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■The Spring of Nature.
M HB»se the volume, wearily,
K)f prophet and of seer,
utter all ir.y doubts aud dream*
In Nature’s listening car.
She hears my spirit’s Vjtnost sigh—
s With sympathy divine
Her myriad treasures she enfolds
'And makes their promise mine.
The waves flow ever to the sea,
A nobler path to And ;
The forests all their toary brows
With fresher garlands bind,
-Aid smiling in the summer sun,
Or beckoning in the stars,
The wide blue sky of freedom tells
-Beyond earth’s prison bars.
The diamond, monarch of the gems,
Shines with interior light,
■As if a spirit flashed within,
Half visible to sight.
And on the ever-silent hills,
The watch-towers of the land.
The very silence seems to speak
A Presence —calm and grand.
The violet breathes her incen.se forth
Upon the summer field# ;
The lily to the wooing wave
Her soul of fragrance yields.
Os beauty and of love they tell,
These flowers that God has given,
lily angels gathered as they fade,
To deck the courts of Heaven.
The rose may die—it lives ‘agaiti
In Celling bud and flower;
The day departs, but still returns
lleveal the lesson of the World,
Renewal—not decay.
With morning’s gilded hour.
All voices of the watchful night,
All glorious of the day,
Ol life and not of death they sing—
Os hope In every change.
A glorious record flashes out
Through nil creation's range-;
■And as I listen, as I read
The mystic volume o’er,
My soul re-echoes Nature's voice,
••Mife—hope for evermore 1"
F. L. M.
-'Bangor,'Me. January 'IB7O
Simple Story.
‘Whirr ! Whirr P and ’the Sparks
'flew off the grindstone from tiie scissors
held against it. The man who was
'grinding stopped a minute, felt the edge
of the scissors w ith his thumb, tighten
ed the rivet, and handed it to the ser
vant who stood w aiting for it.
‘Three pence, miss.; thank .'you:*’ and
'he prepared to move on. Will voti <*-et
'in, Kitty ?”
‘No, grandpa ; me not'tired, 1 said a
long haired, blue eyed child of about
hive years old, who toddled alongside.—
She was very poorly dressed, but per
fectly clean ; her hair was smooth and
.glossy, and her face had a look of con
tentment and trust-.; not a -very -pretty
child at first sight, ’but 'evidently a
docile little creature.
All day the man wheo'ed his grind
stone from street to street, with the
x-hild sometimes aSvttke, trotting along
side and prattling gaily, -sotne times sit
ting or lying in her little cradle.
When the darkness came on, he turn
ed from the Crowded streets, and ccits
ed his monotonous cfy. He was'fcvident
ly upon his way homeward. West
ward he went, up Oxford street, and
'along the Edgcwater road, and through
a side street to a small archway. Up
this he drove his grinding raachlne into
n small yard ; there, under a cover of a
shed, he stowed away his barrow, and
lifting the sleeping child out of the
Tough cradle, ho carried her tenderly up
stairs to a room at the top of the house-;
then, laying her down on the bed, he
(proceeded to strike a light. Leaving
the candle burning., he went downstairs
again and out into the crowded road.—
There he bought some hot potatoes
from an itinerant vendor, some bread
and some butter, and a pint of tea at a
•coffee shop. This last he put into a
tin he had brought with him, and then
Went back again to his room.
Kitty climbed up on her grandfath
er's knee, and ate her supper contented
ly, prattling meantime about a thousand
things.
Then she ■said, ‘‘l have not filled your
pipe, grandpa ;’ and going to a corner,
fetched a long pipe, and filled it
with tobacco from a pouch the old man
h&ided her, watched until be had lit it,
ana then held up her face to be kissed.
wxwr you are cumfle,’ sbe said, ‘Kitty
Vll go to bpd and watch .you.’
It she watched. In a
c*w minu*esfhe long fringe drooped
)ver the eyes, and the child was asleep.
Either the pipe did not draw well, or
the smoker was more thoughtful than
■usual; lor several times be relighted it,
“each time m a -mechanical way as if he
'wore thwk'mg deeply. He was a man
ol perhaps fifty years old ; his hairwas
Very gray, but he had an upright ear
riage, and something of the air of an old
soldier. HiT eye was bright and clear—
ft kind and honest, and yet a shrewd
eye.
’lt fa time to try,’ he said at last to
himself; ‘I have put it off long enough.
She can never be more winning than she
ja jaow, If he does not take to her now,
jho never will. Poor little pet—poor lit
tle pet! I shall miss her sadly.’ And
his firmly-cut lip quivered at the thought.
'Yes, J will start to-morrow., ’ he said at
Jast. ‘lf it is to bo done, it had better
be done at once.’
The next morning a little bundle was
•impended under the barrow, and with
this slight preparation the pair of
friecds were ready to start upon the
journey ; Killy in the highest glee at
the thought of seeing pigs and sheep,
ami cocks and hens, and geese, and
l»*ny other things.
Jt was a long journsy, and they did
Bprnm'ry, but went quietly ong, stop
ping at the various village and small
towns, and earning a few jce by the
-sharpening of knives, settin >f scissors,
and patching up of leaky 1 ;beu uten
sils.
