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WHITE & McIXTOsII, Proprietors, VOLUME VI I. poetical ► Mai 1» si ;>«it «*«1 • . Wrrn at ihe pU i p«» ol mltry day. Tlit* wild flowers on the p'ain. AH h<ated. coveted oVr with dust And perishing for a ruin. Imbibe the gently billing flew \Y bich gems he emerald sod They gently bow their pretty heads In gt uliti.de to Ood. And so the bright-winged jo\ ou~ biids Those wat biers of «he wood Seem thankful for each blessing Thu descends !Y* in 'he All-Hood. An<l evei in the tlv morn Theii cheerful notes they r.tise. And send to Ueav ?• tbei- happy s.mgs Os gratitude and t m se. liji-t man. vain lianrh y selfish man Is never quite content, He takes, without :i tho ght of debt, Each dailv blessing sent, At and a> the dew of mercy lulls To bless each fond desire. Instead of bowing low his head He raises it the higher. Then pause, pro<>d n an a moment. And raise your t ves above, And ask yourself what yon have done To merit God s g* eat love. Then walk nro« nd with nature When come yonr leisure hours. And take a wholesome lesson trom The beau lions birds and flowers. 55 ivcrllititcous. 1 mi.i; m:ds line m. JIT CLARA AUGUSTA. “Pshaw, Aunt Hatty! Don’t talk to me of the refinement of a farmer. U nclo Edward was hred a lawyer, and it is un fair to instance him to support your ar gument, that, as a class, farmers have as much refinement as any other.” “All true refinement, my dear Isabel, is inborn, and does not spriug from out ward influences. You will change your mind vet. I expect to live to see you the w IV of a farmer.” “Don’t, aunt ! It is t, o preposterous ! lam sun I should rnthei die!” “Oh, fiddlestick, Isa!” said Uncle Ned. “1 am of your aunt's opinion. I can show von some as fine specimens ofnian hood who follow the plough as you can show me in any other business. Now 1 hired a man yesterday tohelpme through havin':, as handsome as Apollo, and a groat deal more si nsihlc. .Shall I intro duce him to you ? His name is Duke Hillary, aid his hair curls kc Cupid’s. Shall 1 Lave tli- pv-n-ur • presenting him to my niece, the 1 ■ !!. and beauty, M ss Isabel LcsTo?” and Unde Ned mad' a mocking how. Isabel’s ops curled proudly. “If 1 lid not know you were joking, I should tee! insulted. Introduce me to a elod-ln pp r, indeed!” “This :s m lod-hoppor, P-dle, blit a gentleuiau of into); ,0 nci . l.eok lore, mfither; lliii \ - - H e east n. dow might be made • •ut and. aide dr. buy it does now, by i,;d..r r, end sub soiling.” And t hen f. Mowed a long dissertation on top- i ng and fall mulching and < russpiciigh ng, in the midst of which, Isabe l Hod from the room in disgust, to the 000 piazza. The hired men were grinding their scythes at, the grindstone under the apple tree. She would not look at them; of course she could feel no interest in a gang of dirty workmen. One of them, a tall, curly-haired young fellow, with frank blue eyes, and clear ruddy complexion, was whistling “Annie Lawrie," and he did not stop when Isa bel came out on the piazza. She was looking her best, in a very recherche toilet of pink muslin and rib- j bons; but this “clod-hopper” hod, evi dently no eye for recherche toilets. He went on tuining the grindstone, and whistling appi»z< litly totally indifferent that such a p< reon as Miss Isabel Leslie ; was within a hundred miles of him. He ' finished his work, and went past her into 1 the kitchen for a drink of water, went past, so near he almost touched her, and never stopped whistling, and never glanc- ] ed up. Isabel walked away with a gesture of haughty scorn. Os course she del not , care for the notice of this rustic clown; hut she had been so accustomed all her , life to receiving admiration, that she hardly- knew how to behave when one manifested an indifference like young Hillary’s. She kept thinking about his j rudeness all the afternoon. He was an insolent, conceited thing, she said to her- | self; she wished Uncle Ned could see him \ as she saw him. He’d get dismissed be fore sundown, she was sure. And then she run her eroihot needle into her fin ger, and it hurt her so that she tossed i the white kitten away with her foot, and j pushed off Towzer when he came to lay \ his nose on her knee. All because Duke Hillary did not stop whistling when she j thought he ought to. That night, a party of friends came j out from the village, which