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VOL. VI.
THE SOUTHERN SUN,
Published Weekly by
O’ O fctlN R. H A Y Es/
Proprietor.
Terms ot Subs*'*’*-**'"**
Jiopy. one ycaf, *2 60
t)u« Oopy, *l* mu nth*... / j 60
One Jopy, three months !!*..*.*.*.*.*.1 GO
Ad v er t iseme n ts.
\\ ill he inserted at one dollar per sqoare for the
first insertion. Liberal deduction* wll be made on
contracts. Obit naria* and marriage* will be chare**
th- other adv^rllsenien*-
RaTeS OF ADVERTISING.
No Square*. 1 Mo. 2 a Mo« 6 Mo* 12 ilos
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2 squares 800 11 00 14 00j-0 00 30 00
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4 squares 16 00 20 00 26 00183 00 SO 00
f> squares 20 00 26 q 0 32 00 j 40 0> 60 00
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PROFESSIONAL CARDS.
D. B. BOWER E. O. BOWER
BOWER & BOWER.
ATTORNEYS AT LAW
BAIN BRIDGE, GA.
OFFICE IN TBS COURT HOUSB.
March 23, 1871. 44-1 y
R. W. RAVIS,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BAINBRIDGE, OA.
•CtT Office over I’utteison & McNair's Store.
CnARLRS 0. CAMPBF.LT. B. F. 6HABOS.
CAMPBELL & SHARON,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
BAIN BRIDGE. GA
All business entrusted to their care, promptly at
tended to.
Office in Court House. {July 13, ly
drTeTj: Morgan; ■*
Omen on nouai Tmmu.’Wc it. tt. .t.
store. Iterideuce on West Street.
March 30-ty BAINBRIDGE, GA.
MI SC ELLA NEO US
THE SHARON HOfSE,
JOHN SHARON, Proprietor
Bainb ridge Georgia.
TRANSIENT BOARD S3 PER DAY.
The t raveling public are hereby notified that
this Ito use lias been thoroughly repaiied ani
refited, as well as refurnished throughout, andren
doied one of the most desirable and agreeable
hotels in the State, worthy the liberal patronage it
lias heretofore received from the passcin ers on the
river and railroad. No pains or expenses will be
spared to make the SHARON HOUSE all that any
one could desire. Call and test its merits.
j<g”ln connection with the Hotel is an elegant
SALOON where the finest of liquors are kept.
C. Hates, . Ben. J. Lesteb
Richmond, Ya Savannah, Ga
shc 3tHimm«v AMoksutlc
Tobacco, Liquor,
Commission House
"Win. C. HAYES & Cos.
141 Bay Street, Savannah. Georgn.
AFFKR special and particular ißduwmenj to the
1 ) morohant* and planters of Georgia and *i a .
Hides, Cotton and general
exchange, and on consignmeu . - i8 wt>
vances. quick sales, and small commissmi>
hope to share a liberal patronage from e
generally.
THE BEST
IS THE CHEAPEST.
Fire Insurance CO-
Asscts over $20,000,000 in Gold. Over $8 000,000
Pays losses immediately after adjustment.
Tk New York Life 'lnsurance Comp’j
Assets $10,000,000.
J. E. JOHNSTON & CO , General Agents.
T. B. HUN NEWELL & CO., Agents,
Bainbridge, Ga.
t sri sssssr
MEINHAFJ), BROS. & CO.
* Wholesale Dealtfr*4n
boots ssoes:
Beady Made JlotWnK, V
fitntUmr*’* |nrsfj»M#« 6«ols
111 BouKhto\~St.
SAVANNAH,GEORGIA.
omci JB
B. Meitibard, l'so * 82 W|lH
«M>k»4,r
"§lt|
The Willies.
[From the French of Alphonse Karr-]
At the clone of a beautiful day a com
pany of young people were waltzing mer
rily before the doot of VVilhern Gulo, the
Guard-General, some young men playing
mu me violin and horn.
