Cedartown advertiser. (Cedartown, Ga.) 1878-1889, January 20, 1881, Image 1

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Newspaper Page TextCedartown Advertiser. Published every Thursday by D. B. FRREM A TsT_ . ^ •’ ' 1 T- Terms: S1.50 per annum, in advance. OLD SERIES—YOL. YII-NO. 51. ! CEDARTOWN, GA., JANUARY 20, 1881. NEW SERIES—YOL. III-NO. 6. CHARLES E. WEST, Attorney at Law, CEDARTOWN, Georgia. %W Special attention to Collection of Claims. Office up stairs in Ledbetter £ Goode Building. oct2l-ly C. G. JANES, ATTORNEY AT LAW, CEDARTOWN, GA. Iw omce In the Court House. f ebl Hy DRS. LIDDELL & SON, PHYSICIJUIfr'AND SURGEONS AST SIDE OF HAIll ST. CEDARTOWN, GA. W. G. ENGLAND, Physician and Surgeon. CEDARTOWN, GA OFFICE over J. A. Wynn’s where he may he found ready to attend calls either day or night. Janl5-ly DR. C. H. HARRIS, Physician and Surgeon, Cedartown. Ga. Office at Bradford & Walker’s Drug Store, iesidence at the Reece House. novl4-ly B. FISHER, Watchmaker & Jeweler. CEDARTOWN, GA. Having Just opened out a shop at the store of a. D. Hogg & Co., respectfully requests the { while to call on him when needing work In his me. ieb5-tr W. F. TURNER, Attorney at Law. CEDARTOWN, GA Will practice In the Superior Courts of Polk, Paulding, Haral-on, Floyd and Carroll counties. Special attention given to collections and real estate business. marll-ly DR. L. S. LEDBETTER, DENTIST, CEDARTOWN, - - - GEORGIA. All Dental work performed In the most skill ful nnnner. Office over J. s. Stubbs & Co. ’s. feblfMy DR G. W. STRICKLAND DENTIST, CEDARTOWN, - - - Georgia. permanently located in Cedartown, ofter6 his professional services to the public, gt- rantee!-'? nrst-class work charges to a*i patrons. JAMES H. PRICE, CEDARTOWN, GA Keeps on hand and manufactures to order MATTRESSES! My work recommends Itself wherever used, &nd*is guaranteed to render the most pe fect satisfaction. No flimsy material used, no work Slighted. 1 ask a trial. JAMES. H. PRICE. iebl9-ly. TWA AO T. MEB, CEDARTOWN, GA,, —dealer in- STOVES TINWARE, Hardware and Hollow-Ware, OF ALL KINDS. House-Furnishing Goods A SPECIALTY. Every variety of Job work In my line neatly done. I respestiuliy solicit the patronage or tne public, and would be pleased to have all my triends and customers call and see me when fn town. !• T. MEE JanS-ly STAR BARBER SHOP. WEST SIDE MAIN STREET. CLEAN TOWELS and plenty of BAY RUM al ways at hand. Everything neat and systematie about my shop, and customers promptly and politely waited on. Am prepared to Clean Clothing. Bring me your worn and faded garments and have them made to look as good as new. I guarantee perfect satisfaction in all branches of my business. Tne repairing of Umbrellas a Specialty. nov25-ly LEWIS BOND. J. F. EAVES. Restaurant and Confectionery EAST SIDE OF NORTH MAIN STREET. 3T Meals Served at all Hoars. W. M. PHILLIPS & CO., r MANUFACTURER’S AGENTS FOR Machinery of all Kinds, D. H. LEDBETTER. Watchmaker & Jeweler, CEDARTOWN, Ga. All ktnd3 of Repairing of Watches, Clocks and Jewelry done promptly and satisfactorily. Watches, Clocks and Jewelry of all kinds fur nished to order on short notice. I am prepared to do PHOTOGRAPHING IN ALL ITS BRANCHES. Sixty-four different makes of Steam Engines and Batlen ranging from S to 40 horee-power^new and second-hand—all at very low prices. Alsc agents for the Albany and Brown Cotton But harder, far harder, the painful wiad >m (For it cornea at last after weary years*, When the long-for Something ia in oar grasp, So faded and poor ’midst our bitter tw'jt. PACKING, SCREWS, SEPARATORS, THRESHERS, COEN MILLS and Farming Implements In general. We had a fine trade in this line last year, and general satisfaction was given. We are also Dealers in General Merchandise* And have In store a well selected stock of DRY GOODS, NOTIONS, BOOTS, SHOES, HATS, CAPS, CLOTHING AND GROCERIES, All of which we will sell low, either for each or to prompt paying time cus tomers. We are agents for GEORGE A CLARK’S “0. N. T.” Thread, AuJ will sell at retail and also will job It to merchants at regular whole sale prices. 10,000 Pounds of Wool Wanted. We will pay highest prices for all the washed wool brought to us. Persons contemplating the erection of buildings may save money by calling on ua for prices of LUMBER, LATHS and SHINGLES. Come and W. M. PHILLIPS & CO., Cedartown. Ga. R O 3VT E Cotton and Produce Exchange, 27 BROAD STREET 1 ROME, Ga. ^ ' m * BRANCH OF THE Atlanta Public Produce, Cotton and Stock Exchange. J. F. CUMMINGS & CO., Managers. Quotations from all the Principal Cotton and Produce Markets received Dally, quoting all Changes In the Market, which are free to the public. Future Transactions In Cotton, Grain and Provisions. tr Call or send for Circular Explaining Method I of Doing Business. I A. J.' YOUNG, DEALER IN Corn and Rye Whiskies, Wine, Gins and Brandiesi Noyes Warehouse - - CEDARTOWN, Ca. SOLE AGENT FOR COX, HILL & THOMPSON’S STONE MOUNTAIN WHISKIES In Cedartowri. I keep such Liquors