was almost a citv. Among them Mark Heminway, j Isabel’s most devoted admirer. Mark was young, stylish, and, being wealthy, j was considered a “great catch.” He was j something of a dandy, and in her heart Isabel despised him; but the other girls j were all trying to win him, and she rath er enjoyed showing them that she eould twist him round her little finger. A j great many sensible women have married j men solely because some other woman wanted to marry them, just to show the sui>erior power of their attractions; hut Isabel would not go quite so far as that. She might be a little vain, —it would have been singular if she had not been, j flattered as she had been, —but she was | not heartless. j The cherries were ripe on the tall trees jin the front yard. the girls went into j eestacics over them. Only they were up I so high that they were “sour grapes.” “If we could only get some of them !” cried Maud Ilsley. “Do go up, Mr, Heminway. I wish I were a squirrel for about twenty minutes.” “They can he reached with a ladder,” said Isabel. The hoys had one here (his morning. It is there by the fence now. Cannot you get us some, Mr. Hemin way ?” “Indeed, you must excuse me, ladies,” said Mark nervously. “It is so far up, and my head migh get dizzy. And if one should fall, it might be likely to in jure him.” “So it would,” said Isabel sareast't al ly. “Os course, we don’t want yon to expose yourself, Mr. Ileminway. Not for the world. We never should survive I it if you came to harm through attempt , ng to enter to our silly appetites.” Duke Hillary was coming up the path, self-pes .i, and indifferent as ever, swinging his straw hat in his hand, and whittling. “Look here, fellah !’’ cried Heminway. “You get lissome, cherries, will you? The ladies are positively dying for some.” I Duke surveyed him coolly, and ran an ! indifferent eye over the ladies, j “There’s a ladder. Why don’t you get J them yourself ?” he asked, evidently en ! joying the dandy’s helplessness. I “I net. them, indeed ! lam not used to climbing trees like you country fellahs, | and I wouldi like to run the risk of I breaking my neck. I’ll give you a quar ! ter if you’ll get us some.” | A red flush leaped to Duke’s face. He | seized the basket from Isabel’s baud,and went up the tree like a eat. Ho gathered | the basket full, and laid them at the feet iof M and with a graceful bow. Mark fumbled in his pocket for the promised quarter, but something lie saw in Duke’s | face restrained him from offering it. He ; thanked him instead, j Maud smiled and blushed at his pref- I erenee. Isabel felt irritated, she hardly knew wfb whom. She would not eat \ any of the cherries. She was afraid they i would disagree with her, she said, tell.ng j a little white lit for appeal mice's sake. 1 She knew Duke Hillary was sitting on the doorstep not a rod off, and he should not see her eat ing elien n s he had picked. | She hated him, she said to herself, with ; her whole soul. Two or three days passed on, and Isa bel grew more and more b.thr towards i Duke. He not only did not notice her, : lmt he had twice win Towzer away from 1 her when she w.;s patting the dog’s head; : and Spot, the kitten, would leave her any tme when Duke came in. Besides, he brought home such a bean: iful cluster of golden-hearted water-lilies, just what she | had been pining for, and gave them to Aunt Hat tie. After that, she would not : look at them, or inhale their fragrance. The odor was too strong for her, she said. Tim m xt day, Isabel went across the \ isvi lin search of blackberries. The | stream was not very w ide, and was cross ! ed just below tho east meadow by a nar- I low loot-board. Isabel enjoyed the efuy finely, and did not think of going hou •• until the d>s taut rumble of thunder win imd her that j a storm was approa long. She had a mortal terror o at, under shower, and forgetting how veiy indignlfied a lady looked lunn ng, she set off for the river at the top ol her speed. \\ hen she ar rived there, she found tohei unutterable dismay that the foot-hoard was gone ! “Oh, dear! dear! What shall Ido ?" she cried aloud, as a peal of thunder much nearer than the first hurst in the air. "Do you want to come across ?” asked a pleasant voice, and looking over she saw Duke Hillary, on the opposite side. He had just finished his swart h, and was picking up his jacket to go home. Her