Silence settled upon the forest, a light
wind that bad caused an occasional tustie
of the foliage having ceased to ater in the
trees j the sun had left upon the horizon
only a tint of purple that still threw its ob
lique light across the opening in which thnv
danced, aud-*r** *—— «rnrc astt*
oerw WTTfi a bright, roßy gleam.
The waltz being ended, Anna Gulp ex
claimed:
“It is notjußt that poor Henry should
pass the whole evening blowing his horn,
without, at least, a single Waltz. Conrad
often plays alone, and Harry might take
part in the dance.’
“And to compensate him for the fatigue
he has experienced in helping us enjoy our
sport/ 1 added the pretty Genevieve, “let us
offer him, in spile of all our previous en
gagements, the privilege of choosing the
one who seems to him the most beautiful,
with whom to dauce twice in succes
sion/*
Anna Gulp began to tremble; she expec
ted to rnarv Henry, such having been, for
a long time, tho favorite purpose of the two
families; still the youth as yet had scarce
ly seemed to distinguish the daughter of
Guard-Geueral by his attentions.
Anna Gu*p loved Henry, who was the
handsomest and best youth in the whole
region; no hunter was more active or brave
and the Prince had promised to raise him
to the rank of Guard-General, which An
na's father proposed to resign, npnn the
consummation oftbe marriage. Anna was
a good and pretty girl, who, since her
mother's death, had been at the head of
her father's household, he having been left
with two children. Anna aud Conrad.
Not a house anywhere seemed so nice
and wu'l kept; not one, with so limited an
income, offered such an aspect of comfort
and happiness. Anna was tho idol of her
father and brother; they called her their
“good angel" —aud there was indeed some
thing angelic in her appearance and dispo
sition. She was slight and flexible, her
pretty face was pale, while the long black
hair, fastened, in bands across her fore
head, and of eyes sad blue,full of tenderness
aud melancholy, seemed, as if by a secret
instinct, to awaken the presentiment that
Anna Gulp was an angel from heaven, only
lent to earth; and after having, like a ben
eficent drop of dew, giveu life and happi
ness to all about her, would spread her
wi;.gsand return to the celestial country,
leaving in the hearts that loved her the bit
terness which seems to attach to all hu
man blessings.
Henry came, without any hesitation, to
take the hands of Aiioa, whose heart had
almost ceased to beat in bis sudden alter
nation from feat to pleasure. Conrad played
a waltz composed by Henry, and tbe waltz*
ers started off.
The moon soon began to mount behind
the trees, and her white light danced
among the branches. Impressed by tin*
influences of the hoar, all row ceased waltz
ing, aud drawing near *he door, where the
father Gulp was smoking tranquility as
he watched, the young propte joined in
more grave and earnest conversation.
Suddenly Henry and Anna, who had re»
mah«d behind, approached the old man,
and Hfe* V y gaid:
“ My farther, we love each other, give us
thy blessing.**
Boib knelt. Wilhelm gave them his
benediction and asked f-»r them beavers
more potent blessing. Conrad came »p to
press the hand of Henry, who presented to
Vnna a bonch of heath blossoms be
ind just gathered. Anna hastily enter*
ed he house and sought refuge in her cham
ber, she could give vent free to the
tears \joy that rushed to her eyes. From
this da\hey were betrothed, and forth
with occied themselves with preparations
for the milage.
One day\enry came to the Guard-Gen
eral, sad aolgloomy, showing him a Ict
ter just torn pon, announcing that an un
cle dying at ikyeoce begged him to come
to him in seasl to close her eyes and ren
der the lasts sAice of the friend aud relit
tive.
Anna said to im‘ “Forget not to return
very soon.*' fchttonld say no more wiih
ont beseeching It® not to leave her. This
news grieved most paiufnl misgiv
ings crowded npoi%er. Happiness is so
evanescent, —so linled is the aiuonot allot
ted to apy and the portioa we
.A.23 TrtHr3r*rrt Journa —Devoted, to tin© Xinterests of 1 Georgia.
i BAIXBRIDGE, GA., TIIURSDAt, NOVEMBER 2, 1871.
might hope to claim for ourselves is so of
ten necessarily shared with others, we are
promoted to steal away, like robbers, to
enjoy onr prize in secret, daring to express
joy only in whispers.
