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VOLUME V.
THE FARMER.
A farmer furrowed hie swarded field,
And faltered not for the day;
He felt from the north a frost-wind blow.
And the path of the sun was gray.
And the wheatbird's whistle he heard from tha
bough,
And he knew that the weevil oft followed the
plough.
He bent his lowly form to the task,
Believing his labor a prayer;
80 h? plodded the pace of a cheerful man,
Preparing his ground with care,
"Woistled and plodded, then cast amain
For the harvest hour the seeding grain.
A farmer sat in his cottage door,
Nodding a noon-tide nap.
And the whitened wheat across the way,
Waved on the meadow’s lap.
With heavy heads, in a slumbering base,
The stalks bent down in the August days.
As the farmer dosed, he dreamed and smiled,
For his acres wared on his eye;
And then the click of the reapers he heard,
Aud his stacks and his mows swelled high;
And over his cheek a soft tear crept.
For the joy he felt as he nodded aud slept.
He woke; in the haze of the hot afternoon,
lu health was he bent to the snath,
And over the field the gavels stretched,
In many a winding path.
The vision he saw had lightened his task,
And he learned that to pray we in labor should
ask.
FREDERICK DFAN’S WILL.
“Well, since you are both so urgent,
and since making a will won’t end my life,
I'll do it at once, and you shall witness
it.”
And the speaker, a white-haired old
gentleman, laughed pleasantly, and drew
towards him an old book lying on the
table at his side. Selecting one of the
two or three blank leaves at the end, he
took up a pen and dipped it into the ink.
“I confess I was not prepared for such
promptitude,” smiled one of the gentle
men in reply; "but we shall be only too
happy to serve you,” adding, a little
dryly: “Don’t you think, however, it
would be just as well to get a sheet of
O’
paper:
“Not a bit of it,” returned Mr. Dean;
“this leaf is as good as a sheet,” and he
proceeded to pen, in bold characters:
“The last will and testament of Frederick
Dean.”
“As you like,” said the other, ex
changing an amused smile with his com
panion. “Only ins ro Nannette a com
fortable future, and remember that to
insure it you must cut out that leaf, and
place it where it can be be found by the
proper person when needed."
A pre-oceupied nod answered the
counsel, aod fora little while nothing was
heard but the hurried scratch of the pen.
At last the writer threw it down, and
leaning back in his chair, read the docu
ment aloud.
“JJoes that suit you?” he asked, turn
ing to his visitors as he finished.
An eager affirmative answered him.
“Then remember,” he said, with sud
den earnest gravity, “to see justice done
if my Nannetteshculd meet with trouble.
And now we will sign.”
The signing was done, the book closed
and pushed aside till the farewells which
had been deferred quite long enough, were
spoken, and within an hour, the two
visitors were on board a steamer bound
for Europe.
For a few minutesafter their departure,
Mr. Dean sat lost in thought, then,
arousing himself, he took up the morning
paper, and turned to the financial column.
He had just finished it, aud was carefully
cutting out the article, when the door
opened, and a young girl entered, her
fresh face bright with smiles.
“Ah, my dear, just in time,” said Mr.
Dean, fondly. “Get the mucilage.”
“Oh, papa! that everlasting, musty
financial!” laughed the girl, with a mock
horror. “Why don’t you let me cut you
out a love story, or a hit of poetry, and
paste in here? Who but you would ever
have thought of a scrap book of finan
cials?”
“You need not laugh, my dear,”
smiled the gentleman; “those ‘financials’
have had something to do with your
future. ”
“With my future?” exclaimed his
adopted daughter, raising her eyes from
the book she had just drawn tow ards her,
and opening tbi m very widely on the old
gentleman.
“Yes, my dear; they have helped me
to make a fortune, and that fortune will
some day be yours. I have made you my
Bole heir —have will and you my whole
property. Remember that, Nannie, and
if need be fight for your rights. My
brother is no friend to you, as you know.”
Nannette sprang to her feet and threw
herself on the gentleman’s bosom v
“Now, papa,” she murmured, choking
ly, “don’t say ‘will’ to me again. I want
you and nothing else.”
