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VOLUME H— NUMBER 18.
@Ut fgtjjaffie gontual,
IS PUBLISHED WEEKLY
—A T—
THZOIVESOISr. GkA..,
—B Y—
RONEY & SULLIVAN,
RATES OF ADVERTISING,
Trausient advertisements will be charged one
dollar per square for the first insertion, and seventy
fire cents for each subsequent insertion.
BUSINESS GAUDS.
E. S. HARRISON,
Pliysicia.ii and Surgeon
Offers his service-to the public. Office with Dr.
J. S. Jones, over McCord & Hardaway's.
aprlom3 Thomson, Ga.
i, Mimpmr co*
Wholesale and Retail Dealers in
lira mi MITE Si E. E, nil
—ALSO—
Menii-Chinn, French China,
(ila’swnre, &c>
244 Broad Street, Augusta, G-a
aprlO ly.
DU. T. L LALLEftSTOT
OFFKIiS HIS
PROFESSIONAL SERVICES
To the Citizens ol Thomson and Vicinity.
He can be found at the Room over Costello’s, when
cot professionally absent.
REFERS TO
Pito. J A. Evu, Pno. VVm. H. Doughty, Dk
J,.hn S. ColkmaS, Db. S C. Evb.
L A. P EAC OC K ,
*»<> Green Street,
AUGUST A, GEORGIA.
Transient & Permanent Boarding.
jan3l ly ,
GLOBE HOTEL.
8. W. CORNER BROAD <fc JACKSON STS.,
AUGUSTA, GEORGIA.
JACKSON & JULIAN, Proprit’rs
yfe beg leave to call the attention of the travel
ling public to this well known Hotel, which we
have recently leased and placed on a footing
second to none in the S,-nth>. No expense will be
spared to render it a first class Honse in every
respect, and every attention is paid to the comfort
«nd convenience of guests.
O IXT TIME
TILL THE FIRST OF NOVEMBER.
J WILL furnish planters and others in want of
ft II O K 8
«n City Acceptance, till la t NoTemher next, at
cahli prices. D. COHEN,
apr 3 13m3 Augusta, Ga.
LUMBER. LUMBER. LUMBER!
ANT quality or q mtitv of Fine Lumber de
livered at Thomson, or 34 Affile Boat on the
Georgia Railioad, low for cash.
Poplar, Oak or Hickory
Lumber sa'* ed to fill orders at special rates.
1. T- KENDRICK.
February 21, 1872. 7m6
CIAELES S. DuBOSE,
jtTTOMVJErMTJMtW,
Warrenton, On.
Will practice in all the Courts of the Northern,
Augusta & Middle Circuits.
11. C. RONEY,
Mo nun at fato,
THOMSON G*l.
BWill practice in the Augusta, Northern and
[Middle Circuits,
no I—ly
JAMES A. GRAY & CO~
Have Removed to their
aVew Iron Front Store,
EROAI) STREET, AUGUSTA, GA
aprlOtf
JAMES 11. HULSEY’S
Steam Dye:ng and Scouring
ESTABLISHM EUSTT,
123 Broad St., Augusta, ka.
Near Lower Market Bridge Bank Building for the
Dyeing and Cleaning
of dresses, sha .'ls, cloaks, ribbons, &e. Also gen
tlemen's coats, vests and pant, cleaned and dyed
in the best manner. Piece dry goods, cloths, me
rinoes, delane, alpaca, rep goops and jeans dyed
and finished equal to those done in New York.
•SP Orders by Express promptly attended to.
Augusta, Ga. apr.3m3
A bound canvassing book of the PICTORIAL
HOME BIBLE, containing over 300 Illustra
tion's. With a comprehensive Cyclopedia explana
tory of the Scriptures. In English and German.
WJI. FLINT A CO., I’hila., Pa.
VC? *0
Annie mul Willie’s Prayer.
