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THE WASHINGTON GAZETTE.
BY JAS. A. WRIGHT AND HUGH WILSON.
THE WASHINGTON GAZETTE.
TERM3.—Three Dollars a year iu advance,
y No Subscriptions taken for a shorte
time than six month*.
THE TWO BROTHERS; AND WHAT
ECHO SAID TO THEM.
Once on a time, two little boys.
And naughty ones you’ll say,
Resolved before they'd go to school,
Thai they would go and play.
The spot they choose to liuger at,
And seat themselves to chat,
Re-echoed, or sent back the voice—
But they did not know that
Said William to his brother Dick,
“We shall not be found out’*
But Echo moeked the naughty boy,
And answered, "Befound out”
“I fear,” said Dick to little Will,
“That some one overhears ;**
lie looked to see, and Echo then
Cried, "Some one over heart.”
“Oh! never mind,” aaid William, then,
“Come do not be afraid 1"
Se when they both began to play,
Said Echo— "Be afraid.”
“What can it bet” said William.'
“Oh, let us us go to school,"
For lie begin to be afraid ;
Said Echo—* 0o to tchool.
Then, softly whispering, they said,
“Oh, if oat* master knows ;
But Echo, answering every word,
Said, aoftly— -"Matter knout.”
“What shall we dot” then William said,
“We must not tell a lie.”
And then they heard Echo’s voice
Say— " Mutt not tell a lie.”
80 Dick began to cry, and said,
“William, you brought me here;”
Baid Echo, ia a mournful tone,
“ William, you brought me here.”
“X never will do Ibis again,
If master will forgive,”
Said Will to Dick ; und then the voice
Said— “ Master wiUforgies
“Then let ue go,” eeid little Will;
"Conic, Dicky, do not cry,"
j And in the tame tone Echo sain—
“C-mi-, 2/n-ky, Jo not r j
* W« vhall not lie 00 very late,
If we make haste away
Aad Echo, with a warning voice,
Cried out —" Make haste aicay
Then Di»ky drifd his tears, and said,
“I will d<> so no more;
And Echo, in a cheerful voice,
Then said— "Do to no more.”
“Then we’ll be off to school.” said they:
And off they quickly ran ;
And, happily were just in time,
Before the school began.
Remember, then, my little friends,
Tksugh £cho nothing knew,
Tbrre’s One above who always knows,
Both what you say and do.
THE LOST CHILD.
Some years ago, in a quiet little
town, on a still, calm evo, whon the
s'ars with their twinkling light, and
the moon’s holy face looked down up
on sleeping nature, tho startling cry,
“A child is lost 1” pierced tho night
air, and as tho thrilling news was
echoed from lip to lip, loving moth
ers pressed their nestling ones close
to their hearts, with a thankful pray
er that they wore safe; then with
tender sympathy they prayed for the
speedy restoration of th j lost one to
its stricken mother’s arras. ’Twas
not long before kind friends had col
lected, and companies were formed to
search in different directions. The
distracted mother could not be de
tained at home, but joined the search
ers, beseeching them, with wild lam
entations, to fii.d her child. 'Twas
in the early evening the little one, a
child of only three years, had last
been seen. They did not miss her un
til the shades of night were gathering
and then she could not be foond.
Hour after hour passed and still the
search proved unavailing 1 and the
mother’s heart began to sicken with
deadly apprehension, her strength
gave way, and sinking down, she al
most gave up in silent despair. Re
newed efforts, however, were made
by sympathizing neighbors, and at
length, after many a weary hour, a
pinging shout swelled upon the mid
night air, saying the child is found.
In an open field, amid the the tall wa
ving grain, with her bauds sweetly
folded, her beau pillowed upon the
damp earth, and rapped in soft slum
ber, the little one lay. Surely God’s
own angels kept watch over the sleep
ing child. Hastily they bore her home
ward, and laid her in her mother’s
arms, and, oh, as she pressed her dar
ling to her heart again, tears of grat
Ijude rolled down her cheeks, and
] with a busting heart she exclaimed,
| “Thank God, the lost is found the
; dead is alive.” Questioning the child
I they could only learn, from her sim-
I pie story, that, wandering from her
|home, Bho had grown weary, and
laid down to rest awhile.