In a few minutes she returned to her
task, hut it was with the feeling that the
shadows of death had settled over the
house. All that day, and all the next,
this miserable feeling clung to her, and at
the close of the next the substance was
there as well as the shadow. The hale
old gentleman had, through a strange
easuality, passed into the spirit world.
The one near relative (a wealthy
brother), and various remote ones,
gathered to pay the last token of respect
and hear the will. Hut no will was found.
Consequently Mr. George Dean was
triumphant, without the means of black
ening his hands and conscience.
Night after night had been secretly and
fruitlessly spent in rummaging the
escritoires, etc., of his departed brother,
with the firm determination that Nannette
should never toich a dollar of that
brother’s money. The morning after the
funeral he sent for Naucette to meet him
in the library.
She camo in. pale and wcary-looking, a
little surprised in her soft eyes. Mr.
Dean was prompt. Majestically waving
her to a seat, he cleared his throat and
said:
“Of course you know, Nannette, that
my brother left no will?”
“I have not thought about it at all,”
murmured Nannette, wearily, finding he
paused for a reply, and then added, as
wearily: “Hut you are mistaken, lie did
leave a will.”
Mr. Dean startled, flashed,! and ex
claimed, hastily:
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know,” sighed Nannotte. "I
only know that he told me he had mailo
one.”
“Oh!” ejaculated Mr. Dean, with pro
longed emphasis, and then said: “That
amounts to nothing. In the absence of
a will, I reign master here.”
Aroused from hor apathy by the sig
nificant tone, Nannette locked up in
quiringly, and he continued:
“Yes, the law gives mo everything, and
you, Nannotte, will sec the propriety of
establishing yourself elsewhere.”
“Hut papa told me he had made mo his
sole legatee,” said Nannette in slow,
startled tones.
“That won’t stand in law,” sneered
Mr. Dean.
“You don’t mean that you are going to
turn me cut of my own heme?” exclaimed
the girl incredulously.
“Certainly not,” again sneered Mr.
Dean. “In the first place, you have no
home—this place is mine; in the second,
I expect you to go.”
“To go!” echoed Nannette.
“Certainly,” was the cool reply. “You
are nothing to me. My brother adopted
you*. I have nothing to do with that-
You will therefore do me the favor to
pack your clothing and leave nt your
earliest convenience. Of course Ido not
interfere with your appropriation of any
personal effects.” And a bow of dismissal
followed the heartless words.
Nannette rose with bursting heart, and
was about to leave the room when her eye
fell on the old scrap-book which had been
carelessly pushed to the back of the
library table the last day of Frederick
Dean’s life, and had there remained.
“You will allow me that?” she mur
mured, huskily, indicating the desired
book, adding, as she drew it toward her,
and turned a few leaves: “Foryears it was
my daily duty to paste those articles there,
and—it is associated with him.”
"It is valueless to me, you can take it,”
George Dean returned, majestically push
ing it toward her.
She lifted it with a bow, and silently
left the room. Ti e rest of the day was
spent in gathering her wardrobe together.
It was near dusk when she took up the
old scrap-book, intending to place it in the
bottom of an empty trunk which she had
devoted to her books. But with a burst
of tears she sat down, and taking it up in
her lap turned leaf after leaf, thinking as
the betrayed only can think.
Twenty minutes later she had wrapped
up the book, and was proceeding up town
as rapidly as a horse-ear would take her.
she alighted at a handsome residence, and
was shown into the private library of the
owner, with whom she obtained an im
mediate interview.
Whatever the nature of the interview,
it was soon at an end. Dusk had fallen
when she returned to the place she had so
lately considered her home, and she barely
finished her toilet when the tea-bell rang.
She descended at once, and entered the
room with Mr. Dean, who had just come
from the library. A look of supercilious
surprise elevated his brow for a moment
as he said:
“You did not get off this afternoon?”
“No,” answered Nannette simply, and
SUMMERVILLE, GEORGIA. THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER I!), 1878.
as usual took her place behind the tea urn.