as may be used as a beverage or for medlGal purposes with perfect safety, tg* Give me a call. Good treatment guaranteed. mrl8-ly BAKER & HALL. DEALERS IN My Gallery is fitted up in good style, and I am prepared to furnish GOOD PICTURES. LIVERY, FEED —AND— SALE STABLE! Wright & Johnson, Prop’rs. CEDARTOWN, .... Geoegia, supplied with new Horses, New Ve- fee., we are prepared to meet ihe wants ub lie in our line. Jans-iy GENERAL HARDWARE, such: as Ready-Made Plows, Plow Stocks, Nails, Iron am Steel, Spades, Shovels, Hoes, Rakes, Manure Forks, Etc. BUGGY WHEELS. SHAFTS, POLES AND CIRCLES, WHBBIiBARHOWS, SAWS, FILES, LOCKS, HINGES, CHAINS, ETC. We have just opened a Hardware House in Cedartown, and ask a trial in Goods and Prices. We are Strictly in the Hardware Business, and will be prepared to furnish goods in our line as cheap aa they*can be bought in any "market. Give us a trial "before going; elsewhere. i i ODE LONGINGS. There ia Something beyond—Something be yond— But where ia it hiding, that vague, fair dream ? Always above ua. always beyond ua, A beacon aa bright as the ann’a glad beam. Alas ! how oft we try to grasp it, And onr eager hands are outstretched in vain! But our yearning eyes gaze always upward. Striving onr weakly purpose to gain. How grand it seems to onr expectation— That unknown Something, so veiled from onr sight! How bitter onr cry of blind displeasure Against the just God who ordains all right Tears—when we find onr idol shattered. Or our cherished hope as a thing of air ; Knowing that j ears have been spent in—eng- ing For Something unworthy of love or care. Then is the hour when the heart is riven— Then- is the time when the blinding tears fall ; To know that what we have loved is worthless; Oh, that is the crnelest pain of all! A Church Mouse. I must trust to your instinct, "muttered the traveler, lettiDg the bridle fall upon his horse’s neck, “The eyes of an owl would be at fault on such a night as this. Be quiet, you brute! Do you mean to repay my confidence by breaking my neck ? ’ The animal had shied so violently as nearly to throw his rider, and stood trem bling in every muscle. His master peered through the darkness in the endeavor to make out the cause of his terror. He could perceive before him the dim outlines of a dismantled church, with its broad avenues of gravestones clustered about it. Beside the road, so close that he could have touched it with his whip, he discovered an indistinct white object crouchiDg upon one of the graves. Resolved upon knowing what it was, he dismounted and approached it. As he did so, it arose and fled rapidly away.’ With his curiosity now fully aroused he followed it. As it neared the church it turned sud denly and confronted him. At this mo ment a broad glare of lighting flashed ath wart the sky and he saw before him a young girl dressed in a thin, water-soaked garment, her hair falling in drenched coils upon her shoulders. For an instant her white, scared face was turned toward him and her large, sorrowful eyes met his with an appealing look, then she seemed to melt into the solid body of the church. As well as the darkness permitted, he examined the spot wh6re she had disap peared, but could find no opening through which she could have escaped. He called aloud that he was a friend,and that she had noting to fear. The only an swer was the weird wail of the tempest through the broken arches. With a feeling akin to superstitious terror, he hastily re mounted his hoi se, and did not draw rein until he reached the village inn. •Who occupies the old church yonder?" he inquired of this landlord. “Ah I you too have seen it," exclaimed the landlord, mysteriously. “It?” echoed the traveler. “I saw what I thought to be a poor, demented girl.” "You saw the spirit of one," anewered the host, solemnly. “Every one here knows the story. When she was alive her name was Ada Morton. Her father died a year back, leaving her heiress to his property. As she was yet a minor, he appointed his friend Stephen Eastburn her guardian, who, in case of her death unmarried, was to inherit, the property: It is said that he beat, starved, and cruelly ill-treated her. One night—just such a night as this —she disappeared. Her hat and cloak were found on the river bank next morn ing. It was plain that the poor creature had sought deliverance from her persecutor by suicide. That was three months ago. Her body was never found, but her spirit had been often seen in the churchyard, where her father lies. Meanwhile, the man who drove her to her death lives at his ease in her father’s house on the hill.” The traveler was evidently deeply inter ested in the story, but he made no com ment upon it. Merely informing the land lord that he should remain for a week or two, he returned to his room. Like many another young man of for tune, Charles Barclay was afflicted with too much leisure. His sole objeet in this part of the countiy was merely a languid search after amusement. The landlord's story