The Sandersville herald. (Sandersville, Ga.) 1872-1909, August 08, 1873, Image 1

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Newspaper Page Text. * , i * . ** . -’F* &'m. r X 5 - '•*■» - ■ ' -A rfj; » - »' * Ji ** 4 1^ -r v . . V - m YOL. II. SANDEBSY.TLLE, GEOBGIA, AUGUST % 1873. NO. 6- J. M. Ct. WEDLOCK. JETHl'.O ARLINE. B. L. RODGERS. iSv 5Iert!ocTk, Vrliate Si Rodgers. Tue Herald is published in Sandersville, Gx., every Friday morning. Subscription price TWO DOLLARS per annum. 1 Advertisements inserted at the usual rates. Iso charge for publishing marriages or deaths. POETRY. RIVALRY. Two cupids wooed a little nymph called Love, A dainty thing— ’’ To vie in each immortal way they strove, In offering: The sweetest nectar lrom .the wild-ilov. ors [brought, And purest dews; The powdered wings of buttertiies they caught For fans to use. Frail spider will weave a filmy veil, And glow-worm bright, To bum amid her golden tresses pale, ; In halls of night. aloss to make sandals for her dainty feet, With ties of grass— That no pursuing mortal, howe’er fleet, Could hear her pass. Hearts of red roses, for a pillow^soft, „ To rest upon; % A call?, lily, swung on stalk aloft, To screen the sun. Lobes of pale-gray mountain-mist, to wear With girdle blue; Necklace of dew-drops,with sunbeams fair, Glittering through. Kainbows for scarfs, and “cloud for curtain And bells to ring [hung, Of gold-tongued lilies,notes of bird-song sung, In early spring. All dainty things to veil her fairy form And crown her head— To feed her with, were brought by lover-charm And offered. She smiled upon the Cupids with rare grace, Feigning deep love, In sacred bending earthward her fair face Longing to rove. One morn the lovers searched the wide world For precious things, [o’er Returning from the flight, the gifts to pour, On rapid wings. The misty veil was rent, the rose-leaves With flying feet; [pressed Love sought the earth below to be caressed By mortal sweet. Merle Le Baron. SELECT MISCELLANY. DAISY’S VISIONS. BY M. T. CALDOR. Daisy Brown had one pet ambition, over which she pondered, and dream- . ed many an hour. She wanted to be a heroine—to do some great deed— ! to perform some noble action. Not i that she cared to be praised, and * 1 talked about—for Daisy was a sweet little modest girl of twelve—but that she might feel herself something akin to those wonderful boys and girls about whom she read in histories and storybooks. How many times she followed the story of the brave little Dutch boy, whose tiny finger held the great flood at bay, and she never failed to sigh, as she closed the book, that some such glorious deed might not have fallen to her lot. I must confess that theTittle maid en looked upon her own everyday life as a very humble and insignifi cant affair. * There were never any grand catastrophes upon which she could rush, a generous saviour, or a guardian angel. All things proceed ed smoothly in her happy, well-or dered home. Even Bridget was jol ly and contented, and had no sorrow to assuage. No business calamity ever befell her father, to allow his little daughter to shine like a sun beam upon his trouble, restoring in some childish way the fortune he mourned. No cruel gipsey ever came to steal away her baby brother from his lace-hung cradle, so that the brave, intrepid little sister might fol low, creeping stealthily on the track, amidst scenes of peril and horror— (Daisy’s blood would curdle at the very picturing of such a scene)—and by some cunning stratagem rescue, and bring him back triumphantly to their weeping parents. Nobody’s ■life was ever in jeopardy where it was possible for her to give help; and so Daisy was a commonplace, everyday sort of little girl, instead of a beneficent heroine, very much to her own disgust. Her friends were, some of them, aware of the feverish aspirations of the little girl, but as she did not, like some others, neglect the little duties lying around her, while sighing for some grand employment, they left her undisturb ed by reproaches, save that, now and then, her mother would gently remark, that it required far more he roism and true nobility of soul to live, a peaceful, even life, than to iush, in the enthusiasm of battle, before a cannon’s mouth; at which Daisy was rather incredulous, and wondered very much how any one could look at it in such a way. And then she would steal away : to Jier favorite retreat, a charming little nook down below her father’s house, between a gentle rise of pasture land, and a tiny meadow skirting the edge, of a noble pine grove, and