Evidently annoyed, Mr. Dean said, as
he seated himself:
“You go to-morrow, of course?”
“It depends upon circumstances,” re
turned Nannotte, calmly.
A hot flush mounted the gentleman’s
brow, and he replied, angrily:
“I shall iee to it that the circumstances
are quite favorable to your departure.”
Nannette made no response, but pro
ceeded to do the honors with the same
ease and grace which had characterized
her during her father’s life, scrupulously
observant of the courtesies due from
hostess to guest.
“The impudent jade!” thought Mr.
Dean, but he took his supper in silence.
As they rose from the table there was
a ring at the door bell.
“Who can that be?” he said, and stood
waiting.
The servant entered and answered the
question.
“Mr. Perkly, sir- He wishes to see
you.”
“Perkly—what! Lawyer Perkly?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where is he?”
“In the library, sir.”
With a sad smile Nannette followed
him from the room, and went on to the
drawing-room. In the course of a half an
hour, Mr. Perkly joined her there.
“Well,” she murmured, anxiously.
“All right,” he laughed. “He has but
one desire, I think, and that is to slink
away without mooting you again. A more
' crest fallen wretch never breathed. At
first he wanted to dispute the validity of
the will, because it was written on tbe
j blank leaf of an old day-book, which had
been turned into a scrap-book, Iml l suc
! ceedcd in proving to his satisfaction that
a will is a will whether penned on a sheet
;of paper or in a book. Ah, there he
goes,’’ he smiled as the front door swung
j heavily to. “Ho will give you no more
S trouble."
Mr. Perkly was right. Mr. Dean bad
left, and Nannette heard from him no
| more.
AN INTERM ISSION 81MPI.Y.
Yesterday noon a commotion was ob
i served in a farmer’s wagon on Woodward
avenue, near Davenport street, and a
' citizen advanced to discover that the
farmer and his wife were having a regular
old-fashioned domestic fight in the bottom
of the wagon, while the horses were eat
ing grass over the curb stories.
“Here—what’s to pay?” shouted the
citizen as he climbed upon the wheel.
“Fightin’l” gasped the woman, whoso
head was half buried in the straw.
The farmer made no reply. His head
i was under 'lie seat, one leg over the wagon
i box, and he wtis clawing the air like a man
| whose lungs wanted more air.
“I should think you’d wait till you get
! outside of the city to engage in such dis
i graceful conduct,” continued the citizen.
"I know we orter,” replied the woman
; as she sat up, “hut when 1 found six
1 plugs oi tobacco, anew dime novel, and
a pack of kerds in his bind pocket, and
remembered how I had waited six months
; for a kaiiker dress, I riz right up and
tackled him on the spot. J couldn't wait
a minute then, mister, but now if you'll
check up that nigh hoss I’ll drive along
and renew the combat beyond the toll
gate.”
The citizen Complied, and she was seated
across her husband's knees as she shook
the lines and shouted, “Git up!" —Detroit
Free F ens.
At the asylum for the insane in Colum
bus, Ohio, a young lady patient of slight
figure, in some unaccountable manner,
worked herself between the iron bars, and
when discovered was hanging on the out
side of the window-sill, about fifty feet
above the ground. Charles Mardin, a
young attendant, stripped off iiis coat and
vest and ascended to the second story, and
by the utmost nerve and strain succeeded
in securing a hold of the window-frame
above. With one hand he clung to the
iron bars, and with the other grasped the
girl, just as she lost her hold of the casing
above, and placed her on the window-sill.
At this crisis her reason returned, and she
begged her rescuer to save himself and let
her drop to the ground, fifty feet below.
Ropes were then passed to Marrdin who
secured them around the lady’s waist,
when she was lowered to the ground.—
Savannah Mews.
Philadelphia was first visited by yellow
fever in 1095. In 1793 4,041 persons died
of the yellow or maligant fever. The
epidemic of 1897-98-99 carried off 5,800
lives, and in 1805 3,400 died of the fever
in Philadelphia.
THE SEVENTH DISTRICT.
Seventh District, September 6, 1878.