It was more than a foilght after
they*bad left'Londorf that fy reached
the end of their journey, a iet village
down in Leicestershire. T< dtty's uri.
bounded astonishment, hei grandfath
er had test the grinding mafce at their
halting place the'lirght befoE He.had,
though, dressed himself in pat Kitty
called his Sunday clothes,/d had pro
duced from the bundle a (ss fer her
-self which she had rtever en before,
made 6f a light gray stuf with blue
shoulder knots. 'Greatly 1 !Kitty “Ex
ulted and danced over thilnery, but
was rather subdued when was 'told
that she was not to put'it until the
next evening. HoWevershe was
dressed in what had been
her frock, she whs con tent \
was indeed delighted wbeh hi grand
father told her that upon this jiy'they
were to go in a carriage— jt a real
carriage.
O .. . .5
There was some little astoniinent in
the mind of the landlady of thaßarton
Arms when a fly stopped at tj door,
and a quiet looking person, whjby his
upright walk and composed f<k she
took to be a gentleman, thouglg. poor
one, got out, lifted out a little jfl in a
broad. brimmed straw hat, andiith on
ly a small bundle in Jais band, ntered
the door.
‘Can I have a private room, la lady ?'
he asked. T shall be stoppr here
with my little granddaughter r two
days. 1
•Yes, sir, we have a private r< n.’
It was late in the afternooi when
they arrived, and when tea w over
Kitty went to bed, more 6lee] than
usual after her unwonted excitt ent.—
Her grandfather sat by her bed e un
til she was asleep, and -then ret* led to
the sittirtg’rodm and rdng (Wb .
‘Willyou ask the landlady to s|> up V
The landlady came up gladly or she
had been not a little mystified a > puz
zled as to Whom'the gentleman Ith the
little girl could be, or what c tld be
their motive in coming to sps
days in Laverton.
‘Pray,-sit down,’ said her gut| when
-she entered. ‘I daresay you fesome
what surprised at my coming hie ; but
at the present moment I cannotfixplain
matters, although, no doubt, |u will
know shortly. Will you be kinimough
to answer one or two questiol, even
if you do not understand my niive in
asking them ? 1
The landlady expressed hnr|viliing'
ness to do so.
* Sir John Barton’s place is elite here,
is it not ?’
‘ Quite close,-sir 1 ; his gate isjust at
the entrance of the village.’ !
‘ Has he any head ls but
ler for instance—who have the
■family many yeais ?’
1 Lor, yes, sir ! He is not a gelkanan
to change his servants. Mr. Merrrn,
his butler, has been with him, man f»d
boy, nigh thirty years.’
‘Do you think I could get to epea
to Mr. Merrion ?’
‘ Nothing easier, sir; he is dow
-stairs now. He steps over sometimes f
an'evening to smoke a pipe with n,’
husband in the bar parlor.’
‘Would you kindly toll him that i
stranger would be glad if be wool
come up to speak to him for a few u>
ments on a subject of importance •?’
The landlady left the room to cary
out the request, more and more pnzzld
by all this mystery.
In a minute or two there was a tp
at the door, and a rather stout mauyn
undress livery, entered.
‘ Please take a seat, Mr. Merrion.-
Excuse the liberty I have taken in at\-
ing you to come up ; but when yu
hear what 1 have to say, I am sure y u
will do so.’
H Excuse me, sir,’ the butler said-; ‘Ms.
Malin has just told me about you, aid
I don’t know' what you want to ask nse ;
that is, I don’t know whether you art a
lawyer, or what you want; and I&n
only say anything I can teil you I VRll,
but not if it’s going to harm —no ror
worry Sir John.’
‘ Not at all, Mr. Merrion, and you sre
qiiite right. You have, 1 hoar, beei a
long time in the family, and are, I s>e,
attached to your master. * He’is, I ie
lieve, a proud man,’
‘ Well, yes, he’s a right to be thal, I
expect,’ the butler said cautiously.
‘ Quite so, quite so, Mr. Merrion ; out
it is a sad thing to think he has no clild
to come after him.’
‘Ay, a,y,’ the butlet said, ‘it is all
that.’
‘ His only son,’as I baVe heard,’his
interrogator said, ‘ made a match be
neath him, and his father never forgave
him, never saw him again.’
‘Ay.’ said the butler, * but that wasn’t
master’s fault. He was away, and the
letter telling as how Master Charles
were ill never got to bind for a week;
and then he went off post baste to
Fiance. I know, for he took me with
him ; and when wo got down to Marsel,
we found he was dead and buried, and
his wife, and that the child, who
was only a month old, was gone—no
•one knew where. He’d give half hhs
‘money to know.’
' Thank God, thank God ;’ the other
said ; ‘this is good news, indeed. Poor
little Kitty ! Thank God !’ and lie cov
ered his face with his hands, and cried.
For some time the butler could only
gaze at him in astonishment; at last he
said,
‘ And who may you be, sir ? and
wbat do you know of the child ?’
‘ I am her grandfather, too,’ the man
said. ‘ And the child is asleep in the
next room,’
‘ I am glad, the butler said, excitedly;
‘ ay, as glad as if it was my own. But
why did you never come before ? I
know master advertised in every paper.’
