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THE WASHINGTON GAZETTE
BY JAS. A. WRIGHT AND HUGH WILSON.
THB WASHINGTON GAZETTE.
TERMS.—Three Dollars e year iu advance.
«r No Subscriptions taken for a shorter
time than six months.
THAT LAWSUIT.
BT MRS. M. L. BAYS*.
“I gave Lawyer Marks twenty-five
dollars to-day,” said Hiram Shaw,
tying the straps round the old pocket
book he was examining.
His wife sighed ; she was making
over stockings for Ellen and Kitty,
her two eldest girls, who needed so
many things. I don’t believe any
woman likes to make over old clothes,
even though she cun make them look
“amaist as weel’s the new ;” but tho
wear does not pay for tho work,—
Mrs. Shaw thought of the expense of
hiring men for the harvest, and help
to cook for them ; of the potato bugs,
those great fat, hideous things, that
were making such havoc in the fields
of all they wanted ard must want,
and do without, that Lawyer Marks,
already fat and sleek, might grow
fatter and sleeker; it was too bad
that lawsuit between Hiram and
neighbor West, all about an old well
that did jiobody any particular good,
but, indeed, seemed fall of great harm.
Mr. West used to smoke his pipe, and
read the local paper, on Hiram Shaw’s
porch; and Mrs. West and Mrs.
Shaw wore intimate friends, but now
they wore forbidden to speak to each
othor by their respective husbands,
though they indulged iu neighborly
courtesies on the sly. Hiram and
Mr. West glared at eacb othor, with
out speaking; whistled fiercely when
they saw the cattle in each •ther’e
grain, and did each other all the inju
ry they could, besides going to law,
and all about that old well that was
claimed by both, and didn’t belong to
eitkor, as tho strip that divided the
two lots was reserved for an alley, if
■oiv yarV • * w- WtfE uWN
become a city, a contingency that
belonged far in the future. Neither
of the men was rich enough to go to
law but pride und passion must be
fed and nourished, and having brought
themselves up to such a pitch of en
mity, they sere determined to do all
the barm they could.
Mr. West had but one child—a lit
tle girl—who had boon ft groat pet
with the Shaw family, until the well
feud, since which she bad been for
bidden, on one side, to notice them,
and they, to play with her; though
when the stem fathers wore absent,
no attention was paid to tho muLer.
On the night Hiram paid out the
twenty-five dollars to the lawyer for
fees, be felt more annoyed than he
cared to own. A lawsuit is the worst
nightmare that can seize a'man, and
he did wish the well bad been dried
n>, before ever he bad seeti it. To
tell the truth, he wanted the friend
ship of his old neighbor back in bis
heart, and bis money in bis pocket,
instead of in a well, where it was go
ing. He wan tod to see Mrs. West
coming in socially to chat with Sarah,
and cheer her up; ho wanted to get
rid of that miserable, unhappy feelieg
that bung over him ever since the
first quarrel. “But I won’t give in,”
he said to himself, “it was just as
tnnch his quarrel as mine.’’ He for
got that the wisest and best was the
one to concede, that humility was the
brightest jewel in the circle of vir
tues.
Thinking thus, be saw little Annie,
the only child of his neighbor, tod
dling down towards the old well, at
whose bage she often played ; he did
with she was perched on his knee for
a minute, as sbe used to be. She was
younger than any of his own, and
just that sweet age when children are
most loveable and amusing. He
watched her furtively as she uwung
herself by the rusty chain that held
the iron-bound bucket, her dimpled
hands tightly knotted into the great
links. He saw, ob, dreadful sight 1
the little plump form suddenly dis
appear over the well curb, as the
windlass, set in motion by her weight
turned rapidly, carrying her down,
down, into the fearful depths, dashing
the little bright head against the
stone sides, with fearful velocity.
Mr. West sat on his back stoop,
braidings whip lash; his wife was
by, engaged in sewing. They were
talking over the most unpleasant and
expensive experience of their lives,
that lawsuit
“I’d drop the matter, entirely, said
Mrs. West, “before it ruins us. What
signifies an old well in comparison
with the comforts of two families ?’’
