Newspaper Page Text
THE CHEROKEE ADVANCE.
EXAMINE HOW YOUR HUMOR 13 INCLINED, AND WHICH THE RULING PASSION OK YOUR MIND.’
VOLUME VI.
CANTON. GEORGIA, FRIDAY, MORNING, JUNE 12, 1885. •
— . . ..
NUMBER 24.
THE CHEROKEE ADVANCE.
PUBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY
BEN. V. PERRY, Editor and Proprietor
Offlot upstair i, tor. West Marietta and Gains-
title Streets—near Court House.
OFFICIAL ORGAN CHEROKEE COUNTY.
terms op subscription.
Per Annum in Advtuico fl.00
11 payment is delayed 1.23
(^Advertising Ratos extremely low,
to suit the times.
Legal advertisements inserted and
charged for as prescribed by an act ol
the General Assembly.
Advertisements will bo run until for
bidden, unloss otherwise marked, and
charged for accordingly. All considered
duo after first insertion.
All communications intended for pub
lication must be&r the narno of writer,
not necessary lor publication, but as a
guarantee of good faith.
Wc shall not in any wav lie responsible
for the opinions of contributors.
No communication will bo admitted
into our columns having for its end i
defamation of private character, or in
anv other way of a scurrilous import of
public good.
Correspondence solicited on all pointa
of general importance—but let them bo
briefly to tho point.
All communications, letters of busi-
noss, or money remittances, to receive
prompt attention, must bo addresso l to
BEN. F. PERRY, Canton, Ga.
P. O. Drawer 49.
IN WINTER.
Marietta & North Georgia R, R,
TIME TABLE
In Effect Sunday, April 19,1885-
NUMBER 1—NORTH.
Leave Marietta
Arrive at Blackwell's
“ Woodstock
“ Holly Springs...
“ Canton
“ Mabel
“ Ball Oronnd....
“ Tate's
“ ' Jasder
“ Talking Bock...
“ Ellijay..
. 9 Ol) am
. 9 20 mu
. 9 48 uni
. 10 os am
.10 :il am
.. .11 12 am
... 11 05 mu
.. .11 04 am
.. .12 19 pm
... 1 02 pm
Leave
Arrive
NUMBER 2-SOUTH, W
Ellijay l 28
—hjuv i 28 pm
at Talking Rock 2 08 pm
Jwpor 2 04 pm
Tats s 2 62 pm
Ball Ground 0 20 pm
Mablo
Canton 4 08 pm
Holly Springs 4 81 pm
Woodstock, .•. 4 5fi gm
Blackwell’s 5 20 pm
Marietta 5 40 pm
W. R. POWER,
G. P. A T. Agt.
BOARD!BOARD!
Students attending school at this plnce
or visitors hero for health, pleasure or
recreation, can get good board and ac
commodations from the undersigned.
My house is large—situated in the heart
of the town near tho Academy—the
rooms comfortable, and the table sup
plied with the best the market affords.
Will board reasonably cheap and guar
antee satisfaction. Transient board
solicited. For further particulars write
to or call on
JAMES M. HUTSON, Canton, Oa.
Sale and Feed
STABLE,
W. T. MAHAN,
Cain, Ga., near Railroad Depot.
Horses sod Boggles at seasonable
prices.
Carriages and Horses Mwagra ready.
Will send to any part of the oountry,
with careful drivers and gentle teams,
All kinds of stock feed, and stock well
cared for.
Haillu aai Dram Dot at lor Bates.
Customers will be politely waited 00
at all hours—day or night
When are Women Old f
“When does a woman begin to grow
old ?” was lately asked in an assembly
of French women, who are said to be
even more afraid of vieillir than the wo
men of other countries, although from
the nervous concealment of their age
one should imagine even in this oountry
that not to remain eternally young was
a thing to be ashamed of. “With the
first gray hair,” suggested one of the
ladies, and “When she ceases to ins pile
love” thought another. The decision
was finally put to a charming white-
haired maiden of some 70 years, who at
once replied, “What do I know about
it ? You must ask an old woman to an
swer you such a question.” Which
shows that at least one among the ladies
had the right reoipe for remaining
young.