had strongly aroused his curiosity. More over, the young girl’s sad face and be seeching glance iir the churchyard had made a strange impression upon him. Some thing in her improbable history had led him to form a vague suspicion of a truth nearly as improbable. Eagerly accepting the possible chance of an exciting experience, he determine! to sift the matter to the bottom. Without dropping a hint as to his inten tions, he left the inn on the next night Bhortly after eleven o’clock and proceeded to the old church. The place was silent and deserted; not even a stray dog was to be seen wandering about the churchyard. An ineffably dreary air hung about the place, depressing his spirits and almost re solving him to abandon his object. But a sentiment of pride urged him on, and he cautiously made his way into the church and sat down in one of the pews. For more than an hour nothing occurred to attract his attention. He became drowsy, and was on the point of falling asleep where he sat, when a low weird peal from the old organ moaned through the church. He sat erect and listened with suspended breath. The sound rose higherand clearer, and presently the sweet but mournful tones of a woman’s voice joined it. He could make out the words of a prayer for the wretched. After a moment the music ceased, and he could hear the singer sobbing in a low, heart-broken way, that brought tears to his eyes. He strained his eyes through the darkness, but could make out nothing. Arising, he called out: “Whoever you are, you are in sorrow and affliction. I cannot see you. I will not pursue you. All 1 desire is to be your friend. Will you answer me ?” There was no reply, and the weeping suddenly ceased. After a moment of hesi tation he made his way to the organ loft and struck a match. No one was visible, nor was there the smallest trace of the re cent presence of any living being. Con siderably startled, he left the church, de termined to repeat his experience on the following night Providing himself with a dark lantern he went to the church on the next night, and secreted himself near the organ. As before it was nearly midnight before he became conscious of the presence of another person in the building. On this -occasion the organ wee not played, but there was a rustle as of a woman’s dress, and presently he heard the same low bitter weeping. Quickly arising he shot the rays of the lantern in the direction whence the sounds proceeded. Not more than three yards from him in the broad glare of the light he beheld the girl whom he had met . in the churchyard. Siie was looking at him with an expression of intense terror in her white face and tear wet eyes. As she stood cow ering before him she reminded him of some innocent animal crouching at the hunter’s feet. With an accent of deep pity he ad dressed her: “I saw you in the churchyard night be fore last, I spoke to you last night. I am not an enemy, cor an idle cariosity seeker. I earnestly want to aid you. Will you not trust me ?’’ Keeping her eyes fixed upon him with the same distrustful look, she answered in a faint, far-off voice: “Your friendship or your enmity can be nothing to me. The world you live in by its wickedness and cruelty, drove me to my death. I am doomed to this place un til justice Is done upon my destroyer." “You are trying to mislead me,” ex claimed Barclay. “You are no spirit, but a poor,starving,homeless young girl. You have suffered miserably and I have resolved to restore you to your rights, as well as ex act reparation from the man who has wronged you. ” He advanced toward her as he spoke and stretched out his arms to seize her. In an instant she seemed uncertain how to act, then even as his hand seemed to pass bold ly through her shape, she melted into the shadows of the place. This time he did not pursue her. Her mysterious escape, which seemed to confirm her own words, began to impress him with the belief that he had indeed confronted a visitant from the other world. Next morning, however, cool reflection taught him that he might easily have de ceive himself in his excitement. He there fore resolved all the more obstinately to pursue the investigation. For three nights following the secreted hunself in the church and awaited her ap pearance, but his watch was fruitless. This caution on her part lully convinced him that he was dealing with, a human beirig and not with an impalpable phantom. Meantime in pursuance of the suspicion which the landlord’s story had imparted to him, he found a pretence on which to make the acquaintance of Stephen Eastburn.The man impressed him unfavorably at the first sight. Tall and gaunt of figure, with small, restless gray eyes and a false smile, he seemed to Barclay to be capable of any villainy. The young man was careful to avoid mentioning the supposed ghost, and departed with an invitation to call again. On the fourth night Barclavagain secret ed himself in the church. I* was cold for the season, and he shivered in his hiding place despite