Reader are you like this little one,
wandering from your home? Are
you in tho broad way that leads to
death, wandering from your Heaven-
Father, whose love surpasses a moth
er’s love? Oh, come to Him who
was sent to seek and them that are
lost. Grieve no longer His heart.
He is ever seeking you, ever calling
you, hoed His kind and loving voice.
Fly to the arms outstretched to re
ceive you, and far moro tenderly than
that mother clasped her lost child to
her breast, will Ho receive you. And
foviugly, most lovingly, will ho ever
more protect you from eternal barm.
There was joy in many hearts that
night when tho lost one was restored
to its mother, but, oh, when a sinner
lost, is found, bow much greater the
joy, for the angels themselves rejoico,
aud strike their harps with a louder
sound.- Come then, poor, lost sinner,
that they may rejoico over yon.
EARNING A WIFE.
“And so you want to marry ray
daughter, young man,” Baid Farmer
Burton, removing tho pipe from his
mouth, and looking at the young fel
low sharply from head to toe.
Despite his rather indolont, effotni
nate air, which was mainly tho result
of his education, Luko Jordan was a
lino looking fellow, and not easily
moved from his self-possession; but
ho colored and grew confused beneath
that sharp, scrutinizing look.
“Yes sir. I spoke to Miss Mary
last evening, and she—she referred
me to you."
Tho old man’s face softened.
“Molly is a. good girl, a very good
girl,” he said, stroking his chin with a
thoughtful air, “and she deserves a
good husband. What can you do?”
The young man looked rather blank
at this abrupt inquiry.
“If yon refer to my ability to sup
port a wife 1 , I can assure you—”
“I know that you arc well off, Luko
Jordan, but 1 take it for granted that
you asked ray girl to marry you, not
your property. What guarantee can
you give me, in caeo it bliould be
swept away—as it is in thousands of
instances —that you could provide for
her a comforlable homo? You have
hands and brains—do you know how
to use them ? . Again 1 ask, what can
you do ?”
This was a stylo of catechism for
which Luke was quite unprepared,
and he stared blankly at the question
er without speaking.
“I believe you managed to get
through college—have you any profes
sion ?”
“No, sir; I thought— ”
1 Have you ar.y trade?”
“No, sir. My father thought that,
with the wealth 1 should inherit, I
should not need any.”
“Your father thought like a fool
thon. He’d much better havo given
you some honest occupation, and cut
you off with a shilling—it might have
been the making of you. As it is,
what are you fit for? Hero you are,
a strong, able-bodied young man,
twenty-four years old, and never
earned a penny in your life! You
might be ashamed of yourself.”
“And you want to marry my daugh
ter,” resumed tho old man, after a few
vigorous puffs at his pipe. “Now I’ve
given Molly as good advantages for
learning us a girl could have, and she
hasn’t thrown ’em away; but she
didn’t know how to work, she’d bo-nd
daughter of mine. If I chose?! could
keep more servants; but I
more than I choose that my daughter
should be a pale, spiritless creature,
full of dyspepsia arid all manner of
fine-lady aliments, iustead of the smi
ling, bright'eyed, rosy-check lass she
is. I did say that she should marry
no lad that bad beep curse It with a
rich father; but she’s taken a foolish
liking to-you, and I’ll tell ye what I’ll
do. Go to work, and prove yoarßelf to
be a man ; perfect yoaraplf in some
occupation—l don’t care what, so it
be honest; then, come to me, and if
the girl is willing, she is yours.”
As the old man said this, he delib.
eralely knocked the ashes out of his
pipe against one of the pillars of the
porch where he was sitting, tucked it
WASHINGTON, WILKES COUNTY, GA., FRIDAY, MARCH 20, 1808.
into his pocket, and went into the
house.
Pretty Mary Burton was waiting to
see her lover down at tho garden-gate,
their usual trysting place. Tho smi
ling light faded from hor eyes as she
noticed his sober, discomfilted look.
