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YOL. II.
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SAN DERS VILLE GEORGIA, OCTOBER 31, 1873.
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NO. 18.
M a JIEDLOCK. JETHRO ARLINE. It. L. RODGERS.
By Jledlock, Ar!iue & Rodgers.
Tni: Herald is pubiislied in Sandersville, j
(}a every Friday laorning. Subscription j
price TWO DOLLARS per annum.
" ^ Ivertisements inserted at the usual rates. |
Xo charge for publishing marriages “
deaths.
POETRY.
every thing around her to make life
desirable ?”
“Everything but a husband,” inter
rupts his sister. “Ah, Harry! I am
afraid you do not understand our
sex.
a man she loves, to sacrifice wealth.
and a half after our marriage Fred
dy was born, and I came very near
losing my May then. For two months
she never left her room. Then—for
T — misfortunes never come singly—I fell
.Letae would be contented, for j from a scaffold and broke my leg.
she loves to saenfloo i Q ur mone y was gone and we were
The Last Talk.
: I
>ut in the garden and walk with me,
i- the dancers whirl to that dreamy
.. moonlight silvers the sleeping sea,
ti:-' ' orivl is fair as a night in June,
hoi i \ our hand as I used to do;
is the’iast, last time, you know,
o-.utow a wooer comes to woo
to win vou, though I love you so.
She told me long before she saw you, | pretty badly off. I hardly know
that she expected when she married j we would have done then if mv credit
to begin just as her mother before i had not been good. Harry, take
her began. She could not expect a j my advice, and never accept credit
young man to have gained the j until you are compelled to. By al-
wealtli it nas taken her father years | ways dealing on cash principles,- you
>.!'• -or is it the
moonlight’s
hat sorrow-fix
gleam
look ?
it hist from our- Stun me
, .a > . i\oy uis poem s-.veet;
uJt . ; r ;'ie i.ii I, we must say ia re well—
A i. hut the Summer was fair and fleet.
Do you remember the night we met?
fwu wore a rose.in your raven hair,
Closing my eyes, T c.-tn see you yet,
Just as you stood on the topmost stair,
Aflutter of white from head to feet,
A cluster of buds ou your breast. Ahme!
But the vision was nev er half so sweet
As it is to-night in my memory.
Hear the viols cry, and the deep bassooq
Seems sobbing out in its undertone
Soule sorrowful memory. The tune
Is the saddest one I have ever known.
Or is it because we must part to-night,
That the music seems so sad? Ail me !
You are weeping, Love, and your lips are
white —
Tne ways of life are a mystery.
I love you, Love, with a love so true
That in coming years I shall not torget
The beautiful face and the dream I knew,
And memory always will hold regret.
I shail stand by the seas as we stand to-night,
And t hink of the Summer whose blossoms
died,
When the frosts of fate fell chill and white
On the fairest flower of the Summer-tide.
They are calling you. Must I let you go?
Must I say good-bye, and go my way ?
If we must part, it is better so—
Good-bye’s such a sorrowful word to say!
Give me, my darling, one last, sweet kiss—
So we kiss our dear cues, and see them die;
But death holds no parting so sad as this;
God bless you, and keep you—and so—
good-bye!
to accumulate. Besides, you know
Harry, that, withal, they do not live
luxuriously, and keep but one ser
vant.”
“But I could not keep even that.
And see how beautifully their house
is furnished. Ah! could I take Let-
tie, whom I love, from a home like
that, and place her in a cottage with
two or three rooms, scantily furnish
ed ? Nt>* no, May,—my heart would
break.”
“My dear Harry, did you never
notice, in your visits to Mrs. Sut
ton’s, how plain their furniture would
appear were it not for Lettie’s hand
iwork? Be assured that if she were
placed in two or three scantily fur
nished rooms, they would soon look
got it. My May
was able to sit by me and do light
fancy work long before I could get
up; and the same kind of work that
had made our room so beautiful,
nearly supported us. As I lay there
and saw her working—knowing how
feeble she was -I cannot say that I
blamed myself for taking her from
her home. At last I recovered and
was able to resume my labors. Sat
urday nights regularly I brought
home my week’s wages and gave it to
May, wondering how she managed to
keep house for three with it, whenl had
handsomely furnished. My dear j found it no more than enough to sup-
brother, you are in the same mind as ; port myself. I was fortunate in
was my husband before he married, keeping to work—i
an old maid. Eh, May ?” and Ned
left the room, laughing.