perching herself on a mossy.rock which might have served a brownie for a throne, she would lean her head on her hand, and look down into the clear, dark. Water, slipping along through the feathery hassocks, and dream, and dream over the wonderful things she would do, if only the occasion came. One day she strayed on beyond the brook, gathering flower after flower, until her hands were full, and, tempt ed by the brilliant berries shining out from their dainty leaves of green, where the darling little partridge- berry trailed over the soft moss, she entered the wood. It was such a lovely, early summer day, and the sky was so blue, and the birds so happy, Daisy could not be sad, even over "the lack of romantic incident in her monotonous life. - So she went oiynto the cool shadows of the wood, her eye bright as stars, her'face gay with smiles, and a glad song on her lips. And there she found little white blossoms, delicate as lacework, peeping up from green, shield-like leaves, and her treasures increased so rapidly, she was fain tp tumble them all into her brown-linen apron, and, sitting down to sort them over, she determined to make them into bouquets, one for her mother, and one for Auntie Nell. The task was so absorbing and de lightful that Daisy’s restlessness was quite subdued, and she was so still and quiet that a squirrel ventured r to descend from the nut-tree beyond, and skip hastily across the mossy ground, and presently a wee brown rabbit, came gliding through the feathery brakes, paused a moment in doubt, aware of the figure there on the mossy hillock, but after a cautious sniff, and gave an investigating glance proceeded on his way, and Daisy was intent on deciding whether a great, cool-looking violet should nestle against the golden petals of a cow slip, or have a delicate lace ruffle from the Solomon seal, that she dis covered nothing of her shy, dainty footed visitors. She did hear, how ever, when there came a fierce, quick step crashing along over the dry branches lying beneath the trees, and looked up in wondering surprise, for it was very seldom that she was disturbed in those quiet haunts. It was a gentleman, a stranger to Daisy, and she sat perfectly still, a little alarmed at the fierce glitter of his eye, and the deadly pallor of his face. He did not notice her, but, striding onward, flung himself down upon the ground under a small straight pine tree beyond, and, cover ing his face with his trembling hands, groaned aloud. Then he rose again, in the same quick, abrupt fashion, pulled out a small rope from his coat pocket, threw one end over the low er branch of the tree, made a slip- noose, and dropped down again, trembling from head to foot. Daisy’s grave, attentive eyes took in all the movements without the least idea of the man’s desperate intentions. But she saw the pale face, so full of anguish, and heard the bitter groans, and her warm lit tle hearty was full of compassion. She rose softly to her feet, one hand clutching at the apron holding her floral treasures, the other outstretch ed in tendercst appeal, and stepped, noiselessly as a fairy, over the mossy ground, and, the first he knew, her light touch was on his arm. He turned as quickly as if a bullet had come tlrurring through the pine boughs into that sweet stillness, and his eye was full of wild terror. “Are you sick, sir?” asked Daisy, all the earnestness of her generous little heart beaming on her face, and deepening in her voice. “I will do anything I can for you.” “Yes,” stammered the man, his bps trembling over the words, so the child could hardly understand them, “yes, I am sick.” "How hollow the tone was! how full of terrible, terrible despair. “I am very sorry,” said Daisy. “Would you like some water from the brook? It is very cool and clear. A little tin cup is there, so I could bring you some.” He tried'to answer,'but the words would not come, so he only nodded. Daisy was satisfied with so much, and ran as fast as possible, and came back, her sweet face so full of solici tude the. man could da no less than' thank her, as he took the cup. He dfd not leave a single drop. Daisy looked at the empty cup with satis faction. “I’ll bring you some more, in a minute, sir. I thought you would like it, it is so cool and nice.” “No, dear child, that was enough. Now you may go home,” answered he, still all a tremble. “O no,” returned Daisy, promptly. “I can’t go home till you are well again. I’ll bring some more water, and wet my handkerchief. Mebbe your head aches ! Mamma always bathes mine, and I rub yours as