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Sparkles on a Leg.
A PAIR OF LOVF.RS FAIRLY CAUGHT —
THR BIO BROTHER IN ROAD
AS USUAL.
Be it known that there abideth in
the good city of Vallejo a youug, affa
b!e, handsome, deserving young man
who has, or rather intends to have,
for bis affianced an equally band- i
some and amiable young lady of
this same burg. Be it also known
that this young lady rejoices in the
possession of a brother, two years
her senior—on# of those frolicsome,
good for-nothing sort of scamps that
sisters most do love and idolize.
Well—this young lady, one even¬
ing la*t week, bad a sort of gather¬
ing of young friends hi he i i a s
house, at which inu-ic, gam-s and a
general good time were tb« chief
features o' the occasion The g rad
for-nothing brother of course, assis¬
ted his sister in doing the honors of
the even g, out owin i to a sligh'
head acm c h- lit a cigar, and as w-fts
supposed, took :i walk, *-x using him
self from the c mpany.
The festivities proceeded until
about 12 o’clock, when a general
breakitig^tip occured. The com pi'
nr went, up stairs to g t th -ir hit's,
shawls, etc. and among them, f
ooarse, was the young lover, who
lingsrod ah m till the compauy had
re r ir««d b. -low I was prep iring l •
leave. K- i las one deoen led, ne
to*k tus “darling’s” band in hw au-1
teuderly pulled her insula of a small
room over ths hall—the bed room <>f
a good-for-nothing brother. As a
dilatory good-bye had to be said (and
the company balow knew it, too),
our hero and heroine sat on tho edge
of the bed, in total darkness, and
whispered the usual s ft tb ngs that
lovers generally whisper on such oc-
©aaions. They had gone on in this
style for some time when the “dear
one” remarked:
“Harry, they must think it strange j
we stay so long. Now, let’s go down i
atftirs.”
“Only one more, my precious t“
he responded; and a series of peculiar
sounds saluted the atmosphere.
“Now, Harry, don’t! What will
think do.' a stairs V” f
“Never miud wbat they think,
dearest. Tell me, Mollie, do you
really love me?” and he clasped, or
was supposed to clasp, her affecliou-|
ately about the waist.
“Ever so much, Harry, and you
know it. Oouie, we must go down.”
“Bitne by, birae by, dear. You
know how much I love to hear you
tell me those sweet words. Do you
mean it, Mollie ?”
“Wbat can I say. Harry, io con¬
vince you? You know all my
thoughts, aud you know that you
alone possess my heart.”
“Oh, sweet, delicious words. I
am fairly intoxicated with joy, Mol-
lie dear.
“I believe you, my boy; but when
you get through with that d—d non-
sense, I hope you'll get off my leg
and clear out of ibis, canae I wan t j
to go to sleep I”
The brother had spoken! The ;
young rascal had been in bed for an
hour, and the lovers had actually
been sitting on his leg making the
most} desnerate sort of love. The
twain precipitately descended, look-
ing an sU-epish as two mortals
could. The n-'xt morning the young
lady didn't appear at the breakfast ta
ble. No one could divine the reasoD
but the good for-nothing brother,
but he held his peacs till dinner
time, when he broke out with—
“Sis, the next time you get to
T .‘T . ler I ,M . ‘ “ l0 "' .?“• .
o h.r men » to *>rt upon, ,1 J„„
pl..w, tor •!»< so ttbrn^b nob, „g r
HestibmitAei to several good !
na-
tured Ihu-ii.iR, but. h« assnr«<l his j
sister that, h’-reafier, wheuover ‘ h-- !
Harry” cat,on to see her, he won
ror that bis bedroom was locked —
Valh’j > Chronicle.
Au exchange, telling ol a fire, s iys
“a naan jump' d fr< m h s window 't
a oialit-dress,” and no* th** Boatoi
Tost dr-sires to know wbat in th«
mischief he had a window in his
night-dress for.
Willie asked bis mother where the
stars eame trom H>r reiily was:
“My sod, I do not km-w.” “Well, I
do,” le remarked, “the moon lad
eiu,”
TOCCOA NEWS
By Edw SCHAEFER- l
yAT * VTT *
DaY dreams.
For tin- News.
Did you ever spend an hour or so
in deep contemplation of the past?
1 tini k it soiut-Uuies bci,slits one to
r a in m*i>t and take a rotro-
f Cl. ul the past. In it wo may
soiui-tuues see where we can make a
change of our preaeut course for the
et'er. L >ok back t« the sweet sun-
ii, hour, of happy childhood, when
t- firs! knelt on rue knees of a fond
and loving mother, What pleasant
in inories such meditations bring to
mind! Climb up, with the aid of
memory, the ladder of Time, and
what do we see? Ob, gay hourR of
bliss, long happy years, farewell !