face flushed ; she would not have answoied him, hut a blinding flash of lightning made her forget pride m Icr. “Yes, I do,” she said, “but the foot board is gone.” “So I perceive,” he return 1. sb A t smile curving his handsome mouth, “hut I wdl take you across.” He stepped into the water and came <0 In , sib She drew back liaugbtdy. It. was a httle too 11.11 li, to have tli s plcbian farmer touch her. Duke read her aright. He turned t,, ' 1 river. “Verv well, just as you like. lam go ing up to the house, after I get the cows, and 1 will speak to your uncle about your situation. He will probably send someone down for you.” The insufferable fellow ! He was going off as though a ladv’sstaying out through a thunder shower was of no consequence in the world. A blinding flash over her head decided Isabel. She held out her hands to him, hating herself at the same time for making such a concession. “I will suffer you to take me over,” she said coldly. “Not unless you wish it,” said Mr. Duke Hillary, quite as coldly. “I do wish it,” she said, “I shall he very grateful to you.” He lifted her carefully, took her across aud put her down just as the rain began to fall in torrents. , Isabel shuddered ; her thin clothing was drenched through in a moment. Duke was not a cruel fel low, and he was chivalrous. He put his jacket around her, and diew her under the shelter of some wide spreading beech es, still keeping his arm around her. “It is impossible to get to the bouse,” he said, “and we must make the best of it. Stand on this side of me ; the storm comes from the west, I think. There, do not be frightened.— it will soon l»e over:” HERE SHALL THE PRESS THE PEOPLE’S RIGHTS MAINTAIN, UNAWED BY PEAR AND UNBRIBED BY GAIN. QUITMAN, HA., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 1873. Here a crash of thunder close at hand so terrified Isabel that she clung to him. fogetting that he was a clodhopper, and that she hated him. Duke did not re lease the little soft hand she had put into his ; somehow, he liked to hold it, and she was so frightened. The rain did not last long, and when the thunder got distant , Isabel began tc realize that she had made a very pretty fool of herself for Mr. Duke Hillary to laugh at. She broke away from him abruptly, and without a word started off through the wet grass for her aunt’s house. Duke looked after her, a quizzical smile oil bis face, and began to whistle. Isabel heard him, and her cheeks burned like coals. I He was positively insulting! and she le- I solved never to speak to liim as long as •-be T\e !. 1 ii' 1 to hate him more deeply tiein •! She should only stay two ■ • > ii.;: ■' vdl he la-111-house, and then -in si: ■::!•! 1, uei see or hear from him Aunt Huitie met her at tho door with a score of mix.mis inquiries. Where had shebeen? Was she wet? Where did she get shelter ? and where coul Duke Hillary be ? The other men came up long ago ; had Isabel seen Duke? Isa bel replied pettishly, that, she supposed he was about his business, if he had any, and Aunt Hattie sighed to think she eould not bring about a more amicable | state of things between her favorite Duke and her favorite niece. The days came and went, and it was the fiist. of September. Isabel was to re turn home in a week. Her stay had been prolonged by Aunt Hattie’s entreaties, bu‘ her mother refused to let her remain any longer. She was still hat ing Duke with all her heart. And lie was as su premely indifferent: to her as the Grand Mogul. Only oneehad he offered her any courtesy. He brougbtin a superb branch of cardinal flower one night, and gave it to her. “Scarlet flowers look well in black hair,” he said, smiling, with a glance at he jetty brn .1-. She colon and holly, flung the flower on the floor and trampled 011 it. She had read pi .Mile].! 011 in his eyes, she thought,, and that, she would not hear. He looked at her unmoved, though his heart heat a bale quVker, mid then went off whistling as usual ; after he was gone,- such is the inconsistency of some women— Isabel picked up the crushed flower and put it in her bosom. Uncle Ned owned two spirited, horses, which Isabel bad been teasing lobe, al lowed to drive. It was rather a hazard ous pro .dug, audit was a long time before .