“Tell me, sister, do you really be
lieve Lettie wouid be unhappy if—
“You did not ask her to become a
mechanic’s wife. Brother, I should
advise you to go to headquerters for
your answer. I will not betray con
fidence, but be assured that I wonld
not adviseyou to a step that I thought
you would regret.”
That be did go to headquarters we
may believe, for two months after,
the names of IIany- Norton and Miss
Lettie Sutton appeared in the news-
following this principle, u hen I really i papers under the head of “Married;”
did need credit I got it. My May It was
firmly establish yourself as a reli
able customer to all business men
you may come in contact with. By
SELECT MISCELLANY.
A MECHANIC’S STORY.
“I tell you, May, that I will nev
er marry, unless Dame Fortune
smiles on me more favorably than
she has done as yet.”
“Nonsense, Harry! You have the
disposition to make some woman
happy, and it is wrong for you to
say so.”
“Why, May, you seem to forget
that I am but a mechanic, earning
suck scanty wages that I can but
support myself. If I had a wife we
would starve.”
“That is a great mistake. If you
get a good economical girl—one who
loves you for -yourself—it will, I m
sure, cost you no more to live than
it does now.”
“How can that be? You know’
well that I am no spendthrift. ’
i know, my dear brother, that
v uu are one of the most temperate,
mural young nu a in existence,” and
!i:s sister’s arm was ’ around him;
••'it I also know that no matter how
>•: -.-•deal a man may be, be cannot
u r n.e to a true wife. You think
Gnu you can earn enough only for
yourself, but if you had a true wife
you wouid find that you could sup
port her also. There are many lit
tle expenses attending single life
that you do not think of. A man
spends, without thinking, enough to
support a wife—if he could but real
ize tiie fact. Ask my husband if it
is not true.”
“Your husband, May! W hat
does he know- about it ? You have
your homestead and a couple of
houses besides, while your husband
is a partner in Wade’s boiler foundry,
which represents a large capital.”
“And twm bright children who
graduate next month. Don’t forget
them, brother, for they are our great
est pride. Harry, dear, you were a
mere babe when we married,
and although my brother, knew very
little about us until two years ago,
when you came to this city. But,
if you ask Ned, he will tell you that
when we were first married lie was
but a mechanic, receiving mechanic’s
wages. All we J>ave has been acquir
ed since.”
“May, can that be possible ? Well
you have been furtunate—I might
not be.”
“I was in hopes, brother that you
would not be insensible to Lettie’s
Ask him to tell you his experience.
“Tell my experience, says a cher
ry voice, and a good-natured, honest
face appeared at the door. “That I
will; but what is it for?”
“To encourage Harry to marry,”
answered the wife, as she went to
meet her husband. “He thinks that
he is too poor to marry.”
“Too poor to marry ? Nonsense!
Harry has two thousand dollars in
the bank. Just one thousand nine
hundred and fifty dollars more than
I had when the little room which we
took when we were first married was
furnished and a month’s provisions
provided for. That’s so !” he added
as Harry looked incredulous. “You
were such a wee little fellow that of
course you know nothing of it. Rat
tle boxes and sweatmeats were of
more consequence to you than your
sis er’s future life ; and, as we have
been separated by an ocean nearly
ever since, I suppose that our life-
story will be a new one for you, so
I’ll tell it, if V’ou wish. I first met
your sister,” iie began, after he was
comfortably seated, “at a social that
was given in aid of some charity fund,
and I never shall forget the impres
sion her blue eyes had upon me. It
was really a case of love at first sight.
After that I met her several times
and one evening, with a friend of
mine, called upon her. Whatever
hopes I might have indulged in were
entirely banished as we entered the
parlor. I could never hope to win
her. I could never ask her to leave
that home and accept the fortunes of
a poor mechanic. When I left her
that night I resolved never to see
her again, if I could avoid it. For
three days I held to my resolution.
At the end of that time I found it
impossible to resist the temptation of
calling just once more. I yielded.
Again ami again I visited her, think
ing that each time should be the Just.
At length I could no longer hide from
myself that my iove was returned.
