBED BY GAIN.
QUITMAN, GA., THURSDAY, AUGUST 14, 1873.
and then to prevent himself from giving
way to emotion, he terminated the inter
view.
# * * * # *
It was the day of the trial of Wilford
Anderson for the murder of Bertram
West, and the case attracted extraordi
nary, int'rest, because of the relation
which . ensed held toward t> • *llligh
ter <•;' ; >;;ii b red man. i -a every
section .-- ■■ b sp • tutors,
many •• -n, nt members of the
bar. At au i v hour the courtroom
was pa'-kod, and still the crowd surged
against the doors. The five judges in
their seat s, the accused was placed in the
dock, and the attorney-general arose to
address the jurytaipon the law involved
in the case, and what he expected to
prove. Wilford Anderson listen and alu
lv, occasionally glancing towards Ins
mother and sister, with a beautiful res
ignation in his white face. His counsel,
a young man of little practice in his pro
fession, and features thin and not very
prepossessing, was regarded by the at
torney-general as a foe unworthy of his
steel, and the other members of the bar
seemed to agree with him, judging by
their sidelon; dances. The opening ad
dress over, the governnwnt witnesses
were called and sworn, and then Peter
Petty took the stand. His testimony
was substantially as follows:
“On the seventh of October, Bertram
'West, left his house to go to Mill Village.
He started about eleven o’clock in the
forenoon, on horseback. At eight and
one-half o’clock in the evening lls in-.-
anxious about him, and started with i wo
constables to find him. When \v- gut
to a place in the Black Brook called
Muddy Hollow, I. heard a noise, and
upon approaching nearer, 1 saw the pris
oner drawing the body of Mr. West, out
of the water. The constable at once ac
costed him. Then 1 bathed Mr. West's
face, forced some brandy between his
lips, and he revived. I asked him if Mr.
Ander-on did this ; he said, “Yes, ho did
it.,” and died.
The attorney-general intimated to the
counsel for defense that he could cross
examine.
“Mr. Petty, on what part of Mr. West’s
body was the prisoner’s hand when you
first saw him ?” asked the pale Mr. Shir
ley.
“On his shoulders, sir.’
“He was not pushing Mr. Wost down
into the water then ?”
“No, sir.”
“Now, sir, when you aski and Mr. West
to identify his supposed assailant, was
there blood in and around Mr. West’s
eyes ?”
“No, sir, I had washed it away ,”
“Well, sir, might not Mr. West have
taken Mr. Jones, the younger constable,
for his assailant j.;si as easily as Mr.
Anderson ?”
“I object,” screamed the attorney-gen
era,. jumping up.
“Mr. »Shirley, what, is the object of
this examination ?” queried the senior
judge.
“To she v, your honor, that Mr. West,
i j that brief moment, wa. not in a con
di'i'ui to recognize anybody.’
“Proceed, sir.”
“Now, fir. Petty, answer my ques
tioi ,” said the counsel for defense.
‘No, sir, he coaid not have taken Mr.
Jones for his assailant, for Mr. Jones
held the lantern."
“Are you sure of that sir ?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then vrhy did you testify in the pre
liminary hearing that you held the lan
tern yourself?”
Mr. Petty coughed*and dropped his
eve'. Tin-;- v. is a sensation in court,
but to ■ v ’ ei recovered h ;f.
“Tt’> 11 ;my memory : ! -i.il
hold tin- -
] “Alt ! ye-- • i’.rid Mr. Join s stood
I near tile mine-i-'I mail, del he not?”
“Yer, sir.”
“Now, sir, did Mr. West recognize
you ?”
“I think he did, sir.”
“Stop, sir,-” I don’t care what you
think. Do you know whether he did
or not ?”
“No, sir,” very feluctantly.
“7Ad ho call you by name?”
“No‘ »ir.”
“New, • ir, will you that Bertram
: West fixed his eyes-on young Anderson
! when vo i af-ked him to identify his a«-
! sailani ?”
“I won’t swear to that.”
“And Mr. Jon-s and Mr. A*-.-lemon :
j stood side .>j uie, did they not r“
i “Yet?, sir.”