“Father rneaus well,” she said, as
Luke told her tho result of his appli
cation. “And I’m not sure but what
he is about right,” she resumed, after
a thoughtful pause; “for ii seems to
ine that every man, be he rich or poor,
ought to have somo occupation. ’’
f ■TUafrwya she noticed her lover’s
grave added softly :—“Never
mind; I’ll wait for you, Luke 1”
Luke Jordan suddenly disappeared
from his accustomed haunts, much to
tho surprise of h s gay associates
But, wherever ho wont, ho carried
with him in bis exile these words, and
which were like a tower of strength
to his soul—“ I’ll wait for you, Luke.”
One pleusant sunshiny morning,
late in Ootobor, as Farmer Burton
was propping up tho grapevine in his
front yard, that threatened to break
down with tho weight of its luxuri
ous burdens, a neat looking cart drove
up, from which Luke Jordan alighted
with a quick, elastic spring, quite in
contrast to his former easy, leisurely
movements.
“Good morning, Mr. Burton. lun
derstood that you wanted to buy some
butter-tubs and cider barrels. I think
l have somo here thul will just suit
you.”
"Whoso mflke?” inquired the old
man.
‘‘Mine,” ropliod Luko, with an air of
pardonable pride; “and I challenge
any cooper in Oaitndu to beat them.”
Mr. Burton examined them one by
one.
“They’ll do,” ho said, cooly, as he
set down the last of the lot. “What
will you take for thorn?”
“What 1 asked you for six months
ago to-day —your daughter, sir,”
Tlio roguish twinkle ip the qld
man’s eyes broadened into a smile.
“You’ve gut iho right metal in you,
after all,” lio cried. “Come in, lad
coino in. I shouldn't wonder if wo
made a bargain.
Nothing loth, Luke obeyed.
“Molly bawled Mr. Burton, thrus
ting his head into the kitchen door.
Molly tripped out into the hail. The
round ‘white arms were bared above
the elbows, and boro tiaces of tho
floor she had been siLing. ller dross
was a neat gingham, over which was
tied a blue check and apron; but she
looked as winning und lovely as she
always did wherever she was found.
She blushed and smiled as she saw
Luke, und then, turning her eyes up
on her father, waited to hear what he
had tq say.
Thholcf man reJaTSfcil his daughter
funJßciaomeht with a quizzical look.
“Molly, this young man—perhaps
you’ve seen him before—has brought
me a lot of tubs and barrels, all of his
own make'—a right good articlo, too.
He asks a pretty price for ’onp; but if
you are Willing to givo it, well and
good; und hark yi%' my girl—whatev
er bargain you makeH'll ratify.”
As Mr. Burton said this, be consid
erate’y stepped out of the room, and
wo will follow bis example. But thu
kind ol bargain tho young people
made can readily bo conjectured by
the speedy’ wedding that followed.
• Wipostakt to BaxkbufT!. —lt r:.ay not be
generally known that the time is limited wilbin
Which parlies will be able to avail themselves
of tire full benefits which may now be obtained
under the operation of law. In
the Slid section of t6e act, it is provided “that
in all proceedings in bankruptcy commenced
after one year from the time this act shall go
into operation, no discharge aball be granted
to a dibtor wb®»« tfgsets do not pay fifty per
centum of the claims egeinst his estate, unless
rths assent iu writing of a majority in number
and value of his creditors who have proved
their claims, is filed in the case at or before tire
time of application for discharge.” The Bank
rupt act went into effect June 1, 1867. But it
should ha remembered that a esse in bank
ruptcy is generally a tedious affair, and coit
suraes from ono to four months. Those who
design entering this happy state, should re
member that delays are dangerous. It is com
paratively easy to become a. bankrupt now ;
but tire resli-iclu-oe will be soon in force, and
those wbo mediate bankruptcy should be up
aud doing. —Charleston News.
