Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

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.