Farewell to the halcvou days ot
long ago ! But wh all this ? We
should
“Mourn not vainly o'er the past.
For its heeils are dead and gone;
Weep not lor the woes thou hast.
Greater peace may yet be won.
If the winter of thy life
Seem all desolate and sad,
Spring shall come with flowerets rife
So thy heart may yet be glad.”
With straining eyes I have gazed
ihIo the dim and misty future, but
not one single ehee.ful ray cast its
gleams backward upon the paih of
one where fragrant flowers seldom
bloom. I have transplanted them
from the gardens of the Past to
those of the Present, and have nur¬
tured and watered them with the
tettrs 0 f re g re t, but still they would
wltber and q; e The footsteps of
the loved aud lost sometimes ring
mockingly through the usually dull
aud silent halls of memory Ail
this aud much more Bpeaks scornful
Q f ,j Je ^ aMt a „d disparagingly olj the
future.
But I do not intend to write alto-
gotber in this strain I purpose to
speak of the future, no matter how
<, lo0 my it may appear, and try to
paint it u glowing colors, that oth¬
ers may lie encouraged and pass
over the breakers iu the ocean of
Time with safety. How true that
“into each life some rain must fall.”
The shore of some of our past lives
are strewn with wrecks—
“Wrecks ot hopes that set sail with glue-
Wrecks of love sinking silently.”
Already I have dwelt too much
upon the pas*, but my pen asetned
to l>« controlled by some invisible
bemg whicll lttC i my thoughts back
l0 ago. Of the lost friends
£ j oye lo tb , nk> an( j tiopiug to
lbem a5 a 1Uj but dread the
jurnsy from time to eternity.—
speakiug ->f this, George D. Prentice,
one of the most brilliant man
oBr (.gun £j-y ever knew, says, ‘we
'
do not wan t to g0 though the dark
valley, although its dark passage
may lead tQ Paradise; we do not
wan £ £ 0 j a y flown in the grave, even
whh pri , JCBS for bed fellows.'
In the beautiful drama of Ion, the
hope of immortality, so eloquently
uttered by the death-devoted Greek
finds deep response iu every
ful soul When about to yield his
existence as a sacrifice to fate,
nis Clemautha asks if they should
meet «Ll again, to which he replies: ‘]
tow ttot d.wlfl q„„«,o 0 o'
| ooked et.rnal-of tb.
^ ttol Ho. for,, r-of
the stars among whose fields of azure
my raised spirit has walKed in glory .
A! were dumb; but as I gaze up...;
thy living face, I feel that, there
something in the love that mantle.,
through its beauty that, c-annot
svboliy perieb We shall meet agai
Cl' niauthu !
In my next I sh.-il common e t
vtile what, I int<-nd“d from the first
— a serial story—“It Might Have
Been,” This is merely a “preface”
to it. Lena
i. I.
heart like rose leaves in a drawer,
to sweeten every object around them
and to bring hope to the weary-
Devoted to News. Poif^j; Agriculture and General
TOCCOA, GA., MARCH 20, 1880.
I(0« I CAME TO HE MARK LED.
It iu.\y bo funny, but I've done it.
I’ve go: a rib and a baby. Shadows
departed—oyster stews, brandy
cock tads, cigar boxes, boot jacks,
absconding shirt, buttons, whist and
dominoes. Shadows present—hoop
skirts, band-boxes, ribbons, gaiters,
long stockings, juvenile cresses,
trumpets, little willow chairs, cr
dies, bibs, paragoric, hive sictij' fa-,
tor oil, Godfrey’s cordial, soo hr g
sirup, rhubarb, senna, salts, rj *V
aud doctor's bills. Shadows future
—more nine pound babies viore
hive sirup, etc., etc. I'll jnst tell
yon how I got caught. I was always
the darudest, most tea-custard
bashful fellow yon ever did see; .t
was kinder iu my line to be taken
with the shakes every time I saw a
pretty gal approaching me, and Id
cross the street any time rather than
face one; ’twasn’t because I didn’t
like the critters, for if 1 was behind
a fence looking through a knot hole
I couldn’t look at one long enotf^u
Well, my sister Lib gave a party one
night, and I stayed away from home
because I was too bashful to face the
music. I bung around the house,
whistling “Old Dan Tucker,” danc¬
ing to keep ray feet warm, watching
the heads bobbing up and down be¬
hind the window curtains, and wish-
ing,the thundering party would br.-ak
up so I could get to my room. I
smoked a bunch of cigars, and as it
was getting late and mighty un¬
comfortable, I concluded to shin up
the door-post. No sooner said than
done, and I soon found myse f anug
in rip 1 bed Da-re "Now.jmya J ^.nd “let h«
tw your
out !” Aud, cuddling under the
quilts, Morpheus grabbed me. I
was dreaming of soft shell crabs and
stewed trine aud was having a good
time, when some one knocked at the
door and woke me up “Rap
again I laid low “Rap rap,
rap?” Then I heard a whispering,
aud I knew there was a whole ralt
of gals outside. “Rap, rap ?” Then
Lib sings out, “Jack, are you there?