‘ I never saw them. I only knew he
had beeu written for on the same day I
had. He never came, and I supposed
would not. I buried my child and her
husband, and took the baby, and I have
kept her ever since. And 1 love her as
I loved ber mother before her. But she
is over five years old now; and I
thought that it was time to try if her
grandfather—who I believed had never
forgotten his son, even when he knew
he was dying—would now take his
son's child. Thank God that from
what you say, he will do so.’
*Do so?’ the butler said ; ‘ proud as
Sir John ie—and he is proud—there is
FHBERT ij§ APPEAL.
nothing in the world he would not
have done to find her out.
Thp conversation lasted some time
longer, and then Mr. Merrion took his
lerrve ancj went straight home, without,
to SB s *. Malin’s great disappointment,
revealing one word of what had taken
place at the long and mysterious inter
view.
Tbe next evening Sir John Barton
was sitting alone after his dinner. A
tall, Btdtely man, but with marks of deep
sorrow upon bis face. A proud re
served'than, the world said, and in his
youth no doubt truly ; a reserved man
still, but scarcely a proud one. At the
present moment Sir John was wonder
ing over the bohavtor of bis butler, John
Merrion, at dinnec-John was ordinarily
dne'of the tno-t staid and respectful of
domestics ; but John had behaved
throughout dinner in a manner quite
unlike himself. If such a thing had not
been out of the question, he shoUlQFave
said that John Merrion wasELisnfc. Ilti.'
had broken two glasses ; he had spilled
the 'wine in filling his glass, and the
mhn'i eyes were certainly full of tears.
His master had asked hipi what was the
matter, and he replied, ‘Nothing, Sir
John ;’ but, of course, something was
the matter, although, Ss the footman
was in the room, Sir John bad passed
the matter over. Sir John now turn
ed it over in his mind. John Merrion
had been a widower fdr many years,
and his only son was now head-groom.
Perhaps one of his children was ill.—
Sir John had heard nothing df it,'but be
thought be wouid ring and ask. At
this moment the door opened a little,
and the sound of a man crying was dis.
tiuctiy heard through it, and then the
baronet thought be was dreaming, when
a little child with long golden hair, with
a blue ribbon round her head, came up
towards him, with-an air half timid, yet
frank and confident, and putting her
hand in his, said :
‘Please, grandpa, my name is Kitty
Barton, and I am come to stay with you
and love you, Please, this is papa’s like
ness, and a letter.’
And she held out a gold locket, and a
letter directed in the well remembered
handwriting of his dead son.
'For a moment the baron stood speech
less. Then, with a cry of ‘Thank God,
thank God for His mercy 1’ he caught
the child up and held her to his heart,
while his tears ‘rained down upon her
sunny head.
‘•Don’t tify, gf&ndpa : ; don’t cry,’ she
said, presently beginning to sob herself
at the sight of his emotion. ‘lf grandpa’s
sorry, Kilty go way again.’
‘No, no, ijry child'; I am not sorry, I
am only glad, only very thankful you
have come.’
Kitty looked up a little doubtfully.
‘Kitty never cries when she is glad,’
she said'; ‘she'eriea when she hurts her.
self.’
For some time the bardnet held ‘her
closely in his arms, kissing her; then,
when he became calmer, he put her
down on, the rug before the fire, placed
the letter and portrait by to be examin
ed when no eye could see him, and
rang the bell. Jbhn Mdrrion dntered,
his eye red with crying.
‘You knew of this, John ?’
‘Yes, Sir John; thank God she has
'tome'!’
‘Ali, indeed, John, thank God !’ and
the master and servant wrung each oth
er’s hands in the fullness of their feel
ing. ‘Now, John, send the other ser
vants here.’
In a fc’w minutest hey entered. They
had all heard from the butler wbat had
happened, and many of them who had
known their late young master, were
wiping their eyes as they entered,
‘Listen all of you,’ thtrbaronet said,
with a proud jov. ‘This young lady is
my granddaughter, Miss She
will live here in future. You will look
upon her as your future mistress, and
the heiress of this place. Mrs. Leth
ridgo,’ he "said to the house-keeper, ‘will
you see a bed prepared for her in the
little room next to mine ?’
Several of the elder women came for
ward and kissed Kitty, who was rath
er alaimed at all this ; and the house
keeper said, ‘will you come with me
dearie?’
‘No, thank you,’ Kitty answered, tak
ing tight hold of the baronet’s hand ; 1
would rather stay with grandpa.’
Wlfen they hud all left the room
Kitty todk heir seaft on a footstool at Sir
John Barton’s fedt and looked gravely
into the fire, while the baronet- stroked
her hair quietly, and had difficulty in
persuading himself it was all true.—
Presently Kitty spoke. _
‘What a biggie, gra'rf&pU ! 1 ‘never
Baw such a big fire, and it is hardly
cold at all. What a Idt *f ’money it
■must cost !”
“it is a large ’room, Kitty, and 'yah
see I was all alone ; so I had p. fire for
company.
Kitty opened her eyes a little wider
even than usual, and remained for some
time in thought. The result of her re
flection showed itself in her next speech.