The paternal Gulp received the news
without emotion, saying to Henry. “WpH,
a good journey to you, my son, and return
to us as soon as yon have properly dis.
Charged the duties imposed by nature*
When do you leave?
“I musjt go this night/* said Henry, ’to
tna coach that passes in that direc
tion eight leagues hence, to-morrow.“
Before midnight, then, Henry set forth,
his traveling-bag on his back, bis gun on
his arm, making a circuit that would en
able Lim, before leaving the country, to
see once more the home of hi's beloved, and
the glimmer of the night-lamp that burned
in her chamber.
On his way he gathered sprigs of heath
er. and, weaving them into a wreath, hung
it upon her window. The lap shone out
across the fields, lightening tip the little
chamber with a fanciful glow. Henry
broke off a twigofhavel that almost touch
ed the window-pane, and hastened on his
way. The first golden rays stealing into
the little chamber founp Anna still awake
and restless’
Unclosing the widow to watch the
dawn, and cool her aching brow in the
fresh air of the morning, she found the
white wreath and knew her lover’s act had
been this tender farewell
Henry sent a letter by every post, but
however deep may have been his sorrow,
it was for her who had remained behind
that this separation had most bitterness,
and ere long poor Anna had lost the rose
from her che^k.
After a time the letters became unfre
quent, and finally ceased altogether, and
Anna's heart was the seat of sad forebo
dings that gradually ripened into convic
tion. TVie poor sufferer made no complaint
Ik II t hf»r Uiul UlinitOl)
vealed the weight owe this neglect had
wrought.
Weeping ’"o silence in her chamber, she
avoided even the society of her father and
finally become hopelessly ill.
Conrad had written to Henry, receiving
no response, and finally when no answer
was received to his fourth letter, he wt-w
ted for Mayence. Two mouths afterwards
he returned in a chariot pale and wounded.
At the end of a few days of extreme suf
fering be died.
It happened thus: Reaching Mayence
Henry found his uncle in •» less dangerous
condition than he expected. R« jo>cd at
the resemblance of the youth to hffe father,
he attributed his own immediate convales
ence to the arrival of hi* nephew. This
uncle was very r»ch, and only one of his
numerons children—a very beautiful
daugbier —survived, whom he proposed to
himself Henry should marry.
The young man dared not refuse at once
the honor desighed lor him, but a-ked for
time to gain the consent of his mother at
some time privately begging the good
dauie to witbold it. During the period
this response was awaited, he had become
so interested ir. his cousin, and so comforta
bly disposed towards a life of luxury, he
was not sorry to receive his mother s reply
urging'him to accept ail the advantages of
the union he.was desired to consummate. He
generally forgot Anna,amid the pleasure
of a large city, and taught himself to re
gard the sacred engagement into which he
had entered with her as childish sport, that
might be renounced by the mature man.
Gmrad arrived on the day of Henry's
nnptiala with his ctsusiia Bitterly re
proaching his old fricud, and exasperating
at not being able to move him by the pic
ture of his siatci's distress, he iusulted and
provoked the renegade in public; blows
cucceeded, and Henry felled the avenging
brother with his sword.
Anna wept, no more, but tears fell upon
her heart and corroded there in silence.
From this time she devoted betsclf ex
clusively to her father, who wa* sorely
stricken by the death of his sou, and to
prayer.
Prayer is the refuge of the distressed, a
sure tenonnee when all other support fails,
a eacred bond between the human and di
vine.
Henry found himself master ot a large
fortune, and husband of tbe prettiest wo
man in the city of Mayance. All this life
of luxury was filled with delightful novel
ty for bin). j
A year alter his marriage, however, hi*
father-in-law died, and his wife, an inva
lid, deijred to retire to the country. He
purchased a chateau some leagues from
the koine of Father Gulp, and passed the
whole finie there.
During this time Anna's waiting ended.
She died without appareut regret, and was
bush’d with the white wreath that Henry
had bang upon her window, on the night
d.-part tin a.
