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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.