The kno wledge thrilled me with pleas
ure and it tortured me with pain. I
.then commenced to blame myself
for • hot adhering to my first reso
lution ; but it had gone too far—it
was useless to think what I ought to
have done. For her sake I could
do what I had uot the courage to
have done myself. I would leave the
city. I went to bid her good-bye.
I had not intended to tell her that it
was through her I left, but some how
it came out. She did not deny her
love for me, but I told her I would
not bind her to such a life as mine.
Her pride prevented her making any
reply to this; and I doubt, feeling as
I did then, if I would have listened
to her, even if she had insisted upon
my remaining. M3 7 destination was
west. After being gone some two
years, I began to grow restless. I
sold out m3- land and came back.
What was my surprise to hear that
your father had failed and was
obliged to accept a clerk’s position.
From his scant3’ income he was sup
porting his family—a wife and five
children. They were living in a cot
tage in the suburbs of the city. I
went there as quickly as possible,
expecting to find them in poverty;'
but, to m3 r surprise, the parlor looked
as cheerful and almost as well furn
ished as when they lived on
street, May and her father cordially
greeted me, and,observing m3’glances
around the room your mother said:
keeping to work—partialty because
my employer knew I had a family
to support, and partially because I
was industrious and sober. But a
great sorrow fell upon us. Freddy
died when he was seven years old.
About three 3-ears after this event
little May was born. We had re
moved into a little cottage, after
having lived in one room two 3-ears,
and in three rooms six years. So
you see, we were steadily gaining,
though very slowly, you will say. One
da3 T —it was the da3 r before Christ
mas—I returned home earlier than
usual. M3 t wife’s eyes beamed with
unusual brightness, and I asked her ;
what news she had received. “Some
thing pleasant,’ she replied. “Am I
not to be a sharer in it?” “Not just
yet, Ned, dear.” I thought that she
must have received good news from
her father—who, I forgot to say, had
gone to England four years previous,
having received a trilling inheritance
through his uncle. After the children
were in bed May and I sat chatting
until twelve o’clock. As we counted '
the strokes, I took from my pocket i
my Christmas gift to Ma3'. I had I
come to the conclusion that we could
not afford nicknacks, but a watch
was what she needed, and a watch
was what I bought for her—though
I could not then afford a chain. She
thanked me for it, and I could see
that it was quite a surprise. She
thrust her hand in her pocket, and
drew forth a paper, which she gave •
me. I opened the paper, and found
it the deed of four lots in the sub- j
urbs of the cit3*. My first thought i
was that she had received a legacy,
as did her father; but she told me J
that she had saved the mone3’ from j
m3 r wages. That mone3 T saved from ;
my wages that was no more than j
enough to support me ! I need not 1
trouble you much longer. In a few j
years there were cottages built? upou j
those jlots, and the rent for them
came in very convenient^-. Later
the cottages were moved back and
handsome fronts built upon them.
You are in one now.”
“But Ned, 3 r ou said the suburbs.
This is in the heart of the cit3’,” said
Harry j as Ned paused in his narra
tive.
“The city sometimes grows, my
dear Harry. We are comfortably
enough off now; but your sister in
sists upon doing her own work, in
order that the children may have the
benefit of a good education. They
will be home in a month, and proba
bly then May will take a little rest.”
“I must thank 3 7 ou, Ned, for let
ting me know what a treasure m3 7
sister is. You will find few like
her.”
“True, Harry; but we would find
more did husbands realize the fact
that wives should be treated as com
panions and confidants. If a wo
man is treated as a child, receiving
money or a new dress every now and
then from her husband the same as
he would give a child a toy, or can-
d3 7 , he cannot expect her to interest
herself.”
i Hotheaded “Marriagein High
Life,” for the bridegroom was but a
mechanic.—Golden Era.
A Good Lesson.