nice- , ly as can be.” . And away she trotted for thfe second dipper of water. On her re turn she approached him in the most motherly fashion, and, sopping her cambric handkerchief into the dipper, she lifted it to his head, which she could reach, because he was sitting down, his back against the tree, and with patient persever ance she bathed and bathed, until at last, with a tremulous sigh, he said : “Thank you, dear. That will do. My head is quite cured now.” * “And are you cured everywhere? Are you sure yon are quite well everyway ?” persisted Daisy, because* there Was still that paleness on his cheek. He could not answer that question with the truthful eye of Daisy on his | face, so he asked another, instead of ! giving answer. “What are you doing here, in this lonely wood, such a little girl as you?” #i I have been getting flojvers; making a bouquet, you know, for my. mother,” answered Daisy. “Didn’t you get flowery for your mother when you was a little boy?” AVhat a question for that mo ment ! - * “Ah, my God, have mercy upon me ! Yes child ; yes, I did,” broke with sobs from his heaving breast. “O, if I could go back—if; the world could only be so beautiful again, and I so innocent.” Daisy did not understand his mean ing in the least, but she spoke quick- [ ly from the thought the words gave her: ' j “I don’t think the world was any more beautiful then. I’m sure it is as beautiful as can be not?. Only look up, and see how pretty the sky looks ! And were your violets hand somer ones than these ?” And she held up the boquet proudly. He looked at them wistfully. What visions did they bring to him, those blue wood violets, like the blossoms- he had plucked in his innocent boy hood ? Daisy never guessed what rush of emotion stifled his voice so that answer was impossible, but she" saw the hot tears brimming in his eyes know what gockl deed you have done to-day,” antjl kissing her again, he put her over the fall, and went him self, with great stndes, over the fields toward the highway. Daisy, with her one remaining bo quet, ran gaily Home. She forgot to tell her story upon her arrival, for she found visitors, and among them a favorite cousin, "with whom she was directly exploring the attractions of her baby-house, and busy in dressing dolls. That evening, however, her fc father called her into his library, out'of which a stranger had just ta ken his departure. He held out his arms with a .plj/yful smile, but- ‘there was something; bright _ glistening on der, returning his caresses with in terest “Well, my Daisybud, what-sort of a day has it been?” he asked. “A very nice day, papa. Cousin Nannie and I played all the after noon long, and we had a picnic for our dolls, and we read from the fairy- book, and O, papa, I’m going to spend a whole day at Nannie’s house: mother promised that I should.’ How wide and bright the eyes were ! and the red lips were so dim pling in smiles, papa kissed them a dozen times. Well, pet, that was fhe .afternoon. I’m a little surprised a young lady, who has such longings for heroic deeds, can find so much pleasure in dollies, though I can’t say I’m sorry about it. But Nannie didn’t come fill afternoon; where were you in the morning, Daisy ?” “O yes; why, papa, I’d almost forgotten,” returned ; Daisy, eagerly. “I went down to my brook in the You may have this boquet, sir,” T ineadoWj and then I hunted in the said she ; “you may carry it to your mother.” “My mother ! Child, child, she has been in her grave these twenty years.” “O,” answered Daisy, catching her breath, “no wonder you cry. How I pity you ! But she is in heaven, isn’t she ?” “Yes, yes, she is in heaven. She is an angel, if any one can be,” he returned, quickly. “Then she loves you now, and sees j you. Mamma says she believes the , she had told him all her impressions angels watch us.” i of the scene. The man shuddered, glanced up ! “What else ? we talked about his at the rope dangling from the tree ] mother’s being in heaven, and then just over his head, and covered his j he threw away the rope, and we face "with his hands. Dear little j came home.” Daisy for a moment was quite un- j . “And you did not know what the certain what more she could say in t rope was for?” comfort, but her compassionate heart | Eyes and mouth now were both was not satisfied to go and leave him round as rings. “Why, no, papa. I’m sure woods for partridge-berries. And O papa, there was a man there, and he looked so sick—so very sick! and I brought him water, anil helped him to be better, and then I gave him some of my flowers, and he