: Mr. Shirley waved the witness aside
• and 8a i down. The spectators had a
i better opinion of theyoung barrister now,
j and poor Florence felt a thrill of hope;
] but both were dissipated when the. tTor
r-ev-sgeneral recalled Mr. Petty, and he ]
i testified to Wilford’s exclamation hi th •
; street only one day previous : “Cm
: him, I’d like to kill him.” This was pur
in to prove ma'ice aforethought, and
although Lxr. Shirley tried to weaken it,
it remained a dark obstacle. Then the
two constables were called,'and they cor
roborated Peter Petty’s story in every
particular. Following teem came Wil
ford’s fellow-workmen, who testified that
i he would not remain with them at For
' vilie overnight, and he gave no reason
] why be would not. This of course was con
' ..trued against the prisoner, and his case
! began to assume a dubious aspect, which
was made positively black by the lanlord
|of tne hotel in Coos Villiage, who tesri
! fed that George Arnold begged Ander
; son to remain with him longer, but An
derson would not, and furthermore gave
jno reoson. He said AndersoD left there
: at ten minutes past eight, and his last
words to Arnold were : “I shall either
be better or worse off when you see me
again,” Wilford remembered those words,
and that he referred to his gloomy finan
cial prospects, but the inference the jury
drew was that of a dark intention.
Belli now fainted, and wascarried from
the room in the arms of the sheriff.—
Wilford nearly choked when he saw lbs
sister’s pale unconscious face, and 1 , .-in!
Florence’s sobs. The constables v. re
now recalled to testify to the evidence .if
a struggle between West and Anderson,
by the appearance of the latter’s clothes
and the ground near the s- vne of the con
flict. In regard to the latter, it trans
pired that there were two sets, ns one
might say, of tracks, that is, marks of a
large boot without heels, and marks of a
small hoot with heels ; the latter were
acknowledged to be those of Wilford An
derson, and that raised an unanticipated
question. Whose were the others p
The constables had not been in that
particular place, and Mr. West had not x
large foot, and always wore heels. Il
was seemingly a small point, but Mr.
Shirley worked on it until ho obtained a
permit for the jury to visit the spot.—
When they relumed, another witness for
the government, a Mr. Solon Wujeh, was
put upon the stand. His story was as
lollows ;
"I live in Mill Village. I ayi the per
son that Mr. West called on the seventh
day of October. He said ho should go
home by the way of the Black Brook.—
I adviced him not to do so. It was a
lonely road. He left my house at six
o’clock, ohorfly after I remembered that
1 had neglected to say something that I
wished to, and so I harnessed up and
went after him. I drove round by the
common and missed him. It was then
about eight o’clock. Then I started
toward the Black Brook road and reached
Muddy Hollw about half-past, eight-. As
1 drove by I saw a man go into the cop
pice, but thought nothing of it. I re
member that, he wore a light feff hat. I
am confident that it was Anderson. I
drove on. Not meeting Mr. West, l
turned about again and got hack to the
Hollow just as the constables came out
with the prisoner anil the wounded man.”
This evidence was introduced to con
nect Anderson’s movements, to show li s
intention of lying in wait for \V< l;, ami
in a measure, of course, it corroborated
the testimony of the landlord at Coos
Village hotel.
Everybody felt that, the prisoner was
doomed, and that il was useless for Mr.
Shirley to cross-examine. But the home
ly lawyer was indomitable ; he acted like
ii, hound on the scent of a fox, yet per
plexed by a triple trail.
“Mr. Welch, what was Mr. W.cst’sbusi
ness with you ?” queried the young bar
rister.
“lie wanted me to haul stone for him ;
there was also some talk about getting
out some lumber.”
“Mr. Welch, how far is it from Mill
Village to Muddy Hollow, by the common
road coming round through the north
eastern part, of this town r”
“it’s a gocil fourteen miles, sir.’
“Ves ; well what time did you leave
your house to follow Mr. West ?”
“About- seven o’clock, sir.”
“Is your horse lame, Mr. Welch ?”
“Which one ,sir?”
The bar smiled, but Mr. Shirley kept
on liis track firmly.
“The hay one The one you drove on
the seventh day of October.”
“Yes, sir, -he has a hone spavin.”
“And do you mean to tell this jury
that you drove this borSc fourteen miles
in one hour and thirty minutes, over the
hil'v common road ?”