-he gained lbs consent, But she conquered at last,, aud Duke was ordered to Inn ic ss them to the carnage, Isabel equipped for the drive, came out, just as he had adjusted the he I buckle. “Mir; Leslie,” he said, obeying his sense of duty, “Dick is very refractoiy this morning, and I would advise you to postpone your drive, or take someone with you.’ She stepped into the carriage,resisting his ofTeied assistance, and gathered up the Hues. She was looking splendidly, and she knew it. “Thank you, Mr. Hillary. When I want advice, I ask for it.” She started Dick with the whip, and the animal hounded off. Hillary stood a moment meditating ; then he went to the stable, and suddenly mounting Comet; the blood horse, which was Uncle Ned's especial pride, look a road running parallel with the one Isabel had taken. Two or three miles further on the roads joined, just above a precip itous piece of causeway, several feet above the river, lie reached this dan gerous place before Isabel did ; for in the distance he heard the rumble of her carriage-wheels. lie threw himself off Comet and stood awaiting her. Some subtle instinct told him that, she would need him when she did conic. We have all felt, such premonitions ; can any of us account for them ? Sin came in sight around an angle of tic road. Duke saw at a glance that !>; ■? was luniuDg eway with her. She nr 1• . ,-d 1,. ■ ■ n<e of mind, and m band ; but hei ii ii! i'cng.li •no cheek upon those At I ini 1 ;ii.. Dick plunged suddenly out of tile 1 oad, t he wheels sti uck a stone, the carriage was overturned, and Duke was just in time to eateli Isabel as she w. s I ng burled upon the stones. But not in time to save himself or her from going ovi r the precipice. Down they went with fearful velocity, alighting at last in a bed of juniper bushes, which broke somewhat the force of the fall. For a moment Isabel waj stunned, then she roused herself, and looked around. Duke lay beside her, pale as death, the blood oozing slowly from a cut in his temple. She grew white as marble. In that one moment of horror she realized what life would he to her w ithout Duke Hillary. She bent over him, lifted up his head, and pressed wild passionate kisses on Ins pale lips. “O Duke ! Duke!” she cried, “I have killed you ! and I loved you so !” His eyes flashed wide open, his arms enfolded her ; two strong, exacting, des potic arms they were. She struggled, but be held her fast “Isabel, I love y,u so, too! Those kisses were sweet, but you had it all your own way ;itis my turn now. Ba quiet, darling ; it is too late to affect coldness. I love you ; you love me.” “But I tried herd to hate you.” “I know you did, dear : I give you credit for doing your best. Hut you couldn't, and so you were not to blame.” Isabel went home, leaning on Duke Hillary’s arm, while Comet, in a very j meditative mood, followed behind. I .But it was not until after she had been sometune his wife, that Isabel found out that she had married a wealtdy man, and that be had only been masquerading while acting as Uncle Ned’s hired help. And Aunt Hattie was in the secret all the time. lour “It is too had!” said Clara Morton. “How happy we should he if father would give bis consent; but lie still de clares that 1 shall marry nobody hut hewis Harding- merely because he is rich.” “Which would never influence you, dear Clara,” returned Will Jordan. “You are right. I would not, marry Lewis Harding if all his lands and houses would turn into gold.” “But you’d marry mi: with no house at all ?” “I would !” and Clara blushed. It was a summer day, and the lovers wore walking in a shady wood. Theii rambles had brought them to tho banks of a little brook, and here they sat down on the trunk of a fallen tree to rest. “Well, dear Clara,” said Will Jordan, “I see no reason for further delay. Your father has already threatened to compel you to Marry Lewis Harding, and you constantly incur his displeasure by re fusing. Now, were you once my wife, he would know that his plans never could be carried out, and so cease to persecute you. He may never he reconciled to us, but we will be all to each other, and can get along without his friendship al though I would much rather have his esteem than not. Now, I’ll tell you what I propose.” “What?” asked Clara, faintly. “There is hut one way- don’t start— we must elope.” Clara was silent. “And this very night,” Will added. “Oh, so soon ?” “Yes; delays are dangerous. The soon er you are. relieved from your present unpleasant situation tho better. Lewis Harding calls daily, you say, and thrusts himself into your society, while you en dure him rather tlia.ll your father’s anger. Let us put an end to it.” “1 believe you arc right.” “Then you will go with me to-night?” “Good !” he said, kissing her. “Asa matter of form, 1 will make all arrange ments for our marriage, aud will be at the edge of the wood in rear of your fa ther’s house, at exactly eight o’clock this evening, and will have a buggy not far off. As 11 signal, I will imitate the my ol' a whip-poor-will, which I can do wit h gloat exactness. 