“Yes,” says I. Then came a roar
of laughter. “Let us iu” says she.
“I won't,” saysl; “cau’t you let a
fellow alone?” “Are you abed!”
says she. “I am," says I. “Get
up,” says she. “I won’t,” says^I
Then came another hu'gh, By than-
der ! I began to get riled. “Get
out, you petticoated scarecrows r
I cried; can’t yon get a bean without
hunting a fellow out of bed ? 1
won’t go home with you—I won t
so you may as well clear out ?” And,
throwing a boot at the door. I fslt
better. But, presently, oh, mortal,
buttons! I heard a still, small
voice, vary much like sister Lib’s,
aud it said, “Jack, yon have to get
up, for the uirl’s things are in
there?” Oh! Lord, what a pick
lc!
think of me in bed, all covered
with shawls muffs, bonnets and
cloaks, aud twenty girls outside the
door waiting to get iu ! If I had
stopped to think, I should have died
on the spot. As it, was, I rolled out
i.o„? tbo bonnet- wo aud ribbons
i» . k»«T. -S«»»V -»•
liner, in .wrj to.e'ion. I tod to
dress in the dark for theie wftS a
crack iu the door, and guls wib
peep— and the way I furab ed about
was death ou straw hats. Hi
critical moment cama I opened
the door and found myself right
among the women Oh, my bon-
net!” cried one. 1 ‘Oh, my leghorn ?’
one 1 another, and they pitched in
I’hey pulled me this way and that,
boxed iny ears, and one bright—
^yed little piece Sal her u
was—put her arms around my neck
and kissed me right on my lips. Hu
nature couldn’t ,'apd tto'.
I gave her as good as she sen . 1
was ihe first time I ever got a taste,
and it was powerful good. I believ-
I con’d batfe kistfed that ga! freup
Julius Caesar to the fourth of July
“Jack, - ’ said she, “we are sorry to
disturb you, hut won’t you see mc
honir ?” “Yes,” said I, “I will.”'
I did do it, and had another smack
at the gate, too. After that, we
took a bind of mrtle-doving after
each other, both of us sighing like a
barrel of new cider when we were
away from each other. ’Twaa at
the close of a glorious summer day
—the sun was setting behind a dis¬
tant bog pen —the chickens were go¬
ing to roost— the bull frogs were
commencing their evening songs —
the pollv woes in their native mud
puddles, ,,, preparing „ themselves ,
; were
for the , shades ,, of „ night, . , . and Sal and .
myself sat upon an antiquated
back log, listening to the music of
nature, such as treetoads, roosters,
and grunting pigs, and now and
^ ^ mell(JW rIJllslc of a distant
. aekasa wafted
was to 0l3r ears by
the genile ziphyrs that sighed
among the mullein stalks, and
came heavy laden with the delicious
odor of ben roosts and pig styes,
The last lingering rays of the se ting
sun, glancing from the brass buttons
of a solitary horsemau, shone
through a knot hole in tbo hog pen,
full in Sal's face, dyeing her hair
with an orange-peel hue, and show¬
ing off my thread bare coat to a bad
advantage—one of my arms was
around Sal’s waist, my hand resting
on the small of her back—she was
toying with my auburn locks of jet-
black hue—she was almost gone,
and I was ditto. She looked like a
, s p( . r dvft)fc , mth the bie .
and I ojiit k like a mud-turtle
],M J 1>all .
., Sai s , iyH r -4 , Qe musical as
i
iho notes of , a 'ly ing swan, “will you
hnve me ?”
She turned her ei es heavenward,
clasped me by the hand, had an at¬
tack of the heaves and blind stag¬
gers, and, with a sigh that drew her
shoe-strings to her p.date, said
“Yes,” She gave clear out then
and squatted in my lap. I hugged
her until I broke my suspenders,
and her breath smelt of onions
which she hud eaten the week be-
fore.