Just after the train at Angola was
wrecked, a child—a baby—scarcely
old enough tc talk plain, was picked
up near one of the cars by a brake
man, seemingly unconscious of what
had occurred. It showed somo signs
of life, however, and the moment it
discovered that an arm encircled its
waiit it nestled closely up to the man,
uttered the words “papa,” “mamma,”
and died without the contraction of a
muscle. Only a few raomoutsolapsed
from tho time it was taken up until it
died. A beautiful smile encircled the
lips after death, so lifelike, such as
would havo been the case had its last
swoet words upon earth havo boon
uttered mi the quiot aud happy family
circle at home.
WINTER WORK.
The days are now happily gone by
wbeu winter was tho most laborious
season of the year, when tho ringing
of the sturdy’ woodman’s axe woke
the echoes on every hand, oaeh day
ihav carao and wont, as ho cleared
away the forest, that tho soil might
yield its tributo to tho industry of
man. jJeautiful homesteads and
well cultivated fields now graeo the
landscape, where onco stood tho
glades of forest, unbroken save by’ tho
tread of tho wild beast or tho still
wilder Indian; yet in the efforts made
to clear tho soil wo fear the wood
mans axe has boon too unsparing, and
already many regret that more wis
dom hod not been exeiciscd in h av
ing bolts of forest along tho northern
side of every farm, as a shelter from
tho chilling blasts which row swoop
uncontrolled over the bleak wintory
landscape. Before many years it will
bo found a necessity’ to plant trees
both for nheiltor and fuel, tho last be
ing already scaico near the older so'-
tlements. Yet even now there is
plenty of work to be done to beguile
away the short but weary hours.
Now is tlio limo to lay’ your plans
for tho busy seasou of vegetation.
Determine what you will do with
each Bold and patch on tho farm, and
then do it rightly ; remembering that
what is vjoith doing at all is worth
doing well. Lay in enough fuel
whilo theft) is sleighing to last tho
summor/fl/rough; and what is more,
have it and piled,*4|ftar tho house
handy Wf' the •'w omen folks.” None
| hut those who have o*fe rioneed it can
know what a bother and loss of val
uable Lime is to bo cutting firewood
in the busy seasou; and then only
think what a pity it is to have sweet
tempers rttfhd. calling in vain for
wood, and having to go mid cut it for
themselves to cook the dinner for a
number of hungry fellows hard at
work in the fields ready for Jrepairing
tho fences. That next to tho road
should especially be so.
With the progress of agrigultural
knowledge the old idea that manure
should be kept in the yard till just be
foro seeding time, and then hauled out
and hid under the soil, is fust becom
ing obsolete. Manure it is found,
gives the best returns when appfrbd atr
a the dressing, to the soil, and the
winter is the time to haul it out, it'
well rotted ,on to the meadows, or
even fall wheat; if not it can be left
in heaps, ready to spread in Spring,
before plowing commences,
It is a wonder that 'with so many
resources at our disposal out of which
to increase the productions of "the
country,so lew are disposed to mJlko
use ot them. There is scarcely a
farm on which there is not a swamp
or bed of muck which is the best raw
matorial out of wbiob the manure
heap can bo increased.
Now, this material rarbty freezes
to any depth, and can'lio most easily
dug out in winter and hauled to the
barn-yard, where, mixed witli the ma
nure heap, it soon decomposes, imbi
bes tho ammonia from the uriiia f ,hnd
adds a largo amount ol vegetable
salts to those of animal attraction al
ready in tho heap. The unleacbed
ashes should bo carefully saved and
mixed with the plaster in proportion
of ono to four befoio sowing. Tbi»
addition of ashes is sure destruction
sorrel), and helps the crops greatly on
all soils in which lime is present in
any quantity.
Do not forget to see that all the
implements are in proper repair, rea
dy for the spring work. Last, but
not least, remember that it is the
mind that makes the body rich. Yyu
have a soul. What gopd would it do
you if you owned tho .whole world
and had no pleasant future to look
forward to? Tho days of man are
short; they are numbered, like the
grass bo growetb, then he withoreth
away. Wo envy not the man who
when his day’s wyk is done 1 cannot
enjoy the pleasant relaxation of an
evening spent in reading and intelli
gent conversation with his family or
his neighbors.