011 hearing that, you come out, at the rear door, run across the lawn and join me. Then, very quietly without ever speaking we will hurry away to our conveyance. They supposed that only the innocent little birds heard this very confidential dialogue, and there was 110 fear that theii would reveal the plot. Alas ! how the lovers must have trembled had they caught, a glimpse of the angry face that frowned upon them from behind a great tree a few yards distant. All hour later, old Jacob Morton 011- tered the village, which was only a half mile distant, and walked into the real es tate office of Lewis Harding, finding that gentleman in. “What do you think?” he exclaimed, excitedly. “1 don’t know. What has happened r” asked Harding. “Why, they’ve met again had a con fab in the wood.” “A)j ! How did you find it out ?” “1 was tin l'e.” Harding turnvd pale. “What,! you don’t mean —” “Without their knowledge,” explained Mr. Morton. “I stood behind a large tree and heard them- will you believe it? planned a deliberate elopement. Oh, the audacity ~f- ” “All clopcnx nt ! When ?” “This very evening.,’ “What, ! And did v<ai ” “I felt like rush in . t'<>.‘h and striking h ill, hut a better p .in o ■ in red to me. Let the elopement go on, i ut you he the party instead of Jordon.” (Here Mr. Morton detailed minutely the plan of the lovers ash, overhear,! it.) “Now, you go to the appoint'd place m the edge of the wood, and tin'reconceal yourself. Go a little ahead of time. Then he will come and give the signal at the proper time. It will take her about two minutes to reach the place, because she will move slowly in order to make no noise. Mean time there shall be another person in the lawn—whom I shall bribe for the pur pose who will step out and join him before Clara has time to get out of the house; and he thinking it is my daugh ter will hasten away with her. Soon af ter, Clara will join you thinking that you are Jordan. Then take her to where you have a buggy waiting, and drive to the church, which you can to-day arrange to have open and lighted up. She will not discover her mistake till she is standing at the altar by your side. I will be there, and I believe she will marry you without a word.” “Capital ! capital! my dear father-in law —for 1 think I may now safely call you so. What a dear, shrewd father-in law it is !” said Harding, foppishly. Mr. Morton placed his index finger by tho side of his nose and looked veiy knowing, after which he bade his intend ed son-in-law a glorious good-afternoon and left. On reaching home he asked where Clara was. “Out walk'ng yet, sir,” r< plied the -ervant girl, Mary Malone. “Well, Mary,” said lie, “I want you to do me a great favor, and if you succeed I will make you a present of a twenty dollar bill.” He then confided to her that he had overheard Clara and Will Jordan plan ] ning an elopement, gave the details, re ! vealed his plan for check-mating them and informed her of the part ho wished her to play. “Very well, sir: I’ll do it," said Mary “Thank you; and you shall have youi money to-morrow.” [ Mary went about her work, muttering to herself: “Twenty dollars ! Pooh ! I wouldn’t betray Clara for twenty hundred. I’ll tell her every word, you hard-hearted old sinner, if I lose my place by it.” Ten minutes later, Clara returned, and promptly she told her the whole story. “Oh, dear! that will defeat us for the present,” said Clara. “No, it will only assist you replied Ma ry. “How ?” “I will tell you.” And Mary lowered her voice, lest the very wall should hear, and told what her plan was. “Oh, Mary, you dear girl!” Clara ex claimed. “You’ll lose your place by it, but you shall have a better one.” Mary's plan whatever it was seemed to please Clara, and as the afternoon wore away, five persons waited anxiously for eight