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C'jje iiU&lit
IS .PUBLISHED WEEKLY
—A T
TiE-iOTvrsoixr. o-a..
—B *-* 7
GERALD & WHITS.
BUSINESS CARDS.
M, /£* SemArg/JPs&g
IMPORTE ; AND DEALER IN
WINES. ALES,
JKjI'OHS, pOBTERS,
Cigars, Kte.
Corner Itroail nnd .Tnek-
Mon Street,
AUG USTA, GA.
May 7. , ts
|p aimer ip ou s c
(Over Bignon Sc Crumps Auetion Store,)
281 Hroad Street, Augusta, Georgia.
J. I. PA LATER, Proprietor.
Good board furnished by the week, month
ot day.
April 9 4t
PAUL C. HUDSON
ATTOHNKY AT LAW,
Thom-on, Ga.
£jT Prompt attention givun to all busi
ness entrusted to his care.
March 12. 6in
fc R, W. H NEAL,
mflllNEY AT LAW,
THOMSON, GA.
Office. —Over J. H. Montgomery’s Store.
CHARLES S. DuBOSE,
ATTIMYKY AT LAW,
WARReNTON, ga.
C4T Will practice in the courts of the
Northern, Middle and Augusta Circuits.
~~ H. C. RONEY,
ATTOHNKY AT LAW,
THOMSON, G\.
Will practice in tho Augusta, North
ern and Middle Circuits. nolyl
C. E. DODD. H. L. MEALING.
C. E. DODD & C 0„
WHOLES ALE AND RETAIL DEALERS IN
Hats, Cans wnd Straw Goods,
No- 250 Broad Street,
jnu 20mG UG I SL A, GA.
WALTON CLARKE & CO.
Wholesale Grocers
. , -AND—. }
Commission Merchants,
TV<» soa, lSi-onil Strent,
Jan. 22, —ly. AUGUSTA, GA.
A . D. HILL”
Druggist and Apothecary,
THOMSON, 6 A .
Keeps constantly on hand a full and com
plete supply of Drugs. Medicines. Chemicals,
Paints, Oils. Varnishes, Glass, Putty. Pure
"Wines and Liquors for Medicinal purposes.
Kerosene Oil of 150 fire test j also Lamps,
Chimuitjß and Burned;
ALSO, Just received a fresh supply of
Buists Warranted Garden Seeds.
Prescriptions carefully compounded.
jan 15 mG
Thomson High School
Foil aors .t.ru omuls.
N. A. LEWIS, PltiNoirji,.
MISS E. F. BRADSHAW, Assistant.
Tho Spring Term began on the 15th of
Jan. 1873, and embraces six scholastic
months.
The Fall Term begins August 11th and
embraces four months.
For particulars apply to the Principal.*
Feb. 13 ts.
Central fjotel.
BY
MRS. W. M. THOMAS,
AUGUSTA. GEORGIA
seplltf
Plumb & Leitner,
211 BROAD STREET. AUGUSTA, GA.
WHOLESALE AND RETAIL DEALERS IN
Drugs anti Medicines,
I’aintSj Oils, Glass.
Br u sh e 8, 1* e rs u me ry,
Fresh Garden Seeds &c.
AGENTS FOR THE CELEBRATED
W A. U It K IV II O E .
March 26 3m
Vli •s. Leckie,
DEALER IN
FASHIONABLE MILLINERY
NQ
I'A \ CJV OOOD ,
(Real and Imitation.)
HAIR CURLS, SVJTOHES, &C.,
JET AND FANCY JEWELRY, &C.,
i7l BROAD STREET, AUGUSTA, GA.
april Hi 2m
Livery & Sale Stable
SPEIR & EMBKEE.
At the old stand on Main Street, above
Masonic Hall, Thomson* Ga., propose to
continue the business of a Livery and Sale
Stable. They will keep a good assortment
of Fancy ad Substantial Stock, and the
very best Vehicles. »heir Stables are com
modious, convenient and secure, where
drovers can obtain the best accommodations,
Jnd by giving their personl attention to the
ausiness, at all hours, day and night, will
buarrantee satisfaction.