With tliß present facilities for Iho
spread of knowledge through that
mighty engine the press, which has
revolutionized tho ideas of the world,
hooks and papers are so cheap that it
is a disgrace to any man not to, .have
an abundance of them in his house.
Would that their sense in selecting
them eniLal, to their ability to
possess tire in.
Djn’t forget that llio care of slock
in winter is one of tho most impor
tant items.' Tt is always the best
policy to see that !hey have every’
care, and plenty of food, water, and
shelter. Milch cows if liberally tod
and regular!milked from the time
they Cul.v<M MIL the grass eomos again,
will give a much greater y?efj during
the sum mo* than it neglected at first;
for once lot thcm’full oil iu their yield
of milk it, cannot be recovered again.
This is especially the case with young
heifers with lheir first calf. Their fu
ture profitableness as milkers greatly’
depends on the euro taken at first.
economy. 1
In these hard limes, necessity sug
gests to every one the study of .econo
my—economy in everything. When
we consider the immense sums spent
all through tho country in articles not
really necessary for comfort, how
much is expended more than is neces
sary ia order to please our own or
other people's''eyes, wo arc led to tho
conclusion that a rigid economy, gou
orally observed among our people for
a low years, would secure for them
such a start us to enable them to re
cover, at no very distant day, their
former prosperity’.
Economy does not consist only in
retrenching superfluous expenses; it
implies also a management of those
which are necessary. Economy and
parsimony, however they may’ appear
to resemble each other, are very differ
ent. Eounemy ia that frugal manago
menl of time and means which ad
verse times compel a sensible, fiotrcst
man to adopt; but parsimony is the
adoption ol' the samo rigid frugality
by a man well to do in the world, not
from any necessity, but from the nat
ural meanness of his disposition, or
the avaricious dcsiro of adding to the
wealth he already has. No poor man,
in times like these, need bo ashamed
of curtailing his personal or household
expenses so us to enable him to work
through tlio present and abide the lu
lu ro.
We sometimes think—pirhaps tho
wirli is the father to the thought—
that the lato revolution, however ter
rible in its effects and lamentable in
its results to our people, may havo
been permitted by God not alone as a
puuihhmonxfbuL also as a blousing to
thu SontVsiJC o all know how many
of our young inon, possessed of noble
and useful faculties too, under the old
regime, wore utterly useless to the
country’. They huntol arid they
fished, attended balls, and visited wa
tering places in tho season, buL they
practiced no trade or profession, and
followed no occupation. They lived
upon iho labors -of others, and tho
very idleness of the life they led too
iifteo induced recklessness aud dissi
pation. All that lias passed away.
Tlie transition was terrible, but.il has
passed away forever. Whatever we
may have thought while it existed,
now that it 'sjg-ue, we would not de
sire to see it restored, even if it were
possible. . * -
Under the present system, every
mail must work, or steal, or starve.
take it for granted that the ma
jority will work, for there are none
that would prefer to starve, though
Umr.i will laknva-ys he s .mo who would
rather steal. Woik, first a necessity,
will become a liaWt, and', when found
to ho accompaniccr tjy cprresjmjxling
advantages, will be adapted from
choice. In all civilized countries
where property is not tied down by
law, the industrious men live and pros
per—the idlers die out. Let every
man, then, go to wujili, and live econ
omically. The times at present may
bejtard, but they will gradually be
come easier, a nfr, before we'are aware
of it, we shall find ourselves talking
of hard times as something belonging
to the past. — Mobile Advertiser it Reg
ister.
Twice Blessed, —Upon a very cold
day’ in winter, two travellers were dri
ving along in a sledge, wrapped up in
furs from head to foot, and e'ven their
faces were closely covered. At length
1 they saw a poor man who had eu; ken
VOL. II—NO. 48.
i down, benumbed and lrozen in the
. snow. “Wo must stop and help him,”
i said ono of the travellers. “Stop and
help him!” cried the other, “you will
never think of stopping on such a day
as this?’’ “But I cannot leave this
man to perish,” answered the more
humane traveller; “come, help me to
rouse him.” “Not I; I have too much
regard for my own life. I will sit
here and keep myself warm till you
come back,” So saying he lay back
in his seat, while his companion has
tened to help the porishing man whom
ho had so providentially discovered.