seemed pleased with me, and kissed me. ever so many times.” Her father’s face was gravely at tentive. “And what else, Daisy? Did you understand" it all, my child ?” The grave wide eyes showed him yet. “Mamma says, too, that if we are good, we shall, one day, all of us go to heaven, and find all those who have gone before us. I shall see my baby brother then, and you will have your mother again. And that makes it easier to bear, don’t it?” “ To her astonishment she was sud denly seized, and covered with a wild rain of tears and tremulous kisses. “Child, child, I believe you. My mother watches me from heaven. She sent you to save me. The scales have dropped from my eyes. It is a beautiful world still, and I, who was going to play a coward’s part, to shirk a little trouble, and perplexity, and disgrace, will go back to it, and be a man.” He did not seem to be talking to her now, for, though his hands still held her firmly, his eyes were lifted upward where the deep blue of the sky showed through the pine branch es* That deadly pallor had gone out of his face, a soft flush crept over his cheeks, and the tears had washed away from his eyes that glassy, despairing look of fevered desperation. Daisy was too much awed now to speak, but she held up the violets timidly. He kissed the hand that offered them, and answer ed: “Yes, dear child, I will have the flowers. I will take them to a little girl of mine, and tell her that the generous hand which gave them res tores also to her a father’s love and care.” He put the boquet carefully into his coatrpocket, the one where the little coil of rope had lain, cut down the rope from the branch, and with a shudder flung it far into the under brush. Then he turned to Daisy. The child, without understanding wholly, perceived what new resolu tion had restored to him the dignity of his manhood, how his form was once more erect, and free from the burden which had weighed it down, how his eye shone clear and calm. ‘Come, my little deliverer, let us go away from here. Let us return home ; you, the dear lamb which Has never strayed from the safe fold, I, the penitent prodigal, seeking my Father’s forgiveness.” At the path which led over to the highway he paused to ask-: “Is that your father’s house up above the meadow, little one ?” “Yes sir; and I must follow up the wall to the lane.” “Good-by, then. God bless you, my child! Sometime when you are old enough to understand, you shall couldn’t think.’ “Never mind, then. But my Daisy was a brave, kind little girl. That gentleman has been here talking with me. And when, mamma heard the story he came to tell, she made known to me all the wild visions which dance in this little brain about doing good in some very won derful and extraordinary manner. And she hinted that this same little girl held a rather disdainful opinion of her present sphere of usefulness. So I have called you, Daisy, to tell you of something, which you will never forget, nor cease to thank Heaven for. This poor gentleman had met with a great deal of trouble —some which he could not help* and some which he brought upon him self. One false step brought on un told misery; and at last it seemed to him his burden was more than he could bear. He was so very wretch ed, so wild with his anguish, that he formed a very wicked and desperate determination. My child, had you not come to him, that rope would have executed its deadly mission. Darling, darling, look upon your hopes as blest with richest fruition, for you have saved a human soul from the most terrible of crimes. You have restored to a poor little child the father it needs and loves. Best of all you have brought back to the Heavenly Father’s forgiveness an erring fellow-creature. My little Daisy, put away your unreal dreams of romance, and be glad and thank ful over this true and blessed expe rience !” He kissed her, with something of the gentleman’s solemnity of man ner, and Daisy went away to her bed in a tender awe, a sweet content, which she will always remembefVsjmd whose gladness was quite beyond even the heroic rescue from robber or gipsey about which she had dreamed so much. “Fifty.Dollars, or Fifty Cents?” There is, on the borders of Con necticut, a small town, which, though .weak and feeble, still, with the help of the “Home Missionary Society,” supported a minister, and maintain ed regular divine worship. About the time when it beaame necessary to pay the minister’s salary, there moved into the place a man who gained his living by carting coal and similar labor. It was noticed that this man was very