his warm clothing. Hour af ter hour passed away, and he was begin ning to fear that his errand would again prove fruitless, when a faint light in the body of the church caught his eye. As it rose higher, he could see that it proceeded from a small heap of sticks collected upon the stone floor. Crouching over it, and extending her thin fingers to the flame, he beheld the figure of the young girl. Evi dently overcome with the cold, she had ventured to indulge in this small comfort in the hope that it might escape notice. Pulling olf his shoes, Barclay crept up behind he r, and before she was aware of his presence, seized her in his strong grasp. “I knew you were no ghost," he Baid, smiling; “though if you continue this life much longer you will become one.” She uttered a faint cry of terror, and sunk upon her knees. “Spare me,” she sobbed. “I am only a poor homeless, friendles girl, ” who never wronged any one. Why do you pursue me?” “For your own good, my poor girl,” he said kindiy. “Why will you not believe me in my good intentions?” “Why should I ?” she cried pa-sionately. “Did not my father’s trusted friend, the man who had sworn to be my second father, seek my life ?” “Ah 1” said Barclay, with a start. “My conjecture was true, then. He decoyed you to the river, and after believing you safely out of the way, he left your cloak and hat upon the bank to give the impres sion that you had committed suicide ?” “Yes,” she answered; “but the liver was more merciful than he, for it cast me asiore alive. Sick with horror, and madly afraid of the whole world, I came here where my father lay, to die upon his grave. But it is hard for one so young to die. I have lived here these three months, suffer ing, freezing, dying. That I was taken for my own ghost was iortunate for me, for it kept every one away from me, and aided me to get what little would keep me alive, after nightfall. And I encour aged the superstition. Now you know all. If you are that man’s emissary, may God forgive you and help me.” “I am the emissary of mercy," returned Barclay. “I am here to do justice on a villain and to restore you to your rights. Will you trust and help me ?” She looked at him. “You have a good, kind face,” she said, offering him her hand, “I will trust you.” “Then,” said Barclay, “keep up the character you have assumed for ODe more day. To-morrow night I shall bring East burn here with witnesses. Do you play on that organ when you hear us enter. When I turn the dark lantern upon you, rise; and denounce him as a murderer. We can safely leave him to accuse himself.” “I will do as you wish,” she answered, brokenly, “How can 1 thank you ?” “By following my directions.” replied Barclay, brusquely, to hide his own emo tion. With a few words more of advice he left her. His next move was to go directly to the landlord of the inn, relate the whole Btory, and secure his support At ten o’clock on the next night, in com pany with the landlord, he called upon Stephen Eastburn. Catting short liis smooth salutation, Barclay said: “Mr. E-stburn, the obscure manner of your ward’s death has given rise to strange rumors in the village. Her spirit is said to wander m the old church. We desire you to accompany us there to-night in order to set these stories at rest.” Eastburn’s jaw dropped, his face grew liyid, and he was barely able to reply in quavering voice. “Ghost I absurd I Do you mean to n a fool of me ? I will not go to the chi at this hour of the night. ” “Allow me to observe,” said Barclay, sternly, “that the rumors, unless you aid m dissipating them, may culminate in a charge of murder.” Something significant in^his tone seemed to render Eastburn suddenly submissive. “Of course I will go, out of politeness, if you insist. We shall probably bag a a church mouse. They are proverbially so starved as to be incapable of flight.” No reply was made to his lame attempt at humor, and in a very uncomfortable frame of mind he went with them to the church, and was shown into a pew in the dark between them. After a moment’s silence the low tones of the organ sounded through the church, accompanied by a woman’s voice. “What is this?’’cried Eastburn, starting up. “Whose voice is that?” “Be silent,’’said Barclay, sternly. “Good reason have you to hear that voice with guilty horror.” At the same instant the glass from his lantern fell broadly upon the organ. Stand ing before it, looking down at them, was the figure of Ada Morton. “Oh, God,” groaned Eastburn, chok- ingly. “My sins have found me out. She has come back from the other world to ac cuse me of her death.” “Yes,” said the girl solemnly. “Stephen Eastburn, you are my murderer.” “I confess it,” Srieked the terror-mad dened wretch. “I ask no mercy from men, for the grave has condemned me. Take me away—hide me from this awful sight.” The light was turned out and the girl’s figure disappeared. The horror-smitten Eastburn, shrieking mingled prayers and curses, was taken to the village aud im prisoned on the doublecharge