Jim. 8. 6m SPEIR & EMBR EE,
Stic m\ ccltln Journal
VOLUME III—NUMBER 23.
rs&
For over FOR l'Sf YEAR.I this
Purely Vegetable
LIVER MEDICINE has proved to be the
Great Unfailing Spoeific
for Liveh Complaint and its painful off
spring, DYSPEPSIA, CONSTIPATION,
Jaundice, Bilious attacks, SICK HEAD
ACHE, Colic, Depression of Spirits, SOUR
STOMACH, Heartburn, CHILLS ANT)
FEVEK, See., Ac
After years of careful experiments, to meet
a great and urgent demand, we now produce
from our original Genuine Powders.
The Prepared.
A Liquid form of SIMMONS* LIVER REGU
LATOR, containing all its wonderful and
valuable properties, and offer it in
ne Dollar Bottles.
The Powders, (priceas before,) slooper
package. Sent by mail, I.oi
CAUTION !
Buy no Powders or PREPARED SIM
MONS’ LIVER REGULATOR, unless in
our engraved wmpper, with Trade mark.
Stamp and Signature unbroken. None
other is genuine.
J. H. ZEILIN & CO-,
MACON, GA. AND PHILADELPHIA.
SOLO BY ALL DRUGGISTS.
BEUMMEL’S
LADIES’ BITTERS,
Manufactu red by
282 BROAD ST„ AUGUSTA, GA.
Rectifiers, Redistillers, Importers and
Wholesale Dealers in
PURE I¥E
AND
Corn Whiskies.
FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC LIQUORS,
Brandies,
Wines,
Gin,
Hnm,
Porter,
Ale.
Etc.
Also a Superior Article of
LADIES’ BITTERS.
<liT Tobacco and Seg.irs of every Variety.
January 20, 1873—dm.
Wm,
Wmis
T
1 IIE Guide is published Quarterly.--
25 cents pays for the year, which is not half
the cost. 1 hose who afterwards send mon
ey to the amount of one dollar may also or
der 25 cents worth extra—the price* for the
Guide. Tho first number is beautiful, giv
ing plains for making Rural Homes, Dinitig
Table Decorations, Window Gardens, Ac.,
and a mass of information invaluable to the
lover of tiowers. 150 pages on fine tinted pa
per some 500 engravings, and a superb col
: ored plate, and ‘ liromo Cover.
"Tim first edition of 200,000 printed in Eng
lish and Gemim.
JAMES VICK, Rochester, N. Y.
I March 12
I New and Fashionable
SPRING AND SUMMER GOODS!
P. 11. LYNCH,
I
j MERCHANT TAILOR,
| 36 Jackson St., Globe Hotel Augusta, Ga.,
iI R espectfully announces to his
friends and the public generally, that he has
j just received ami has now on hand a Com-
I plete au 1 Elegant Stock of Cloths. Cassi
! meres Doeskins. Suiting and Vestings, se
lected from the choicest importatio. of
French, English and Scotch in mufactures,
; which he is prepared to make up to order
; in the most approved manner, guaranteeing
| Fit, Workmanship and Style of the first
j order.
i In returning thanks to my friends and
the public for the very liberal patronage ex
; tended to me during the past season, I re-
I spectfully solicit a coutinuauce of the same,
and hope by strict attention to the desires
’ of iny customers to give the same satisfac
tion in the future as I have given in the
past. P. H. LYNCH.
April 2 3m Augusta, Ga.
! v<.ik fort;* in t - .r »p».a mom. tin or«II ii.q timetßnu
! >»*«. r»rMcuisrifree. A IRui O. bt'.otvn 4 o>., t'wi t!»o I, iii.uv
THOMSON, McDUFFIE COUNTY, GA, JUNE 4,1873.
POETICAL.