/ft lHorn Atlanta Constitution:
It will be seen by reference to the severs|
communications which you have done me
the honor to publish—
1. That Dr. Felton has sought to justify
his candidacy in opposition to the Democ
racy by assailing an imaginary “ring,”
which he alleges has possessed itself of
the party machinery in this Congressional
district, and will not let the people bo
heard.
2. That lie took none of the usual steps
to correct the evils of which lie complain
ed, such as attending the meetings and
conventions of the party, and trying to
purify and elevate it—nor did he, as far
as is known, call public attention to tlieso
evils through the press or on the hustings,
prior to his sudden and unexpected
proclamation of his own candidacy.
3. That he has nevertheless announced
himself an independent candidate at tlireo
successive elections, each time in advance
of any nomination by the party to which
he claims allegiance, and before he could
have known that an objectionable candi
date would bo presented.
4. That ho relies almost exclusively on
the Republicans for his election—that he
has not been heard at any time or on any
occasion, for the last lour years, to say
one word for the Democratic party, or one
word against the Republican party—that
his final success must eventuate in the
overthrow of the Democratic party in this
district, and that his course is already
creating confusion elsewhere in the State
to the injury of the Democracy and the
benefit of Radicalism —and that in view
of these facts and deductions he is logically
arid really the candidate, not of “inde
pendent” Democrats, but of the Repub
licans, who expect and are receiving the
co-operation of a few misguided “inde
pendent" Democrats so-called.
If further proof is required on this
point, I now proceed to supply it, and to
show that Dr. Felton is to-day exerting
all his admitted powers, unconsciously, 1
hope, to break up the Democratic party
in this district end State.
As was stated in my last communica
tion, Dr. Felton lias changed hi:; ground.
The gravamen of his complaint heretofore
has been iniquities of tho “ring.” He
has taken a step forward, however, and
is now directing his battery against 1 ‘tho
convention system” and “the organized
Democracy.” Now, as the “organized”
Democracy is the only Democracy recog
nized in this country, and especially in the
Southern States, does it nol follow as
truly as the noodle points to the pole,
that Dr. Felton is fighting the Democratic
party? Can any party or political as
sociation exist for any length of time, or
accomplish any good without organiza
tion? Is there any evil in organization?
Can a government, a State, a county or a
city have existence without organization?
An army or navy, a railway, steamship,
hanking, manufacturing or other com
pany or association —what could they do
in the absence of organization and rules
and methods of procedure. Neither Dr.
Felton nor his followers can name any
party which has had an existence since
the world began that was not an organ
ized party. Every living creature,
whether of the earth, the air, or the
water, is an organized being. And the
great globe on which we live, and the wide
universe itself is one vast organism with
fixed principles and laws and conditions.
Even the church of God has its organi
zation, and could not exist here on earth
without it.
What, then, does Dr. Felton mean when
he attacks the “organized” Democracy?
Is it not plain, since there is no other
Democracy in the South, that he means to
assail, and does assail and oppose the
Democratic party in all its parts, and in
all its hopes and objects? True, he claims
to be a Democrat; but so did Gen. Butler,
who voted in the National Democratic
Convention in Charleston in 1860 for
.Jefferson Davis to tho very last. And
Stanton—did he not set up similar claims,
and even encourage the South to resort to
secession and to arms? These men, like
Dr. Felton, were once organized Demo
crats. We next heard of them, however,
as “war” Democrats—in other words,
“independent” Democrats —and next as
“organized” Republicans. And so with
Grant, Longstreet, Thomas, Dix, Andrew
Johnson and others. As Democrats they
were too “independent” to stay in the
“organized” party; and where did they
go? And where will Dr. Felton be after a
while? It is the first step that tells. The
Doctor has taken the first step, and every
subsequent step lias taken him, as it has
done in all like cases, further and further
1 1 om his party.