*Twas the eve before Christmas; “Good night” had
been said,
And Annie and Willie had crept into bed;
There were tears on their pillows, and tears in
their eyes,
And each little bosom was heaving with sighs,
For to-night their stem fathers command had
been given,
That they should retire precisely at seven
Instead of at eight; for they troubled him more
With questions unheard of than ever before;
He had told them he thought this delusion a sin,
No such creature as “Santa Claus” had ever been,
And he Loped, after this, he should nevermore
hear
How lie scrambled down chimneys with presents
each year.
And this was the reason two little heads
So restlessly tossed on their soft downy beds.
Eight, nine, and the clock on the steple tolled ten,
Not a word had been spoken by either till then,
When Willed sad face from the blanket did peep,
And whispered, “Dear Annie, is ’ou fast asleep r”
“Why, no, brother Willie,” a sweet voice replies,
I’ve tried long in vain, but I can’t shut my eyes,
For somehow it makes me so sorry because
Dear papa has said there is no Santa Claus.
Now we know that there is, and it can't be denied,
For he came every year before mamma died;
But then, I’ve been thinking, that she used to
pray,
And God would hear everything that mamma
would say,
And maybe she* asked him to send Santa Claus
here
With the sack full of presents he brought every
year.”
“Well, why tan't wo pray dust as momma did den,
And ask dod to send him with presents aden ?”
I’ve been thinking so too,” and without a word
more,
Four little bare feet bounded out on the floor,
And four little knees the soft carpet pressed,
And two tiny hands were clasped close to each
breast.
Now, Willie, you know you believe.
That the presents we ask for we’re sure to receive;
You must wait just as stil till I say ‘Amen,’
And dien you will know that your turn h:is come
then,”
“Dear Juans, look down on my brother and me,
And grant us the favors we are asking of thee
1 want a wax dolly tea set and ring,
And an ebony work-box that shuts with a spring.
Bless Papa, dear Jesus and cause him to see
That Santa Claus loves us as much as does he;
Don’t let him get fretful and angry again
At dear brother Willie and Annie. Amen.”
1 -Please Desus, et Santa Tans turn down to-night,
And bing us some pesents before it’s light;
I want lie should div’ me a nice ittle sed,
With bright shirrin’ yunnera all painted yed.
A box full of tandy a book and a toy.
Amen, and then, Jesus, I’ll be a dood boy.”
Their prayers being ended they raised up their
heads,
And, with hearts, light and cheerful, again sought
their bods,
They were soon lost in slumber, both peaceful and
deep,
And with fairies in dreamland were roaming in
sleep.
Eight, nine, and the little French clock had struck
ten,
Ere the father had thought of his children
again;
He seems now to hear Annie’s half-suppressed
sighs,
And to see the Lig tears stand in Willie’s blue
eyes,
“I was "harsh with my darlings,” he mentally
said,
• - And should not have sent them so early to bed;
But then I was troubled; my feelings found vent ;
For bank stock to-day has gone down ten per
cent.
But of course they’ve forgotten their troubles ere
this,
And that 1 denied them the thrico-asked-for kiss;
But just to make sure, 1 11 steal up to their door,
Fori never spoke harsh to my darlings before.’’
So saying he softly ascended the stairs,
And arrived at the door to hear both of their
prayers;
But Annie’s “Bless papa” drew forth the big tears
And Willie’s grave promise fell sweet on his ears;
“Strange—strange—l’d forgotten,” said ho with,
a sigh,
“How I longed when a child to have Christmas
draw nigh.”
“I’ll atone for my harshness,” he inwardly said,
••By answering tiieir prayers ere I sleep in my
bed.”
Then he turned to the stairs and softly went down,
Threw off velvet slippers and silk dressing gown,
Donned hat, coat, and boots, and was out in the
street —
A millionaire, facing the cold driving sleet,
Nor stopped he until he had bought everything,
From the box full of candy to the tiny gold ring;
Indeed, he kept adding so much to his store
That the various presents out numbered a score,
Then nomeward he turned, when his holiday loal,
With Aunt Mary’s help in the nursery w-as stowed.
Miss Dolly was seated beneath a pine tree,
By the side of a table spread out for her tea ;
A work-box well filled in the center was laid,
And on it the ring for which Annie had prayed ;
A soldier in uniform stood by a sled,
“With bright shining runners and all painted
red.”
