VOLUME 11-NUMBER 24.
®l \t fgfjfuffic fottwal,
IS PUBLISHED WEEKLY
HONEY & SULLIVAN,
RATES OF ADVERTISING,
Trausient advertisements will be charged one
dollar per square for the first insertion, and seventy
five cents for each subsequent insertion.
E. S. HARRISON,
Physician and Surgeon
Offers his service? to the public. Office with Dr.
J. S. Jones, over McCord & Hardaway's.
aprlom3 Thomson, Ga.
/. Mimrnr <t* co.
Wholosale and Rotail Dealers in
EJffl WHITE SMITE & l. S, Ml
Kemi-Cliiiia French China,
244 Broad Street, Augusta, Ga
DU. t 7 L LYLLEHSTEUT
To the Citizens o( Thomson and Vicinity.
He can be found at the Room over Costello’s, when
r.ot professionally absent.
Pro. J A. Evk, Pro. Wm. 11. Doughty, Dr
John S. Coi.K'tvv, Ur. S. C. Evk.
I^i” A. PEACOCK,
<Mi Green Strcot,
Transient & Permanent Boarding.
_ jandl ly
S. W. CORNER BROAD & JACKSON STS.,
JACKSON & JULIAN, Proprit’rs-
We beg leave to call the attention of the travel
ling public to this well known Hotel, which wo
have recently leased and placed on a footing
second to none in the South. No expense will l>o
spared to render it a first class House in every
respect, and every attention is paid to the comfort
and convenience of guests.
O 3ST TIIVLE
TILL THE FIRST OF NOVEMBER.
J WILL furnish planters and others in want of
s si o e $
on City Acceptance, till Ist November next, at
cash prices. D. COHEN,
apr 3 13m3 Augusta, Ga.
LUMBER. LUMBER” LUMBER!
AN V quality or quantity of Pine Lumber de
livered at Thomson, or 34 Mile Post on the
Georgia Railroad, low Tor cash.
Poplar, Oak or Hickory
Lumber saw ed to“fill orders at special rates.
J. T. KENDRICK.
February 21, 1 87*2. 7m6
Win practice in all the Courts of the Northern,
Augusta & Middle Circuits.
11. C. RONEY,
Montey at Jfato,
Tiro.nso r, u*a.
Will practice in the Augusta, Northern aud
JAMES A. GRAY & CO.,
Have Removed to their
New Iron Front Store,
BROAD STREET, AUGUSTA, GA
JAMES 11. HI’ESEY’S
Steam Dyeing and Scouring
taa Broad St., Augusta, (ia.
Near Lower Market Bridge Bank Building for the
Dyeing and Craning
of dresses, shawls, cloaks, ribbons, Ac. Also gen
tlemen’s coats, vests and pants 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.
IST Orders by Express promptly attended to.
Augusta, Ga. apr.dmli
Thurston’s Ivory Pearl Tooth Pow
der. The best article known for cleansing and
preserving the teeth and gums. Sold by all drug
gist*. Price 25 and 50 cents per bottle. F. C.
Wells k Cos., New York.
ltainbow of" Gold.
*‘lf you get to the foot of a rainbow before its
fades away you will find a bushel of gold.—Legend
of Fairy Love.
When I was a child I was solemnly told.
When the rainbow appeared in the sky,
That under its foot was a bushel of gold,
That any could get would they try ;
So I ran where the splendor came down to the
But it fleeted as fast as I ran,
And with all my search it was nothing I found;
Yet I’m doing the same as a man.
There’s the rainbow of love when the affections are
The brightest, wo think of the lot.
We follow to find it a thing of the tongue,
Or a foolish abstraction of thought,
There’s the rainbow of fame, with its amaranth
We chase it in ominous strife.
We reach where its foot so enticing came down,
And find—we have wasted iu life.
Hope’s rainbows are ever abroad in the air,
Alluring us fools to pursue,
We follow and follow, and find nothing there,
Save a sprinkle of glittering due,
Earth’s rainbows of promise so fair to the sight,
Are but fictions at best of the mind;
Their gleams give at most unsubstantial delight,
They fade and leave nothing behind.
Then, what of the rainbow that gleams beyond
The promise hereafter? Who is there can tell,
If, after parting of body and breath,
He is sure under that rainbow all will be well?
Can be certain it is the last bow to allure
The one that stoops down on the bushel of gold,
The gold he at last shall possess ? Who is sure?
Alas! ’tis a secret wo cannot unfold.
The type-setter stands before his case.