A Summer Day.
j Sunshine over the meadow lands,
Kissing tlie crimson clover,
j And sunshine haunting the lilly-cups
And*the yellow bees hung over;
And sunshine over the hazy hills.
And over the dimpling river—
And I wish thnt the sun and the summer day
Might shine and last forever.
We walked dowu by the meadow path,
The broad highway forsaking.
For the quiet of that lovely spot
Seemed better for our love-making,
And I was silent, and she was shy,
As we walked down through the clover,
But we thought it the sweetest summer day
That ever the sun shone over.
We heard the birds in the waving grass,
As they twitted to each other
About the nests they had hidden away,
1 And the coo of each glad bird’s mother,
And we tho’t as we walked that summer day
; Through the clover blooms together,
That at last the world was in perfect tune,
In the glad, bright summer weather.
I cannot tell what I said to her,
As we walked knee-deep in clover ;
But I know that the robbins merrily sang
Their sweetest of sweet songs over;
And down in my heart love’s own bird sang
( A song that was gladder, sweeter,
And its echo joined the world’s glad hymn
And made tho day completer.
i And when we came up tho meadow path,
! Our hearts sang over anti over,
i “Oh sweet glad day for blossom and bird,
And for every blytho young lover!”
And yet 1 know not the words she said.
Or whether she spoke at all;
But of all sweet days that summer day
I count as the best of all.
Silence and Sadness.
You think because I do not frame
My thoughts as others do, to burn,
My spirit’s cold , my passion tame,
My heart an urn ;
Because my dull lips rarely smile
You think no light ere beams within,
Perchance that all is stained with guile,
And dark with sin.
You know not what it costs of pain
To press back to their swelling source
Life s purest promptings, and restrain
Their earnest force;
Nor can another mind e’er know
The weary weight that rests on mine,
Where hope's dull embers dare not glow,
Nor give a sign.
No, no ; whate’er my heart may fool,
Howe'er my soul may Reek to rise
To nobler life and deeds more leal,
And fairer skies ;
My prisoned thoughts, must wear their
chain,
I dear not break the binding spell,
l must edure the constant paiu,
And torture foil.
I And when I sit in silent mood,
Or speak in words that have no cheer,
j You think I'm cold, and dark, and should
Be less austere.
, I would not have you think me more
Than what I am and what I seem,
I For all my hope is dead, and oer
Its grave I dream.
Be blithe, be happy ; your warm heart
Should never know the gloom of mine ;
My life s serenest, fairest part
Would darken thine.
Be blithe, he happy, and when I
Pass darkly to and unmourn’d grave,
One tear, one sob that I should die
Is all I crave.
SELECT MI SC ELLA VY.
Somebody’s Something.
The levee was at its height. Mertie
Favor stood, the centre of a merry,
laughing groups, evidently the very
life of it, the members of which were
casting sharp nothings back and forth at
| each other, in the most good-natured
manner possible, when someone called
out:
“Miss Favor, do you propose atten
ding school this winter ?”
“Oh, yes,” answered Mertie. I’ve not
outgrown the town-school yet.”
“What do you think of the teacher ?”
i was asked.
“Not having the honor of his acquain
tance, I’m not prepared to state, but I’ve
no doubt, he is stupid enough ; our
j teachers always are. ”
i A burst of laughter greeted this rath
| er sharp answer, and Mertie noticed that
a most amused look lingered in tho eyes
! of a tall stranger, who stood near—after
the general laugh had subsided.
] “What shall you study, Mert?”as
j ked an old schoolmate, thinking to turn
| the tide of conversation.
! “Oh ! I shall review my old study—
| mischief—perhaps, and blank-books, if
the teacher thinks me equal to anything
! more.”
i Again a merry laugh, and the amused
| look in the eyes of the stranger grew in
jto a peculiar smile, as he turned and
; walked away.