‘ I didn't tiny so, .sir.”
“You said you started at seven o'clock'.
and in your direct testimony you m i
you reached Muddy Hollow at half-p.*
eight. Now, did you or did you no* ?” j
“I did. 1 don’t want to i-do- I ;
anything I said,” said the witn- ?. dog
gedly.
His main or did not have a good effect
upon the jury. The attorney general
saw jt end accused Mr. Shirley of bad
j goring the witness, hut the latter only
smiled i,;bis quiet way, and went on.
How far did you drive on the Black
Brook road after you saw this man go
into the coppice ?”
“About a mile and a half.”
“No more ?”
“No, sir.”
“Then you were forty-five minutes go
ing three miles; for it is in evidence that
it -was a quarter past nine when the con
sin hie;; came out of the coppice. Is this
trn ,«Mr. Welch ?”
The witness was becoming very uneasy,
and muttered, “I suppose so.”
“Don’t you know, sir ?”
“Yes,” he growled.
* “Then, it was ?”
“Yes.”
“Well,now, Mr. Welch,” said theyoung
] barrister in a ringing voice, “what were
you so long in that vicinity’for ?”
“To meet Mr. West, of course.”
“What! when he left your house at
six o’clock ?”
“He might have stopped on the road,
I thought.”
“Whv didn’t you go to his house to
see if he hadn’t got home ?”
“j. didn’t think of it.”
“Didn’t you suppose he was at home ?” ]
The witness grew more restless. The ■
attorney general objected to the ques- 1
tion, and it was ruled out. Nothing I
daunted, Mr. Shirley proceeded.
“Mr. Welch, do you wear heels on
your boots?”
“Not always.”
“Did you have a pair of boot3 with
heels that night?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Will you swear.at this moment you
can’t recollect whether you did or not ?” j
“No, I won’t.”
“Then yon can’t remember, can you ?”
“Not surely; but I think my boots had
heels.”
“Will you swear they did ?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, now, Mr. Welch, I see you have
an odd button on your coat. Will you
I tell me how you lost the matched one P”
! “I don’t remember such little things.”
| “But I want to know. Was it lostthe
seventh day of October ?”
“T don’t think it was.”
“Bid you have it on yqur coat at nine
o’clock that evening?”'queried the you tg
barrister, looking the witness straight in
tho eye.
He faltered a little, and said, “I think
I did.”
“Will you swear you did P”
“No, sir.”
“Isthis the button you lost?” asked
Mr. Shirley, taking from his pocket a
horn button with raised centre.”
“It was like that.”
“Is it yours P" •
“I won’t say either way.”
Perspiring like rain, the witness lef L
the stand; and as he went along by the
jury, they were seen to look at his feet.,
and tho spectators began to feel a strange
doubt. Tho defense now opened their
ease,and Wilford was put upon the stand.
With, steady eye and trustful face he told
his Btory as I have described it, to the
reader, and added : “When I sprang up
after falling down in the underbush, I
was again knocked down by coining 'in
contact with tho assassin. As I fell I
clutched his coat, and , this button re
mained in iny hand.” He took up the
button which Mr. Shirley had left upon
the stand. This closed the case, and Mr.
Shirley arose to make his argument. It
was a masterly effort, and when he finish
ed there was not a dry eye in the room.
The attorney general followed, but it was
evid. ut that ho could not obliterate the
impre i u the young barrister had made.
And now occurred a strange episode.
Mr. Solon Welch was found dead in his
chair, and on the inside of his coat, was
penned a paper with the words : “I kill
'll Jlcrlram West." This of course, cre
ated much excitement, and it was mo
ment x ere the spectators could be brought
into order again; and then an informal
voroict of “Not guilty,” rendered, and
the house rang with 'cheers. Wilford
Anderson bowed his head and thanked
God, while his mother and Florence clung
about Ins neck. Lola, coming in at that
instant, throw her arms around young
Wallace Shirley’s nsek and blessed him;
and his eyes swam with joyous tears at
his success. Then Wilford Anderson
was discharged, and his towns-people fol-.
lowed him home with shouts of gladness.
In t,ho confusion Peter Petty escaped,
ami has not, been heard from since.