The ordinary moans of restoring con
sciousness wero tried with success;
but the kind-hearted traveller was so
intent upon saving the life of a fol
io vv-ereature, that he had forgotten bis
own exposufo; and what were the
consequences ? Why’, tho very’ efforts
which he mado to warm tho s.ranger,
warmed himself, and thus he had a
two-fold reward. Ho had tho sweet
consciousness of doing a benovolent
act, and ho also found himself glowing
from baud to foot. On returning to
tho sledge be Found bis companion al
inaffirWly to parish with intense
cold. Always remember, in doing
good to others you will do good to
yourself.
A MOTHER'S WORDS.
A youth of eighteen or nineteen
years, sat at do open window—a look
of painful perplexity on his face, caus
ed apparently by’ a letter he held in
his hand. After sitting thus for some
minutes, ho muttered to himself, “Yee,
I must go ; if I don’t, Brown and
Smith will ho laughifig at me, and
catling me righteous overmuch ; and,
after all, there’s no great harm in it,
for I’ll go to church iu the morning,
and it‘s only to boa sail down tho riv
or, and spend the day in the country.’’
Still, lie pressed his hand on his fore
ha'ad for an instant, then rising bass
tily, he said, “There is no use bother
ing about it: 1 must go.”
As ho rose, his oyo lighted on tho
setting sun, and, as ho did so, his
whole expression changed; a sweet
yet balf-sad look played On his face—
his thoughts were elsewhere—another
scene was before his eyos. The dark
street had disappeared, and in its stead
a neat country cottage had risen. In
thought he was there; once more he
saw tho hills that rose near that cot
tage homo; once moro tho blue wa
ters of the distant luko glislcncdjje
fore him; once moro lie sat in the cot
tage pardon with his widowed mother,
and watched the setting sun.
Once moro that mother’s words
sounded in his ears —“John, don’t for
got your God, and he’ll not forget you.
‘Uomombor his Sabbath day, to koep
it holy.’ Though sinners entico thee
to break it, consent thou not. Oh,
when you’re tempted to do wrong,
don’t forget to pray ! Never lot the
sun go down on a prayerless day.—
May the God of tho fatherless guide
you—may the Lord Jesus bo your
Saviour!”
Yes, six months had passed since
he heard theso worJs, and yet they
seemed to sound in his ears. Tears
filled his eyes; and, rising, lie ''folded
his hands arid knelt in prayer; then,
taking up his pen, he wrote thus :
“Thanks, Brown, for your invita
tion ; but I cannot accept it. My du
ty to God is to obey his commands;
and ho hath said, ‘Remember the Sab
bath day to keep it holy.’ Spending
the day in idle plcasuro, is not doing
this; and I wish you would think
over the subject, and not go yourself.”
How great is the influence of a pi
ous mother’s words! How wondeiful
tbe[aiiswers to her earnest prayers !
Bible Class Magazine.
TTampphire.— The election for State of
ficers takes place in New Hampshire on Tues
day next. The contest between ibe Democrats
and n adicals has been warmly carried on,
many speakers on both sides having been en
gaged, including the ablest men in either party
bom the North and West. The Radical ma
jority last year was about 3,600, showing a
reduction of 1,000 over 1866. The Democrats
are sanguine of success this time, and it ia
cyncad.edp.VM. every hand that the result will
have a important bearing on the elections in
other Northern States.
E2T Tho McArdle case, which involves the
question of the Constitutionality of the Recon
at ruction Acta ia now being argued by Judge
Bluok and others beforo the Supreme Court’
So that we may very noon anticipate a decision
of the vexed question.
tar The quo warranto proceedings against
Stanton have been abandoned, but we have
seen no satiefactory reason assigned for this
course. _
I The Unionviile Timet announces the‘death
in that place of Judge Davis Goudclock.