“Bridget is right,” answered her
husbaud. “Shaw had no business to
claim what was miue before ever he
came here. Where’s Annie?”
“Annie,” said hie wife, “I suppose
she’s at the front door, playing.” She
was the child of their old of age, and
they doted on her. “When I get tho
suit, as I know 1 shall, and Shaw has
a mind to come round aud be civil, I’ll
let bygones be bygones.”
“1 don’t think wiuning the suit will
tnako him feel any hotter, but Ido
wish it had never come about at all.
If women wore to act as foolish over
a little potty .”
But the sentence was never finish
ed; for at that moment neighbor
Shaw burst into the room, pale as
death, with little Annie in his arms,
apparently dead.
There was a scone of wildest con
fusion; but Mrs. Shaw was there with
her bolp and sympathy, and soon they
had hot blankets, and bags of ashes,
and bottles of hot water, and all other
known remedies applied, and with a
deep sob little Annie oponed her oyes
and knew them all.
But sbe was much hurt; her head
was badly cut, and the bright curls
bad all to be taken off, and she was
uu invalid for a good many days and
nights of weariug pain.
Aud the old path through tho fields,
that had grassed evor since tho law
suit, was worn down again, for Mrs.
Sbaw and the girls went back and
forth mauy times a day, and never
another word was heurd about tbo
lawsuit, and the two families drew
water out of the well, as they always
hud done, and renowed their old in
tercourse. But larmer West never
looked at tho vyoil without thanking
God in bis heart that be had saved
his child, and his own self respect,
and taught him to value a true friend
and noighbor above a rod or two more
rtf WO- ald -paueasciou. jb£ Ural
which came so near becoming tbo
grave of bis dearest treasure.
The old well is closed up now, and
little Annie plays about it without
danger. “Wo both wanted the well,”
said Hiram Shaw, “and yet, how
strange that we can both do without
it.”
“Because, liko a groat many other
things wo crave, it fs not necessary to
either of us. Wo have both sunk
money in it, now it is past harming
us; but I think we have found out the
use of the adage, ‘‘Truth, lies at the bot
tom of a well."
SHALL I DANCE OR PRAY?
JennieS. was a sprightly, affection
atogirlol fourteen years, and pos
sessed of a considerable share of nat
ural goodness. One day she com
plained of being tick, and her fever
became so alarming that bor Chris
tian mother could not say anything
to her about her soul; but when the
danger was past her mother said:
“Jennie, lam glad you upe getting
better, and that God has not called
you away during this sickness, for I
don’t think j ou were prepared.”
“No, mother,” she answered, “I
don’t think 1 was, but I ought to be.”
Shortly after this some of her
friends, a little older than herself,
were seeking the pardon of their sins,
and she was persuaded to join them
and sought for tho samo grace. They
nearly ail belonged to one Sundry
school, aud the superintendent would
occasionally call on those serious
scholars to lead in prayer in the Sun
day-school prayer-meotings. Jennie
soon, for the first time, responded to
such a call, and while hearing this cross
her sins were pardoned, aud she fell
she woa a child of God. The Bible
then became a pleasant book, and
prayer a delightful employment.
The good work went on, and many
of bor young friends were converted
andjeunie was so faithful that the
minister, and the officers of the
Church thought she with others, was
worthy to be received into its mem
bership. Her parents bad long been
Christiaod, but sbe conscientiously
chose Church relations with a,differ
ent denomination from them; yet
they deemed it a privilege to go to
the table of the Lord with their
daughter, though among strangers,
tho first time she approached it.
“Every grace the Lord givos he
tries,” and so Jennie found it; for
soon there was to be a sociable, to
wbkih she was invited, and many of
WASHINGTON, WILKES COUNTY, GA, FRIDAY, JUNE 5,1868.
her companions were to be present.