If your bo3’s revolt from stud3 T ,
give them an opportunity to test the
{ ileasure of manual labor, and then
et them follow the occupation they
prefer. In nine cases out of ten,
books will carry the day. “When I
was a bo3 7 ,” said the elder Adams,
“I had to study the Latin grammar,
but it was dull, and I hated it. My
father was anxious to send me to
college; therefore, I studied gram
mar till I could bear it no longer,
and going to m3- father, I told him I
did not like study, and asked for
some other employment. I was op
posing his wishes, and be was quick
in his answer. “Well, John, if Lat
in grammar does not suit, you may
try ditching, perhaps that will. My
meadow needs a ditch, and 30U may
put by Latin and try that;” this
seemed a delightful change, and to
the meadow I went. ButT soon
found ditching harder than Latin,
andjhe first forenoon was the long
est I ever experienced. That day I
ate the bread of labor, and glad was
I when night came on. That night
I made some comparison between
Latin grammar and ditching, but
said not a word about it. I dug the
next forenoon and wanted to return
to Latin at dinner, but it was humil
iating, and I could not do it. At
night toil conquered pride, and I told
my father—one of the severest trials
of in}- life—that if he chose, I would
go back to Latin grammar. He was
glad ol it; and, if I have since gain
ed any distinction it has been owing
to the two da3’s’ labor in that abom
inable ditch.”
From the Chronicle and Sentinel.
To the Planters.
The communication signed “A
Friend to the Planters” is from one
of the most virtuous and distinguish
ed of Georgia’s citizens. The obli
gations resting upon those who have
obtained advances to make their
crops are both sacred and imperative,
and their duty, in the present em
barrassed condition of the merchants
and factors, is to send their cotton to
market as soon as baled. Every
planter who has received advances
should do all m* his power to fulfill
his contract in good faith, and thus
enable our merchants to meet their
paper when it falls due. So much,
at least, of the cotton as may be nec-
essar3 T to liquidate honestly contrac
ted debts should be forwarded to
market without delay. And, indeed,
this must be done in order to save
our people from the ruin which stares
them in the face, and which honesty
and good faith alike demand shall be
averted by the timely action of the
producer in forwarding the crop to
market. When the planter has met
his obligations, he can, if he sees
proper, hold that portion of his cot
ton which belongs to himself for bet
ter prices. But now his first duty is
to forward his cotton to the merchant
or factor to pay his honestly contrac
ted debts.
them, are you very sure that any
probable increase of price you may
get by breaking faith with your fac
tors will enable you unaided to make
the next crop? If you break the
faifh upon which you got help to
make this, whence do you expect to
get help for the next ? Honesty is
not onty in itself a jewel beyond
price, but it is the best policy. If
you have failed, owing to adverse
circnmstances, to meet your obliga
tions, pay what you can and your
factors and all good men will sympa
thize with you and help you again.
But if you speculate upon broken
promises and ruined factors, you
must meet a fearful reckoning.
The Planters Friend.
(•harms. You seem so suited to each , . ,
other, that I am afraid I have built ! Ibis is all May’s work. She has
castles in the air.” ! macle ™ 1S cotta S e so pleasant that I
“I do love Lettie, Mav—too dearly } scarcely miss our old home. To
to ask her to share the life of a me- make a long story short, I thought
chauic ” f 1 that I could keep May as comforta-
“ -I’d offer thee this hard hand of hie as she could then be kept, and
mine if I could love thee we were mamed. TVe took a room
less’-that’s your belief is it, Harry? and furnished it, I had then just
Well, I do not know but there is j fifty dollars leL. I soon got to work
sooner than if I had been single—
much to admire in that
but at the same time, I
sentiment;
think it a
lame to keep from Lettie a husband
so suited to her.”
“May. Jiow can I ask one who has
for a married man is always given
the preference. What money I re
ceived I gave to May, who had the
management of the house. A year
“Have 3 7 ou succeeded in convinc
ing Harry that he is rich enough to
marry?” asked May as she re-enter
ed the room. She had left them
alona when her husband began his
story.
“I hope so. How is it Harry ?”
“I still hesitate to take Lettie to
such a home as I have for her. You
succeeded very well, I own, but I
dare not trust to fortune.”
“I see that Harry is determined
to make Lettie miserable
Imaginary Happiness.
A large number of people imagine
they can be happy in affairs which
would be burdensome to them in less
than a month. A lady who has al-
wiys been clothed in elegant appar
el imagines she could be happier if
she were in the place of the milk-maid
whom she sees every morning with
pail on her head, singing some cheer
ful little song, and in return the milk
maid imagines she wonld be happier
if she could wear silks and satins.
The man who has always lived in a
palace, and had servants to attend
to his wants envies the rustic, and in
return the rustic envies him his pal
ace and gardens. The school-girl en
vies the lady who sits in the parlor,
receives company and attends all
the balls and parties; the young lady
envies the school-girl, for she knows
her school days were the happiest
part of her life. The school-boy en
vies the man of the world, the man
envies the boy, for his life was one of
care and trouble, aud so ad infinitum.