Evil may creep into (ho best party or- |
ganization, ns the worm may cat its way
into the fruit of the choicest tree; hut as
wo would not cut the tree down in order
to catch the worm, so one would not break
up the party for the purpose of curing tho
evil. Dr. Felton is, himself, a perfect
organism physically, but when his or
ganism gets out of order —in other words,
when he becomes sick—it is presumed
that he takes medicine and goes to work
generally to reuiovo the evil and ro-cstab
lish his health. Asa good physician he
knows very well that it would not do to
go outsido of himself, so to speak, and
sot up another “independent” Dr. Felton,
and belabor his old self with sticks and
stones, in order to effect a cure. As with
individuals, so with parties. De traction
—overthrow—confusion—thoy cure noth
ing. There is reason in all thiugs, as
there is a time for all things.
Hut tho Doctor is also opposed to the
convention system. And yet he cannot
point to any free Democratic country, or
indeed to any civilized government, in
which representative institutions obtain,
that the convention system, or its equiva
lent, does uot prevail. In church and
State, in uiattcrs sacred and profane,
everywhere and in all countries where
there is freedom, and where tho people
arc allowed to select their own agents and
representatives, this much abused con
vention system, or something equal to it,
is universally resorted to by all classes of
people. Ini he United States tho practice
is universal. At all elections, national,
State, county and city, in all parties and
and in every Stale, district, county and
city, whenever and wherever an office is
to bo filled bycleotion, tho universal rule
is to call u convention and appoint dele
gate; lo "i.vi.o the nomination. Churches
have their conventions, councils, synods,
conference:; ud associations, in which
their members and congregations are
represented. Scientists have their con
ventions, and -o do the learned profes
sions. Merchants, railway me n, bankers,
teach. :.., fanners, fruit grower:!, all have
their in. tin.': and a-' oeiatioe-. Indeed,
I hero i no other means or devi.-e which
is at the same time so convenient and ex
peditious, so inexpensive and sail Id tury
as the convention. There is no other way
of getting at the wishes of the | mp'c In
the 7th district, which extends from the
Chattahoochee to the Alabama and Ten
nessee lines, it would be impracticable to
call all tho Democrats together in one vast
and unwieldy body to select its candidate
for Congress; and if they could be brought
together, the concourse would bo too
largo and cumbersome to transact any
business. Still more impracticable would
it be to bring the party together from all
parts of the State to choose a candidate for
governor; aid more impossible yet would
it bo when nominees for President and
Vice-President had to be elected. It
is no argument ugainst conventions that
bad men sometimes get into them. Bad
men get into Congress and tbe Legislature,
and even into the church, hut shall we
therefore abolish those bodies? Every
thing human may he cleansed.
Hut further: we liuve nine Democratic
representatives in Congress from Geoigia.
They are all Democrats, and nominated
by tho “convention” called by tho “or
ganized” Democracy of their several
districts, except Dr. Felton. Now, does
tho Doctor claim that he is a better Dem
ocrat than his eight colleagues, or that
ho represents more truly the wishes and
interests of his constituency than the
others do their constituencies? Does he
protend that they are in anywise inferior
to him us a representative? And does
tho manner of his election give him claims
to consideration over and above them?
Again; Did Dr. Felton not vote for
Tildeii and Hendricks, the candidates
nominated for President and Vice-Presi
dent by the organized Democrats in con
vention assembled? Did he not vote for
James M. Smith and Allred 11. Colquitt,
the regular nominees of the Democratic
party for governor? And did ho not
support Gen. Young, the chosen standard
bearer in this district? If lie did, then
he is estopped by his own act from all
complaint against his party and'its long
established method of selecting its candi
dates. If he did not, then of course he is
not a Democrat at all.
One more query: If it is right nod t roper
for Dr. Fulton to r :i h-pemf P
Democratic etu V ■ . ■
would it not ■ ■ 'ii jit .j
for iridepcti p ; ‘ -. ■ c 1 . 1 •■ • ■ ■■■
run in i vci ■ ■ ■dr.
Uni cdSts .. > it
find in •
Kepi
similar nl
the gi /cry
State it, 4iu t
NUMBER 38.