‘Please, grandpa, Kitty is hungry 1 ;
she would like some supper.’
Tho baronet hastily rang the bell.—
The butler appeared.
‘John, bring a tray with some tea
and cold chicken.’
‘And potatoes’ naid Kitty.
‘And potatoes,’ added the baronet, ‘if
you have any ready.’
‘Yes, Sir John ; there are sure to be
some ready for the supper down stairs.’
‘With their skins on,’ Kitty said
again.
‘With their skins On, of course,’ the
baronet said gravely.
When the butler had left the room,
Kitty again climbed up on her grand
father’s knee.
‘Am I going to have chicken for sup
per V she asked.
‘Yes, my dear, if you like it.’
‘Kitty doesn’t know,’ she said rather
doubtfully. ‘Kitty never tasted chicken.
Will it have its feather’s on ?’
‘No, Kitty ; the feathers are all taken
off.’
Kitty looked relieved.
‘Sometimes Kitty has had sausages
for supperj she said in a confidential
tone; ‘hot you know, my other grand
pa’—she nodded—‘always saved one
for Kitty to eat cold for breakfast.’
The baronet’s brow clouded for a mo
meot at the mention of this other rela
tion of his grandchild; and then he said
kindly.
‘Was he very kind to you ? did you
love him very much, your other grand
pa?’
‘Kitty love him so much,’ the child
said, holding out her arms; ‘bigger,
CUTHBERT, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 3, 1870.
much bigger; he so kind to Kitty.—•*
Poor grandpa very sad to-day and cry,
you know; that made Kitty sorry.—
Poor grandpa !’
The baronet felt by his own joy at
finding her how great iriust be the sof
row of the other in gPen her tip.
‘ls he in the village uow ?’ he asked.
Kitty nodded.
‘Gave Kitty message. If you want
to see him, you write ; he come here in
the morning ’
‘Very well, dear,’the bartmet said*; ‘I
will send for him. And nbw, Kitty, do*
you like dolls ?’
Kitty nodded very decidedly this
■time. /.
‘Kitty got two dolls, one new, only
legs broken ; old one got no head.”
‘I will get you anew odo, Kitty, and
a doll’s house, and a noah’B ark, and all
sorts of toys.’
‘Kitty’s eyes opened wide in astonish
ment at all this wealth of things which
was to pour in‘upon her; but further”
conversation was stopped by the entry
of the butler with tbe tray. yJohn Mer
rion put the things on the table, and
then, in some perplexity, placed a chair
and put a cushion upon it to raise tbe
seat,
‘No, rtO, Kitfy said, ‘me sit on grand
pa’s knee. Grandpa, move chair to ta
ble.’
The baronet did as he was told, and
Kitty ate her supper then in triumph,
and pronounced the chicken to be very
gobti, but dbt so good hs Shitisages.—
The potatoes she pronounced to be de
cidedly inferior.
‘Mau atedrner,’ hhe exclaimed, ‘sell
bigger than thatand 'she held up her
two tiny closed hands; ‘much bigger for
a penny. Good mau always give Kitty
big, big later.’
When she had finished, she said :
‘Kitty go bed now, grandpa*; Fifty
sleepy. Me say prayers 'first. 1 And
then, kneeling upon her grandfather’s
hp and clasping her hands, she repea
ted her usual little evening prayer,
ing with “God bless both my grandpas,
and make Kitty good child, for Christ’s
sake. Amen. Now me sing hymn,’
she said, and standing by the baronet’s
knee, she sang two verses of the Eve
ning Hymn.
The baronet was deeply affected.
‘Praise God, from whom all blessings
flow,’ indeed,’ he repeated to himself
when she had been carried off by the
housekeeper. ‘I am indeed thankful for
this darling; at least, if the mau robbed
me of a son, he has restored to mo a
child in my old age.’
At ten o’clock the next day the knife
grinder was shown into the library of
Sir John Barton. The men bad never
seen each other before, and both had
cherished a deep feeling of wrong
against the other. Before u word was
spoken, each looked the other Tull in the
•face, and the scrutiny in either case was
satisfactory. There was little difference
between them in height; Sir John Bar
ton was perhaps five years the elder,
but be jooked muce than bis real a&«.—-
Both tvere proud men in their way, but
the baronet was the least unbending of
the two.
The guestcommencefl the conversa
tion :
Sir John Barton, until yesterday I
thought as ill of you as you have, no
doubt, thought of me. I have learnt
my error-; >t is for me to convince you of
yours. I cortie to you frankly. Our
ranks in life are different, but in our
grand child we have the one great aim
and object in commdh.’
Up to this time both men had been
standing; but here, in compliance with
a gesture fiom the baronet, each took
his seat facing the other across the
hearthrug. The guest then continued :
T will tell you my Story -first, sir. I
4vas the bon of sin iron monger in a large
way in Nottingham, and was intended
by my father to succeed to his business.