The gas burns low, and the night is deep ;
And over the straggering chimney stacks
Darkness and shadows creep,
And the city is lost in sleep.
The type-setter stands, gaunt and gray,
With dim, old eyes ami a weary brain ;
And he sings a cadence solemn aud low,
To the beat of the bitter ruin
On rattling casements aud pane.
Tremble the rafters, roof and floors,
As he fingres the type (in his desolate way )
And he hears the music faintly borne
From the theatre over the way.
At some strange old tragedy play.
The old man sings, and trembles the floors,
With the bellowing engine down below,
And the crash of the whirling axel bars,
And the thunders that from them grow,
Echoing too and fro.
As he fingers the types (in his desolate way)
He set* them up with a heavy load;
And a marge of black encircling his work—
The name of a man just dead,
A soul in the battle sped.
And he sighs as he thinks this man, so gray,
Winking and blinking before his case,
llow out In this dark, desolate blight,
Some form of womanly grace
Is weeping upon her face.
Lower and lower the gas light burns.
And grow the shadows dusky and gray*
And the storm is hushed and the music’s swell
At the theatre over the way,
And finished the tragedy play.
And the type-setter wipes his dim old eyes,
The types no more with his fingers move;
And he smiles that in setting the name below,
The angels in tender love
Were setting it up.
Tender and True.
BY T. S. ARTHUR.
‘Strong and tender and true as steel.’
It was the remark of a gentleman
standing near me. I did not hear the
reply made by his companion, who was
a lady ; but from something in the
manner of the gentleman, I concluded
that her ideal of the person referred to
was not in full accord with his.
At the lower end of the room a beau
tiful young woman stood leaning on
the arm of her husband, into whose face
scarcely any one could look without
admiring its manly beauty and signs of
intellectual strength. It was moreover
a true face; and yet as my eyes linger
ed upon it, and then turned to the
sweet loving countenance of the bride,
a shadow crept over my spirits.
‘Strong and manly and true as steel.’
Yes, you saw all that in the finely cast
face, in the full lips, in the large wide
eyes and nostrils, in the ample forehead.
‘Strong and manly and true as steel.’
Even so. And yet, looking still into
the tender, almost dreamy tace of the
bride, I could not feel all at ease touch
ing her future.
Grant Baldwin, I inew him well.
We were old friends. His bride I had
not seen until this eveniug. Tfyore was
Thomson, mcduffie county, ga, June 19, 1872.
something more than beauty in her face
—something that held your gaze like a
spell. Her eyes were of deep hazel,
large and soft, her countenance very
fair almost to paleness ; her form slight,
and her statue low. I noticed that as
she stood by her husband she leaned
toward him in a kind of shrinking, de
pendent way, and every now and then
glauced up into his face with a wistful
sort of loo£ that I did not clearly under
I met them not long afterwards in
their new borne, and was more than ev
er charmed with Mrs. Baldwin. She
was pure and sweet and gentle, and he
was strong and manly and true as steel
—meet compliments of each other one
would think, and yet, as on that first
evening, I felt the lack of some element
to give a complete harmony to their
lives. It troubled me. I knew my
friend well, knew of character; a little
cold and undemonstrative, as we say,
rather more inclined to hide what he
felt than to give it free expression.
It happened that I did not come very
near them again for several months, and
then I noticed with pain an invisible
barrier had grown up between them,
and that neither had found the sweet
satisfaction anticipated. During the
evening 1 spent with them, I saw the
tears spring to the eyes of Mrs. Baldwin
mere than once, and I noticed in them a
hungry kind of look as they rested now
and then on her husband's face. I was
puzzled. What could it mean ?’
A few days afterwards, meeting Mr.
Baldwin, I asked after his wife.
‘Well,’ he answered.
But in a tone of voice my eye read :
‘How does she like her new home?’
I inquired. He had brought her from a
My friend sighed (involuntarily. ‘Not
so well, I am afraid,’ he answered.
‘She still feels strange.’
‘The tenderer the flower,’ I remarked,
‘the more difficult to transplant.’
‘Yes,’ in an absent tone. ,
‘I should say,’ I added, ‘that your
wife has a highly sensitive spiritual or
‘Undoubtedly that is true,’ answered
my friend. ‘But are not persons so or
ganized dilficult to understand.’
‘Always, I should say,’ he returned.
I did not know what to reply it wa9
best to make, and so kept silent. After
a little while he said, with some feel
ing : ‘I would give the whole world to
make her happy.’
‘Happy!’ My surprise expressed it
self in my voice.