Mertie was used to being laughed at so
she did not mind it much ; still she
thought to herself, “that man looked at
me queerly but she probably never
would have thought of it ag;uu had not
the schoolmate who questioned her in re
gard to her studies, said—
j “There—Mertie Favor—l never saw
your equal—l gue3B you’ve done it
now. ”
j “Done what ?” asked Mertie in as
tonishmeut, ” what have I done ?”
“Why, got yourself into a pretty scrape
by calling the teacher a ‘stupid,’ for that
man with a long beard-*-tbat stood on
your right—is Mr, Harrison, our teacher j
for this winter.”
“Oh, merciful !” exclaimed Mertie un- j
der her breath, ‘ and he is looking right
straight at me now. Why, he looked so
sedate, I thought he must be a professor
of something.”
‘ ‘And so he is ; the winter term of
Broades Academy gives way to the town
school and our committee have succeeded
in engaging him for us.
Here Mertie glanced across the room,
and iu so doing encountered again * the
eyes of Mr. Harrison, and she saw that
they still held in their brown depths that
look of amusement that she had before
observed.
“I’ll face the music if it kills me,” she
thought, and as nsual, without stopping
to take a second thought, she sprang
lightly off the little platform on which
she was standing with her companions,
and much to their astonish meut walked
directly across tho room, and in a mo
ment stood directly in front of Harrison
bravely confronting those merry eyes.
Holding her hand out frankly, she
said :
“It was too bad for them to draw me
out so, they knew I would say some
thing abominable—l always do, but if
you will excuse it, I will boa good girl
all winter—if I can.”
“Do not feel badly Miss Favor ; your
remark was not very unjust, perhaps.
| Schoolmasters arc apt to be stupid.”
( Mertie saw at once that ho meant to
! tease her a little, and as this was taking
her on her own grounds, her courage
rose, se she tried to look demurely but
answered wickedly : < “I know it —but
it is not always allowable to tell them
so.”
Evidently, Mr. Harrison was not offen
ded at her answer, for he made room for
her to sit down by him, saying :
“Come tell mo something about the
i school lam to commence so soon—are
! many of my future pupils like you—
having the same studies ?”
Mertie flushed warmly at this reference
to her studies, but answered quickly :
“Oh no! I’m not a specimen ; they are
real splendid girls ; all of them ; I know
you will like them. Good scholars, too
aud study for the sake of knowingsome
tliing. I wish I was more like them.”
And Mertie sighed a little penitent sigh
that would have been quite touching if
she had not looked so witehingly roguish.
Mr. Harrison was evidently pleased with
iliis bright little specimen, for he kept
her by his side for a long time, ques
tioning herabout the schooland scholars,
and the people generally, among whom he
was to find his winter’s food. And as
they parted for tho evening he pressed
the little hand warmly, saying :
“I shall expect to see you promptly at
9 o’clock Monday morning and I have
no idea of finding you so deficient as you
represent. ”
“Oh but you will—l am sorry to say—
father always called mo ‘Nobody’s Noth
ing,’ and I assure you tho title is only
too well earned.”
Monday morning came round as Mon
day mornings in November are apt to do
—clear, cool aud frosty, but this did not
prevent the school-room from being fil
led to the brim with noisy boys and girls,
aud the disturbance only became less
when curly-headed Harry Frost came
rushing in, shouting:
“The schoolmaster is coming; get in
to your seats everyone of you.”
But a few of the elder ones lingered
around the stove, Mertie among the rest
and Mr. Harrison seeing her went to
her at once, saying cordially:
“I am glad to see one familar face
among so many strange ones, though I
trust they will all be familar soon.”
Mertie welcomed him quietly—in
troduced him to the scholars standing
around, and after a few words of greet
ing they all took ’ their seats and tho
routine of school life began.
It was not monotonous to Mertie, how
ever, for Mr. Harrison evidently inten
ded to know what ingredients were re
-1 quired to compose a “Nobody’s Noth
; iug,” for ho lost no opportunity of being
: with her and improving the acquaintance
! so queerly commenced.