ot fraud and attempted murder, in course of time he was convicted and punished. On the same day that he was sentenced, Barclay called upon Ada Morton, now in stalled in her father’s house. With her restoration to her rights she had recovered her health and beauty, and it was with strange feeling of mingled hope and fear that the young man took her hand and said: “I have called to say good-bye, Miss Morton. ” “The bright smile faded from her face, and a look of pain came in its place. “You are going away ? I had hoped you would stay with us. ” “My work here is done,” he answered, “I have restored you to your home,and to day your enemy receives the puniohment of his crimes. What more is there to do?” “Nothing,” she returned brokenly, “but to forget the poor girl whom you have be friended. That will be easy. ” “No, ” he replied earnestly, “so difficult that I shall never accomplish it. To stay as your friend is impossible. I must go away and labor to crush out this longing, this love for you which has overgrown luy whole heart, or stay to cherish it for your sake. Tell me, dear Ada, which must I do ?” She looked up at him shyly, and came nearer to his side as she whispered “Stay.” A Viking's War Ship. An interesting discovery has been made at Sandehcrred in Norway, of a Scandina vian war vessel. Buried under a hillock, a sailing vessel was found, which is thought to belong to these terrible highwaymen of the ocean, the Vikings, or Norwegian pirates. It measures about seveDty-five feet in length, and is an almost perfect state of preservation, it was armed and equipped as though it had been abandoned where found when on the point of sailing on some adventurous expedition. All the apparatus used by nautical Norsemen are met with in this ancient craft, the most of which-** "Still pretty well i-tact. There are fragments of sails and cordage remain ing, as well as many specimens, either per fect or incomplete, of utensils and instru ments, which have been eagerly ex amined by authorities. Among other things are a number of pieces of oak wood, peculiarly shaped, hollowed out in the centre to admit of ropes being passed through them. Spades and shields, or bucklers, have also been found, or rather the iron portion of the bucklers, for the wooden part is entirely gone. Near the rudder the skeletons of three horses were discovered. The form of the shields, and also the manner in which they arc sus pended round the interior of the ship, is absolutely the same as one sees represented on the beautiful tapestry of Bayeux, in Normandy which date back to the eleventh century. The NlghtiBgale, Life In the Tyrol. One of the most celebrated of song-birds is the nightingale, or night singer. It is a migratory bird. Do you know what this is ? It is a bird that visits its northern i home early m the spring, and quits it for the south early in the autumn. It migrates. This famous bird is common in nearly all parts of Europe. It haunts woods, thickets, and gardens. It migrates into Egypt and Syria. It has been seen among the willows of Jordan and the olive trees of Judffia. In no pait of Europe is it more common than in Spain or Italy; but even in these southern regions the bird is mi gratory. The nightingale is shy in its habits. Jts nest is placed low, and hidden from view. Its egg3, five m number, are of an olive brown. Its food consists of insects. In color it is brown, with a reddish tinge on the back and tail. As a songster, the bird is unsurpassed. Though its notes are heard at intervals during the day, they are poured forth in their greatest perfection on quiet evenings, an hour or two after sunset; and when the moon 1b nearly full, and the weather is se rene, the melodious song of the nightingale may be heard at midnight. The late Bishop Stanley, of England, gives an account of one that he raised from the nest. It was kept in a cage two years; then the cage was hung open at the door, and the bird was allowed to go out. At first it returned regularly every even ing. As the season advanced, it sometimes stayed out all night in the garden; but if called by some one whose voice it knew, it would return and feed from his hand. In the autumn, as the evenings got cool, it re turned to its cage again before nightfall. It was taken as usual into the house, and was kept there for the winter. This is a curious instance of the force of habit over coming the instinct of a bird. A Touching Story. On a narrow island near the New Eng land coast, where primitive customs still obtain, where the crier goes about the streets by day and the watchman by night, where they dispose of sulphur meat by auction, and the merry maiden and the tar go junketing together in an ancient calash, lives an old lady, Auntie B . The same roof has sheltered three generations of her family, and it would require little is than an earthquake to dislodge her >m her seat by the old fashioned fire place. There she sits, a picture of peace and contentment. “Haven’t you a single regret