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JaL // A JiwM
ATTORNEY A7 LAW-
TOCCOA, GA.
{3BTOFFICE up stairs over W. A. Matheson
Wii.l atteod promptly to cil busiuescii
t listed to him. Special attention given to the
Collection of claims.
LEWIS DAVIS
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Toccoa City, Ga.
Will practice in the counties of Haber
shatn and Rabun, of the Norfwestcrn Circuit,
m d Franklin and Ranks, of the Western Cir-
cult. Prompt attention will be given to all
business entrusted to aim. The collections
of debts will have special attention.
JOHN W. OWEN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW
Toccoa Ga.
Will practice in the counties of rTabor-
pJonlptly. Fra,,kli “- CwHcetions M^yinV 0
(7 Jil. Smith
c\ >
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
1 ^ ^nSmm^h-s ^
Will practice of Habersham
Hull, Hunks and Franklin. Special attention
—
^HjTRflDEjR.^aiflRXdO.l / y
injjv'jv'icr/n >s
UMA 2 IC
6 C / ' r /lTj f* 7P f
.
A sure an 1 speedy remedy for this much
dreaded disease.
. J o Quacfceiy in 2?iis.
A
PHELIlY e V£GiTdBLE d B.EMEOY:
d— 77—•—7 --- TT, --— 1
for years, And this tnediciine is the outcrop
of his suffering and much study sind exner -
meeting, and “wk he lives today a walking
Tt" M,nurtured by
J\ M. Hunnicutt <& Co.,
Atlanta. Ga.
For sa c at the drug store of W.1I. & J.
avis Toccoa, Ga,
> X \ TENTS.
V’m. G\ Henderson y
PATENT ATTORNEY SSOL’R
IH’ICES 925 P S’lREET,
O. 3ox 50. Washington, Q. C.
THierly of (.he Examine Corps, L*. S. Patent
i /.'lire.
Practice* before the Patent. Office, U. S. Su
yireine Court and tlu* Federal Courtf».
frinsfements Opinions given as to scope, validity, and in-
of Patents.
Information cheerfully and promptly fur¬
nished.
Hand Book on Patents, with references an¬
nexed KUEE,
a riB3r-3LASsaAaA3iiTi l-t smr sespsst.
LIPPI NCOTT’S
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OCCOA NE
VOL XIII.
THE SQUIRE’S WIFE-
-
Squire Clover listened in silence,
but with a ( l uiet stnile u I ,on his lj P s »
to his old cronies’ years of their va-
rious haps and mishaps in their
days in trying to get posses-
^ on the gii’l of their choice.
But ^ W1 aU Spokon he
knockeu the ashes out of liis pipe,
and, proceeding to relul it said:
Ay, neignbors, }o \ o tolw some
pretty queer stories, but 1 11 war*
rant I can tell one that’ll match ’em.
1 ratiiei guess twould astonish those
ac d uakltec ^ }n y quiet, modest-
looking wife yonder to know how it
was that I thought of taking her for
better or worse.”
“Now, David, expostulated Mrs. ^
Clover, both reddening and smiling
as ft!,e mot h(jr husband’s quizzical
look. “Why will you tell that sillv
Storv? li you hadn’t cared to take
'
} ou could i i Slave i , let , me alone. . ,,
“ Ah - sure » eas J' said
t!,c s q u,re > shaking his head with
demure gravity. “But when a girl
—an’ especially sich a pretty one—
flies directly into a fellow’s arms,
what else can he do?. That’s what
I'd like to know!”
Laughingly declaring that “she’d
stay to listen to no nonsense,” Mrs.
Clover gathered up her work and
ran away; and her husband, after
shaking his jolly sides with silent
laughter, until some of those present
were fearful that apoplexy would be
the result, gradually recovered him¬
self and proceeded to satisfy the cu¬
riosity he had aroused thus:
“I was a poor boy, as perhaps yo .
know, with nothin’ but a pair of
stout arms and broad shoulders to
push my way in the world with; but
1 had a brave heart, an’ wasn’t afraid
of work, an’ on the whole, ain’t no
ways dissatisfied ...... with what lianas
my
have brought me.
‘■The summer I was twenty-one I
went to work for Sue’s father,
“Mr. Bean was a wed-to-do farmer,
and Sue his only child, lie wasn’t
anyways stuck up about his proper-
* 1
•
ty, but he set a great store by bue; .
an’, as he knew that some day she’d
have as good ” a farm as there was in
countv, nat’raliv expected that the
who get her would be able to
S : ue as mucli mnp i. as i. lie p took
-
. “So I had no more idea of ever
bem . husband
ItMie s than I had of
tlyin ,, • , and , r ,
, >et . the very first time L
set eres on her I knew, as well as I
know how,, that no other woman
would , . ever be . to me what . she ,
was.