‘Yes, happy,’ he said with emphasis.
‘My wife is not happy, and it troubles
me beyond measure.’
‘Do you make no guess at the cause of
her unhappiness ?’ I asked.
‘I am at sea. Sometimes I think she
don’t really love me. No! No!’ he
added quickly, ‘not that! lam sure of
‘ls she as sure of your love ?’ said I. ,
The question seemed to hurt him.
‘Have I not chosen her from among
women to be my wife?’ he answered
with something of indignation in his
voice. ‘Am Ia man to say 1 love, and
not mean it? Did I not promise before
God to love and cherish her till death?
Sure of my love / If I have auy ele
ment of character more strongly devel
oped than another, it is the element- of
truth. When I told her that I loved
her, I told her an abiding truth. She
is as dear to me as the apple of my. eye.
The very thought of a doubt on her
part hurts me li&e an accusation of
A fight came into my mind, bringing
a revelation of the real ground of trouble,
and said : ‘Have you been as tender to
your young wife, always, as true?’
His eyes flashed, but the fire went
out of them instantly.
‘Mere truth in character is often re
served and proud,’ said I. ‘True as
steel is all well enough. But steel is
hard and cold, and chills by contact.’
Baldwin looked at me strangely.
‘Tender and true my dear friend.
Tender and true/ Love will have
nothing less,’ I ventured to add.
‘Good morning,’ he said, in a voice
that I scarcely recognized, and turaiog
from me he walked away.
Had I offended him? We did not
meet again for several weeks. I was
going homeward one eveujng, when
I heard quick feet behind nje. A hand
was laid on my shoulder and a familiar
voice spoke my name. It was my
‘Come home with me,’ he said.
I tried to excuse myselft but he
would fako no denial; so 1 accompa
nied him home. His manner as we
walked was frank and cherry.
‘How is Mrs. Baldwin?’ I natural
‘Oh, very well!’he answered, without
change of tone.
‘Getting more reconciled to her 1 new
‘I am glad to hear it. Few of us can
bear an entire change in our surround
ings without a shadow falling on our
He did not reply to the remark, but
changed the subject.
Mrs. Baldwin met her husband at
the parlor window. I noticed that he
kissed her very tenderly and put an arm
about her waist, spite of my presence.
Her face was all alive to pleasure, and
its whole expression so different from
what it was when I first met her, that I
could but wonder at the change. Her
manner toward me, her husband’s friend
was very cordial, and quite in contrtast
with what it had been at our previous
meeting. Then she was depressed, and
ill atease, and when she looked at her
husband, her face, instead of fighting
up, grew strangely shadowed.
I understood it all. The true and
loyal husband had supplemented fidelity
with I saw this in every word
and tone, and action. The half-proud
courtliness of manner—the dignified re
pression of feeling---vvhich so chilled
and hurt his loving little wife, and held
her away from him, were all gone,
fused by the tenderness he permitted to
go forth in speech and act. Tender
and true/ Yes, he was all that now ;
and his sweet young wife felt herself to
be the happiest woman in all the
Lite’s JJriffhtest Hour.
Not long since I met a gentleman
who is assessed for more than a million.
Silver was in his hair, eare upon his
brow, and he stooped beneath his bur
den of wealth. We are spea/cing of
Ufiat pprioj’f of life when we had realized
tMj;.niost perfect enjoyment; or, rather,
wheujjie had found happiness nearest to
being unalloyed. ‘I tell you,' said the
millionaire, ‘when was the happiest
hour of my life. At the age of one and
twenty ! (ad saved up SSOO. I was
earning SiOO a year, and my father did
not take it away from me, only requi
ring that (should pay for my board. At
the age of;twenty-two I had secured a
pretty cotjtago, just outside the city.
I was able to pay two-thirds of the
value down, and also to furnish it re
specably. I was married on Sunday
—a Sunday in June—at my father’s
house. My wife had come to me poor
iu purse, but rich in the wealth of her
womanhood. T(ie Sabbath and the
Sabbath night we passed beneath my
father's roof, and on Monday morning 1
went to my work, leaving mother and
sister to help in preparing my home.
On Monday evening, when the labors of
the day'\#ere done, I went not to the
parental shelter as in the past, but to
my own house—my own home. The
holy atmosphere of that hour seems to
surround me even now in the memory.