in your whole life ?” we asked her once. She dropped her knitting, and a dreamy look crept over her placid eyes. “Yes,” she said at length, “I have. Ten years ago, when my dear dead sister was alive, a man with a hand-organ came to this island oj the steamer. Oh 1 ne could play beautifully. He came near our street, and my sister says to me: “Let us go down to the corner and see him play.” Well, do you know, I didn’t go, after all, but she said it was just splendid, aud, I suppose I shail regret not hearing that hand-organ to my dying day.” And tne dear old soul dropped a tear on the half- heeled stocking. In the secluded valleys of the Austrian Tyrol, as this region is sometimes called, the sports and recreations of the people are in strict accordance with the spirit of by-gone days which characterizes the staunch old race dwelling in the recesses of these almost inaccessible mountains. Liv ing in a country lying between two of the lowest passes of the Alps, which formed the chief highways between civilized Italy and rough Germany, and constantly crossed by victorious or defeated armies, marching to or returning from Italy, they have preserved a sturdy, warlike spirit, fostered by their traditional and steadfast attachment to the ruling house of Haps- burg. The gentry and superior class of peasantry and mountaineers are very fond of target-shooting, which almost invariably follows their weddings, dances and merry makings, which usually continue through out the day and night. The targets are placed at a distance of about two hundred yards, and consist of a fixed bull's-eye and rings, a figure of a deer at rest and a “run ning stag.” This consists of the wooden figure cf a stag, rigged up by means of a huge pendulum in such a manner that when loosened it darts across an open space eight feet in width, between tab and dense bushes. The pace at which this imitation stag traveled was about equal to a living specimen in fuil flight, and the target, set over the region of the heart, must be hit while it passes this space, a momentous feat, considering the speed with which the obj ect passes; but I have seen it done sev eral times in succession by these expert ri flemen. A love of the chase seems inher ent to this hardy people. The black cock (tetrao tetrix) belongs to the grouse spe cies, and the sport requires great hardihood and patience, and an accurate knowledge of his peculiarities. Like the pinnated grouse of the prairies, he is polygamous, but, unlike them, is shot during the pairing season, the hens being carefully spared. The descriptions the hunters give of the love-sick bird strutting and gamboling around the base of a tree for the edification of the hens, who crowd around their lord and master, are ludicrous in the extreme. His lone song, which consists of three dis tinct notes repeated constantly at more or less regular intervals, is frequently his ruin, for in the midst of his ecstacies, during the execution of the third note, he is insensible to danger, and becomes an easy prey to the rifle of the. expert huntsman, course, if you adopt the English idea of sport you can build a miniature hut or blind of bushes in the course of the day, close to the tree selected by the jealous old cock f jr his morning song, patiently await the advent of the game, and then murder him in cold blood. But this is far different from the genuine sport, where foot and hand, eye and ear, are on the alert to take advantage of any indiscretion of your quick-witted opponent. It is a contest be tween the acute intellect of the featherless biped and the keen instinct of his leathered prototype. The golden eagle, the tiger of his race, is occasionally seen circling around his eyrie among the lofty crags, and his young are sometimes captured by the in trepid hunter. They are of immense size, sometimes measuring eight feet from tip to tip of *he wings, and are the greatest ioes of the chamois ana roe buck, as well as the farmer’s stock of young pigs, kids and lambs. I had the pleasurable excitement of seeing one of these capacious birds car rying off a young chamois, which he had swooped down upon with resistless fury, and by the mere force of the concus sion hurled down the abyss, at the brink of which it happened to be feeding. {Sev eral times the great weight of the prey obliged him to loosen his hold upon it while circling at a temble height over ravine and peak. As it fell the eagle darted after it, and catching it in his claws, and sinking thirty or forty feet by the mere impetuosity of his downward flight, he spread his mighty wings to their widest extent and resumed his circling ascent, with his prey firmly clutched m his strong talons. The weddings of the peasantry are solemnized m the chapel, after the usual form of the Catholic Church, but there are some observances connected with them which have a character of their own. One of these consists of presentation of money to the newly-married couple by each person, be it man, woman or