In conclusion, the reader is requested
to weigh the facts und arguments hero
presented, and to nnswor for himself,
whether Dr. Felton can longer pursue his
present course without being justly
chargeable with a desire to destroy tho
Democratic party in this district. And if
piueh is his desire, whether lie can he a
Democrat at nil, and whether he is entitled
to the vote of any Democrat in the
district, or to tho sympathy of any with
out it? Cato.
ONE FORM OF RUDENESS.
A breach of politeness, and one which
is most annoying to refined and sensitive
people, is the very general practice of in
terrupting one’s conversation. The im
punity with which this is done has de
graded rational conversation, which ought
to be tho greatest charm of social inter
course, into a furee. A man or woman
who has anything to say that is worth
saying, desires to say it i:i his or her own
way; and those who have brains to ap
preciate it, will be equally desirous of
bearing it without interruption. Yet it
is a common thing for a parlor conversa
tion to partake more of the babble of
liabe! than a conversation among rational
beings, who are supposed to know and
appreciate what each other says. One
begins to relate an incident, and before ho
has finished two sentences, some parrot
in fine clothes chimes in with her sense
less gabble, breaking the thread of dis
course and compelling tho narrator to
begin again or abandon the attempt to
instruct or entertain.
This is the grossest impoliteness, but it
is as common an occurrence as conversa
tion itself. It is hardly too much to say
that nine out of every ten peoplo who in
dulge in this habit arc incapable of carry
ing on a rational conversation on any
useful topic, and they indulge in these
breaches of ctiquetto by way of covering
their retreat and hiding their ignorance.
YVe suggest to young people—and old
ones too, for that matter —that here is a
promising field for social reform. Never
interrupt a conversotion by interjecting
remarks, however appropriate and witty
they may seem: all sensible peoplo will
respect you, and conclude that you have
good sense, and know when to use it to
tho best advantage. Congregational.
Methodist.
HIGH JINKS IN IKBI.
When Grant becomes King Ulysses I r
by the grace of (?), it will seem funny to
pick up the court journal (the Now York
Ikrald) anil mail: King Ulysses drove
nut this afternoon, accompanied by Count
Zachariah Chandler, Lord Babcock and
the lion. Miss Gail Hamilton- Duke
Casey and Baron Orville spent the after
noon at the palace and dined with His
Majesty. The royal family were all
present; also Count Schenck. In the
evening His Majesty gave a second grand
lawn party. The Royal Little Rock Band,
under the leadership of Sir Jim Blaine,
B. F., discoursed fine classical music, in
cluding “John Morgan” and “Pause,
Emily.” The guests were received at the
palace by the Hon. Miss Agnes Jcnks and
Lady Eliza Pinkston. Among the distin
guished personages who graced the oc
casion by their presence where H. K. H.
Prince Secor, H. It. 11. Prince Belknap,
the Right Honorable Grandfather Taft,
K. C., Lord fc'hupherd, Count Jacob
Itchni, Duke De Goiyer Garfield, Very
Rev. Parson Newman, Lord Landaulct
Williams, the Right Honorable Sir James
Gordon Bennett, C. P. P., and the royul
family and numerous others.— Boston,
Host.
WHAT MAKUS THU MAN.
Many people seem to gorgotthat cliar
actergrows; that it is not something to
puton, ready-made, with womanhood or
manhood; but, day by day, here a little
and there a little, grows with the growth,
strengthens with the strength, until, good
or bad, it becomes almost a c .at of mail.
Look at a man of businc --prompt, re
liable, conscientious, yet clear headed and
euergetio. When do you .-.uppose ho
developed all these admirable ipiaiities?
W lien he was a boy.
Let us seo the way in which a boy of
ten years gets up in the morning, works,
plays, studies, and we will tell you just
what kind of a man he will make. The
boy that is late at breakfast, and latest
ihool, stands a poor chance to be a
prompt man. The boy who neglects bis
.uties, be they ever so small, and then
uses himself by saying, “I forgot! I
iln’t think!” will never boa reliable
nan. And the boy who finds pleasure in
tho suffering of weaker things, will never
be a noble, generous, kindly man—a gen
tleman.—A'', I'. Observer,