Three months after, Wilford Anderson
married Florence West; and Wallace
Shirley had won the host cause he ever
undertook—Lela Anderson’s love and
hand.
A BLUSH.
What is there more misterious than a
blush, that a single word or look or
thought should send that inimitable car
nation over the cheek like the soft tints
of the summer sunset ? 'Strange it is,
also, that, the face only, and that the hu
man facto is capable of blushing, that the
hand or foot dot's * not turn red with
modesty or shame any more than the
glove or sock that covers them. It is the
face that is heaven. The blush of mod
esty that tinted woman’s face when she
awoke in Eden’s sunny land still lingers
with her fair daughters. They caught it
from the rose, for all rosea were first
v, but when Eve plucked one, the
bud seeing her own fair sac fair
iban the flowers---blushed and cast its
cfjex on her velvet cheek. The face is
tin t.ihlet of the soul, wherein it, writes
its actions. There may be traced all the ,
intellectual phenomena with a confidence
amounting to a moral certainty, if in
nocence and purity look outward from
within, none the less do vice, intemper
ance and debauchery make their indeli
ble impression upon it. Idiocy, rage,
cowardice and passion leave their traces
deeper, even, than the virtues of modes
ty, truth, chastity and hope. Even beau
ty grows more beautiful from the pure
thoughts that arise within it.
THE OLDEST CITY.
Damascus is the oldest city in the
world. Tyre and Sidon have crumbled
on the shore. Baalbec is a ruin, Palmy
ra is buried in a desert; Nineveh and Bab
ylon have disappeared from the Tigris
and the Euphrates. Damascus remains
what it was before the days of Abraham —
a center of trade an I travel —an island
of verdue in the desert; a presidential
capital, ’.l;h martial and sacred associa
tions extending through thirty centimes.
It was near Damascus that Saul of Tar
sus saw the light above the brightness of
the sun; the street, which is called Strait.,
in which it was said he prayed, still runs
through the city. Tho caravan comes
and goes as it did a thousand years ago;
there is Gill the sheik, the ass, and the
water-wheel; the merchants of the Eu
phrates and the Mediterranean still oc
cupy these with the multitude of their
wares. Yae city which Mohammed sur
veyed from a neighboring height and was
afraid to enter as it was given to man to
have but one - L .radix.?, and for his part
he was resolved not to have it in this
world, is to-day what Sulian called the
eye of the East, as it was in the time of
Isaiah, the head of Syria. It is still a
city of flowers; the streams of Lebanon
and the silk of gold still murmur and
sparkle in the wilderness of the Syrian
gardens.
HOW HE GOT HER.
A little English village, near Weston
super-Mare, was recently the scene of
much talk, on it being reported that the
widow of a farmer was about to marry
one of the laborers on her farm. The
rumor arose in this way : Among the
employees on the farm in question was
a laborer named John, who hitherto had
the credit of being rather deficient in in
tellect. Some friends, by way of a joke l
persuaded John that it would he no bad
thing for him if he could become master
of the estate on which he worked,adding
that the widow was open to an engage
ment, and that all he had to do in the
matter, byway of making preliminary ar
rangements, was to put in the “askings”
at the parish church. This John accord
ingly did, hut the afternoon following
the publication of tho banns, several
friends called at the farm-house and con
gratulated the widow —who was in entire
ignorance of what had been done—on
her determination to again alter her name.
The lady, who was somewhat indignant,
at once sent for the culprit, who, on put
ting in an appearance, was severely cen
sured for the step lie had taken. Poor
John protested his ignorance of the great
sin he had committed, and offered readi
ly to withdraw the “askings,” but t o no
such proposal as this would the “fair
relict” listen. Said she, “You have scan
dalized my character in the eyes or the
world, and marry me I am determined
you shall.” Hodge had no alternative
but to consent to such terms, and the
marriage took place.
Pocket Edition of Ilell Eire.
A young parson of the Univorsalist
faith, many years since when the Simon
pure Universalism was preached, started
westward to attend a convention of his
brethren in the faith. He took the pre
caution to carry a vial of cayenne in his
pocket to sprinkle his food with, as a
prevehtive of fever and ague. The con
vention met, and at a dinner a tall lloo
sier observed the parson as he seasoned
his meat, and addressed him thus:
“Stranger, I’ll thank you for a little
of that ’ere red salt, for I’m kind o’ curi
ous to try it.”