' We will not say that it was designedly
; that Mr. Harrison spent so much time
1 on his other classes that he had no time
!in school hours to explain difficult
problems in Mertie’s geometry, and was
' obliged to put her off till evening when
! he would ‘ just step in and explain them
all to her but the almost utter neglect
of the poor geometry in the evening
! could not have been entirelv uninten
| tional, for it generally lay open before
them, as they sat side by side at the ta
ble, and its queer figures seemed to ask
for attention, but its cal'iß were unheed
ded, as they talked on this or that author
or discussed bits of travel, or poems
which they read together.
Mr. Harrison was more and more sur
prised each day as tho mind of his pupil
became unfolded to him. She read
much and sensibly, which is a thing too
seldom said of the yonng ladies of now
a-days, and made it a special point to
thoroughly understand everything that
she read.
It is not strange that all these quiet
eve ni igs should bring them nearer to
g t'ier than ordinarypupils and teachers
and when the fourteen weeks of winter
school began to draw to a close, Mr. Har
rison often asked himself what he should
do with his evenings, with no Mertie to
help him to pass them. The question
TERMS-TWO DOLLARS NI ADVANCE.
came oftener aud oftener as the time of
parting drew near, and he found it
brought him positive pain.
But she was young—only sixteen—
and he—oh, dear 1 he almost wished that 1
ten years could bo clipped off his age,
that he might be nearer a suitable com
panion for his pet. He felt that she
looked up to him as to an elder brother,
for she called herself his little sister, and
allowed him the quiet home familiarity
that a brother has by right. He feared
that by breaking iu upon this delusion
and showing her the reality, he would
frighten her away from him and never
be able to win her back ; for the inter
course of the winter evenings had brought
him to love this true hearted little girl
as only a strong heart can love, for though
nearly thirty years of age Tie had never
loved before.
Examination was over. School had
closed. Pupils and teacher had bidden
each other adieu with one exception.
As Mr. Harrison shook hands with Mer
tie (as he did with the rest) he said in
an undertone :
“This is not a final farewell, I must
see you this evening ; you will be at
home ?”
“Yes !” answered Mertie, and she tur
ned away quickly, that he might not see
her rising color, or hear the quick beat
ing of her heart.
She did not know what it meant—she
did not dare to ask herself—all she knew
was thatslie wanted to get away from him
and every body else, and still the beating
of her troublesome heart in the quiet of
her own chamber.
• Early that evening Mertie heard the
well-known footsteps of Mr. Harrison iu
the hall, and rose herself to open the cosy
sitting-room door, for her father had
gone to his office, and tho housekeeper
was in her own room, aud as usual,
Mertie was alone. For a time the con
versation was upon ordinary topics, and
then turned upon the close of the school
and naturally upon the departure of the
teacher.
“Shall you miss mo ,nnv Mertie ?” he
asked.
“Oh. yes. We shall all miss you very
much,” she answered. “You have been
here so long, you seem like ono of
us.”
“I did not ask if ‘ we’ should miss me,
Mertie, I asked if you would miss me
when I am gone.”
“Certainly I shall she answered :
“who is going tj explain the clifficnlt pas
sages in my new book, or get the wrong
ideas out of my obstinate noddle ?”
“And is this all you will care for me ?
Oh. Meitie ! Mertie ! I had so hoped you
would miss me more than this. Come
here, child, and let me tell you how I
shall miss you.”
He drew hor to a seat besido him on
the sofa, he told hor that in every hour,
in every moment of his life, there would
be an aching longing for her sweet pre
sence ; that from that time forth, each
act would be performed with a view to
making himself worthy of the love he so
fervently hoped to gain.
“Tell me, Mertie,” he asked raising
the tearful face to his, “can this be?
Can the precious little sister give up her
elder brother, and learn to love him with
a different, a far different love ?”
How her answer startled and chilled
him.
“No !” Low and soft—but clear the
answer came—“ No.”