“I remember the day just as well
as jf ’twas vosterdav. 1 had seen Mr.
-
bean down to the village th© night
afore, an twas agreed that I come
tlie next afternoon.
‘‘When I come to the house— an’
. looking , . , . , ,
a nice house With a broau
c ^ uas
as to wiietlier 1 had better ^ go in the
side or backdoor. J hnaily conCiUded
*
, > .
to laUe ine Jaccer *
r Vs I ,‘ passed by the kitchen .
w z- dow , T 1 heard a volce slu S ln g , as
•
Mveet ana a , u ] olear clear as as a a robin’s’ room s an’ an on on
lookin. in I saw Sue standin by 7 a ta-
bid, kne.i lin‘ brea l, an 1 never see a
prettier pieter afore or sem e.
“All, lads, vo may talk about girls
at the * piaunv, but tuev ain’t half so
much to mv mind as the one I saw
at the moledm’-bosrd; . , the flour she
j was siftin’ not any whiter than her
round, uncovered arms, and with as
bright a bloom on cheek an’ lip as
the roses that were clambering over
,
t Wg . assured T , , ) . *
ace as
^ nOV>n l ° ltr UOUei1 lU
°° T '
l - r 4
■ »• 8 -S
set my heart to beatm like a sledge
hammer.
“Liftin’ the latch I walked in.
“Is Mr. Bean to home?' I stain-
Devoted to JYeivs, Politics, Agriculture and General Progress.
TOCCOA GA. JUNE 4 1886 .
mered, colorin’ as red as a beet, as
Sue turned her black «yes on me.
“Yes; father’s somewhere about.
He’ll be in in a minute. Won’t you
take a seat?’
“In ^r 0 in* across the room, I stunt*
bled over a pail, which so flustered
me that 1 sat down in a chair where
a large gray cat lay curled up asleep
and who spittin’ an’ clawin’ at me
sprang out of the window.
“I could see by the dimples that
came round Sue’s pretty mouth that
s h e had hard work to do to keep
laughing outright. But she
didn’t ’pear to take any notice on it,
an( ] prett y soon old Mr. Bean
an’ then I began to feel more com-
fortable.
“They wore real nice sort of folks,
who treated their help like their own
family, an’ 1 soon began to feel at
home.
“AU but with Sue; I couldn’t seem
to say two or three words to her
without blunderin’, an’ was always
dcin’ some awkward thing or other,
whenever I went nigh her.
“I don’t tiling I’d have felt quite
so shy if I had known her opinion of
me; tor I wasn’t a bad lookin’ chap
i i my young days—broad shoulder¬
ed an’ straight as an arrer—-with big
hazel eyes an’ brown hair, as full of
crinkles as curled maple.
“1 hadn’t been to Mr. Bean’s long
before I found out that Sue. had a
beau. Ilis name was Silas Peterkin,
son of the store-keeper down at the
village.
“He was a white-faced, slim-waist-
ed feller, with little hands an’ feet,
that I’d been ashamed to own, but
which he seemed to feel mighty
proud of.
“He used to come to see Sue
about twice a week, dressed in his
store clothes, and lookin’ as if he’d
just stepped out of a band-box.
“Sue never seemed to act as
though she had any particular likin’
for Silas; but ’twas easy seen that
the old folks set great store by him
an’ was mighty pleasant at the idea
of his steppin’ up to tbeir darter.
“As for me, 1 never see him sittin’
by Sue, an’ smirkin’ up into her face,
but what I felt as if I wanted to
fling him, head first, out of the win.
der.
“So matters went on until Septem¬
ber, when Mr. Bean gave a huskin’
party.
“We young fellers set to work
with a will, an’ afore sunset the corn
was all husked and piled away, and
the barn floor swept clean for the
dance an’ supper we was to have in
the evenin’.
“Pretty soon the women folks be¬
gan to flock in, all dressed in their
best, an’ lookin’ as fresh an’ bloomin’
as a flower garden aster a shower.
“But Sue was the prettiest of the
hull lot, dressed in her white
with • , the . . , . . , , ,
pitire ribbon tied around her
uisr.
“Silas Peterkin, he was there, of
course, an , as soon as I T see .. him L
went to the house.
„ As j svas sta ndin’ on the back
steps, . out , of c sorts t with myself an ,
everybody else, I heard a voice say:
k *i)avid!”
“An’ turning round, I saw Sue,
lookin’ as smiliin’ as a basket of
chips, . •
“ -Ain’t you cornin’ down to the
barn?' says she.
“1 rather guess I ain’t
says I.
“Oh. yes, you are,’ says she;
want you/
‘‘■She looked and spoke ; so sweet
that J w . as e . euamos mif>d to go
But jest than I heard Silas
her; an* mutterin’ somethin’ about
tools to ^ n I W a.ked
“1 was most sorry fort though,
when I caught sight of her face as
she walked away with Silas, an’ saw
how sober it was.