He gave me a fair education at the
grammar school of the place, but
like most boys, I had a taste for adven
ture, and when I was seventeen I had
an altercation with my father about the
shop, ran away, and enlisted in the 10th
Foot. My father found out what I had
done, and wrote to offer to purchase my
discharge, but i refused, and went out
to India with my regiment. I was a
steady, well conducted man, and soon
obtained my sergeant’s stripes. When
in India. I beard of the death of my
father —my mother had died many years
before--and also that when his business
was wound up, the surplus remaining
was very small, a few hundred pounds,
which was placed to my credit in Eng
land. After I came back 1 fell in love
and -married. My wife was tbedaught'
er of a French emigre, with nothing but
her good, looks and her kind heart. 1
purchased toy discharge, arid with my
Httle property bought and furbished a
house at Deal, where we let lodgings. —
My wife managed the house, and I gave
lessons in fencing and drill to the few
schools there, and to casual visitors.—
VYe had o.ne child. When she was ten
years old I lost rny wife, and after that
ail my feelings centered in my child. I
watched over her and loved her as only
a man can love his only child. So
things went on until your son came as
a lodger to us. I knew nothing of him;
was ignorant that he was the olny son
of a baronet and heir to a large estate.
I knew nothing of it until one day I
came home and found my child was
gone, and a letter from her saying that
she was secretly married, and telling me
the rank and position of your son. I
was proud, sit, of my good name as you
could be oi yours. I shrank from the
idea that it should be said that I had
been a partv to my child taking in—l
~IJ J . .
knew how the ivorld would put it the
heir of a rich and ancient family, and
I wrote to say that until you acknowl
edged the marriage and approved of it,
I would not do so. My pride, sir, was
less deeply grounded than yours was.
Kate wrote to me from the south of
Franco, where they had taken up their
residence, to say that you would not
and that they were penniless.
Now, sir} my pride urged me to do
the thing which it had before prevent-
ed my doing. I sold my house and
furniture, sent every penny to them, and
set to work with my own hands to
support myself. Hush, Sir John Bar
ten, there are no thanks, ho acknowl
edgements due. I did what I conceiv
ed to be my duty ; yod did what ydu
believed to be yours. Months after, a
letter reached me from my dear child.
Her husband was attacked with chol
era. She had a little girj, and had no
friend but myseif. She implored me
to come out* Fortunately I had a
few pounds by me, and I.harried to
Marseilles. I found Kate dying, and
that her husband had expired three
days before. She told me you had been
written for at the same time with my
self. I have since heard you did not re
ceive that letter until a week after. I
closed my dear child’s eyes, I laid her
by the side of her husband, in the
strangers’ cemetery at Marseilles, and
then finding you did not come, and sup
posing you would not forgive, I took
the baby and came home to England.
Since then, sir, J have kept her—have
brought her up. T trdst, kindly and’
well. At first the comad life I led
could do her no harm, but as she grew
up I saw that it was for her good that
she should regain her’lost place in the
world. I thought you might grant for
giveness to the grandchild, I btelie'ved
you bad refused to ‘the son. I came
down here and found that I had mis
taken you ; that it was only an unfor
tunate accident which kept you from
standing beside your son’s grave; and
then I was able to resign Kitty to you,
secure at least, of her future.’
The- baronet had listened, deeply
moved-; once or twice he had tried to
interfere, but the speaker had stopped
him with a preemptory gesture. When
he ceased, Sir John Barton rose and
took both the hands of the other.
‘I have, as you supposed, long mis
taken you, as you have, with greatly
more reason, mistaken me. Yours now
■is the triumph. Be generous, sir. You
give up this child to me—this child,
whom much as I already love, you must
love far more. At least, share her with
me. Make this your home. My whole
hfcpe, tfcy tohole aim in life, now is in the
child and her happiness. Stbp ahd aid
me to bring her up.’
‘I thank.you, sir,’ the ex sergeant said;
T thank ybu frbiti my heart, for I feel
that your invitation is no idle compli
ment; but it is out of the question, your
rank in life is infinitely above mine; and
I—yes, I am only proud to accept a po
sition like this.’
‘Your pride, then is worse than mine,’
the baronet said warmly. ‘I am, I ac
knowledge, a proud man; but I am not
too proud to feel without bitterness that
my son was supported by your generosi
ty that your hand laid him in the grave,
that you have brought up his child.*—
Think you that I, a rich man, with no
means of spending my wealth, can evtr
repay such obligations as these ? Do
you think that sharing this home with
you could ever make me feel that my
debt was cancelled ? And do you forget
the child ? Will you go away from her,
and take from her the friend who
has heretofore been a father to her ?
Sir, you have thought me proud; what
is my pride to yours ?’
The old soldier was evidently movod
with the address, and at the extreme
earnestness and sincerity with which i.t
was spoken. The Baronet saw his ad
vantage, and rang the bell.
‘Send Miss Barton here.’
Tt*?re Was silence until Kitty entered.
With a cry of joy she ran up to the old
soldier.
0, grandpa, grandpa! I am so glad !
Kiss Kitty I’m so happy ! Now grand
pa so kind to Kitty; but me want old
grandpa too.’