Welt, to make a long story short,
she. set the day, and we practiced
for four weeks every night how we
would walk into the room to bo
married, till we got so we could
walk as gracefully as a couple of
Muscovy ducks.
The night, the company, and the
minister came, the sigual was given,
and arm in arm we marched
through the crowded hall. We wer#
just entering the parlor door, when
down I went kerslap on the oilcloth
pulling Sal aftei tne. Some cussed
tellow dropped a banana skin on the
floor, and floored me. It split an
awful hole in my cassimeres. It
was too late to back out, so we
marched in and were spliced, and
taking a seat I watched the kissing
the bride operation. My grooms¬
man kissed her till I jumped up to
take a slice, when, oh horror ! a lit¬
tle 9 year-old imp had crawled be¬
hind me, ami had pinned my coat
to the chair and id jumping up I
again lell sprawling on the floor, to
the admiration of the astonished
multitude. I was finally put to bed
aud '.here all mv troubles ended.
Good night.
An apology—“But-, Freddie, how
could you ever think cf calling auntie
stupid? Immediately go to her and
tell her that you are sorry.” Freddie
goes to auntie and says, “I am sorry
you are stupid.”
Pat—“Do you buy rags and boDes
here?” Merchant— “We do surr.”
Pat—Thin, be Jabers, put , me on the
Beauties often ale old mm
They set such a value on themselvs
tbe y don’t find a purohasir tilt
the market is cloetd
{ TERMS—$1 50 A YEAR
NO. 37.
Encouraging Words from a Sew Set¬
tler.
Greenville, C. H , Oct 10'h, 1879.
To Editor Southern Herald :
Dear Sib.—H aving a few mo¬
ments to spare, I hope it may not be
amiss if I devote them in giving a
few more points Tor the information
of my many Northern
who are looking in this direction for
a future homo; for there are few
heads of families prospecting from
a Northern standpoint but will
avail themselves of any and all legiti¬
mate means to so inform themselves
as to , warrant .... them .
in passing a good
. . the
opimon on resources of , a
r
tr J after th ? y U Up f . ° r
« ^ months, and , ft bey are inter-
63 e ’ a ° rBR W1 a ' 1 ' * y H * **
testimony .
at command before com
l ° C ° DcWd - A “ l °
8elf - I T thought the matter over for
nearly two years before I went South
prospecting for a home, which 1
found and purchased, and then went
back North again and remained an-
other year before I moved to it with
my family. I certainly took time
enough to look into the matter from
every point of view within my reach,
and thought I had done very very
wisely, etc , but I made a very grand
mistake for all that, which ,s
obvious to me now, that <8. I waited
too bog. I fhould have come here
sooner. Sly reason for com tug were
not becati8 2 I lacked a g ,otl business
or living at tile North; far from it,
as I had both but. I did lack good
general health, a blessing that few of
us know the full v^»la of until dc
t piivcd of the sarne.^
HEALTHY tpuil VI
The rigorous Northern weather
with its many a d sudden changes
was too severe for me, aud I
fast wasting away; my friends told
mo so and I saw it mysalf; iu fact I
firmly believe that, had I remained
North, it would be a m ;ro question
of time—and a short time too—for
me to “shuffle off this mortal coil; ’
but with tho change of country and
climate 1 have experienced such a
general rebuilding of my system that
I am now very sorry, in leed, that I
d.d not come here sooner and be
benefitted physically, as l am. If I
had, there would not have been so
much work for nature to do for me
now, but I am getting a’ong nicely
and think in the course of a few
more months my friends at the
North will hardly know me because
of the geueral change for the better
I can safely say with all others who
know anything of this section,
for proper altitude for aomfort
year round, delightful sceuery, which
cannot be surpassed in grandeur
and extreme healthfulness of the cli
mate and country, that this is cer¬
tainly destined to be Ibegirden spot
of America, to which all eyes will be
directed for the mostpleasaut homes
tor not only the emigrant, but the bus
incss man aud capitalist; for in this
country all will find pleu’y of scape
for their mental, physical and money
power.
A hearty welcome
Here the laboring man, as was as
the merchant, will find ready and
willing hands and heads to as; ist
him in making a start, and, if
needed, be advised by gemlemen ot
integrity, who will prove themselves
as unselfish as any he ha) ever un-t
elsewhere, and who are anxious io
welcome their Northern
coming as bona jidc settlers their
midst, who are willing to f orwar d
and not retard the geueral progress
ot the country, which ha9 b»*en open-
up to the world by the Air Line
Railroad, bringing it in direct and
unbroken communication with N=w
Yurk at one aud New Orleans at the
> ai d down on the maps of this part,
of the ‘ Sunny S rath.’'