She thought if shs did not go they
would say, “O she is very religious;”
and on the other hand, if she did, and
should dance, which she know was to
be the amusoment of the evening,
others would say, “I don’t see any
difference to Jennie since sbe profess
ed religion, for she dances just liko
the rest.” Beside, the sociable was
originated by the brothers of this
circle of fomule young converts, aud
they bad persuaded a number of their
sisters to be present. And tbon it
was fixed for the night of the week
ly Church prayer-meeting, where
they bad loved to bo found. Jennieand
her mother often counseled together,
and so sbe said ‘Mother to which doyou
say go?” The mother quickly sided
with the daughter's convictions, and
Jennie, with two other of these
friends, went to the prayer-meeting.
After this she grow in grace fastor
than ever, and her love to Jesus
prompted her to do everything she
could for him; and as she felt she
uuuld accomplish more by writing
religious letters to her friends than
by conversation with them, she wrote
a number to such as she often met.
Now everything seemed to go on
pluasautly.
In the fullness of spring time of
last year she was invited to visit
loved oces afar off city. But she
was taken sick again, and grew
worse so fust that wheu a second in
vitation came, accompanied by a
ticket for the passage it found her se
riously ill. Her mind often wander
ed, but when she had lucid moments
sbe would ask for the Bible to be read
naming some portion, and once dosig
nated that beautiful and to hor ap
propriate, twenty-third psalm.
Twice when oalindd down from the
raging of the fever, the broke out in
a clear voice aud chanted a hymn of
pruiso. Though bho desired greatly
to take the contemplated journey,
it was God’s intonfiyir for bgjtui yjcUs
the heavenly c.ty,‘Hie’ “Sew Joruta
-Icm."
It is said “There la a turning point
iu every persons life,” and with Jen
nie it seemed to be that lime in the
bloom of youth when sho was weighs
ing the whether she should
attend the sociablo or the prayer"
meeting. Aud now that she has
been long enough in heaven to have
seen and heard many of the wondrous
rovelations of Gods glory, do you
think, reader, there can be any doubt
in her mind which way she should
bave answered tbo quostion, “Shull 1
dance or shall I pruy ?”
THE CAVE OF MACHPELAH.
Ilev. W. L. Gsge, who is furnishing an
interestiug series of articles on “Studies in
Bilile Lunds” for the Subbu'.h at Home ,
lias the following in the March number:
There is no doubt whatever that the
place where Abraham and Surah, Isaac
and Rebekah, Jacob and Leah, were bu
ried, is now sacredly guarded within the
mosque at Hebron. It is one of those
places which are equally revered at the
present time by Jew, Mohammedan, and
Christian; and there has cot been a year
nor a day since the time of Abraham
wheu that rock tomb Las been exposed to
desecration, or when a guard has not beeu
set over it. From the time when Abra
ham purchased it, down all the centuries
of the Oid Covenant, it remaiued in the
hands of the Jews. The Christians then
gained possession of it; then the Moham
medaus grasped it; but the patriarchs, es
pecially Abraham, were beloved in their
eyes, and it suffered no detriment. The
Christians held it again for the little sea
son in which the Crusaders were victori
ous, aud then relinquished it once more
iu'o the hands of the Moslems. These
hold it to day, as must be said to the
shame of the Christian world. There is
but one race which should possess and
keep that hallowed tomb—the Jews them
selves. It ought, indeed, to be freely open
to the Gentile world; to those who, though
net of the Abrabamic lineage, yet revere
his memory and accept the fulfilling of his
faith; and yet it is owed to the Jews, that
it be taken from those who hold it now in
their foul and unseemly oiutcb, and give
to the descendants of the ancient patri
archs. Happily, the strong arm of the
British government has wrested within our
days what assarediy would not have been
given, and the Frince of Wales, accom-|
panied by a small and chosen party of J