‘He won’t stay with you Kitty,’ the
baronet said-; ‘he wants to go away, in
stead of living here with us. Come sir,’
he said, ‘give way for the sake of our
dear child. This house is large enough
for us both. Yon shall have your own
hpartrhehfe, where Kitty can spend a
part of the day with you. You can
live the life of a hermit there, if you like,
and can join us here when you like.—
Nothing I can do for you can ever make
me Otherwise thah deeply you debtor.—
Surely the house is large enough to
hold Kitty's two graudpas, eh ? Kitty
tell him so.*
Kitty, who was nestled in her old
grandpa’s arms, now whispered to him.
‘Naughty grandpa, why do you want
*to go away aud make me cry ? Me l6ve
you ; why you go away from Kitty ?’
And so the ex-sergeant gave in. For
a time he went away and then came
back again and took up his
he said at first temporarily, but he nev
er loft it—at the Hall. At first he hept
to the suit of apartments appropiiated
to hior; but gradually he responded to
the heartiness of the baronet’s rtiaoneiy
and became his permanent guest; and
none ol the visitors at the Hall who
were introduced to the fine military look
ing man who Barton’s grand
father ever guessed that he had for
years supported Barton aud ‘hirh
self by grinding kDives and scissors,
and mending pots and pans. Under
the joint care and grandship of the two
njeß, it may be imagined that Kitty
grew up rather spoiled bat a very lova
ble girl-; and when she married, at the
age of eighteen, the son of a neighbor
ing nobleman, with the perfect appro
bation of her two adopted fathers (and
upon that occasion, by the express wish
and assent ot Sir John, the first grand
father gave her away,) it is difficult to
say which of the two she most loved
and honored. Both lived in perlect ac
cord and friendship long enough to see
the happiness of their darling, hud to
nufse her children upon their knebs.
The Tower of Babel —A writer de
scribes the present appearance of the
place where languages got mixed :
‘After a ride of nine miles, we were at
the foot of the Bier-Nimrood. Our hor
ses’ feet were trampling npon the re
mains of bricks which showed here and
there through the accumulated dust
and rubbish of ages. Before oar eyes
uprose a great mound of earth, barren
and bare. This was Bier-Nimrood, the
ruins of the Tower of Babel, by which
the first builders of the earth had vain
ly hoped to scale high heaven. Here,
also, it was that Nebuchadnezzar built,
for bricks bearing bis name have been
found in the ruins. At the top of the
mound a great mass of brick-work
pierces the accumulated soil. With
your finger you touch the very bricks—
large, square-shaped, and massive—that
were thoroughly burned* the very mor
tar, now hard as graftite* handled more
than 4000 years ago by earth’s iiripidus
people. From the summit of the
mound, far away oyer the plaiti, we see
glistening the gilded dome of a mosque,
reflecting the bright rays of the morn
ing sun. This was the tomb of the
holy Ali. To pray before this at some
period of bis life; to kiss the sacred
dust of the earth around there at some
time or other; to bend his body and
count his beads, is the daily desire of
every devout Mohamedau.’
SAVANNAH CARDS.
-
P. H. BEHN,
COTTON and RICE ‘FACTOR
AND
Geiiffrtil Commission Merchant,
West of the Exchange,
BAY STREET, : : SAVANNAH, GA.
augl9-6m*
AUSTIN & ELLIS,
COMMISSION
—ifib—
FORWARDING MERCHANTS
and Cotton Factors,
SAVANNAH, : : : : GEORGIA.
JjgP'Bagsrinjj and Ties anil other article# fam
ished, and adrances made upon Cotton 6h COh-.
sign meat or for sale. augl9-6m
COTTON TIES! COTTOtf TIES
Dunn’s Patent Self-Adjusting
HORIZONTAL COTTON TIE
AS AGENTS for the above namsd Patent, we
beg leave to coiqroend it to the -attention of
Planters and Merchabls. , i
This TIE is a decided improvement, and contains
the advantages of
GREAT STRENGTH,
GREAT SIMPLICITY.
EASE IN MANIPULATION.
Being superior to any other TIE manufactured,
we can c-ntidently recommend it to the public.
JNO. W. ANBERSON’S SONS* CO.
ao£l9-6m Agents in Savhnnah, Ga.
"JOSEPH FINEGAN & 00,
Cotton Factoi’s
AND
COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
BAT STREET,
SAVANNAH, t GEORGIA.
Liberal Advances male on Cotton consigned
to us or to our Correspondents in New York and
Liverpool. aug!9 ly*
FALMEE & DEPPISH,
WHOLESALE AMD RETAIL DEALES IN
Hardware,
RUBBER BELTING,
AGRICULTURAL IMPLEMENTS,
Powder, Shot, Caps and Lead,
14S Congress & 67 St. Julian Sts.
SAVANNAH, GEORGIA.
augl9-6m*
GROOVER, STUBBS & CO.,
COTTON FACTORS
AND
General Commission Merchants
Bay Street, SAVANNAH, GA.
Bagging. Ties, Rope and other Supplies
Riirnishe'd.
Also, Liberal Cash Advances made on Consign
ments for sale or shipment to Liverpool or North
ern Porta. C. E GROOVER, Savannah,
“C. F. STUBBS, “
augl9-6it A. T. MACINTYRE, Tbomasville
R. ff. Anpbrson, G. W. Axdkrsow, Jr.,
Jons W. Andkrsok, A. H. Col*.