I opened the door of my cottage and
entered. I laid my hat upon the
.little stand in the hall, and passed on to
the kitchen—our /dtchen and dining
room were all one then. I pushed open
the kitchen door. The table was set
against the wall—the evening meal was
ready—prepared by the hands of her
who had come to be my helpmete, in
deed as well as in name—with a throb
bing,: expectant look upon her lovely
and loving'face, stood my wife. I tried
to speak and could not. I could only
clasp the waiting one to my bosom,
thus showing to her the ecstatic burden
of my heart.- The years have passed—
long, long years—and worldly wealth
has flowed in upon me, and I am honor
ed and envied ; but—as true as heaven
—I would give it all—every dollar—
for the joy of the hour of that June
evening in the long, long ago/’
Grass-Hoppers. —Dr. T.’L. Anderson
brought several small stalks of cotton to
us last Saturday, the Ist., which he
said he found literally covered with
grass-hoppers. He had number of the
insects in a bottle. They are small, and
of a light green color, and Dr. A. stated
that they destroyed the cotton very
rapidly and completely. He stated al
so that there were large numbers in the
field from which he obtained the speci-
The first piece of artillery .was invent
ed by a German, soon after the inven
tion of gunpowder, and artillery was first
used by the Moors at Algerias, in Spain,
over five hundred years ago.
Despair, Murffei' an<l Suicide.
The public sentiment of the country
has progressed to that point where it
deems the laws now existiug upon the
statute books of the States inadequate
to the proper punishment of the
seducer. Hence, when one of this
class of superlative villains is shot
down by an avenging brother, father,
or husband, no jury can be found to
convict of murder the slayer of the
doubly-dyed scoundrel. \Ve do not
propose to discuss the morality of this
advauced public sentiment; it is suf
ficient that it is now the rule of justice,
if not of right, and that fathers and
brothers and husbands do not usually
appeal to the disgraceful law that in
flicts a fine as the penalty for seduction
and the debauchery of a daughter, sis
ter, or wile, but generally with a trusty
pistol or a well sharpened knife sends
the seducer to that hell that is so prop
er a receptacle for him.
There are instances of seduction,
however, where there is no relative to
take swift and certain vengeance upon
the seducer; cases in which poor or
phan girls, fatherless, arc ruined by
the practiced villain under pledge of af
fection and marriage, and then cast off
after being robbed of the priceless gem
of virtue to wander away into deeper
sin, or forever cover up their shame
and end their agony of soul in the grave.
Below we relate the particulars of the
saddest case of this latter /rind we have
A short time ago there lived in this
city a young, very beautiful and attrac
tive girl, named Mary Frasen. Her
personal charms were equalled by her
accomplishments and gentleness of dis
position. She was an oiphan, and re
sided here with her grandmother, by
whom she was tenderly loved and liber
ally provided for, all her wants being
promptly attended to. She was art
less, confiding and truthful, and in her
simplicity of mind and truthfulness of
heart thought every one else equally
without guile o# deceit. She was
therefore just such a one as was most
likely to fall under the wiles of the
cold-blooded and soul damning seducer.
Mary Frasen’s attractive personal ap
pearance brought to her many admi
rers. Among these was a man ol some
note and posilion in society, we are in
formed, but whose name, we regret to
say, the person giving us these facts
refuses, for the present, to reveal.—
This man was assiduous in his atten
tions to her, and in time, by his fine
address and false pretenses, won her af
fections, and then, under promise of
speedy marriage, accomplised her ruin.
Weak after week, from one pretext and
another, he postpone! the fulfillment
of vows, and heid her in his toils and
at his dalliance, even threatening, in
order to do so, to proclaim her dis
grace; but fiually finding herself about
to become a mother, the poor ruined
girl told the story of her sin and fall to
her grandmother. This resulted in the
girl being cast off by her betrayer, and
her grandmother, to hide the disgrace
that was sure to follow, made arrange
ments to send the now heart-broken
half-insane girl to some relatives iu a
distant State, there to remian in priva
cy until after the birth of her child.
Mary Frasen departed from her once
happy home, where the years of her
innocence had glided away so pleasant
ly. Bitter tears were shed by her and
her distressed grandmother, and the
parting between them was one of deep
est sorrow. The poor orphan wrung
her hands in the agony of soul that this
parting brought, and earnestly prayed
God to interpose his mercy and remove
her from earth, as death was preferable
to the torturing humility, the woeful
shame, and deep disgrace that had
In due time she had reached her des
tination. Her relatives had been advis
ed of all in advance ; nevertheless they
met the half-distracted orphan with the
tenderest sympathy and the most cordi
al hospitality. llow heavily the hours
toiled away, and the days came and
passed to her, only her own soul could
feel and know. She wandered about
the house and over the farm liAe one
lost in that deep grief which makes the
heart and mind forgetful of all passing
events, and shuts up the soul in a living
tomb to dwell with unspeakable grief.