“Sittin’ down on the back steps,
I went to work; the raspin’ of my
file soundin’ a deal pleasanter to my
ears than the fiddlin' that floated up
from the barn down in the medder.
“It had been uncommonly hot for
a number of days past, but this had
been the hottest one of all. Not a
leaf moved, an’ there was somethin’
unnat’ral in the stillness of erery-
thin’around. There was a strange
look to the sky, too; it was streaked
overhead with purple an’ vi’let, with
a sort of yellow glare in the west.
“Old Bose, the dog, who had been
wanderin’ restlessly about for the
last' hour, now set up a mournful
howl.
“When I went to fodder the cattle
I found the poor critters huddled to¬
gether in one corner of the yard,
utterin’ low bellows of terror and
dismay, their instincts warning them,
as all these signs did me, of the tor¬
nado that was approach in’.
“Goiu’ back to the house 1 shut
every door and winder.
“Then jthinkin’ of the folks in the
barn—that was the most in danger of
anythin’—I ran down through the
garden toward the medder where it
stood.
“But I had hardly gone two rods
before it came—liftin’ me off my feet
an’ hurlin’ me against an opposite
fence!
“I picked myself up an’ hurried
on. As 1 come in sight of the barn
—or, ruther, where it once stood—
the air was filled with dust an’ flyin’
shingles an’ timber!
“.Vs soon as it cleared away a bit,
I saw Sue standin’ in a most perilous
position right in the midst of it!
“I shouted to her to come away,
and jest then the wind took her up
as if she was but a feather, bearin’
her directly toward me. I opened
my arms, an’ she came right into
them.
“As she did so, one of the flyin’
sticks hit one of rny arms, makin’ it
usejess* but holdin’ her tight with
the other, I took her to some low
bushes hi a little hollow between
two hills.
“The tornado was as short as it
was violent, and though a good deal
of damage was done, luckily, no one
was hurt much.
“Sue escaped without a scratch.
My arm was broken; but considerin’
who nursed me you needn’t waste
any pity on me for that!
“I heard afterward, as soon as the
alarm was given, Silas Peterkin took
to his heels, an’ never stopped until
he reached his father’s door.
“Whether he heard that the old
man vowed that he’d set Bose on
him if he ever came nigh Sue ag’n, I
can’t say, but his visits ceased from
that day. J ’
“J , sent him . an invite . to my wed-
J
(jiu , which .. . took . place , few . months .
^ a
i arter; but as he didn’t come cow I’m sort
so
i of mistrust that be was afraid of an-
I ot her tarnado laiuauo. ’’—New York lur News,
Precept and Example.
The intent of the following inci¬
dent will be readily seen, and we in-
I sert it with the hope that some one
j of the teachers may be benefited
| thereby.
Example must go hand in hand
with precept, if we expect men to
j heed ted our vdt ^ advice. ^ discrimination Few persons that are
| ?P‘ they can ' separate suc the preacher from
his sermon. It is in vain for him
to sa y> as ^ te ^ y ou » and not ^
1 do,’ for deeds are more influential
I | ov An er anecdote the average associated man than with words, En-
an
giw. a,i SS io„a r y and a Maori chief
brillgs n out ,he feebleness of words
when not backed up by deeds.
The Maori of !sew Zealand have
no:
been ruined physically and
ized in character by drink. TW
missionaries went among them an<T
subdued their savageness. The way
thus opened was soon travelled by
the whiskey-trader. The appetite
for drink was created, and though th a
missionaries fought it, they lost th (i
battle.
They fought at a great disadvan¬
tage, for a majority of them were not
themselves total abstainers, and the
Maori could not distinguish between
the use and the abuse of drink.
Tokoi, a Maori chief, was brave,
true, honest, but he could not resist
rum. He was the intimate friend of
the English missionary, who many
times was grieved by finding the
chief drunk.
‘Tokoi,’ he said to him at last, ‘I
love you much, you good man.
Don’t drink fire water. If you da,
you will lose property, you will lose
your character, you will lose your
health and in the end your life.
Nay, Tokoi. worso than that, you
will lose your immortal soul.’
Tokoi listened, went away, and for
month the missionary saw nothing of
him, But he was not far off; he knew
the missionary’s habit, and was
biding his own time for a reply.
One stormy night, the missionary
came home drenched and shivering.
After putting on dry clothes, he
thought he would make sure of es¬
caping cold by drinking a glass of
whiskey-punch.
Just as be bad componded it, the
door opened and the tattoed face of
Tokoi looked in.