JOHN W, ANDEfiSftN’S So!*!s
COTTON, FACTORS
AttV
COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
Anderson's Block, Drayton St., near the Bay,
SAVANNAH, GA.
LIBERAL CASH ADVANCES made on CON
SIGNMENTS for sale in Savannah, or on
Shipmont to reliable correspondents in Liverpool,
New York, Philadelphia, Boston or Baltimore.
To old patrons we return thanks ; to new ones,
promise our best services.
—o-ALSO—
Agents -Empire Line <jf Side 'Wheel S'etmera
to Neiv York. *ug!9-ly*
THOMAS M. ALLEN,
WITH
GOEQUITT & BAGGS,
COTTON FACTORS
Commission Merchants
Savannah, Ga.
Liberal Advances oa Consignments when
pesired. may 13-6 m
CLAGHORN-& CUNNINGHAM,
Wholesale and Retail
Grooersi
And dealers in
Fine Wines, Liquors, Segars., Rev,
Corner Drayton and Bay Streets,
SAVANNAH, GA.
All Goods Warranted. Orders from the
onntry promptly attended to. angl9-ly
A. J. MILLER. C. P. MILLER.
A. J. MILLER & CO.,
Furniture Dealers,
134 BrouglitoA Sfc. J ,
SAVANNAH, : : : GEORGIA.
WALNUT Bedroon Sets, Imitation French
Sets, Parlor Sets, Bureaus. Wash Stands,
Bedsteads, Chairs of all grades, Children’s Carri
ages, etc.
t3B~ Jobbing and Repairing neatly done and
with dispatch. Mattress making, Feathers, Up
holstering, etc. augt'J-Sm*
A. S- HARTRIDQE,
General Commission Merchant
AND FACTOR.
92 Bay Street, SAVANNAH, GA;
Having had over twenty years experience in
said business, he will pay the same strict attention
to the sale of Cotton and other Produce, aud to
the purchase 6f Supplies, as in former years.
jgf- He will not have aCy interest id the pur
chase of Cotton.
Liberal advances made on Consignments.
aug!9-ly*
j. J. diCkison & do,
COTTON FACTORS and
General Commission Merchants’,
SAN ANNA % GA, *
sagr Liberal advances made on Consignments,
augis.fim
SAVANNAH CARDS.
A. M. Sloan-. J. H. Sloan.
A. M SLOAN & 00,
COTTON FACTORS
Alfitt i
General Commission Merchants
CLAQHORM A CUNNINGHAM’S RAXGE,
BAY STREET,
SAVANNAS, ■: *.* 'GEbRGIIi.
Bagging and Rope or Iron Ties, advanced on
crops. Liberal csh advances made on consign,
ments for sale in Savannah, or on shipments to re
liable correspondents in Liveipool, New York,
Philadelphia, or Baltimore. augl9 6m*
H. H. LINVLILE,
•Wirß
S. W. GLEASON,
Iron and Brass Foundty and Ma
chine Works,
Manufacturer and dealer in
SUGAR MILLS, SUGAR PANS, Gin Gear,
Cotton Screws, Shafting, Pullevs. Portab'e
and Stationary Steam Engines, Corn Mills and Ma
chinery of all kinds.
St. Julian Street, West of the Market.
SAVANNAH, GA.
I3T Orders respeciftilly suliiited.' augl9tf
M. KEfCHUM. A. L. HARTRIDGE.
KETCHUM & HARTRIDGE.
BA-NKERS |
AND
COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
EXCHANGE BUILDING,
•SAVANNAH, : : : GEORGIA.,
Rsvsrbsces:— Moses Taylor, President City
Bank, N. Y.; P. C. Calhoun, President Fourth Na
tional Bank, N. Y.; John J. Cisco A Son, Bankers,
N. Y.; Morris Ketchum, Banker, N. Y. ; J. N
Norris, Cashier First National Bank, Baltimore;
M. McHichael, Cashier First National Bank, Phila
delphia.
auglS fy
B. A. SCHWARZ. I*AAC A. BRADY.
Schwarz & Brady,
Wholesale and Retail Dealers in
O .A. mS 3 3E3 1? S ,
Floor Oil Cloths, Mattings,
SHADE LINENS,
WALL PAPER, WINDOW SHADES,
CORNICKS, CURTAINS, CORDS, TASSRLS.
115 Broughton Street, Wylli/s Building,
(South Sid#, Between Bull and Whitaker Sts.)
SAVANNAH, GEORGIA,
jar* Post Office Box 494. augl9-ly*
~W, M. DAVIDSON,
Wholesale
fOREIbN and DOMESTIC
Wines frn& Liquors y
*|SO Bay Street, Savannah, Ga.
(Established in 1844.)
JJAR constantly on band a Urge assortment of
X_L Trench Brandies, Holliind CJiu, St.'Crflik and
Jamaica Ruin,
Scotch and Irish Whiskey,
*Fort and Sherry Wine, (the latter dil'ect importa
tion from Spain.)
All the above Liquors drekuaran
teed to he genuine as imported.