regular’fin his at tendance at churchy and was never absent from the prayer-meetings; but in a pecuniary point of view he was not considered a valuable ac quisition. It was a custom, when the salary was due, for one of the deacons to collect all he could from the people, and to obtain the bal ance from the Society, (Home Mis sionary Society.) In accordance with this custom, one fine morning, deacon A., a man of considerable means and penuriousness, started forth, subscription in hand, to see how much he could squeeze out of the parish for the support of their minister. The first person he met was the coal-carter moving along the road with a load of that material. The deacon considered within him self that it might be jvorth while. to try him, (seeing that he was a good sort of a person, and every little helps,) and so he accosted him with: “Good morning, Mr. B., are you willing to give anything toward the support of our pastor?” handing him the subscription paper. The man stopped, stood thoughtfully a moment, drew a pencil from his pocket, and, with dirt—begrimed hands, headed the list with fifty dol lars. The deacon, was so taken by surprise that he could hardly be lieve the evidence of his eyes; and thinking the man had made a mis take, and not wishing to take advan tage of him, asked him: “Did you not mean that for fifty cents?” The coal-carrier turned and drew km- self np to his full height, and with great earnestness replied : “X do not value the gospel at fifty cents a year.” This placed the case in a new light. The deacon went immediately to the pastor, related the incident, and said : “If that man can givg fifty dollars, I can give two hundred and fifty dollars.” The same spirit actuated the rest of the church, on hearing thq story, and in a few days the salary was raised by the church without applying for outside aid. Header, it becomes you to consider the question suggested by this inci dent. How much do you “value the gospel at ?” for upon the answer may depend your fate for eternity. If by a whole-souled Christianity you prove that you have conserated time, influence, money, all that you have and are, to the service of the Master, at that dread hour all will be well. But if not, then tills ques tion may well startle you; for accord ing to your valuation of Christ here will be His valuation of your service there.—Christian Index. .A Young Woman Slating a Pan ther with a Pine Knot.—On Thurs day last a party of young women went out from Queen’s Bun on the mountain just back of the settlement, gathering huckleberries. One of them, Jerusha Bryan, advanced a From the Chronicle & Sentinel. Belief for Baltimore. An Appeal from Hon. C. J. Jenkins. . v The fire scourge has visited, in fury, the beautiful Monumental <3ity. Quite a large area of Baltimore is in ruins. The devastations of this ter rible element are always sudden and appalling—opulence is often reduced to poverty, and easy compietence to entire destitution, in a few hours. These calamities', befalling a popu lous city, call loudly upon those still enjoying exemption for liberal and prdntpt relief, and such calls among our warm-hearted people al ways meet a generous response." In this case, however, the sufferers have a peculiar claim upon our peo .pie. A few years since Georgia was desolated by fire, and smoke, and pestilence, and famine, which fearful combination, always wait up on war, and follow in the wake of conquering armies. Then, with alac rity and persistence unprecedented, Baltimore aroused herself and came nobly to the relief of Georgia. The Ladies’ Southern Aid Association, of Baltimore—under the impulse of generous hearts, and the guidance of wise heads, and sustained by the open purses of fathers, husbands and brothers—sent a flood of relief, which, in its abundant outpourings, pervaded our entire State, clothing the naked, feeding the hungry, sus taining the sick and the wounded and the aged. Let our people now show their grateful appreciation of this noble charity—let them heartily embrace the first opportunity presented for becoming reciprocity. The writer is emboldened to ven ture on this appeal in his own name by the fact that} owing to the official position occupied by him at the time, he was honored as the chosen almoner of the great charity, which came with healing on its wings in the day of our adversity. He, there fore, knows well how full, how ample, and how alleviating, the relief was. He trusts our authorities will at once take the matter in hand, and that municipal treasuries and private purses will be