friends and scholars, has been permitted
to go as far as some might -consider it I
seemly under any circumstances to ad
aooe. It is true, they did not enter the
cave itself; tb4 darkened shrines which
bear the nsov lof tho ancient patriarchs
and tlieir wives| and which are jealously
guarded by tbs keepers, are di
rectly over the«<omb; yet in that part of
the mosque wk; b is called the Shrine of
Abraham the *-*ral party saw a hole about
eight inches aefr**, which leads directly
into the cave bsiovr. Every night a lamp
is lowered Into-the vault, but it is with
drawn by day. The origioal entrance i*
closed by masemry, hut was doubtless on
the Southern fueeof the bill, and so situa
ted that Abrakmn, as lie sat under bis
oaks, could look fully into it. The stu
dent who mayoHsh to trace the architec
tural history of the mosque will find it
fully detailed in Ritter’s work on the Holy
Land, N 01. 11L pp- 3hl>, eteq.; and no
one can fail to i e instructed by the graph
ic narrative which Dean Stanley, one on'
the l’riuco of Wales’ party, has given of
the royal visit ii. 1862. It is not to be
forgotten that the great earnestness to ptMfcw
etrate the cave cf Machpelah ia' pecuiiar,
it would seem, t> the Christian nations of
the present day. Tim pasha of Jemm
lein, who yielded the right of
the English party, expressed wonder at
their curiosity, sad said that “he had Never
thought ol visiting the mosque for any
othor purpose tbsu of snuffing the sacred
air.” Yet it iniy be doubted whether, iu
case a strong curiosity should prompt a
Mohammedan tv descend, he would dare
to, for Quartan: ica tells us “that early as
the seveuth oenuiy it was firmly believed
that if any Mussulman entered the cavern,
immediate death would be the conse
quence.” I trus‘, however, the growing
weakness of tbc4utki#h government will
allow of even mote perfect exploration.
It is not too inch to say that in a good
measure of probability, the body of Jacob,
embalmed as it. Has iu Egypt, is in as per
fect condition time to-day as are the
mummies which pie disinterred on the
Nile; and it ai* <*!•*> the first layers of the
uiusoury stiff to V Stma at Hebron were
laid by Joseph LSdi-oJ the Auoaeioo Os
bis fatkfj’a-surajjEou* funeral? * That this
is np, idle|fttown by the wealth
been » Hebrew tifiyjAierd, but who* bad"
wrought out his I foffune with such signal
success in Egyptl Here Joseph had be
come habituated to magnificent sepulchers,
as well as to sumptuous sepultures; and
after that cosily pageantry of burial des
cribed so strikingly in the closing chapter
of Genesis, it is baldly to be supposed that
he would fail to designate with some ar
chitectural memorial the simple rock grave
which his great-grandfather purchased,
and which for three generations had lain
in its origiual rudeness.
A WOMAN'S EXPERIENCE ON VE
SUVIUS.
An adventurous lady who has as
cended Vesuvius, and braved the dan
gers of an approach to tho crater,
writes tbo lollowing sketch of her
experience to tho Philadelphia Bulle
tin :
“A half an hour of fatiguing jour
ney over a desert more dreary and
ternblo than imagination can possibly
picture, with Pompeii, Herculaneum,
i’orro do! Greco, and dozens of buried
and ruined cities and villages painful
ly oppressing our sense of tho su
premacy of man’s ingenuity over
natural accident,and inspiring a dread
of tho awful fiery monster we were
so recklessly approaching, and not in
the least modified by tho fact that
seventy-five thousand souls were ae
tually clinging to their old homes on
the mountainside, down which rivers
of fire rolled and surged, upheaved
and turned in great blocks of crimson
paste, as if the cauldron of hell were
boiling over, aud seeking victims be
yond its limits.
“Now wo dismounted; our skirts
were tied close around us to prevent
their being torn off by tho sharp edg
es of diard lava, and with a guide to
drag us by the hand, every one of tbo
party bciDg furnished with a stout
stick, we started toward the lakes and
streams of liquid fire. At every step
tbe beat became more intense. We
were passing over lava that had roll
ed down only twelve hours before.