There were balls, dogs and horses, books pleas
ing to see,
And birds of all colors were perched in the tree ;
While Santa Claus, laughing, stood up in the top,
As if getting ready more presents to drop,
And as the fond father the picture surveyed,
He thought for his trouble he had amply been
paid,
And he said to himself, as he brushed off a tear,
“I’m happier to-night than I’ve been for a year,
I’ve enjoyed more true pleasure than ever before.
What care I if bank stock falls ten per cent, more!
Hereafter, I’ll make it a rule I believe,
To have Santa Claus visit us each Christmas eve.”
So thinking he gently extinguished the light,
And, tripping down stairs, retired for the night.
As soon as the beams of the bright morning
sun
Put the darkness to flight, and the stars one by
one,
Four little blue eyes out of sleep opened wide,
And at the same moment their presents espied.
Then out of their beds they sprang with a
bound,
And the very gifts prayed for were all of them
found.
They laughed and they cried, in their innocent
glee,
And shouted for papa to come quick and see,
What presents old* Santa Claus brought in the
night,
(J uit the things they wanted,) and left before light.
THOMSON, McDUFFIE COUNTY, GA., MAY 8, 1872
“And now,” added Annie in a voice soft .ind
low,
“You’ll believe there’s a Santa Claus, papa, I
know;”
While dear little Willie climbed upon his knee,
Determined no secret between them Rhould be,
And told in soft whispers how Annie had said
That their dear, blessed mamma so long ago dead,
Used to kneel down mid pray by the side of her
chair,
And that God up in heaven had answered her
prayer,
“Den we dot up and prayed as well as we tonld,
And Dod answered our prayers; now wasn’t he
dood?”
“I should say that ho was if he sent you all these,
And knew just what presents my children would
please. ”
(Well, well, let him think so, the dear little elf
’Twould be cruel to tell him I did it myself,)
Blind father! who caused your stern heart to ro
lcnt,
And hasty words spoken so soon to repent ?
’Twits that being who bade you steal softly up
stairs.
And made you his agent to answer their prayers.
Ipsfdlmiemtsu
Tlio Minister ol Montclair.
It was no use; the letters danced be
fore his eyes, the whole world seemed
wavering and uncertain in those days.
He laid his book down, and began to
think of the great trouble which was
shutting him in. When the black specks
first began to dance between him and
his paper, months ago, lie had not
thought about the matter. It was an
noying, to be sure, but he must have
taxed bis eyes too severely. He would
work a little less by lamplight—spare
them awhile —and he should be all
right. So he had spared them more
and more, and yet his specks kept on their
elfin dance ; and now for weeks the con
viction had been growing on him slow
ly, so slowly that he was going to be
blind. He had not told his wife yet —
how could he bear to lay on her shoul
ders the burden of his awful calamity?
O, it was too hard !
And yet was it too hard ? Dared he
say so? he, God’s minister—who had
told Other-su deters So many-times ihot
their chnstenings were dealt out to
them by a kind Father’s hand, and
that they shou and count all that brought
them nearer to Him as joyous, not
grievous ?
Yet speaking after the manner of
this world, his burden seemed greater
than lie could hear. What could he
do—a blind, helpless man ? He must
give up his work in life—let another
take his ministry. Could he be thus
resigned ?
Then suddenly a flash of hope kin
dled his sky, there might be help for
him. This gathering darAness might
be something which science could re
move. He would he sure of that be
fore lie told Mary. And then he be
came feverishly impatient. He called
his wife, and told her with a manner
which he tried hard to make calm,
that lie was going out of town the next
morning on a little business. She
wondered that he was so uncommunisa
tive—it was not like him—but she
would not trouble him with any ques
tions. S e should understand it all
some time, she knew, still she thought
there was something strange in his
way of speaking.
The minister strove hard for the
mastery of his own spirit, as the cars
whirled him along the next morning
toward the tribunal at which he was
to receive his sentence. He tried to
think of something else, but found the
effort in vain ; so he said, over and
over, as simply as a child, one form of
words :
‘Father, which ever way it turns, O
give me strength to bear it.’