One Waning, as returned from a
late hunting party, he became bewildered
in'the forest and could discern no better
expedient for the recovery of his route
than to gain his mother's house, whence it
would be very easy to set out in the right
direction. The early portion of his life hay
ing been spent in the fores*, not .a path was
unknown to him. He was obliged to pus
the house where Father Gulp remained
with an aged servant woman.
It was a lonely autumnal evening ; the
light of the setting sun. again irradiated
the opening. Henry sighed and quick ned
his pace ; ho would have walked even fas
ter, if he had heard the poor old man with
in the house, who keeping, his lonely vir
gil through the night, prayed for his son
and daughter departed while, he also cried
‘Henry, Henry I thou who has slain my
two children, my curse rest upon the, my
curse rest, upon thee l*
The forest grew still more 6ilcnt aud
mysterious ; the path that Henry followed
became each moment more close and dark :
the moon at times scarcely sent
and fitful glimmer among the •branches.
In vain Henry hied to Giive away the
painful impression that crowded upon his
mind ; in vain he •recalled*bis wife, his
child and all the pleasures about him.
The memory of Anna and the puie, happy’
days of his love for her revived with such
irresistible emotion that all other thougts
were excluded.
Occasionally a light puff of wind brought
from a distance the perfume of the honey
sneklo. blooming in tluo forest, and as ho j
walked forward it seemed to him that on
the same breath of wind were borne the
vague ad singalar measures of a song that
was not unknown to him. He proceeded
on his way, but suddenly stoped, shudder
ing.
What extraordinary danger thus caused
Henry, the bravest of tho hunters of the
forest, to stand trembling beneath the trees.
He raised not his gun for defense, because
no material foe confronts him ; it is only
the very distinct measures of the waltz he
conposed long ago, that Conrad played on
the evening when Father Gulp blessed tho
betrothal of his lovely daughter. Making
the sign of the cross, faithful Catholic as
he is, the young man urges his way forward.
Now he loses no more of the song;the voi
ces are those of women—pure, sweet,
fleeting voices. He stops, holds his breath
and listens. They sing the ir of the waltz,
also there is a rustle of feet through tho
measure, but so weak, so light, no human
foot can produce anything like it. Henry's
hair rises upon his head ; his limbs sway
bemath him,but he advances,still listening.
They sing some words, lines he recalls
having arranged himself for this air, du
ring the night when he was leaving Anna.
He had never written them, nor repeated
than to any one, and had quite forgotten
th*m, —neverthiess these voices are sing
ing them I
Taking a few steps forward, the winding
of the path brought him to &u opening
ski-rounded by tail chestnut trees, and
dmly ligved by the moon. He crouched
ia a thicket, from which he contemplated
the strange spectacle. -'Some young girls
in white robes and crowned with flowers,
waltzed, singing upon the turf; but their
write robes were whiter than any fabric
w} have ever seen ; their crowns of flowers
w*re very brilliant; their steps were so
light one could not know whether they
really touched the earth; their sweet, weird
voices seemed only produced by the move
ment of the waltz ; their faces, above all,
were of a frightful pallor. Henry now re
called. the old legend of the “Ring of the
"Willies;** young girls who bad been aban
doned by their lovers, and died unmarried,
wko, in the night, in the depths of *lbe
wild wood dance by themselves under the
tender fight of the pitying moon.
The waltz ceased for a moment, and
Henry heard the sound of the beating of
Us own heart Some momenta passed in
adjusting the crowns of flowers, then the
song was resumed, which still followed the
measure of Henry’s waltz. Two by two
girls started forward for the waltz ;
<■» ikflt m fevfltotdr
searching glance seemed seeking for a
companion. Her figure was delicate and
slight; her black hair was fastened in
bands upon her head; her eyes of a sombre
blue, had a tender and melancholy lt>ok.
Bhe was crowned with white heath I ,
It was Anna I
Henry felt he was about to die. She ad
vanced.toward the thicket in which Henry
was concealed and took him by the hand.
The hand of Anna waa cold aa garble.
Henry bad no strengh to follow her, but
was borne along by some supernatural
power.
