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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