Holding fast to his prayer, as an an
chor, he got out of the cars and went
into the streets. What a curious mist
seemed to surround all things ! The
houses looked spectral through it; the
very people he met seemed like ghosts.
He had not realized his defective vision
so much at home, where it had come
on him gradually ; and all objects were
so familliar. Still, with an effort, he
could see the signs on the street cor
ners, and find his way.
He reached, at last, the residence
of the distinguished oculist for whose
verdict he had come. He found the
parlor hall filled with people, waiting
like himself. He was as/red for his
name, and sent in a card on which was
written, the ‘Rev. William Spencer,
Montclair.’ Then he waited his turn.
He dared not think how long the time
was, or what suspense he was in,-
He just kept his simple child’s prayer
in his heart, and steadied himself with
it.
The time came for him at last, and
he followed the boy who summoned
him into a little room shaded with
green, with green furniture, and on a
tabieavase of flowers. The stillness
and the cool scented air refreshed him.
He saw dimly, as he saw everything
that morning, a tall, slight man, with
kind face and quiet manners, who ad
dressed him by name, invited him to
sit down, and then inquired into his
symptoms with such tact and sympa
thy that he felt as if he were talking
with a friend. At last the doctor
asked him to take a seat by the win
dow and have his eyes examined. His
heart beat choAingly, and he whisper
ed under his breath :
‘Thy will, O God, he done; only
give me strength.’
Dr. Gordon was silent for a moment
or two—it seemed ages to Mr. Spencer.
Then he said with the tenderest and
saddest voice, as if he felt to the ut
most all the pain he was inflicting :
‘I cannot give you any hope. The
malad is incurable. You will not lose
your sight entirely, just yet; but it
must come soon.’
The minister tried to asA how long it
would be before he should be blind ;
but his tongue seemed to cleave to the
roof of his mouth, and he could only
gasp :
Dr. Gordon understood, and answer
ed very /midly, that it might be a
month, possibly two.
He stood up then to go. He Anew
all hope was over. He paid his fee and
went out of the room and out of the
house. It seemed to him things had
grown darAer since he went in. He
hardly Anew how he found his way to
the cars. It was two hours past' dinner
time, and he was faint for lacA of food,
but he did not Aiiow it. He got to the
station somehow, and waited for the
train to start for Montclair. All the
way home he Aept whispering to him
self—‘One month, possibly two—•’ as
if it were a lesson on the getting by
heart of which his life depended. He
heard the conductor call Montclair at
last, and got out of the car mechanical
him. She had been anxious about him
all day.
‘O, William! she cried, and then
she saw his face and stopped. There
was a looA on it of one over whom
some awful doom is pending, a white
fixed looA, that chilled her. She tooA
his arm, and they walAed on silently
through the summer afternoon. When
they reached home, and she had taAeu
off her bonnet, he spoAe at last:
‘Mary, come here and let me 100/c at
you. I want to learn your face by
heart.’
She came and Aueit by him, while
he tooA her cheeAs between his hands,
and studied every lineament.
‘Are you going away ?’ she asAed, af
ter a while, for his fixed, silent, mys
terious gaze began to tortuie her.
‘Yes, dear, I am going, into the darA.’
‘To die V she gasped,
‘Yes, to die to everything that makes
up a man’s life in this world,’ he an
swered bitterly.
‘Mary, I am going blind- Think
what that means. Alter a few more
days, I shall never seo you again or
our children, or this dear beautiful
home where we have lived and loved
each other. The whole creation is on
ly an empty sound forever more ! 0
God ! how can I bear it.’
‘ls there no hope?’ she said with
curious calmness, at which she herself
was amazed.
‘None. It was my errand to town
to-day to-find out. I have felt it com
ing ou for months, but I hoped against
hope, and now I know. O Mary, to
sit in the darkness, until my death
day ? striving for a sight of your dear
face! It is too hitter, and yet what
am I saying? Shall my Father not
choose His own way to bring me to the
light of Heaven? I must say, I will
say, His will be done.’
Just then the children caine running
in ; boyish, romping Will; shy, merry
little May.
‘Hush dears,’ the mother said softly,
‘papa is tired. Y’ou had better run out
again.