Bt LOD1SK CHANDLER MOULTON.
Oh, to go back to the days of Juc~
Just to be young and alive again,
Hoitrki'ti again to tho mad, sweet tnne
Birds wore singing with might and maini
South they flew at the summer’s wan
Leaving their n< sts for storms to harry,
Sinco time was coming for wind and rain
Under tho wintry akies to marry.
Wearily wander by dale and dune
Footsteps fettered with clnnking chain—
Free they were in the days of Juno,
Free they never can bo again;
Fetters of ago and fetb rs of pain,
Joys that fly, and sorrows that tarry—
Youth is over, and hope wore vain
Under the wintry skies to marry.
Now wo chant but a desolate rune—
“Oh, to bo yourg and alive again 1”—
But never December turns to June,
And length of living is length of pain;
Winds in tho nostlcss trees complain,
Snows of winter about us tarry,
And never tho birds come back again
Under the wintry skies to many.
Youths and maidens, blitlisome and vain,
Tinto makes thrusts that you cannot parry,
Mate in season, for who is fain
Undor the wintry skies to marry?
—Century for April.
A ROMANTIC STORY.
Startling stories are told and thrilling
effects produoed in the many novels of
the day, but it is seldstin wo find any
thing more startling or thrilling iu fiction
than this “ower true tale” of a belle of
the early part of the prescut oeutury,
There are those still living who can
attest to the facts; but were it not that
the principal actors have passed from
the stage, I should hesitate yet to make
publio such a peculiar family history.
As it is I will “tell the tale aa it ’twas
told to me,” only begging pardon for
concealing the real names.
“In what waa than a charming sea
side town, there lived, fifty years ago, a
most lovely girl, named Amy Provence
—bright and radiant and witty, but,
alas ! as the sequel allows, most nnwise,
to say the very least.
Of suitors she had many, and when
she first appears in the light of a hero
ine, she hod already promised her hand,
with her heart in it, to a prosperous and
highly respected young merchant.
Thero was not so muoh of fashion and
folly then as now; young ladiefe did not
lie awake over troaseaua and establish
ments, or mar their beanty aud redden
their eyes, dimming their luster by late
hours aud high living. But Miss Prov
ence approached her bridal day in all
her youthful freshness. Her lover Ernst
Rhodes, was ardently attached to her,
and tho course of true love ran, appar
ently very smoothly. But the old fash
ion fate has of turning momentous re
sults on very small hinges, was in style
then as now, and fate was busy with
them.
Miss Amy was invited to visit Miss
Woolsey, a wealthy old aunt in Rhode
Island, before her marriage. Bo, bun
dling up some of the mysterious wed
ding paraphernalia, for a last beautify
ing touch, for her fairy fingers were
very tasteful and swift, she left her
lover, with regret, I know, and left him
for a week’s sojourn with her aristooratio
relative. This week was understood to
be the last of her maidenhood, and the
yonng girl felt even that to be a small
eternity. But what jonugfiancee, on the
evo of marriage with the dear one of her
ehoiee, cannot find a wealth of enjoyment
in loving thoughts even for a whole week?
Miss Woolsey was a lady of position
and consequence, and the rare beauty
and grace of her niece gave her a pres
tige in the eyes of the many visitors to
the house. Her entertainments were
nnique and “just the thing,” and it was
with a certain degree of pride that an
invitation to Miss Woolsey’s was accept
ed by the surrounding gentry. It is the
same the world over, and has been for
far more years than this veritable history
covers, that a certain element in charac
ter is gratified by the notice of those
who are considered a round higher on
the social ladder. Amy was delighted
with the evidence of luxury about her;
and her vanity was flattered by the nu
merous attentions she received from the
various visitors to her aunt’s house.
Ernst at home was impatient for her re
turn, chafing ar.d wondering how Amy
could go away from him, even for a
week, if she loved as he loved i Fate
was weaving bar first thread 1
Among the many who came to Miss
Woolsey’s attracted by the exquisite
beauty of Miss Amy, was one, a certain
Mark Halso, of whom people knew lit
tle, save that he seemed to live in some
style; at least, he kept a carriage, a
luxury that few indulged in in those
days, and said very little about himself
and his antecedents. Each evening he
came, and each evening saw him at
Amy’s side. Fa talked at love
but shrewder eyes than hers saw whither
lie was tending, and fate Was weaving
her second thread.