The young spirits sang; tho waltz *as
resumed, and Henry, draw n along in spite
of hims elf, w altzed u ith his betrothed.,
Another phantom seized him in its turn ;
to this succeeded a third; anon, a fourth.
Henry «as exhauted. A cold sw eat stood
up mi his forehead and he was bale as the
dead. A fifth spirit came to claim him for
this dance of death, and again a sixth, ur
ging upon him the same resistless move
ment; accompanied by the same song. The
young man, worn out, half dead with
fright as well as fatigue, would have drop
ped upon the grass, but an invincible power
dre w him on, still * hirling on in this mys
terious dance.
At last tin* air could no longer enter his
I a up:* ; respiration must cease ; he 6lified.
He wished to cry out, but could command
no voice, or utter a sound when Anna seized
him again, still pressiug him into the in
evitable motion of the waltz ; but Henry
felt that the white robe was. as empty as
the bone of a skeleton. Tho hand of Anna
placed upon his shoulder was no human
hand. He looked again. The black hands
of hair were gone—only a hideous deaths
head remained, still crowned with white
heath 1
The young man struggled, but the phan
tom clasped him. drawing him on with a
horrible rapidity through the mazes of that
remorseless movement. Bewildered aud
hopeless, he yielded to the fata pell.
On ih‘> morrow they found the lifeless
body of the young hunter in the forest.
Some Rascality in Tills.
With a great flourish of trumpets, it has
been announced, through the press by tele
graph, aud otherwise through the press,
that Goyernor Bullock, with commendable
good judgment, had selected the great
Banking House of Henry Clews & Cos. as
the Financial Agent of Georgia—tha same
House to whom had been given the United
States Financial Agency in Loudon, which
was so long and so aatisfactorially filled by
the Barings.
The statement has been made and be*
lieved for month*. Now, the House of
Clews &, Cos. d<*ny being the Agents of tbe
State, as will be seen by the following let
ter to Dr. Angier, which fully explains it
s*-lf :
Banking House or llenrt Clew* k Cos ,7
32 Wall Street, New York, V
October 21, 1871. )
Hon. N. L. Angier, State Treasurer, At
lanta, Ga:
Dear Sir : Your esteemed favor of the
7ib instant wan duly icceived, in which
you desire us *as Financial Ageats of
Georgia in New York/ to furnish art ac*
count of our transactions in tbe bonds of
that State, setting forth ‘the amount and
kind issued : the amount sold cr hypothe
cated : the amount realized by such trans
action*, and especially the amount dis
bursed, aud au itemized statement 00 wbat
account.*
In reply we have the honor to say that
the Fourth National -Bank of New York
are the Financial Agcnta of your State
here. Our firm baa never held that ap
pointment.
We have submitted to Governor Bullock
an account covering our transactions with
tbe State of Georgia. The same doubtless
has, ot will be, laid before you in that
time for your report to the Assembly.
Yours, very respectfully,
llenrt Clews k 00.
Dr, Angier, it will be seen, propounded
the proper questions, covering tbe whole
ground. He wanted the information to
lay before the Legislature. He has failed
to receive it.
It wil be neaii that Clews kept the Doc
tor’s letter on hand long enough to com mu#
nicate with Bultock before replying. This
m>*ans something.
Bet Clew* k Cos. deny that they are Fi
nancial Agrees of the State. Thi§ we
-ball show ia not true ;
The following ia an extract cf a letter
from Henry Clew* k Cos., to the New York
Time* in the e*»ly part of this ye*r :
‘lhelist report of the Treasurer of
Georgia is actuated by violeot personal
boatilitiw tnMfdi *»
j evinced by the whole language of the doc
(umcotß. With this hostility wo have noth#
ing to do , betas agents of the State, In
connexion with its loans, wc ire In a post*
lion to know of the amount of the new la*
sue of bonds' referred to by tho Treasurer,
and tho finauces of tho State ill gfenfefaL
Tho atnonnt of indebtedness at the begins
ning of 1870 wfts stated by the Treasure*
to be $6,014,000. This has been increased
since, only by an additional Issue of s3,e
000,000 gold 7 per cent, bonds, for the salt
of which wo arc agents for the State/
On the 30ih of November last, the fol
lowing letter was written by Mr. H. 0*
Corson, Gov. Bullock's private secretary 4
to G. P. Curry, E*q , Augusta, Ga.:
‘I am instructed by Hie Excellency, tho
Governor, to inform you that bonds of this
State, which have fallen duo will be paid
upon ptesentation to Mossrs. Clows k Cos. 4
No. 32 Wall street, New York City, prinu
cipal and interest to date of payment.* ,
Other proof might be introduced, but
this is enough. There is rascality in the
matter.—Atlanta Situ.