o’clock. The shadows of night were gathering, when a male figure crept along the edge of the wood, and crouched among some bushes opposite the rear of Mr. Morton’s muttering: “She's getting ready. She little imag ines she is going to elope with 1.. H. Esq. Ha ! ha ! the old buffer and 1 are just six too many for W illiam Jordan, and Clara Harding that, is to, be.” About the same time a sly old man quietly seated himself by a, back window of the lower floor, and watched. “It’s working nicely,” he muttered, as a female figure glided across the lawn and hid in the snrubbery near the wood. About this time female figure- num- I her two, let us call her- took a seat at a window of Clara Morton’s room, and gazed anxiously towards the gloomy wood. Finally, another male figure number two- appeared at the edge of the wood, where a gate led into the lawn, and, the cry of a whip-poor-will was heard upon the stillness of the night. Instantly fe male figure number one passed quietly out t.lirough the gate, seizing the arm of male figure number two, and hurrida-way into I he gloom. “Good !’’ chuckled the sly old manat the window. “(food !” said male figure number one, who lurked in the bushes. A quarter of a minute a half- three quarters- a minute two three four. “Wby doesn't she come ?” “Why doesn’t she comer” also mut tered tin-sly old man at the lower w in dory. “Oh, there she goes at last! Probably forgot something. Nervous, no doubt. Now for the village !” A female figure number two emerg ed from the rear door of the building, sts pp< and out a few paces into the lawn, looked around nervously, (.hen walk, and stealthily toward the wood. At the. gate she met male figure num ber one, who had now come forth from liis place of concealment, and the hurried through the wood toward a lane not far off. A buggy was wading there and they got in and drove toward the village. They stopped at. the church and went in. The interior was lighted up, and a score or more of people sat in the front pews. The newly arrived pair walked straight uplo the aisle and ;i< < and in front of the altar. A moment later the sly old man came in and complacently look a sea i. The holy was closely veiled, and her male companion who, of course, was Mr. Harding- kept his own face some what n* i : ted, os if from bashfulness. “She may say the word that makes her my ’vjfe before she discovers that lam not Jordan,” he muttered; and he trem bled a little. The minister proceeded with his usual solemnity, avid was just uttering the words “If any man can show just cause why they may not. be joined,” etc., when the sly old man started from his seat and yelled : “Look here! What’s all this? That isn’t, my daughter!” “What !” exclaimed Harding. Everybody started. “Why you haven’t got her, you blun dering dinkey!” exclaimed the plain spoken old man. “ There she is !” And lie pointed excitedly to a pew at the i ght of the altar, where, Jo ! Will Jordan and Clara sat calmly. “Whv why,” stammered Harding, addressing his companion, “What does this mean ? Who are you ?” She removed her veil, and stood re vealed Mary Malone. “How is this ?” demanded Mr. Mor ton, no longer sly. “Don’t know,” replied Mary. “Guess we must have got mixed up somehow.” “Then the mistake shall be collected !” said Mr. Morton angrily. “Clara, step right up and many Mr. Harding! Lo you heart” “Mr. Morton,” interposed the minis ter, “tivat cannot be. She has just bee n married to Mr. Jordan.” The recently sly old man had tak< n a step towards Clara, as though he wou and have dragged her to the altar; but he seen paused, feeling very much like ut tering a few imprecations; hut remem ! tiering where be was. he summoned his ’ reason and better nature to bis aid, and ' said : “Sold!” “Sold !” repeated Harding, with an ac cent of despair. “Sold!” echoed Mary Malone rogue ishly. “Sold 1” reiterated Will Jordan and the bride. “Sold !” rang through the holy edifice, accompanied by a loud and merry laugh ; and even the minister, before be knew it, found himself smiling, and muttering the word sold !” Old Jacob Morton, though obstinate and self-willed, was not a vindictive man, and realizing that what was done could not he undone, and that it could do no good to rave and howl, he walked I over to Will and Clara, and shook hands with them, saying : I “Yes—sold! Now I’ll freely forgive | both of you, and all