‘No, Mary, let them stay,’ he inter
posed, and then he said, so low that
his wife's ears just caught the whisper.
‘I cannot see them too much in this lit
tle while, this little while.’
0 how the days went on after that !
Every day the world looked dimmer to
the minister’s darkened eyes. He
spent almost all his time trying to fix
the things he loved in his memory.
It was pitiful to see him going round
oyer each well-known, well loved
scene noting anxouslyjust how those
tree-boughs stood out against the sky,
or that hill climbed toward the sunset.
He studied every little flower, every
fern the children gathered ; for all
creation seemed to take for him anew
beauty and worth. Most of all he
studied their dear home faces. His
wife grew used to the dim wistful eyes
following her so constantly ; but the
childreu wondered why papa liked so
well to keep them in sight; why did
he not read or study any more.
There came a time at last one Sun
day morning, when the brilliant sum
mer sunshine dawned for him in vain.
‘ls it a bright day, dear?’ he asked,
hearing his wife moving about the
room.
‘Very bright, William.’
‘Open the blinds, please, and let the
sunshine in at the east windows.’
Mary Spencer’s heart stood still
within her, hut she commanded her
voice, and answered steadily :
‘They are open William. The whole
room is full of light.’
‘Mary, I cannot see; the time’s
come. lam alone in the darts ness.’
‘Not aione, my love,’ she cried in a
passion of grief, and pity, and tender
ness. Then she went and sat down
beside him on the bed, and drew his
head to her bosom, and comforted him,
just as she was wont to comfort her
children. After a time her tender
caresses, her soothing tones, seemed to
have healed his bruised, tortuied heart.
He lifted up her head and kissed her,
his first kiss from out the darkness in
which lie must abide, and then he sent
her away. I think every soul, stand
ing face to face with an appalling ca
lamity, longs to be for a space alone
with its God.
Three hours after the church bells
rang, and as usual, the minister and
his wife walked out of their dwelling,
save that now lie leaned upon her arm.
In that hour of seclusion he had made
up his mind what to do. They wa!k
ed up the familiar way, and she left
him at the foot of the pulpit stairs,
and went back to her pew in front.-
He groped up the stairs, and then ris
ing lit his place, h spoke to the won
dering congregation,
‘Brethren, I stand before you as one
on whom the Father’s hand has fallen
heavily. I am blind. I shall never
see you again in this world—you, my
chil Iren —for whoso souls I have striv
en so long. I have looked my last ou
your kind, familiar faces on this earth
—see to it that I miss none, of you
when my eyes are unsealed again in
heaven. Grant, Q Father, that of
those whom Thou hast given me I may
lose none.’
There was not a tearless face among
those which were lifted toward him,
as he stood there with his sightless eyes
raised to Heaven, his hands outstretch
ed, as if to bring down on them the
blessing for which he prayed. Some
of the women sobbed audibly, hut the
minister was calm. After a moment
he Slid:
‘My brethren, as far as is possible,
the services will proceed as usual.’
Then in a clear voice, in which
there seemed to his listeners’ ears some
unearthly sweetness, he recited the one
hundred and thirteenth Psalm, com
mencing :
‘Out of the deep have l called upon
Thee 0 Lord ; Lord, hear my voice.’
Afterwards he gave out the first line
of a hymn, which the congregration
sang, he prayed, and some said who
heard him, the eyes closed ou earth
were surely beholding the beautiful
vision, fir'he spoke as a son beloved,
whose very soul was fuii of the glory
of the Father’s presence.
The sermon which followed was
such an one as they had never before
heard from his lips. There was power
in it, a favor, a tenderness which no
words of mine can describe. It was
the testimony of a living witness, who
has fouud the Lord a very present help
in the time of trouble.
When all was over, and he came
down the pulpit stairs, his wife stood
again at the foot, aim !.e took her arm
and we, t out silently. He seemed to
the waiting congregation as one set
apart and consecrated by the anointing
of a special sorrow, and they dared
not break the holy silence around him
with common speech.
The next afternoon a committee
from the church went to the parsonage.