Roumnco of Real Life.*
A Correspondent of tlio Cincinatt! Com*
morciul writes from Newcastle; Ky.;
I write this letter in the liouso ol an old' 7
lady who is the nice of Rebecca Bryan who
became the wife of Daniel Boone, and corns
ccruiug w 1)080 eyes (the young hunter ,ii
Raid to have mistaken them for those of * >
deer) the pretty backwoods romance it
told. The lady is bc-rself also the widow
of one of Daniel Boon’s owu nephews, bet
second husband; who assisted iu bringing*
the great hunter back to Kentucky. She
was born in one of chief old pioneer stations
(her grandfathers) near Lexington, and*
although she is in her eighty-first year, ah#
is active in body, busying herself with her
flowers und garden, clear sighted and alert
in spirit. Recently, she heard that one of
her middle-aged sons, absent over twenty
years in California, and presumed dead fog
wore than half of that time, was yet alive*
and her joy was great*—He, too, had sup
posed his mother to be loug dead.
The old lady has a romance connected!
with her eccond mariage. It is as follows!
When her mother, was a young lady, Cole
onol William Boouc, the nephew of Daoial
mentioned above, was very much in love
with her, and asked b*r on one occasion to
ruary him. Sho told him she was engaged
to Morgan Bryan, and that they were to be
married in a few days, CoL Boone weal
away and married another young womatfc
Afterward be with his wife, visited the
young married couple when their first child
(now in her fifth score yes; «) was hot e
very few days old, and, seeing the baby, fa#
laughed and said to her mother ‘Now, Milly,
as you won't hare me yourself, you'll give
mo the girl for my second wife, won't youl
Whether any jesting promise was mads X
am not informed, but the baby grew up*
and at 20 she was married, had seven chil
dren, became a widow after nine years, and
remained one for a long time, when CoL
Bone's first wife having died some year#
previously, she really became; in her own
middle life* the wife of her mother's early
lover, who had claimed her la her cradls
The good old woman is accustomed, in re
lating this to her sons and nieces, to speak
of it as 'one of the most remarkable things
that ever happened.' I think so' too, and
it is a true sory.
Col. Downing Cheif of the Cherokee itSS
tioo. woe married some weeks sinoe to Mies
Avrcs, a wealthy and cultivated maiden
lady of Philadelphia. Tie affair baa a splw
cing of romance. The lady met the hand*
some chief (then, and until recently, m
married man) some years sines in tlui
Quaker City, became deeply interested ift
him and his people. With the resolnw
tion of devoting her life and wealth to tbs
advancement of the Cherokee#, she removed
to Taloqna, where she since lived, and
where she has been most active in promo*
ling the religions and educational welfare
of the nation. Some years ago she adopv
ted yonng Lewis Downing, son of the ebief
a bright and promising boy, and has since
watched over bis training and edneatfow
with more than motherly care. A year ago'
snehoilt, ostensibly for him, an elegsul
residence, overlooking the beautiful village
and furnished it with artistis taste. A few
months since oceurcd the death of Mrs*
Downing, a fall-blood Cher ok*#. And sow
at the proper time the ch&lf leads to tbs als
tar bis long time ad*iir#f.
The tosnronce inspector of 3f ew ¥ork
compels all conpsoies to sene* |# BWOr tt'
statements ai,d then they wa.Vl ’ b&f
to rig. 4 tn.eMig.lioo toW- ", irw> lT.M
NO. 23