‘Little father,’ said he, entering,
‘don’t drink fire-water. If you drink
fire-water, little father, you will lose
your property, character, and your
health. Perhaps you will lose your
life. Nay, little father, you will
lose—but that shall not be. Your
immortal soul is more precious than
mine. The drink will hurt me less
than it will hurt you. To save your
soul, I will drink the fire-water my¬
self.’ And he did.
Cold from a Kitchen Stove.
‘I know a man,’ said a cable car
passenger, ‘who came to Chicag> 3
years ago when he was just of age
without a dollar. He hired out to a
butcher and delivered meat from a
basket which he carried on his slioul*
der. It was hard work, and the
young countryman didn’t get fat oti
it, but he kept Ins eyes open and re¬
solved to improv* the first opportu¬
nity to better his condition. As
butcher boy he went into alleys and
back yards, and there noticed that
that the ash piles which came from
the house stoves had a good deal of
coal in them. lie bought a band-
cart with his savings, resigned from
the butcher shop, and went around
and made arrangements with house¬
holders to draw their ashes away.
ll ... charges . surprisingly . . , , low,
is were
and by hard work l>e managed to
cam a'dollar and a half a day in this
way. But this was only half Ins
earnings. He riged op » seite through
wbicb be screened all the safes be
hauled, and the coal thus secured was
worth about a dollar and a half more.
He then went into the imsiness on a
larger scale, hiring laborers and fur-
nishing them 'carts and rigging op a
large screen wliere load after load
could be dumped. He has boya to
pick out lhc cioder9 arl j clinkers
an( i wagons to haul away ami sell
jq e now hauls unsifted ashes
awa y f or nothing, but charges for
remo ving sifted ashes. A good
many people who used to sift their
ashes don’t do it now, saving them-
i selves the trouble and getting the
refused hauled away for nothing. The
butcher fey is mabiu, about 5-S.OOO
a year .’-Chicago Herald.
Monet !—If you want money ad-
dress, CASH, Care News.
t
jo
in
had
f he mmn^B
Time
10, w lieu
For tike first
attacked with
surprised that
looked up in so r pVBHHH|
tongs, aimed the
said, sheepishly : VBH
‘I'm goiu* ter shoot y«H
‘What yer goiu' ter
said the fair maid.
*■ Cftus* 1 love ycr !’
And so in a few word 1 , wasB
important" question: popped^—
side.
A Woman Who Kept CoolA.
Crossing|tbc Atlantic once,and talk*
ing with tn» surgeon of my ocean-
steamer, I was told by imn that irv
his wide experience hr had found
women, on the whole,, cooler than
men in case of disaster at sea. He
told me of one occasion when they
expected that the vessel would- ulti¬
mately sink, and he told the one wo*
man. on-board to remain a few minutes
in the cabin with her children, because
they would be in the way on deck he
promising to call them in ample
time for safety When he want below
all was so quiet in the cabin that he
thought they must have gone else**’
where, but he found the mother sittiug,
ou the sofa with the three children
arouud her telling them stories in at
low voice to keep them still. AIL
were carefully pressed in their warnsr-
cst clothes, with everything tied caye*.
fully about them, ready for any
gency. She also had a small.haM b%.
packed vkith a Jfew esscntirftL A
pillow-case filled with ship bdead
and securely tied at the top..
On his expressing surprise at the*
last piece of tiiought fulness. she said
sbe had been shipwreeked once be¬
fore, and that a whole boat’s crew
subsisted for several days upon &
similar supply, which no one else had
happened to remember. ‘She was
the very coolest person,’ he said*
with whom I ever made a voyage;
A Tale of Love.
One quiet day in leafy June, whera
bees and birds were all in tune, two
lovers walked beneath the moon..
The night was fair, so was the maid;,
they walked and talked, beneath the
shade with, none to harm or make*
afraltk
Her name was Sal* and his waa
Jim, and he was fat and she slim, be¬
took to her, and. she took to him.
Says Jim to S&L^ ‘By all the snakes
that squirm, among the brush and
brakes, I love you J better’n buck'¬
" oat
^ sbe ‘ S,<,Ce *° U , Te
8 un !a,e > ea nMt 10 * n#,r
b° n,,et -
Jiulto ^ h ** rt 7°* '*
busted, but I b*\e alwa,s gals mis-
trusted/
Says Sal to Jim,‘1 will be true, if
y° u l° ve ^ ^° ve Y 041 * nt * *nif*
can cut our lore in two.
Says^Jim to Sal,‘Through thickjand
thin, for your true lover count mo in,
I’ll court oo other gal again.
Jim leaned to Sal, Sal leaned to-
Jim his nose just touched above her
chin; four lips met—wenV—ahem—
aheml And then—and then—and
then. O galfe' beware of men in
June, and underneath the silvery
moon, when frogs and Jimebugs are
in tune, lest you get your names iu
the paper soon.
Nature ia frank, and will allow to
man to abuse himself without givi g
him a hint of it.