Now, the true secret of happiness
is in contentment.
To the Planters.
Editors Chronicle <£• Sentinel :
Certain letter-writers, newspaper
coirespondents and lecturers, who
have constituted themselves special
guardians of the planters of Geor
gia, have recent^’ been flooding the
State with advice, which is equally
barren of financial wisdom and
sound morality. One says hold your
cotton for higher prices—another,
keep 3’our cotton until your factors ’
agree to give you twenty cents per
pound ; the price will go up to that
point, and you are entitled to it.
Now, in the case of a planter who j
has produced his cotton solely upon •
his own resources, this policy may do j
well enough. He has the moral and *
legal right to hold aud take the risk."
But what proportion of all the plan- j
ters in the State are in this condition? j
Do the sage advisers of the planters, j
above alluded to, know that a large j
majority of the planters have been J
enabled to conduct their operations j
and make their cotton by means of 1
advances from the factors ? Dofthejwj
know that the factors have been ’en- ‘
abled to make these advances by •
loans from the banks, and that the j
advances to planters and loans to
factors mature generally on or abouT.
the first of November ? Do they
know that unless the planter meets his
obligation to his factor the latter can
not meet his obligation to the banks? :
Do they know that unless the factor’s
obligations to the banks are prompt
ly met, they, the banks, will bo utter-
13- powerless to provide currency to
move the cotton ? Do they know,
that from such a state of tilings-
there must necessarily result stag
nation in commerce and paratysis of 1
all industrial pursuits ? If they do ’
not know these things, let them go :
back to school to learn something of j
the course of business in this coun
try—of the natural dependence and j
connection of different industrial
Yellow Fever in Bainbridge—
From a private letter to Mr. James
Yan Horn, of this city, we learn that
the dreadful scourge, yellow fever,
has reached the beautiful and heal
thy little city of Bainbridge and car
ried away five of its people in one
night. The sickness of the town
and county is very great. We deep
ly sympathise with Bainbridge in
this her hour of deep distress.' We
hope that the cold weather of this
week and the heavy frost which vis
ited it Monday night will clear away
the prevailing sickness and render
the city healthy and prosperous. The
list of deaths on Sunda3 7 night last
are as follows : Jesse King, Hartwell
Swarengen, Mrs. Cloud, Mrs. Louis
Ehrlrich and Haywood Merritt. All
of these died in one night, in a city
of less than 2,500 inhabitants. For
several weeks past the people of that
section have been suffering from cli
matic yellow fever, but the letter
says that the physicians of that city
pronounce the type of fever, of
which the above deceased died, the
same as that prevailing at Shreve
port and Memphis, or in other words,
the genuine yellow fever. We hope
that the physicians may be mista
ken.—Central City.
Yellow Fever in Texas.—A Pic
ayune special of the 22d inst., says:
“Galveston is full of refugees from
Bryan, Calvert and Columbus, with
more coming by each train. Tele
grams from Columbus report th6 fe
ver increasing fast and of a very fatal ^
t3~pe, with four deaths in twelve j ? an > an( I a fi his business by the way
1 Hon. George W. Smith and 1S — e r ' - 1 —- 1 - 1
The Happy Man and True Gentle
man.
, The happy man was born in the
city of regeneration in the parish of
repentance unto life. He was edu
cated at the school of obedience,
and lives now by faith in persever
ance. He works at the trade of dili
gence, “notwithstanding he has a
large estate in the country of Chris
tian contentment, and inan3’ times
does jobs of self denial. He wears
the plain garb of humanity. He
often walks in the valley of self abase
ment, and sometimes climbs the
mountain of spiritual mindedness.
He breakfasts every morning upon
spiritual prayer, and sups every
evening upon the same. He has
meat to eat that the world knows
not of, and his drink is the sincere
milk of the word. Thus happy he
li\es and happy he dies.” Happy
is he who has gospel submission in
his will, due order in hie affections,
sound peace in his conscience, sanc
tifying grace' in his soul, true humili
ty in his heart, real divinity in his
breast, the Redeemer’s yoke on his
neck, a vain" world under his feet
and a crown of glory over his head;
happy is tbs life of such a person!