concerned ’’here he gin need at Mary M alone—”if you will tell me how it was done.” “I’ll toll you then,” said Clara, “ for I know you will keep yoilr word. Mary divulged to me what you and Mr. Hard ing had put on Will and me, and suggest ed a plan to baffle you. Instead of going out into the lawn to personate me and de ceive Will, sho remained in my room, J while I went forth and personated her to ; deceive >/on. I therefore joined Will as j soon as I heard the whip-poor-will, and |wo left. Mary then came down and eloped with Mr. Harding.” “Such perfidy ! I -well, I promised to forgive all. and I’ll do it.” “Well, I wouldn’t, if I were you !” said Lewis Harding ; and pale with anger and disappointment he strode from the Church. “It is an outrage !” “Sue him for breach of promise ” were the words that followed him as he went out in the dreary night. It was Mary Malone who spoke them. The tl'i onr/ ITai/ to Picl. up a Snap ping Turtle. [From tVie Danbury News."] A man named G ilsov, who by strict economy and severe industry has succeed ed in getting his family a little place, free of incumbrance, was fishing in Still river, near the Heaver brook mills, on Sunday afternoon. After sitting on the bank for a eeuple of hours without catching any thing, lie was gratified to see on a stone in the wafer a snapping turtle sunning himself. The butt end of the turtle was toward him, and he thought he would capture it, but while he was looking for a, place to step the turtle gravely turned .around without his knowledge, and when he got in reaching distance, and bent | down to take hold of what nature de signed should be taken bold of while , handling a snapping turtle, t hat sociable ! animal just reached out and took hold of Mr. Gilsev’s hand with a grasp that left no doubt of its sincerity. The shriek of the unfortunate man aroused some of the neighbors, but when they arrived it was too late to he of auy benefit to him, or < veil themselves, for they just caught a glimpse of a bareheaded man tearing over the hill, swinging a small carpet bag on one hand, and they at once con - cluded that it. v.as a narrow escape from a highway robbery. However, it was not a carpet-bag be was swinging; it was that turtle, and it clung to him untilbereach ed the White street, bridge, when it lot go; but. the frightened mail did not slack en his gait until begot home. When he reached the house the ludicroii.mcss of the affair burst, upon him, and when his wife, looking at, his pale face and bare bead, and dust-begrimed clothes, asked him what was (be matter, lmsaid: “Noth ing was the matter, cudy lie was afraid he would he too lato for church,” and appeared to be much relieved to find that he wasn’t. The Colored ALn:’s ('cni’ilaiiit- The colored people in the North are growing restive. There is not a nigger on the Republican t'cket. in Virginia, Ohio, lowa, nor Maine, and the ignored element don’t like it. There was not even a nigger on any of the Republican county tickets at the recent election in Kentucky, although of the 3,000 Re publican majority in Payette coun ty, 2,700 arc colored voters. A col ored man in Lexington, writing to the Cincinnati Commercial , states that the negroes are greatly dissatisfied with this treatment,, and that they “adhered to the Republican party only until another shall be organized.” In Ohio they have made such loud complaints of the hypo critical conduct of the Republicans that, one Republican paper tries to soothe them in this way : “Would it not he better for the colored people to work together for the improve ment of their race, thanking their stars meanwhile that they are not, responsible for the wayward results of pol.ties and are priviledged to kei p cut of such doubt ful business as office seeking? Whoever is competent to fill an office well I ean make in private business more than | the salary of that office. As regards the honor, that is tco meagre and uncertain j a thing to waste much anxiety al out. It j is frequently mere worthy in our age of ! the world to really deserve an office than j to attain it.” j This advice from a party that thinks ! the State Governments of the South ' may safely he entrusted to the most ig t norant colored nu n, but, that the most i intelligent of the class are not fit for a ! Local office in tbe North, has not thtxde j sired effect, and hence there has been ■ held at Columbus a convention of colored men w hich intimates that the recognition of the negro’s claim to office is to 1 e the . future condition “fl”“ iUy -1 party.