In the meantime Amy bad been very
diligent; the work waa finished, the last
touches given to the dainty finery, apd
iu the near future the sweet hope of her
life would be fulfilled; so thought ahe,
Ernst was at home, waiting as only
lovers can wait, and each one of you
kuows how patiently that Is. Amy would
go to-morrow.
Even at this distant time, iu the light
of all the sufferings that followed, my
pen almost refuses to chronicle the rec
ord of the lost eventful evening of ths
poor girl's visit. Wo do have some
thing to do with our destiny, inasmuch
as the reins are put into our own hands,
aud wo may turn whithorsover we will I
So Mark Halse came and Amy received
him.
As usual he sat by her side, and, aa
usual, she let him linger there. Alas I
for the dear boy at homo ahe knew she
loved, and whom in spite of all that fol
lowed, you know she loved I Ernat waa
not by to give her his warning look,
and save her from the tempter. The
soft voioe spoke:
“My dear Miss Amy”—and very ten
der was his look—“you are going away,
and do yon know how I shall mias yon ?”
“You oan’t ‘mias’ me muoh longer,”
she blushingly replied, laughing at the
innocent pun.
“Ah I that is what makes my heart
ache so," said he, “for when yon are
gone, and I think of all yoof happine
I shall regrot more than I can tell yon
that you ever came among ns to so dis
turb tho ripples of my quiet life;” and
a deep sigh enforced his words,
“Please don’t talk so, Mr. Halse,”
said Amy, "for even in this short week
I liavo learued to prize your friendship
highly, and I sbonld be sorry indeed
not to retain it.”
“Amy,” said he, easting off all reserve,
and abruptly seizing her hand—“Amy,
I can stand it no longer; I must know
my fate from your own lips t When you
talk to me of qniet friendship, there
rashes upon me like a wave the thought
of all that I lose in losing yon I Will
you be my wife ?”
His impetuosity startled tor, and she
drew back.
“Do not talk so to me I” she oried,
"Do yoti not know that in • few days I
shall be Ernst’s wife ?”
Mark Halse knew not and oared not
who “Ernst” was; he only knew that
she had promised her troth to another,
and he meant to win her from him.
Don’t toll me that she was wrong and
imprudent to listen to him—don’t I
know it ? I am only telling yon a true
story, and it is my dnty to reoord that
this particular Amy Provence was no ex
ception to the oorps of silly girls.
“Yea I know it, I know it,” he plead
ed “but, Amy, darling, how eau I let
you go I I will do anything for this dear
hand. I will give you a princely home
and every surrounding that wealth can
purchase, if you will only come to me
and be my beloved wifo I”
“No, no,” said Amy, “do not tempt me,
Ernst is not rich, I know, but I love him
and he loves mo dearly, aud I will be
his wife."
Do yon think that Mark Halse gave up
the chase ? Not he I His voioe waa very
winning, and as he talked on and od, be
lieve me or not as yon see fit, the girl
l>egan to listen to his persuasive tones.
Ernst was away, and Mark, with his
fine presents aud finer promises, was
near—even at her very feet.
Bo it came that Amy Provenoe was
not even “off with the old love before
on with the new,” for when Mark Halse
added to all the other temptations tho
promise of a carriage for her very own,
the poor, ambitious victim yielded, and
gave to her.tempter her broken faith.
What he cared for it will soon appear.
The forsaken Ernst, bore as well as
his fortitude and outraged love would
let him, the oold letter announcing to
him his Amy's treachery, and never
sought for an explanation. He was too
manly to resent the insult, and treated
the whole affair as beneath oontempt,
rightly judging that the false-hearted
girl who oould trifle with his tenderest
feelings was not worth mourning for.
It would be well for all if I oould leave
it here, but truth compels me to pro
ceed. ,1 need not tell yon of the poor
mother, whose’whole heart was in Amy’s
marriage with Ernat, of all who wars
so Indignant at her decision; or of the for
saken lover who had loved so blindly
only to be made to Buffer so deeply—
my story is not with these.