“Certainly,’returned the parson; “but
you will find it ratheflhioweilul; be care
ful how you use it.’
Tho Hoosier took the proffered vial
and feeling himself proof against any
quantity of raw whiskey, thought he
could stand the ‘red salt.,’ with impunity,
and accordingly sprinkled p, junk of beef
rather bountifully with it, kind forthwith
introduced it into his capacious mouth
It soon began to take hold. He shut his
eyes, and his features began to writhe,
demoting a very inharmonious condition
physically. Finally ho could stand it no
longer. Ho opined Lis mouth ,and
screamed—‘fire!’
“Take a drink of cold "water from the
jug,’ said the parson.
“Will that put it out ?’ said the martyr,
suiting the action to the word.
In a short time tho unfortunate man
began to recover, and returning to the
parson, his eyes yet swimming with wa
ter, exclaimed:
“Stranger, you cal! yourself a ’Verba
list, I believe ?’
“Ido.’ mildly answered the parson.
‘Well, I want to know if you think it
consistent with your belief to go about
with hell fire in your breeches pocket?’
About Mackerel - —When a woman
puts three jnackerel to soak over night
in a dish jmn whose sides are eight inches
high, and leaves the pan on a stairway,
she has accomplished her mission, and
should go hence. This was what a Di
vision-street woman did Friday night—
Filled the pan at the pump, apd then left
it standing on the steps to the stoop,
while she went into the next house to see
how many buttons would be required to
go down the front of the redingote.—
And a mighty important affair that was*
to be sure. And there was her husband
tearing through the house in search of a
handkerchief, arid not finding it, of
course. And then he rushed out into
the yard, wondering where cm earth that
woman could he, and started down the
steps without seeing the pan, or even
dreaming that any one could be so idiot
ic as to leave it there. Os course he
stepped on it; or,.at, least, that is the
supposition, as the neighbors wbo were
brought out by the crash that followed,
saw a horrified man, and a high dish-pan,
and three very demoralized mackerel
shooting across the garden, and smashing
down the shrubbery. And he was ji
nice sight, was that unhappy man, when
they got him on his feet. There wasn’t
a dry thread on him, and his hair was
full of hits of mackerel, and one of his
shoulders was out of joint, and his coat
was split the whole length of (he back,
and he appeared to be out of his head. —
He was carried in the house by some of
the men, and laid on a bed while others
w - ent after a doctor, and sixteen women
assembled in the front room, and talked
in whispers a Lout the inscrutable ways
of Providence, and what a warning this
was to | epic who never looked where
they were going.— Danbury News.
A school-boy being requested to write
a composition upon the subject of pins,
produced the following: “Pins are very
useful. They have saved the lives of a
great many men, women, and children—
in fact, whole families.’, “How so ?”
asked the puzzled teacher. And the boy
replied, “Why, by not swallowing thorn.”
This matches the story of the Other
hoy who defined salt as “the stuff that
makes potatoes taste bad, when you
don’t put on any.”
How to make a tall man short —Ask
him to lend you five dollars.
j $2.00 "<t Ain uni
NUMBER 33
1 rofessional.
DR. E. A. .JEI
Practicing P ii y s i c ian,
qtjitmaw ga.
Offick : Brick building adjoining store of
Messrs. Bi iggs. Jelks & Cos., Screven street.
January 31. 1873. f>-tt
~ JoihV G. Ucl AIJi,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
QUITMAN, GA.
JPft* Office next to Finch’s 'building, East of
Court House Square.
July 24, 1873. ly
JAMLS !!. HUNTER,
cUtornni anb Comiscflor atfafo,
QUITMAN. CA._
Omoß, is the Court
March 17. 1871. -
U - . B. liENNKT , r S. ’1 . KiXUSREKKT
RENNET & KINGSBERY,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
Quitman Brooks County, Okoroia.
February 7. 1873 6
EDWARD K. HARDEN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
QUITMAN, GEORGIA,
Office, in tbo'Courf House,'second floor
May 20, 1872. ly
DENTISTRY.