child, present at the wedding. The gifts are received by the godmother of the bride, the mother never being permitted to be present at any part of her daughter’s wedding. The name of the donor and the amount of the gift is carefully noted down by a brother or other relation ot the bride, aod when the giver marries he expects the exact amount of his gift to be returned by the bridegroom. The gift is never less than two florins, about one dollar, one of which is to pay for the supper. Sometimes articles of household furniture are presented, and in some re mote valleys the custom still exists of each of the discarded loveis of the bride present ing her with a cradle. Thus, a rustic belle who has for a series of years held her court in her summer palace, the AJp hut, will sometimes find a half-dozen of rough crad les at the front door on tne morning after the wedding. But the most comical fea ture of all occurs when guest after guest stand forth and in rough, improvised rhyme and song, accuse the bride or bride groom of any questionable incidents in their lives, and tell tales of former sins, accom panied by much laughter and shouting. They are usually assembled at the house of the “wirth,” or landlord of the village, and cance the day and night away, fortified by copious potations of beer and numerous huge dishes of “speck,” bacon; “knodels,” bails of dough fried in lard, and “schmarn” flour, water, butter and salt. The dance is the universal valse. varied by an occas ional independent “hoe-down,” by some of the strapping fellows, who perform some strange gymnastics. I have seen one sud denly spring up from the floor aud drop with a thud upon his knees, and then with folded arms throw his head back and strike the hard boards with three or four sound ing raps, and then regain his feet with t sudden spring, without touching the fl«x>r with his hands—a feat that many an athlete of repute could not imitate. All this time tneir buxom partners are circling round the room alone, coquettishly spreading out their short but ample skirts, and encourag ing their partners to stiil greater exertions. The music is generally a trombone, sax horn and flute, frequently accompanied by the “zither,” which to many cultivated ears is the most charming musical instru- mant in existence. Cameo Cutting. Washington’s Appearance. “General Washington is a tall, well made man,” said a writer in 1798, “rather large boned, and has a tolerably genteel address. His features are manly and bold, his eyes of a blueisn cast and very lively; his hair of a deep brown, his face rather long and marked with the small pox; his complexion sunburnt and without much color, and his countenance sensible, com posed, and thoughtful; there is a remark able air of dignity about him, with a strik ing degree of gracefulness; candor, sin cerity, affability, and simplicity seem to be the striking features of his character.” —Chicago has 800 churches and 8,300 saloons. Cameo cutting is one cf the most profit able arts to engage in. There are but a few cutters and there is a steady demand for all they can produce. The cutters are very secretive and greatly dislike to talk about their work. Most of the cameos are produced from sea shells. A visit to a cameo cutter’s workshop found him seated at a table covered with tools, varying from a stiCDg tnangular-pointed steel instru ment, to the most delicate pointed bits of steel wire fastened in handles. Very fine files and knitting needles, set m wooden grips and ground to infinitesimal points, figured in the lot. On a pad of leather, before the cameo cutter, was a block of wood just big enough to be grasped with his hand, and cemented to the middle of it was an oval object that looked like a piece of alabaster, just big enough to make a seal for the finger of a man who did not object to wearing large rings. Upon tfcfej the artist was just finishing a copy, with a pencil pointed to Deedle fineness, of a pho tograph in profile of a gentleman, which was leaned against a little photograph easel before him. Having finished the outline, he laid his pencil by, and taking up a fine wire tool he scratched the pencil mark around with it. Then he took a darning-needle with a sharp point and scratched the line deeper. He worked with a magnifying glass at his eye, aud stopped continually to inspect the progress of his work with critical minute ness. Then he went at it again, working slowly, seratcliing over the same line again and again, and always examining after each scratch. He changed his tools as he went on, and from the darning-needle de scended to a trifling little fragment of steel wire, not as thick as an ordinary sewing needle, set in a slender handle. With this he scratched and rescratched, until the line3 he had drawn with his pencil had quite vanished, and a thin, fine streak of a daik color had marked the outime of the head he had been tracing his way around. Next he took one of his burin-like tools, commenced again. This time he worked on