freely opened in so good a cause—systematic movement, originated by public authorities is, in such cases, always most honorble and most efficient. Very respectfully, C. J. Jenkins. - A Traveler’s Beseue. A traveler was crossing mountain- heights alone, over almost untrodden snow. When persbns are in danger of being frozen to death, they are overcome by the desire to-sleep; and warning had been given to the travel er, that if slumber pressed down his weary eyelids, they would never again open to the light of day. For a time he went bravely along his dreary*path. But when the dark ness came, and with it blew thefreez- ■ ing blast of night, a weight seemed to fall upon his brain, and ho could scarcely keep himself from sinking into that sleep which he knew must He fatal. At this time of danger, big fookstruck a heap thdt lay across his path. He stoppeefto touch it and found a human body half buried' under the snow-drift. As soon as he discovered what it was, he used every effort to raise and restore the fallen creature, against whom he had stumbled; he chafed his chest, and hands, and forehead; he breath ed upon the stiff, cold lips the warm breath of his living soul; pressing the silent heart to the beating pulses of his own generous bosom. The effort to save another brought back to- himself life, warmth, and energy. He felt a man again, instead of being a weak creature, ready to sink down to sleep and die. He saved his broth-, 6i, slid was saved liimselT. If tliou findest thy brother in peril, try to do likewise, and the Lord God, the giver of life,shall give thee strength.— English Hearts and English Hands. Perfect Boses.'—Peter Hender son (in the Agriculturist )) in allusion to the fact that all the good qualities of fragrance, beauty, hardiness, and constant blooming, are not to be found in one rose, quotes the words of a German neighbor, who came to, him in great irritation, and said, : “I have so much drouble wid de ladies when dey comes to buy mine rose; dey wants him hardy, dey wants him doubles, dey wants him inondly, dey wants him fragrand, dey wants him nice gouler, dey wants him ebery- dings in one rose. I have some times say to dat ladies: Madau, I never often sees dat ladies dat was beautiful, dat was rich, dat was good tember, dat was yonngst, dat was clever, dat was berfection in o ladies. I sees her much not.” Good Cot&sel.—"Whenever any Se furtheirinto^woodTth^ the | one s P? k ® ? of another in the pres- others, when she was attacked by a f ce ° f J etar ’ Great, having hs- huge panther. Her companions, I Jened attentively, he would say is hearing the brute scream, sought j there not a fair side also to the char- n„i-ivr;cc,tg..’™ _i acter of the person of whom you safety in flight, but Miss Bryan, find ing escape impossible, determined to ’ stand her ground, and seizing a huge pine knot gave her enemy battle. The contest was a close one for a few , .. , -, . - .. minutes, but human courage, judg- , would perhaps be less unkmd enh- ment and coolness goon triumphed C19 . m . and har ? k remarks about our over brute strength, and the heroic Eei " llbors and fnends " If eacb one you have been speaking! Come, tell us what good qualities you have re marked about him. If all would walk in the steps of this man, there woman soon had the satisfaction of laying the bloodthirsty monster dead at her feet. Her garments were torn into shreds, and her face and arms badly scratched, but she walked home with a firm step and the light of triumph in her eye, and was able to give a good account of herself. The dead panther was soon after ward found by the people of Queen’s Bun, and proved on measurement to be six feet and ten inches loug. Miss Bryan is the lion (or lioness) of the neighborhood, and she well deserves to. be. We doubt whether an in stance can be found on record of would feel obliged to speak of their own faults first, perhaps the faults of others would seem so trifling in comparison, that each would feel that the wisest plan was to keep si lent. , Music in a Family.