Mrs. Spencer saw them coming and
told her husband.
‘lt must be,’ he said, ‘to ask my ad
vice in the choice of my successor.’
‘I think they might have waited one
day ?’ she cried, with a woman’s pas
sionate impatience at any seeming for
getfulness of the claims given him by
his years of faithful service.
TERMS-TWO DOLLARS IN ADVANCE,
The delegation had reached the door
by that time, and the minister did not
answer her. She waited on the men
into the study and left them there, go
ing about her usual task with a heart
full of bitterness. It was natural, per
haps, that they should not want a
blind minister, but to tell him so now’,
to make the very first pang of his sor
row sharper by their thanklessness, it
was too much.
An hour passed before they went
away, and then she heard her hus
band’s voice calling her, and went into
the study prepared to sympathize with
sorrow. She found him sitting where
she had left him, with such a look of
joy, and peace, and thankfulness upon
his face as she had never expected to
see it wear again.
‘Mary,’ he said, ‘there are some kin 1
hearts in this world. My parish want
me to stay with them, and insist on
raising my salary a hundred dollars a
year.’
‘Want you to slay with them ?’ she
cried hardly understanding his words.
‘Yes, I told them that I could not do
them justice, but they would not listen,
they believe that my very affliction will
give me new power over the hearts of
men ; that I can do as muffl as ever.
They would not wait a day, you see,
lest we should be anxious about our
futui e.’
‘And I thought they were coming
in indecent haste,-to give you notice to
go,’ Mrs. Spencer cried, penitently.
‘llovv I misjudged them ! Shall 1 never
learn Christian charity/’
So it was settled that the minster of
Montclair should abide with his people.
For three years more his persuasive
voice calling them to choose the better
waj’; and then those three years he had
sown more seed and reaped more harvest
than mo3t men in a long lifetime. He
did his work faithfully, and was ready
when the hour came for him to go
home. Just at the last, when those
who loved him best stood weeping
around bis bedside, they caught upon
his face the radiance o( light not of this
world. He put out his hands with a
glad cry —‘1 see, J see / Out of the
dark into the light/’
And before they could look with awe
and' wonder into each other’s eyes, the
glory had begun to fade, the outstretch
ed hands tell heavily, and they knew
that the blind minister was gone ‘past
'nigh, past day,’ where for him there
would be no more darkness.
Forwarding Letters. —The Savan
nah News produces the following for
the benefit of those who have business
to transact through Uncle Sum’s mail
arrangements:
The impression is pretty general, we
believe that no extra stamp is required
upon a letter erroneously addressed to
assure its transmission to the proper
destination. It has been the custom in
such cases to erase the wrong add es ! ,
and substituting the correct one, drop,
the letter into the box again, unde the
happy delusion that Uncle Sim will
carry it the extra distance without
compensation. Such, however, is not
the law, the provison in reference to
forvvading not applying after the le ters
have once passed from tiie custody of
the officials. In order that there may
be no delay in the delivery of such let
ters, and that they may not be held for
postage, parties will have to stick on
an additonal stamp. A ompliance
with this may save trouble an inconven
ience,
Leg-'l Recognition. —A young la
dy, in Riemond, Virginia, who is about’
to become a bride, lias procured her
wedding stockings from Paris. They
are made of the finest silk, flesh colored,
and each stocking bears the name on
the leg, worked in gold colored silk,
and presenting a most novel, elegant,
and brilliant appearance. One dozen!
pairs cost $504 in currency.
A Bangor man was discusing the liq
uor law th.e other day, and strongly
urged its strict enforcement. To em
phasize a remark, he pulled his umbrella
from under his arm, when there dropped
out a black bottle. A crash on the pave
ment was followed by a diffusion of at
fragratree equaled only by the best “Old
Bourbon.”
‘Excuse this bit of sarcasm,’ said
Smith to Jones, ‘bnt I must say that
you are an infamous liar and scoundrel.’
‘Pardon this bit of irony,’ said Jones
j.O Smith as he knocked him over with
t he poker.
An Illinois clergyman has petitioned
for a reduction of his salary, and his
friends propose to place him in an in
sane asylum.