In a few months after her arrival
Mary Frasen was a mother. There was
no joy in her soul at the birth of her
offspring; it was not to her a messenger
of love and hope; nor came there with
it into the world a single ray of light to
shed its effulgence over hpr now darken
pathway. She felt that her own shame
would ever be its disgrace, and again
she prayed most ferveutly for death.—
TERMS—TWO DOLLARS IN ADVANCE,
But this solace of grief came not, and>
in the course of a month she was able
to leave her room. She would take- the
child in her arms and wander out into
the forest, and over the fields, and
along the banks of the winding- river",
weeping bitterly, and asking God for
strength to endure her misery of soul
until the silver cord should be loosed,
and the golden bowl be broken, when
she hoped for that rest in the grave
which was denied her in life.
Poor deceived, betrayed and forsaken
orphan, she has at last found that rest
she so much coveted. She sleeps upon
a beautiful hillside overlooking a river,
and folded in her arms in the same si
lent bed, lies the little one begat in sin,
but upon whose soul*no stain of sin
will ever rest. Wandering out on
Tuesday last, as was her custom, rea
son tottering on its throne, she reached
a bridge spanning St. Louis river. She
tarried upon this bridge for a time, and
then knelt down, and with her child
pressed to her heart she commended its
soul and her own to the all-merciful
God. flow fervently she did so can on
ly be imagined. But when she arose
from her knees she seemed calm enough
to those who, at some little distance
away, witnessed her devotions. Then
folding the child in her shawl, and
clasping it still more tightly, she sud
denly leaped from the bridge into the
nver below, and the souls of Mary
Frasen and her bady went to that God
whose proviuce it is to have mercy, and
before whose bar there is One who for
ever pleads tiio cause-of the orphan,
even though she go to Him through
the pathway of self-destruction which
the distracted mind so often selects for
surcease of sorrow. Was it a murder
Mary Frasen committed when she car
ried the evidence of her guilt with her
to the bar of the Great Judge. Oh, no ;
for all of sin that was in her act was
that sin committed against her bv her
We wish we had bis name, that we
might heraldjt with his infamy to the
worW- Tire law would punish such a
monster by a fine, or at least by a Verdict
for money damages. It Is to be won
dered at, then, that fathers, brothers
and husbands shoot down or cut to pie
ces such scoundrels as though they were
wolves or hyenas VVe onlv wonder
that so few are thus treated.-^ From the
A good story is told of the recent ex
cellent performance of Handel’s Mes
siah at the Broadway Baptist church.
A farmer too lc his wife to hear the
grand music, so splendidly rendered on
that occasion, and after listening with
apparent enjoyment, the pair became
suddenly interested in one of the grand
choruses 2 ‘We all, like sheep, have
gone astray.’ First, a sharp soprano
voice exclaimed ;
‘VVe all, like sheep—'
Next, a deep bass voice uttered, in
the most earnest tones ?
‘We all, li he sheep— ’
Then all the singers at once asserted 2
We all, life sheep— ’
‘Darned it I do P exclaimed old rusti
cus to his partner. ‘I like beef and
bacon, but I can’t bear sheep-meat!’
There was an audible titter in that
immediate vicinity, but the splendi I
music attracted attention from the pair,
and they quietly slipped out —Louisville
A number of old bachelors in this
city who have been driven nearly to
distraction by the importunities allow
ed by Leap Year privileges, have or
ganized into a double bacA action self
protecting club, to repel their fair as
sailants at the point of the law. They
have unearthed an old English statute
which they claim is still in force, and
are now circulating a petition to our
uext Legislature to pass a law en
forcing its provisions in Georgia. This
English law reads:
‘Ail women, of whatever age, rank,
profession or degree, whether virgins,
wives, or widows, that shall, from
and after this act, imp se upon, seduce
and betray into matrimony, any ot his
majesty’s male subjects, by scents,
paints, cosmetics, washes, artificial
teeth, false hair, Spanish wool, iron
stays, hoops, high-heeled shoes, or
bolstered hips, shall incur the penalty
of the laws in force against witchcraft,
socery and the like, and that the mar
riage, upon conviction, shall stand null
The petition is receiving quite a num
ber of signatures and onr bewitching
young damsels had better look sharp be
fore they leap, henceforth,— AllanUi