Miss Woolsey was well pleased at the
turn in the tide of affairs, and offered the
deluded girl all the necessary assistance.
She was married in a few weeks from
her aunt’s house in a style seldom seen
at that time. I should like to linger
here if my heart was in it. and tell yon
of all the fine thingfi that was said an4
done, in spite of the unpleasant state of
things, but I will forbear.
Ambition and love are always at war,
and one must be viotor, so when Amy
swallowed down the love she gave the
rsius to her ambition, and looked for
ward to her lordly hfirne with what
pleasures she might. Bnt she knew
nothing more of the man who had - “led
her his own way” than he had told her
tymself, so that when she came to he ■
sad awakening it was as if a thnnderbolt
had fallen at her feet. What were his
promises ? Mere empty air 1 The home
he took her to was a miser’s home, and
henoeforth, and for her whole life of
fifty years, she saw such sufferings ss
woman seldom sees.
Do you ask mo if he gave her nothing
of all ho promised? Yes, the carriage,
which was tho thiug that turned the
sonic iu his favor; he gave her that, aud
lints fulfilled his literal promise^
- Ho gave her the onrriage, but it stood
in tho barn for fifty years, with never a
ltnr.se. and never a ride had she with it I
For fifty years there was present before
her eyes this ooustaut reminder of a lov
ing heart trampled upon—tor fifty years
Mark Halse made her feel his irou hand I
Children oame to her, bnt no oomfort
with them; one grew up a miserable
drunkard, and another went out from
her for many years, returning finally, to
■fttlo down at home, taeituru aud mo
rose. Her husband died, and this sou
seemed all she had to live for, aud, ns
his father’s will waa made up entirely in
his favor, the wretched woman, who
had absolutely no society or friends,
loaned on him for her daily bread. But
in a little while he died, aud all the poor
mother oould now do was to be thank
ful she was not a pauper. Meanwhile
how read hia will ? All, everything, be
queathed to a wife and son in South
America of whose existence nobody
dreamed I
By the terms of the will, the son was
to oomo North immediately on being ap
prised of his father’s death, take the
family name and look after tho property:
but not a word of the old mother, no
IomW for her declining yearn, no love ex
pressed, nothing for her—all as if Bhe
were not 1 Is it strange after all these
reverses, and the corroding remorse of
fifty years, that the poor woman found
her burden greater then she oonld bear ?
When she felt her miserable life
drawing to its close, she sent for Ernst,
and for the first time in all these years
they two stood face to face ! He with
his white locks, bnt still commanding
fignre, and fine, stern faoe, was an
avenging augel 1 she with her bent and
trembling form, her wrinkled, oareworn
face, with its hungry look for human
sympathy, was scarcely the brilliant,
beautiful girl who had gouo from her
home in her youth and innocence to
bring upon both their lives such a terri
ble consummation I
They gazed at each other without a
word, till, at length, she spoke, and the
words which rang upon his ears oame
from the depths of a broken heart.
“Ernst 1”—the came, the onoe-loved,
still loved name, lingered upon her lips
like a strain of forgotten musio—“Ernst,
can yon forgive me ?”
Gently the old lover took her trem
bling hand in his, bat with everything of
love crushed out for all the years; calm
ly the words fell on her ears:
“Amy, I cannot 1 You ruined my
whole life I But for your trampling out
my young heart I should have been a
different man ! But for your treachery
we might have been happy I Aa it is*
you destroyed my faith in woman; I
oonld never trust another t”
Bhe cowered in her misery, and pat
ting her poor slffanken hands over her
worn faoe, she cried:
“Before God, Ernst, I pray for your
meroy 1 He knows how I have suffered,
and if ever a poor criminal expiated his
gnilt with hia heart’s blood, I have I
Let me feel that year just resentment
will not follow me to the eternal world 1”
“Amy, let ns understand one another.
We are both old now. Since you and
I met in tho old, old time—” his voioe
quivered, and he raised his dewy eyes
to heaven—“it is half a oentnry. Bnt
all this fifty years is bnt as a moment
to what is to oome. I have lived a lone
ly life, without wife or children. I
should rather a thousand times have
seen the green sod over yoor grave, and
felt that yon were lost to me beoanso
God took yon, than to have it as it is.