In order to attain which, prav fer
vently, believe firmly, wait patiently,
work abundanth’. live holilv, die
daily, watch your heart, guide your
senses, redeem your time, love Christ
and long for glory. A true gentle
man is God’s servant the world’s
master and his own man. Yirtue is
business study, bis recreation, con
tentment, his rest and happiness, his
reward, God is his father, the Church
is his mother, the saints are his
brethren, and he is a friend to all
that need him: Heaven is his inheri
tance, religion is his mistress, loyal
ty and justice his two maids of hon
or, devotion his chaplian, chastity
his chamberlain, sobriety his butler,
temperance his cook, hospitality his
housekeeper, providence his steward,
charit3* his treasurer, piet3 r is mistress
of the house, and discreation is port
er, to let in and out as is most fit.
Thus is his whole family made up
of riitues, and he is the true master
of the family. He is necessitated to
take the world in his way tolieaven;
but he walks through it as fast as he
hours
J. W. Harcourt are among the vic
tims. The place is almost depopula-
A special relief train was for
warded to-day with physicians from
Galveston. Calvert telegrams re
port nine deaths in 24 hours. The
disease continues very violent. Bus
iness is almost entirely suspended.
Crops of Georgu.—In 1870 Geor
gia produced 308,890 bushels of
spring wheat and 1,818,127 bushels
winter wheat—in all 2,127,017. Of
corn she produced 17,646,459 bush
els; of cotton, 473,934 bales; of tobac
co, 288,569 pounds; of oats, 1,904,601
bushels; of hay, 10,518 tons; of swine
she had 988,566 head, and to these
add her product of cattle, goats,
poultry sugar cane, rice, sweet po
tatoes and coons and ’possums to
bake with them. The main fault
with all her crops was they were
not big enough. She bought more
is to glorify the name of God and do
good to mankind. Take him all in
two words—He is a man—a Chris
tian.—From an old Theological Maga
zine, 1797.
Read an Hour a Day.—There
was a lad who, at fourteen, was ap-
E renticed to a soap dealer. One of
is resolutiont was to read an hour
a da3% or at least at that rate. He
had an old silver watch left him by
his uncle, by which he timed his
reading. He stayed seven years
with his master, and it was said
when he was twenty-one that he
knew as much as the young squire
did. Now let us see how much time
he had to read in, seven years, at
the rate of one hourada3’. It would
be 2,555 hours which, at the rate of
eight hours a day, would be equal to
three hundred and ten days; equal
to forty weeks, nearly one year’s
reading. It is surely worth trying.
See what you can do. Begin' now.
In after years you will look back up
on the task as the most pleasant and
profitable 3’ou ever performed.
than a bush el of corn and oats and
pursuits before they undertake the j w k ea t I° r every one she raised, to
role of teachers. If they do know ! say. nothing of swine wherein we
probably invested more than four for
one. The food question is the trou
ble in this State. We buy more than
half our food at double price, be
cause we transport it about a thou
sand miles.—Telegraph <£ Messenger.
In Atlanta, on Saturday, in the
neighborhood of the Rolling Mill, a
mother poured a tub full of scalding
w r a ter. She went out the door, and
when she returned she found her
baby in the tub. It had crawled up
and fallen in. The mother it out as
quick as possible, but the poor child
was scalded so that the skin slipped
whenever touched. It died Sunday
“May you know that it is because morning.
I do not wish to make her miserable _
that I hesitate to ask her to marry, j A western stump orator, in one of
Her happiness is dearer to me than j his speeches remark: “Gentlemen, if
my own life.” the Par-sy-fix Ocean wor an inkstand
“Ask my wife which was the un- and the hull clouded canopy of heav-
happiest part of her life, and f am en and the level ground of our yearth
convinced that she will tell you that
it was when I was of 3’our opinion
and she was in danger of becoming
w 7 or a sheet of paper, I couldn’t be
gin to write m3’ love of country on to
it.”
them, let them return to the Sunday
School and learn something of the
obligations of promises of the main
tenance of personal integrity before
they assume the sacred office of
keepers of other men’s consciences.
Verily, verily, one knows not which
most to admire, the financial wisdom
or the moral probity of these noisy
advisers.