Dn D. L. HICKS,
nA Vl Sis recently
;«ftended n thor- /\
ougii Course of Lee- -xrSwlv- *•
lures and graduated j
at the New Orleans WfaSSSStfa,' r.
Penial College.
returned to Quitman, ,T XTtT T ‘
Thankful to friends i
and patrons for past favors, he will be pleased
to serve them in future. Good work aud mod
erate charges.
March 14, 1873. 11-fiin
Dr «T. S. N. SNOW,
D E N TdST,
QUITMAN GEORGIA.
F)E£PECTKULLY solicits the mm LlffTlL
k I 'fitron-ige • the Citizens «‘t
Brooks i mints. .:v!*wil{ endeavor.
by faith! Bly executing all w«»rk entrusted to
him, to n.mil fheir confidence.
Charges moderate, and work guaranteed.
up stairs, in Finch’s building.
March 21, 1873, 45-ly
MISTS il ITU 11l
Fourth Grand Gift Concert
FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE
mill LIBMYHMTIMY
12,000 CASH GIFTS' $1,500,000
Every F.fth Ticket Draws a Gift
sSsaso.ooo ioi* ssf>o.oo.
r l lie Fmnth Cis ud (Jilt Concert authorized bv
pedal act "f the Lego I itnre for the benefit o
il:e Public Library if Kentucky, will take place
in Public Library Hal', nt Louisville. Kv.,
WLDMJSDAY, DICCfCMKHK 3, ’73
Only sixty thoui-uml tickets will be solo an*
one-half of these are intended for the Luropeai
market. Ilius leaving only 30.000 for sale in tb
United States, where 100.000 were disposed «
for the Thiid Con* e. t. The teketsare divid*-
inlo ten coupons or puns and have on their bac
lie Scheme with a lull explanation ut the mot
*»f drawing.
At 'his concert, which will be the grande
musical display ever witnessed iu this count).
;he unprecedented cm of
’51,500,G00,
divided info 12 ftnn . ■-Ii . itt~ \\ til bedi-tribute
bv lot among the ticket-holders. The numb*
of (he tickets to he draw n from one wheel
blind children end the gilts from another.
LIST OF GIFTS:
One flraml Cash Gift i $250/
One Grand Cash Gd'l 100,
One Grand Gush G it s<y
One Grand Gift 25, h
One Grand Cash Gift 17g
10 Cash Gifts *in,ht><) each 1«V
30 Cash Gif's B,<>oo each, 150,C
50 Cash Gifts 1,000 each 50,0
80 Cash Gins 500 enrh . 40,'-
100 Cash Gibs 400 each 40,n
150 < aril Gilts :.oo ear! 45,1
250 ' ash Gifts 200 i-i.eh 50, (<
3:5 Cash Gifts 100 enrh 32..'
11,000 Cash Gift* 50 each 550,t
Total 12,000 GII TP AM. CASIt.
amounting to • - 500,t
The disti fhntinn w ill be positive, whether
the tickets are sold or not. and the 12.000 gi
all paid in proportion tnlhe tickets sold— all >
sold tickets being dost:overt, as at the Fiist a-
Sen nd Concerts, and not represented in t
dining. _
IT, ICE OF TICKETS:
Whole .n *».<-, i ...» . .enths.
each ( onpoii {•«: hlevcn Whole I ickets for sst
221 Tickets lor #1.000; 113 Whole Tickets ;
$5 000: ill Whole Tickets f r SIO,OOO. *•
discount on less than iid'O worth of Tickets at
time.
'the urparalled success of the Thin. Gilt Cor
cert ns ivcll as the satislaction gi»«i by tie
First and ,'ceond, makes it onlj nocessaty to an
flounce the Fourth to insure the sale ol evet;
Picket Ihe Fourth Gift Concert will be con
ducted* in all its details like the Third, and ful
particulars may be learned from circular
ii bich will be seut tree from this i Bee to all w
apply for them. , „
Ticket« now : ready tor sale, and all orders c
companb üby the money promptly filled. L
eral trim- given to those who buy to sell ttgst
thus. I\ ORACLE HE,
A"ent Putil l-ihr K}., and Manager *
Concert, I’ubl Libr. Building, Lcuiii.iF I
32 4i