But yoor own hand gave the blow, and
it was your own hand which oruahed all
my life. But if it will be any oomfort to
you to feel that I do not hold resent
ment still, then be comforted, Amy.
I am willing to leave all with God.”
He bowed his head over her hand and
was gone.
serener than ftfhadwornln lifo sinoe
the last time Ernst had looked npon it.
Fate had woven the last thread.
“TOM P00RH0USE.”
TIIR 01,11 CLOCK TAKEN TIIK
F A lot lilt TO TANK KOU GIN CHU-
HI,TV,
Whirl* l>rn»r n I’onr llor to OontH nltd
Miilr lllinitrir n Itnvlim Maniac.
Professional and Business
Cards.
[From tho Dotroit Froo Press.]
The old olook down stairs began to
atriko midnight as he started up. The
wind was making tho old farmhonso
rock and tremble, and the powder-like
snow was driving in through every
orevioe. Tho wife slept undisturbed,
but the old farmer was nervous and
wakeful.
“Farmer Johns, are yon awake?"
It was a voioe which ho had never
heard before. It souuded close at
his bedside, and yet, as ho looked
about tho room, fairly lighted by the
oold winter moou shining in through
tho window, ho saw nothing but familiar
objects.
“I am your aooUHor I” eon tinned tho
voioe ; “I am a witness against you 1”
“What have I done?” gasped Farmer
Johns.
“Last fall you took a lad from tho
poorhouse—had one bound to you
according to law.”
"Bartin, aartin, and it was a poor
speculation fur me. Tho boy huiu’t
aimed his salt.”
“You broko him down in tho harvest
field, and when you knew that he was
ill you refused him modioinos 1 The
boy linsn’t seen a well day for throe
months.”
"Yes, but boys are great shirks.
How’d I know whether he was siok or
playing off on me ?”
"You are lying to your conscience,
Farmer Johns t How has that boy
fared for provisions and clothes ?”
“Hain’t he got some of my old
clothes on this very minnit ?” protested
the farmer. “They is laU o’ holes and
patches, in coarse, bnt am I going to
take a boy outer the poorhouse and
dress him in broad-oloth? B’poseu ho
does shiver a little—shiverin’ don’t hnrt
anybody! He gits ’nuff to eat, 1 reckon
—leastwise all he a*rns. I ain’t goin’ to
feed nobody on aweet-oako I"
“Think of his sleeping in that oold
and dismal garret snob a night at this I”
whispered the aoouser.
“All his own fault!” replied tho
farmer, “I gin him a chamber by him
self, but he kept coughing and groanin’
till I couldn't sleep. Put it all on to git
sympathy, bnt he made a mistake. Me’n
the old woman worked for what wo’ve
got, and others mnst do the same.”
“A straw bed—a ragged qnilt, and the
night oold enough to ohill an ox I” ac
cused the voioe.
“Oh t pshaw I You oan’t make mo be
lieve the boyB of to-day are so muoh
more tender’n the boys of my time. It
hain’t healthy fur boys to sloop too
warm. He’ll warm up at the wood pile
as soon as daylight comes.”
“Farmer Johns, no true Christian can
talk as you do. You have neither meroy
nor oharity 1”
“PoohI Got lots of it! And if I
wasn’t a Christian man how’d I git to be
a deacon in the churoh ? That boy is a
heap better off’n most of ’em.”
“His body is black and blue from the
pounding you have inflicted.”
“Well, he shouldn’t oversleep then.”
“You have a heart of stone, Farmer
Johns. If that boys dies you will be
acoused at the judgment seat of his
murder!”
“Nonsense I Nobody feels any more
pity for poor folks than I do, and if
‘Tom Poorhouse’ dies it will be of eat
ing too muoh.”
P. P. DuPREE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
CANTON, GEORGIA.
Will practice in tin Blue Ridge cir
cuit ana in Cherokee county. Office in
tho Court House with the Ordinary.
B*oy""Administrutii>nn on estates and
Collections a specialty.4pg
W. ». & G. I. Tt&SLEY,
AttorneyN at Law,
CANTON. GEORGIA.