Now a word to the honest, clear
sighted planters who have sought aid
at commercial points tc make their
crops. When you borrowed money | further and ‘the deeper the roots
Private Prayer.—The root that
produces the buautiful and flourish
ing tree, with all its spreading branch
es, verdant leaves, and refreshing
fruit, that gains for it sap, life, vigor,
and fruitfulness, is all unseen, and
from 3’our factors and gave your
notes payable on the first of Novem
ber, or on some later day, did 3 0U
make it a condition of prompt pay-
ment that you should get twenty
spread beneath the more the tree ex
pands above. Christians, if you
long to bring forth all the fruit of
the Spirit, strike your roots deep
and wide in pi ivate pra3’er. That
cents or any other stipulated price | faith and support, that strength aud
r — 0 TJ! -~ L 1 grace, which you seek of God in secret,
that it may be exercised in the hour
of need, God will in that hour give
it you before men.
A man wnose morning dram had.
been too much for him, in saddling
his horsefgot the saddle wrong end
foremost. Just as he was about to
mount, . a neighbor came up and
called his attention to the mistake.
The horseman gazed for a moment
at the intruder, as if iu deep thought,
and then said, “You let that saddle
alone. How do 3’ou know which
way I am going?” And he looked
daggers at the officious neighbor.
The man, who answered an adver
tisement to the following effect, savo
his curiosity is satisfied :
“If you would learn how to make
home happy, send a postage stamp
and twenty-five cents to P. O. Box,
No.—, Cincinnati.”
He did send the necessary cash,
and soon received the answer :—
“If you are as big a fool as we
think you must be for giving us vou*
money, you can make home happy
by leaving it and going West by
yourself.”—Hec r h and Home.
An Elmira editor met a well edu
cated farmer of Chemung county the
other day, and informed him that he
would like to have something from
his pen, whereupon the farmer sent
him a pig and charged him 89.75 for
it.
for your cotton ? If 3'ou did not,
have you the legal or moral right
when pay day comes, without the
factor’s conset, to add this condition
to your contract made six or eight or
ten months before? Will you bur- •
en your consciousness with such a !
agrant. breach of faith upon the j
chance (perhaps fallacious at last) of
“I had more money than he had to
carry on the suit,” said a very mean
individual who had just won a law
suit over a poor neighbor, “and that
getting a five cents more per pound ! is where I had the advantage of him.
for your cotton ? To do so would be ’ Then I had much better counsel
to falsify the estimate of personal
integrity upon which 3'ou procured
the advance. Those who so advise
you believe more in the “almighty
dollar” hoarded *on earth than in
“treasure laid up in heaven, where
neither moth nor rust doth corrupt,
and where thieves do not break
through nor steal.” If the writer
properly understands the character
of the planters of Georgia, as a class,
than he, and there I had the advan
tage of him. And his family were
sick while the suit was pending, so
he couldn’t attend to it, and there I
had the advantage of him again.
But then Brown is a right decent
sort of a man after all.” “Yes,”
said a listener, “and there he has the
advantage of you.”
Corn Bread Rusk.—Take six cup-
they will throw such immoral coun- j fuls of corn-meal, four cupfuls of
sels to the winds, and show them
selves entitled to the proud boast,!
“My record is nay bond.” |
H there be a few (and I hope there j
are none) inclined to adopt the ad
vice, I have still another question for '
wheat flour, two cupfuls of molasses,
two teaspoonfuls of soda, and a lit
tle salt; mix this well together, knead
it into dough, then make two cakes
of it, and put into the tin ^or iron
pans, to bake one hour.
Keep sober and then you can talk
straight. One of our druggists waa
surprised the other day to hear a
fellow inquire if he had any of Mrs.
Soothlow’s Winsliug Slyrup.
What is the difference between a
Jew and a lawyer ? The one gets
his law from the prophets, the other
his profit^ from the law.
What is the difference between a
cloud and a beaten child? Oaa
pours with rain and the other roats
with pain.
Pride is increased by ignorance.;
those assume the most who know tha
least.
“Are you guilty or not guilty?”
asked a judge of a prisoner tka
other day. “An sure now,” said
Pat, “what are yon put there for btik
to find that oat?”
There is a story of a fascinating
young lady at one of our summer
resorts, who on being asked recently
if she had ever read Shakespeare,
tossed her pretty head with the an
swer : “Sbakespaere ? Cf course
I have ; I read that when it first came
out.”