Also on band,
■JOHN GIBSON’S SONS & CO’S
Celebrated Whiskies, of all g-ades.
Sole agent for Georgia and Florida, for Massey,
Huston A Co.’s celebrated Philadelphia Draught
Ale,in barfels and half barrels.
attgfh-Btn*
WM. HENRY WOODS,
COTTON FACTOR
AND
sum Min mum.
BAY STREET,
Savannah, Ga.,
Ie prepared, at all times t 6 advance liber
ally on consignments for s:fle ih 'Savanhab, or
for shipment to his correspondents in New York
and Liverpool.
angs-6m*
L J. GUILMARTIN & 00.
COTTOX FACTORS
AND
GENERAL EffllSSl MERCHANTS-.
Bay Street, Savannah Ga.
Agents for Bradley's Super Phosphate of Lime.
Bagging, Rope, & Iron Ties, always on hand.
Usual Facilities Extended to Customers.
ang!9 6m
DENNIS FALVEY,
FURNITtiRE DEALER,
153 BrouglitonlStreet,
SAVANNAIf, : : : GEORGIA.
M AUOGANY, Walnut and Chestnut Bed-Room
Suites; also Imitation French and Teattar
Suites ; Mabcgaoy and Walnut Parlor Suites, in
Haircloth and Reps'; Sofas, Marble-Top Tables,
Bureaus, Sideboards. Wardtobes, Book-Cases,
Wasbstands, Chairs and Bedsteads of all kini.
tgp New Work made to order, and Country or
derepromplly filled.
aug’9 ly.
W. D'csCiX.....i'l J. H. Johnston.
DUNCAN & JOHNSTON,
COTTON FACTORS
AND
General Commissies Merchants,
■76 BAY STREET, SAVANNAH, GA.
sep3ly*
RANDELL & CO,,
Wholesale Grocers,
201 & 203 Bay St., West of Bufihrd,
SAVANNAIT, GA.
J3S9 - General Agents of the Orange Rifle Pow
der for Georgia, Florida aud AlabauuL
auglv 6m*
VOL. IV—NO. 12.
SA V'ANNAH CARDS.
W. H. STARK & CO.,
WHOLESALE
GRO CBS.S,
■COMMISSION MERCHANTS
AN I*)
Cotton Factor».
Agent# for th* sale of Gullett'i Steel Brush
COTTON OINSv
ALSO,
E. F. COE’S SU PERPH OSPH ATr of LIME.
86P* Careful attention given to Sales efr
Shipments of Cotton, and all
kinds of Produce.
Liberal advances made oh 'Coftlfgrito'#hts.
BAGGING, ROPE and ARROW TIES
Constantly on hand. sep3o 6ra
ADOLPHE SACK,
Importer bf
SrLVEII A N't) GOLt>
■W-A-T O H-B8
CHOICE JEWELRY,
BIJOUTERIE, CLOCKS, Eto., Etc,
Cdruer Bryadt & Whitdker Ltreefs,
SAVANNAH, : t r : ’GEORGIA.
repairing of Watches anci
Jewel r j executed With Gtepatcb, and
Warranted to Give Satisfaction-.
augl9 6m
W*k. H. Tfeox. Wm. W. Gordon.
tison & Gordon,
COTTON FACTORS
AND
HERE COiIISSIOI MERCHANTS.
sirleJ} Savannah, Georgia.
Bagging and Rope or Iron Ties advanced on
Crops.
Liberal cash advances made on consignment* of
Cotton. . , , ,
Grateful for liberal prtronage in the past, a eoa
tiuuance of the same is respectfully solicited.
sep2-6m*
ISAACS’ HOUSE,
Cherry 5i.................. Macon, Ga.
E. ISAACS, Proprietor.
THIS HOTEL is located in the central portiofe
of the city—convenient to Ware Houses c-faft
business houses generally. It being the only house
in the city kept on the
EUROPEAN TLAN*,
Offer* unequalled advantages to the planter and
traveling public generally.
The table is supplied with the best the market
affoads, and the Toettsfhrn fished with new and neat
furniture. .....
(3TA FREE Hack will be in attendance at Ifll
trains. jjSittf
EACH CARGO OF THIS
TJ A. IST <Z>
tS ANALYZED
Before Being Offered for Sale,
And Warranted Equal to the
Original Standard Value.
{gy* To he used on all Crops precisely as
Peruvian Guano.
11. 11. JONES. Agent
atig26tf Ctifbbert.Ga.
Now is the Time
TO BUY
Drugs, Paints-, Oils* Glass* Uhenv'cals, Ett*.
C It IS A
marl 1-1 y J. j. iIcDOXALT).
Dr. M. A. SIMMONS’
GENUINE LIVER MEDICINEf
DRAKE'S Plantation Bitters,
Hostetler’s Stomach Bitter*,
Dromgoole’s English Female Bitters,
Ward’s Eureka Bitters,
„ , , . _ „ Bradv’s Bitten.
Hurley sand Van. Deusea’s Worm Confections,
Roaadalis,
T . . _ ■ Kero.u*ne 0 : 1, Etc.,
Just received *&d fur Sale at the Drug Store of
•H*** i. 5. McßJNAfc#-