the outside of the outline, cutting and scraping at the surface until the white turned gray, then brown, and finally van ished, leaving the face in relief, surrounded by a black ground; that is, the portrait re mained intact in the white substance which formed the outer layer of the cameo, while it had been cut away around it to the lower or dark layer. The portrait or figure is then modulated upon its surface until it assumes the round ness of nature. The edges are left square to the dark ground. This is necessary, as, if they are gradually rounded down, the outline becomes undefined toward its junc ture with the relieving surface, owing to the white of the raised portion being par tially transparent and permitting the dark to show through when it is thinned down. Care is taken to finish this dark surface as much as possible with the cutting tools, and so separate the white from it as to leave it smooth and unscratched. A final polish is given it, however, with putty powder, applied dry with a stiff brush, but the utmost care is necessary in this opera tion, as the slightest slip will ruin the work. This ends the cameo-cutter’s work. the mount The cameos sell unmounted for aoout $25. Italy is the home of cameo cutting, and the finest works of art in that line are still turned out there. Genoa and Rome are the centres of production. There is a colony of several thousand cameo-cutters in Paris who produce some very good work. The cameos made abroad are, as a rule, fanciful works, copies of statues, mythological figures and the like. The shells used in cameo cutting are of several sorts, but all are ordinary sea shells or conchs. Some £ome from the East and others from the West Indies. Many are imported, as there is commonly only enough material available in each one for a single cameo. Tnese shells ail have a white surface, but the inner layer -is red, black and dark claret in color, according to the species. The pieces to be used by the artist are sawed from the shells and shaped into the square cr oval form re quired on a grindstone. Then tuey are ready for the artist. The Botchscnilds. The Roth3childs have been attracting no little attention to themselves here m Paris by the announcement of the extension o. the act of partnership, which expired Septem her, SO, 1880, to 1905. The Paris branch of the famous family is quite large. The Dowager Baroness Rothschild, who lives in'" he family mansion in the Rue Laffitte, had five children—Baroness Alphonso, who is at this date the head of the family: Baron Solomon, who died a long time ago; Baron Gustave, Baron Edmond and the Baroness Nathaniel Rothschild. The ven erable dowager is a veritable fountann of charity. She gives away hundreds of thousands of francs every year. In sum mer she lives in a splendid country house at Boulogne where apartments for each of her sons and daughters are kept constantly in order. Baron and Baroness Alphonso Rothschsld live in the old mansion in the Rue Saint Florentine, where Talleyrand once resided. They are gay and extremely fond of society, and are seen everywhere in the monde; the Baroness is one of the most accomplished equestriennes who fre quent the Bois de Boulogne. Her husband is an enthusiastic patron of the turf. He has stables at Meantrif and Chantil.y and lavishes millions on them. Solomon Rothschild was a delicate-minded man, fond of conversation, books, pictures and society. His widow has a daughter who will, it is said, be the richest heiress in the Paris family. Baron uustave is the only one who has married outsije the family. One of the sons of the late Nathaniel Rothschild just purchased the splendid mansion of Count Tolstoi, in the Anenue de Friediand; and another, named Arthur, spends his life in collecting books. It is said that no one else in Frauce except the Duke d’ Au- male possesses such inestimable treasures of rare editions and luxurious binding as this young Rotnschild. A New Idea. “Why, George, now are you getting along said one young man to another in front of the post office the other day. “Splendid! never had so much fun in all my life,” was the other’s answer. “How’s that, George ?” “Well, you see, Ned, after I lost my sit uation all my friends left me. I was de termined to get even, so I circulated a re port among them that I was , the fortunate holder of one half of a lottery ticket that had just drawn a big prize.” “Did it take?” “You just bet it took! Why, in two days I received no less than a dozen invi tations from fellows that I had almost for gotten. I was presented with two suits of clothes, four new hats, two dozen em broidered handkerchiefs, a silk umbrella, a beautiful amethyst ring and a handsome pair of gold sleeve buttons. I visited Span ish fort five times, took one trip to the jetties on the Cannon and borrowed, ali loki, |150 in Umted States currency. Di<j 4 it take ? Well I should smile.”

Georgia Historic Newspapers

Cedartown advertiser. (Cedartown, Ga.) 1878-1889, January 20, 1881, Image 1