' ?° P I,A:LR
The Air Line R i’r >ad is _
a well-managed road, with a good
road ed. sp endid ©qnipmeaU >•
every detail, the moat gentlemanly
conductors it baa *v#r been my for¬
tune to ride with, and* coxpa ©f
o her officials equally civil and polite,
and better than all that, maeterly i«*
telligtnce at ite bead, it certainly
merits the patronage of all c les ee s .
T. O Down.
Wouldn’t be Ball-Vexed.
One would imagine that the offiee
of the Water Board would be a good
place to secure variety, but auoh ia
far from oeing the case. Outside of
the people who pay rents whan due
and h*»T 0 no words about it) there la
only one other class. The man who
has waited until notified that the
water will b* shot ©ft if he doesn’t
oime to time, walks into the ofiee
wi , u a , ook ot a * fll | d igait y „ a y,
j jrQW Rnd rays:
•‘Going to shut off my water, eb ?"*
Silence on the part of the clerk.
“I’d like to see you try it on me, I
would! If th : s Water Board imag¬
ines that it rune the whole city it
will find itself grandly mistaken 1”
More silence from the e'erk.
“If the water had been abut off
I’d have given this board such .MU
^ H ^ hmd b-tewsI Itoan brow*
beat some men, but it mosn’l try any
Chrism on
The clerk looks out of the window,
‘ I now refuse to pay the rates,
atjJ yoj dar< . j r „ make a t „ t caM
of u an(1 cirry it to tb# Supreme
q )nr * j-»
The C1 „ rk , hifts bi8 we igbt to tb ,
otll( r , 0 ^
..y^rn carry it to the Supreme
C(jnrt jf - t cost , me $10>0 QO, I h.v 9
never nuy on# to trampJt OB
^ ftnd it - 8 ^ late to ,^ oow/ .
n
Th(J c , erk wbUt , M| and tb .
inA ig Qftnt citiz m starts for th© doqr.
j retnrn8 elow1y| and m:
., No yon ca „. t brow-beat'm©.*
The clerk begins making out Ilia
receipt.
‘ I know my rights as an American
citizen, and I will maintain them—
how miict ie it 7"
“Six dollar# ”
“We^Rve n<? Czrr ia t .. „.jatry,
j and—ta'te it out of this ten.”
| “Fine day,” remarks the clerk »•
he hands over the cbftt-g*.
“Yes, party fair This board
musn’t try to bnU-doxe me. Tat
not the man to submit to any sort
j of tyranny Looks like snow don't
it? Is that clock right? Lo‘a of
pipes fnzen up, I ’apose. Well,
; good day.”
N'o Check*#, No Payee.
A Chinaman hailed a street car ia
Das Moines, and put himself and a
heavy trunk on b tard. When tha
driver calne around he demanded
two fares, one for John and on© for
his trunk. John handed out fiva
cents and began interested is tha
contemplation of the scenery. Th*
^ ri?er punched him up and eaid:
‘I want fire cants for that trunk.
John grinned and again turned
to the window to admire th© bean
ti#s of tbu 1 ™<T'«h*P«>. and the driv©.
er was c impelled again to interrupt
him and demand a nickel.
O'), no,* said John, ‘him no paa-
sengel; him baggage, glib *»©k.
fdse ?’
‘You pay for that trunk or IT)
shove it off,’ cried th# driver.
‘ Yon cheekee tluuk?’ asked Jobs.
‘N ). we don’t check trunk#.’
•You checkee Hunk and I pay fol
him ’ responded John,
‘Are you g->ing to pay far tkak
trunk ?’ roar d the driver, becoming
exasperated.
No chfekee, no payee,’ responded
John, with a grin.
Tha driver was about to put the
pi-ce of baggage off, when John
stopped him and said if he would
out it on the seat of the car instead
tH*; fr nt. pl»tfoxn» he would pfcy.
This was done, aud as the driver
move ^ '^ obn
gA, smiled at the passengers blandly,
ilu ^ sa ‘ £ I»
no ex, ' a
j clsss fH ' e fo1 ‘ ,aDk * hi “ * ot
have 8 * a,ee * lle,a aa “ e ® ® 8 Meliean
• man And be kept it there till be
reached bis destination,
Tb°>r« is nothing so effective kj
• bringing a man up to the scratch as
a healthy and high spirited flee.
i How ituch cold can a bare bear
' bear ?