We dared not pause an instant, or our
feet were burned; if we stepped one
inch aside from the spot pointed by
the guide’s staff, we must plungo ouj
feet into fiery paste; sometimes the
icrust undor our feet cracked; wo
[sprang from it, and sulphurous flames
[ issued from the crevices. At last, I
found my " strength exhausted; my
guide, porceiving it, cried out, ‘Cour
age Madame ; avances plus loinT ‘Not
B step/ I answered, and all scenes ap-
-
peared to recede, when a glass of,
bright wine"flashed between my eyes
and the light, and ‘Drink 1 it is tbo
wine of Vesuvius!’
“Wo were so nwtfr the flowing lava
thatoar-faces wertr all crimson with
the heat; but we clared to remain
while coins were thrown into it, and
then fished oat with the metal stick
ing to them ; eggs were roasted, and ou
the place where we stood, holes were
made, only one inch through which
papers were lighted for the gentlemen’s
cigars, .......
“Soon we returned to our ponies, began
the descent, and will never forget that
awfully grand scene! A black inountaiu,
sighing, groaning, breathing ofit fire and
smoke. Ruined cities, new villages, illu
minated by its fiaraea. The anowy moun
tains, rcariug their while peaks to the
clouds that caught the golden glow of
Vesuvius, aud broke into silvery light as
Abe full moon rose triumphant, when the
Vbleauo sunk into gloomy, smoky dark
with the thousand lights that lay like a
raduw# the dancing waves; the
deep blue belt of the Mediterranean stretch
-yig out, ttg.ijliai4ahle.hnßf beyond, and I
awe struck, weary, arid subdued, ponder
ing on tbe Majesty that ‘ride* on, this
clouds, and bolds the seas in thelmllow of
His hand ! ” — livening BuUft^rC
THE END OF FOUR GREAT MEN.
The four great personages who oc
cupy the most conspicuous places iu
the history of the world are Alexan
der, Hannibal, Cassar, and Bonaparte.
Alexander, ufter having climbed tbe
dizzy heights of his ambition, und
with his templos bound with chaplets
dipped in the blood of countless mill
ions, looked down upon a conquered
world, and wept that there was not
another world fbr him to corquer—set
a city ou fire, and died in n scene of
debauch.
' find ccustcSaßdS
Rome, passed tbo Alps, having put to
flight the armies ot tho mistress of
tho world, and slipped “three bushels
of goldon rings from tbe fingers of
tho slaughtered knights,” and made
hor foundations quake, fled from his
country, being hated by those who
unco cxultingly united his name to
that of thoir god, and called him Hi
na, Baal, died at last in a foreign
country, by poison administered with
his own hand, unlamented and un
wept.
Ctosar, after having conquered eight
hundred cities, and dyeing his gar
ments in the blood of one million of
his foes, after having pursued to death
tho only rival ho hud on earth, was
miserably assassinated by those he
considered his dourest friends; and in
that very place tho attainment of
which hud boon his groatost ambition.
Bonaparte, whose inundates kings
and popos obeyed, after having filled
tho earth with tho terror of bis tiaino
—and after having deluged Europe
with tears and blood, und clothed the
world in sackcloth —closed his days in
lonely banishment, almost literally
exiled from the world, yet where he
could sometimes sue liis country’s ban
nor waving over the deep, but which
did not and could not bring him aid.
Thus these four men, who soom to
stand tbe representatives of all . those
whom tho world calls groat—these
four men, who each in turn made the
earth tremble tef its very centre by
their simple tread, severally died—
one by intoxication, or, as was sup
posed, by poison mingled in his wine
—one a suicide, one murdered by his
friends, aud one a lonely exilo. “How
are the mighty fallen 1”
Excessive Exercise. —Those who
bave gqne through the severest train
ing become in the end dull, listloss
and stupid, subject to numerous dis
eases, and in many instances tho ulti
mate victims of gluttony and drui.k
efiness. Their unnaturul vigor seldom
lasts more than five years. It was
especially remarked by the Greeks
that no one who in boyhood won the
prize at tho Olympic games over dis
tinguished himself afterward. Tne
three years immediately precoding
seventeen are years of greut mental
development, and nature cannot at
the same time endure any severe
taxing of the physical constitution
Prudence, therof re, especially at this
crideal period of life, must ever go
band in hand with vigor; for the evils!
of excess equal, if not outweigh by
far, tbe evils of defioieney.— Herald <tf\
Health. '
VOL. ffl-NO. 7.