—Music in a family is a ineans of domestic cheer- fullness. A musical family, in spite of cares, perplexities, or even trials, may be a cheerful family. Cheer- fullness in that sense of the term which plies good spirits, and in which needless depression of mind and morbid melancholy are kept You can have the sunshine About Mackerel—"When a wo man puts three mackerel to soak over night in a dish pan whose sides are eight inches high, and leaves the pan on a stairway) she has 'accom plished her mission, and shouldYjo hence. This was what a Division- street woman did Friday night. Fill ed the pan at the pump, and 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^edingote. And a mighty important affair that was, to be sore. And there?, was her husband tearing through the house in search of a handkeicheif, and not finding it, of course. And then he rushed out into the yard, wondering where on earth that woman could be, and started down the steps without see- ing.the pan, or even dreaming that any one could be so idiotic as to leave it there. Of course he step ped en it; or, at least, that is the supposition, as the neighbors who were brought out by the crash that followed saw a horrified man, and a high dish-pan, and three very de moralized mackerel shooting across the garden, and smashing down the shrubbery. And he was a nice sight, was that unhappy tnan, when they got him on lus feet. There wasn’t a dry thread on him, and hi« hair was full of bits of mackerel, and one of his. shoulders was out of joint, and his coat was split the whole length of the back, and he ap peared to be out of his head. He was carried in thfe house by some of the men, and laid on a bed, while others went after a doctor, and six teen women assembled in the front room, and talked in whispers about the inscrutable ways of Providence, and what a warning this was to peo ple who never looked where they were going.—Danbury Neivs. To Protect Sheep from Dogs.— Dogs do not always kill sheep be cause they are hungry and want them for food, else a flog, would kill one sheep, eat his fill, and be satis fied for awhile; whereas, a single dog will frequently kill20 sheep in single night. They kill ^lieep to drink their blood, and they almost invaria bly seize them by the throat and open their jugular veins. They some times take hold elsewhere, but it is only to stop the sheep, and enable them to reach the throat. Sheep may, therefore, be effectually pro- tecteff by collars armed with spikes. —N. T. Tribune. more cool, heroic bravery and wise rfXeAlkess in your house the most rainy, cheerless or wintery day discretion, devloped by any woman, even in tbe most historic and perilous days of Pennsylvania.—Pittsburgh Commercial. Moses,Mendelssohn was. when a youth, clerk to a very rich, but ex ceedingly commonplace—in fact, stupid—employer. One day an ac quaintance commiserated the clever lad on hb position, saying; “What a pity it is that you are not the master, and he your clerk!” “O my friend,” returned Mendelssohn, “do not say that. If he were my Slerk, what on earth could I do with him?” Grace Gi^enwood relates as an in stance of the extravagance of New England humor that when a young farmer’s wife made her first boy’s pants precisely as ample before as rehind, the fattier exclaimed, “Good ness ! he won’t know whether he’s going to school or coming home,” that ever was if you can have music. Music provokes good nature mani fested in a thousand ways, and in the family sometimes, as well as else where, anything which will promote good nature is to be prized. Who can fret and scold when the very air ■ around is blended with soft harmony? An editor in a neighboring city has been redding one of Dr. Hall’s “Health Tracts,” in which the doctor To Drain LANDS.-r—Drink whis key. and spend your time in the sa loons. This will drain you of all your lands in a short time. Life is like a roll of cosi passing swiftly through and we must" embroider our pattern on as it goes. We connot wait to pick up a false stitch, or pause too iong before we set another. has been married three Kind words are the bright flowers of earth’s existence; use them and :specially around the fire-side circle. They are jewels beyond price, and powerful to heal the wounded heart and make the weighed-down spirit glad. A farmer in Union county, Ken tucky. had his fences whitewashed. An old no-account cow of his went around and consequently licked all the whitewash off. That cow now giVbs twp gallons of milk a day. The moral draws itself. Witty sayings are as'easily lost as the pearls slipping off a broken string; but a word of kindness is seldom spoken in vain. It is a seed which, even when dropped by chance, spring® np a ^flower. ■A white garment appears worse with slight soiling than the colored ts when-mueh soiled; so a times, and yet he knows a balbhead— fittle fault in a good man attracts ed bachelor who is twice as old as he is. Msa&i : • more attention than great offenses in bad 10 :

Georgia Historic Newspapers

The Sandersville herald. (Sandersville, Ga.) 1872-1909, August 08, 1873, Image 1