— St. Lc u s Republican. I £2 00 "or Annnnt NUMBER 30 1 rofessioiial. I>lt K. V..IKLKS. Practicing Pii ysiciax, QuIIMAN, CfA. O crick : Prick building adjoining afore of Messrs. Brigg« Jeiks & Cos., Screven street. January 31 1873. f>-tf .soli X G. Me ( Afils. ATTORNEY AT LAW, QUITMAN, GA. Tft- < im.'c next to Finch’s building, EtfA .f Court [inure Square. July 24, 1873. ly .1A AIKS ii. HUNTER, Affonmi anii Counsellor atjtaftf, QUITMAN, CA. Omen. IN THE CoLTtT March 17. 187!. U. It ■ lII'INNET S. T. KIXOSIIEKItV ItKNiMKT Si K INKS RISKY, ATTORNEYS AT LAW,. I,'citmw Dhooks County. Gkotuuy February 7 1873 fi Dim \KD it HARDEN, ATTORN MY AT LAW, OUJTMAN. GEORGIA, 'vCr Office. in I lie Court Home, second floor May 2il, 1872. ; T DENTISTRY'. Ok D. L. RICKS, HA VINO recently sV . < \W M? \ ••Ugh < Mill s** * t Lee- « TVM* / • s ture- mid graduated r.T‘* I *C?L it lh** New Orleans ' '£2s* mid ieo eiit’il bis ol- Sjf >'T fife. v 'jrj 'W-AQ .Ay* Tlmnktnl »o friends and patrons for past favors. h«* will be |.lea-e l to s**rve them in future. Good work and mod erate charges. M uch It, 1873. 11-n m r I), { J. S. N.SA'OW, DENTIST, ni IT.MAX GEORGIA. I > E.SI’ECTFILL Y s.dircs W patronage'of the Oiiizoiis nl fik'yz*- AyiHv [(rooks * minty, and will endeavor. t-I X-J by faithfully ••vecntinir all work entrusted lc him. to meiir ih**ir <* nfldence. Charge' mod”! ale. and work guaranteed. Ng, Office, up stairs, in Finch’s building. March 21, 1873 45 ly’ EEiirmrs jra lira Fourth (li'oikl Gill Concert for the'bbnefit of the rum LIIiMMPTITKY 12,000 ( ASH 011 IS$ 1,{>00,000 Every Fifth Ticket Draws a Gift 5250.000 for ft.TO.OO’. | r l Ik* Fourth ( .i» nd Gilt < orceri anilun i?*’d lo peeiul act of the Leg'*- ature |ui '!:*• b<i■ «*fii of I Hu* Public L'brary < I Kentucky, will » s«K*• place ' in Public Librnrv Pall, ul Louis'Ob*. |\\.. w i:dm:si)Ay, i>k< 3, -73 Only sixty tbom-aud tickets will be sold*ar.d one half of these are inl< nded for the l-uropean market, thus leaving only 30 00b for sale in the i.'uiic.l Stales, where ]OO.OOO were di posed of for the Thiirl Concert. The tickets are divided into leu couj oiis i r pans and have on their back ’li* Scheme w ilh a In I explanation o 1 the mode of drawing At his concert, which will be the grande mu.-icnl display ever wiin»’ssed in this country, i he unprecedented sum of $1,500,000, divided into 12 000 cash gilts, will be distributed bv lot among the tieket-h* Iders. The numbers <-f l he tickets to be d*-a*» n frf*m one wheel by blind children and the gifts from another LIST OF GIFTS: One Orcnd sash o : ft S2SCJ One (irand Fash Gift 100., One Grand ('ash Gift. /o,( One Grand ( a h Gift 25,0 * One (irand ('ash Gift... . 17*. » 10 Gash Gilts £IO.OOO each ]OO. 30 Gash (; ifls 5 00b eac! 150, 50 Gash Gifts i 1)00 «*a< h gp’oi 8b (’}i»h (iifis 500 each 40 0* 100 Gash Gifts 400 e*« h 40*0 150 (’ash Gilts ."00 each 45 of -250 ( ash Grfis 200 «* icl /jp'p, 325 (’ash G if*« 100 • ach 32*51 1 IJOlM’ash Gifts r *o each 550.* e Total 12,000 GIFTS ALT- CASH, amounting to .. . $1,500,0* The distribirien will bepfsitive. wl.t i] rr 111*’ tickets- ore Sc Id or !ft I’d if e 12 (*(’o all paid in preporiion tothe tickets sold all >■ '"hi i( k*’ls being desttOA ed. ns at the Fiist e* S- *nd Concerts, and not iej resented in * j (irawing. rillCE OF TICKETS: Whole lickeis i.50; liai\es £25; Tenths, each < ( up* 11. £5; Llevt 11 \V hole T ickets for Tickets for SI.000: 113 Whole Tickets l« £s'bbb; 227 Whole Tickets hi SIO,OOO. 2* *iise*‘Unt on less than SSOO worth ol Tickets at . r i he impai ailed success of the Third Gift Con cert, ns well as the ‘•at>(;•'lien riven by tbe i tst and s* 1 oml. m ikes it only net* ssaiy to an ! iiMuece the 1-oui th to insure ihe sale of eves v ! 1 ieket. '1 he hoot th Gift Concert-will be cou ; duet**rt in all iis d»* ails lik* the r l bird, and full ■ ait Giilars may be learned from ciicularf. j which will be sent lice flew this < flicc to all \»b> I apply for them. I u keis now ready for sale, and all ordeis a ■ CMUipanictl b\ the■ mon«’\ pii.mpily fiLed. Lii I etal tel ms given t<> those vim ijnv to sell ngaii : ,„;*!«>£ «:>»«A.-'iJ.-rp i -< i Coucei’t, i i.bi. u»ibi. i>uu«iitig, Louisville. 1. 1 32 4t