“Mertie ! Mertie! You do not, cannot
mean this, tell me you are trifling with
me,” and the strong man trembled in
every limb.
She raised her face to his, and some
how the look in her eyes quieted his ex
citement, and he repeated moro calmly :
“Tell me, did you mean no, Mertie ?"
“Icannot tell you so,” she answered,
“fori did mean it. You asked me if I
could learn to love you with a deep, true
love like yours,—l cannot learn—you
have taught me already. ” And Mertie
for the first time buried her blushing
face on the broad shoulder of her teach
er.
Oh ! the inexpressible joy of that mo
ment, when Ralph Harrison felt himself
thrown up from the depths of sorrow to
to heights of bliss. The precious treas
ure was Iris own—his own—and he clas
ped her to his breast, showering upon
her tokens of his love, and thanking God
for his great goodness to him
Suddenly Mertie slipped from his
arms and quickly smoothing her some
what raffled hair said :
“Father is coming, what will he
say ?”
“Come back here, Mertie, and I will
explain it to him—as well now as ev
er.”
But Mertie’s courago was not equal
to this, so she stood demurely by the ta
ble when Mr. Favor entered. Mr. Har
rison rose to greet him, and without giv
ing him time to put into words, the ques
tion he saw in his eyes, said at once:
“I have a great favor to ask you,” and
in spite of his earnestness, he could not
keep from adding smilingly, “your only
Favor, I believe, and I ask you to grant
it to me.”
“I am afraid I do not understand,”
commenced Mr. Favor ; but Ralph soon
explained all to his satisfaction, and ta
king his darling Mertie by the hand, Mr.
Favor said :
“So ho! Then you want my ‘No
body’s, Nothing,’ do you ? and what
does she say, pray ?”
Mertio gathered up all her courage,
for it did take courage, I assure you,
and lookihg up at her father she answer
ed :
“You have always called me* Nobody’s
Nothing,’ and if you please, now, papa, I
would; like to be, Somebody’s Some- :
things.”
“If my little one is pleased, I am j
pleased too, so I grant you the Favor j
you ask. Care for her tenderly ; she is j
too young to go away from home now, ■
but by-and by you shall have her.
In two years Mertie had finished her
studies and taken her place at the head
of her father’s establishment, which for
years had been filled by a housekeeper.
Then Mr. Harrison thought he might
i claim the fulfillment of the promise made
him on the last night of the school. Mr.
Favor could object no longer, so one
beautiful May morning, little “Nobody’s
Nothing,” became “Somebody’s Some
thing.”
[journal correspondence]
Bright Corner of Lincoln, /
Domino Anni, 187 third, j
Mistur White.—
I rite this to you case I thinks no man
should have a linger in de py unles he
| shows his hand. It mout be clene and
! den again it moutent. Bargain and soil
houses, trade men and traffickers have
their silent partners who ar mere au
tomatons, and don't say uoffin, but only
walk up to the Captain’s office and set
tles.
But Editurs iz maid of sturner stuff,
and stan on dar dignity. Dey liab de
vantig groun and ar supposed to molde
j publik erpinion, ter trabble roun luce on
de public hiways, and to scatter broad
cast ober de lan de seeds of deir matur
ed wisdum. Day are de mirrors in
which “we see our selves as odders see
us.” Toe dem we looks fur good pict
ures ov ourselves porlitickally speakin.
Now I’m led into this morrillizing
fruin dis sack : Sum time sence, Mr.
White, you eume out in a flaming edito
rial and sed that Mr. Roney had retird
and dat in de futur de Jurnul wood be
olitcdby Mr. Willis and yourself. He
was put in de frunt rank, but whedder
he was ter be de big or de little wheel we
did not know. But dis is surtain and
shoro, dat just as soon os it was known
ter me dat Mr. Willis had mounted de
tripod, I rites on, poneys up my two
spondulix and thus am iuorgurated one
of your numerous family of subscri
bers.