Will givo prompt attention to all busi
ness intrusted to them. Will practice in
all the courts of the oounty and iu the
Superior Courts of tho Blue Ridge cir
cuit.
C. D. MADDOX,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
CANTON, GEORGIA
by permission to John Bilvey A
». M. Olarko A Oo., James R.
Refers
Co., Thus
Wylie aud Oramliug, Hpaliling A Co,
of Atlanta, Ga.
all
II. W. NEWMAN.
/NO. D. ATTAWAT.
NEWMAN & ATTAWAY,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
CANTON, - - - GEORGIA.
Will practice in the Huptrior Courts
»l Cherokee and adjoining counties.
I’rornpt attention given to ail buaineaa
placed In their hand*. Office in the
Court House.
BJBN. F. JHliRRY,
AGENT —
FIRE AND LIFE INSURANCE OO.
Office with OhkrokhE Anv ancw.
L. NEWMAN,
_ & CARRIAGE PAINTER,
Paper Hanging and Calsominlng,
Graining and Glazing.
All Work Guaranteed.
J. M. HARDIN.
Carriage
When they oame to her, hours later,
she lay peacefully asleep, her white
hands clasped over her breast, aud the
expression on her dead faoe calmer and
"This is the oldest patient we have in
the aaylnm,” said the guide, os we halt
ed at the lower end of the ward.
It was a grated door. I looked through
and saw sn old man cowering in a oor-
ner. After a moment he rose np and
approached the door aud whispered :
“And at daylight I called and oalled
him, bnt he didn’t git up. I went up
with the horse-whip to teach him bet-
ter’n to oversleep on me that way, but
Tom Poorhouse was dead on his straw
bed, and the snow had blowed In till it
almost kivered him np.”
House. Sign-
■ —and—
ORNAMENTAL. PAINTER,
FRESCO Mil SCENIC ARTIST ALSO.
Oriental and Grecian [tainting. Mezo
Tin tin?, Oarbo-Tinting, painting in Be-
poi and .India Ink.
Twenty-five per cent saved by apply-
tig to me before contracting with others.
Material furnished at bottom prices.
Satisfaction given or no charges made.
Bee er address. J. M. HARDIN,
[jan8-’ Canton, Georgia.
H. H.
BRICK, PLASTERING
—^and-
STONE WORKMAN.
Canton, • • G-a.
I am fully prepared to do any kind of
Masonry or Plastering at the lowest pos
sible rates, and solicit the patronage af
those desiring work in my lino.
H. H McENTYBE.
TH08. W. HOGAN,
DENTIST,
G-a.
Canton.
Tenders his professional services to ths
citizens of Oanton and surrounding ooun
try, and guarantee, satisfaction in work
and prices.
Office—Over W. M. Ellis’ stim.
0-0 TO
J. L CHASTAIN & CO.,
To get yo
tid
rour old harness made new, your
slices and boots repaired, or saddles and
bridles made or repaired. Ladies’ and Gen
tlemen’s flue shoes made to order. Have for
sale a tine lot of leather and general shoe find
ings at rook bottom prices for cash. Don’t
tail to come and see us when in town. Shop
in cellar of Scott, Keith & Bro.
J. B. CHASTAIN & CO.
NKVKB KNOWN TO OATCH ANYTHING.
“Are yon going to send that man
down among those rotten tenements ?”
asked a visitor at tho New York Polios
Headquarters.
“Of course. Why not?” asked the
officer in charge.
“Because there is small-pox there.”
“Oh, he won’t catch it.’
“Why, has he had it?”
“No ; he’s a detective.”
“Beg pardon, 1 didn’t know that.”
fVfcAFEE HOUSE,
OANTON. GtA.
tions first-class and prioea low. Splendid
Sample Booms for drummer*. Special rates to
Sample
famine
In connection with the House are splendid
stables, where horses, buggies, etc., wiU re
ceive prompt attention, and at moderate rater.
All jurors and oitizena of the county having
business in court, will be charged less than
regular rates. For further particulars call on
or address
COL. H. C. KELLOCC.
Canton, Georgia
4