MANURING MARKET GARDENS.
All successful market gardeners
agree that it is useless to attempt to
grow good crops without a yearly ap
plication of manure in large quanti
ties. Henderson’s Gardening says
“It is a grave blunder to attempt to
grow vegetables crops without tha
use of manures of the various kinds.
I never yet saw soils of any kind that
had borne a crop of vegetables that
would produce as good a orop the
next season without the use of ma
nure, no matter how rich the soil may
be thought to be. An illustration of
this came under my observation last
season. One of my neighbors a mar
ket gardener of twenty years ex
perience, aud whose grounds have al
ways been a perfect model of produc
tivjgpe, had in prospect to run a six
ty root street through his grounds;
thinking his land sufficiently rich tocar
ry through a crop of cabbage without
manure, ho thought it useless to waste
monoy by using guano on that por
tion on which tbe street was to be,
but on ouch Bide, sowed guano at the
rate of twelve hundred pounds per
acre, and planted the whole with
eaily cabbages. The effect was the
most marked I ever saw ; that por
tion on which the guano had been
used, sold off readily at 812 per hun
dred, or about $2400 per acre, both
price and being more than an average;
but the portion trout wnich tbe guano
had been held, hardly averaged three
dollars per hundred. The street oc
cupied fully an aoro of ground, so
that my friend actually loßt over one
thousand dollars in crops, by with
holding sixty dollars for manure.
Another neighbor whose lease bad
only one year to run, aud who also
unwisely concluded that it would bs
foolish to waste manure on his last
crop, planted aud sowed all without;
tho result was, as his experience
should have tagljt feiig, a orop of Infs
losslfri Lis eight acres of laud, proba
bly two thousand hundred for that
season”
About Honey. —To show that hou«
ey-bees, instead of being an injury to
farmers, aro a benefit to them, the
fact is cited as well known to obser
ving boc-keepers that when we hare
a fine of honey from the buck
wheat or the orchard we bave a cor
responding yield of grain or fruit,
unless prematurely destroyed byjfrost,
or other causes. There are seasons
when bees work very little on buck
wheat, and tho result has been, with
scarcely an exception, a small yield of
grain. In many parts of Russia,
some peasants have hundrods of bee
bives, und really make more profit of
thuir bees than of oorn. In one lo
cality the number of hives was in
credible; a single purish forest, it is
said, possessed five hundred swarms.
Honey is said to possess so great res
torative powers that in some instan
ces, at tho point of death, wheu all
stimulants and tonics had failed, a
table spoonful given every half hoar
has rallied and saved tho patient
Hew England Farmer.
WHITEFIELD’S POWER.
A striking feature in Whiteffeld’s prea
ching was singular power of description.
The Arabians have a proverb which says
“He is the best orator who can turn a man’s
ears into eyes.” Whitefield seems to bave
had a peculiar faculty of doing this. He
used to draw such vivid pictures of the
things he wa3 handling that his hearers
could* believe they actually saw and beard
them. “On one ocoasion,” says one of bis
biographers, “Lord Chesterfield was among
his bearers. The great preacher, in ds
acribing the miserable condition of an un
converted sinner, illustrated tbe eutject by
describing a blind beggar The nigbt was
dark and tbe road dangerous. Tbe poor
mendicant was deserted by his dog* near
the edge of a precipice aud had nothing to
aid him in grouping his way but his staff
! Whitefield so warmed with h.s subject
and enforced it with such graphic power
that the whole auditory was kept in breath
less silence, as if it saw the movements of
the poor old rnan ; ard at length, when
ilie beggar was about to take tbe fatal
nlep which would have burled him down
the precipice to eonnin destruction, Lord
Chesieifieid actually made a rush forward
to save him, exclaiming, aloud, 'He is gone 1
he is gone 1’ The noble lord had been so
entirely carried away by tbe preacher that
he forgot the whole was a picture.