I inent by dis no deflection on you,
kase you know dat you are sorter a kin
der a stranger in dese parts—reglur ex
hotic from de dominions of old Brown
low and Andy Johnsing; while our old
friend Mr. Willis is indiginous to dis
sile, breathes the same breff, was rared
at de feet of Toombs and Stevens, as his
perlitieal Gabriels, whore he lamed per
liticul hominy.
I have knowed Mr. Willis—well, I
won’t say how long—but memurry runs
not back to de time wen I did not no
him. We bofe once lived in Columby,
but he minted to Tomsing and I ter sweet
, Lincum. I was alters verry favurablly
; imprest wid him. He never was a pop
-1 pinjay, fond of fine plumage, Baling
; about luce in false cullers, but was allers
a reliabull, seusibull, outspoken gemman
of. de ole scule, ceptin when he want a
man of ripe judgement, and sais I when
he got his consent ter run de role uv per
litecule Edftur you may cunsidur me in
to toiler his leade. No Ignis Fatue, no
ballderdash, no hiferlutin will he rite ;
but his paper will be sound tu de core,
caze Mr. Willis’s head iz levil and his
backbone strata. Wid all dese aspra
tions in de asendent, you can imagine
how I hav bin takin down and back when
I looks in vane fur dat Sallulalory what
has nebber yet cum. But cum it must
or I shall go back on you Mister Jour
dine White. I say you hadden’t orter
raised publik exspectation. Do publik
will hold you responsibull, dat is dey
will require you to jog Mr. Willis’s
memry and tell him its a duty ho oes to
his blcding country to cume to her res
cew in dis de our of her truble.
He must not longer hide his life under
a bushel, de pound, de yard or de glass
(I’ll take sugar in mine). He must rise
above dese little effemnrrencis of a day,
and snatchin his tripod wid de power of
Hajax “cri aloud and spare not. ” What
is a one horse store in a one horse town
cumpared to de glittering ermine, de
ski blue cerulion, de purpul and fine lin
nen of de chur editorial ? I would not
exchange tho editur’s fur Stew
arts pallas with marbul bilding, nor
for Stewart himself with all his rino—
dat is I mean dose editors what rites de
big leaders.
Now if a editur don’t rite, but jes Res
to his partner “now you jes go on and
I’ll stand to your back,” dey won’t do.
Dey may hab a local habitation but no
name and will at last die unwept, unhon
ored and unsung. Now dis fato must
not happen to our friend. Es his mod
esty enjines his ritin, a bill of exsep
shuns must he rite over a non de plumb,
but rite he must. Tell him to go it strong
—not on de feuse, but clear over on de
rite side, and kere not a continental dam
fur general grant and his hole crew, de
reconstruction axe and do entire rump
Congress.
Advortising Ra.es.
One square, first insertion $ 1 00
Each subsequent insertion 75
One square three months 10 00
Onesqaresix months 15 00
One square twelve months 20 00
One quarter column twelvemonths. 40 00
Half column six months 60 00
Half column twelve months 75 00
One column twelve months 125 00
irsT Ten lines or less emsidered a square
All fractions of squares counted as squares
He must be positive about Louisiana:
and though our great and good Perlit
ical Guide says de President is a sound
man and don’t mene noffin rong, he must
tribute dis to dat charity which workith
wonderous. Grant’s got us where Holly
had de hen, and dcre is no usekickin agin
de pricks, and perhaps a little soft sod
der may redound to our best interest, as
| William Harp says “arter awhile.”
Now, Gov. Jeemes Promise Smit is
, going to have a big pow-wow over dat
! big Ditch, to be cut thro a heap of coun-
I ties, Terrytories and States, and while
i dey is diggin away at dis nonsense—
Genl Grant’s bad treatment of de good
people of Louisiana.
Now, I want’s Mr. Willis to make his
grand entree on dis sensashnm —but I
dont mean a mere sensational article, but
it should be a rouser—just such a article
as he can write when de sperrits moves
him.
O, for de spent,s now! not com juee,
nor gin, but dat odder sperits wich is
pressed out of de brains of editors. I
don’t knows I can spel de name—tis so
long and difficult. It aint Tanglefoot,
it aint ile of joy—it beats dem fluids to
death.
Jureka ! I got em. K-ko-e thes sk-r-i-b
--e-n-d-i.
Just give Mr Willis a small glass of
this, sweetened wid de Constitution, an
stired wid de Liberty Pole, and he'll
give you such a Salutatory as willremind
you of Trupe and the Trety. Now my
only objection to de consideration of de
topik of the Big ditch is dat it is a mere
water gadderring on waiter wurks, and
derofore, will only water de report. Dese
Congressmen who axe to be washed in
this pool of Silouru, have got de ex post
facto pay and SSOOO, donated them by a
Gift Congress, endorsed by a Gift Presi
dent, makes dem feel sorter kind dis
posed.
Rut dat is needer here nor yonder. De
Salutatory must take hi ground, and
wage a war of abuse of Grant, Congress,
salary grab and specially de obliteration
of State lines, and de Louisiana troubles.
An editorial on dis line and in dis spent,
ritten in de vim and eclaw of Mr. Wil
lis’s best, will add to de list of his many
subscribers, and place de Jurnal at de
hed of journalism. So mote it be !
Selali. Bullt.
The Fate of Renegades.
The Charlotte (N. C.) “Southern
Home.” of which General D. H. Hill
is the editor, comments in the following
vry impressive manner on the recent ter
rible murder of Genearl Canby. At the
outbreak of the war in 1861 he deserted
his own section and .cast his lot with
their enemies. He seems to have won
rank and reputation in the Federal ser
vice, and was one of the six Brigadiers
appointed in the regular army on the
pence establishment. He was given com
mand of the Department of the Caro
lions, and carried out ruthlessly all the
cruel measures of a remorseless Con
gress. The war against his own land
and people seemed to have destroyed all
his nobler qualities, and to have trans
formed him into the usual type of the re
negade. A citizen of Charlotte was pres
ent in Richmond when Gen. Canby per
sonally superintended the hanging of a
white man up by the thumbs for kicking
an insolent negro out of his saloon.
Jim Lane cut his own throat. Stan
ton most likely conmmitted suicide.
King drowned himself. One by one the
oppressors of the South come to an un
timely end. Some of the most atrooious
are now covered with infamy worse than
death. Is it accident or is it retribution?
The histoiy of renegades is getting to be
interesting. Mr. Lincoln deserted his
own people, violated his conscience and
stultified his oft-expressed opinions. He
was foully and atrociously murdered, in
the hour of his triumph. Gen. Thomas
pledge hiself in Lynchburg, at the out
break of the war, to stand by his neigh
bors and kindred. Seduced by office, he
fought against them. At the close of
his brilliant military career a popinjay
was put over him, and he dropped dead
in San Francisco. Old Browalow was
the strongest, pro-ela very man in all the
South. But he cast in his lot with the
Abolitionists, and persecuted his own
people. He is now a paralytic and al
most a drivelling idiot. Professor Ma
han was an ardent Southerner, and could
hardly find language wherewith to ex-,
press his abhorrence of the disunion
abolition party. He affiliated with that
party during tho war, and became very
bitter against his own seotion. ' He was
sperseded when his work was done, and
throw himself in the Hudson in the mad
ness of his despair. Who would not
rather be a crippled Confederate soldier,
munching a crust of corn-bread, than
poor Longstreet, the pet of Grant and
the idol of the Louisiana thieves ?
And now Richard the Third is said to
have been a prohibitionist. “If he was
not.,” says Spicer, “why did he stop
King Henry’s bier ?”
“I rise for information,” said a mem
ber of the legislature. “I am very glad
to hear it,” saida bystander,“for no one
needs it more.”
Our school boy remarks that when his
teacher undertakes to “show him what is
what,” he only finde out which 1b switch