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THE BOUND GIRL.
Locust Heights was one of the loveli
est homesteads in the county of .
Its owuer was wealthy, influential, and
considered a man of honor and a gentle,
generous, charitable gentleman. lit
was about thirty years of age and un
married, a fact well kuowu to all tin
anxious mothers with a surplus of mar
riageable daughters ou hand. But Gil-
bert Pierson gave mothers aud daughter
a wide berth, for he had no desire to
marry. When he found his ideal, Lo
cust Heights would have a mistress, not
before, he said, never thinking that tin
woman that would open the gates ot
Paradise for him was even then in the
sound of his voice.
Xo, Jack,” Gilbert Pierson was say
ing iu a dreamy sort of way, “I havt
never yet seen the woman I could mnki
my wife.”
Jack Delaney laughed merrily as lit
mounted his hoise to ride away- He
had been making a morning call at the
Heights, and as usual, brought up the
question of his friend’s marriage, for
Jack was a happy beuedict, and anxi
ous to see his friend settled.
“ Well I hope you’ll meet your fate
some day, and when you do meet l.e
let nothing stand iu your way.”
‘‘No fear for that, Jack,” replied
Pierson, who knew what his friend hint
ed at; “ riches or poverty —it will be all
the same to me.”
Jack rode off, and Gilbert turned to
retrace his steps to the house. A hand
some drive, cool aud shaded, led up to
the mansion, whose vine-wreathed porti
cos and long windows, around which
roses were trained with artistic taste,
were flooded with the bright August
sunshine, and broad patches of gold lay
on the velvety lawn, where a few tame
deer were lying. Iu one of those same
golden patches, and not ten rods from
where Pierson was lounging, stood a
woman, her dark, beautiful Gypsy face
upturned to the summer sky, and a mass
of black satin-like hair falling about
her shoulders. Her dress was some
bright cheap material, hut fitted her to
perfection, and the hand that clasped
the rim of a jaunty straw hat was as
brown as a berry. She seemed to be
lost in deep thought, for the very eyes
seemed to be drinking in the beauty of
the scene around her. Gilbert Pierson
was struck with amazement. lie had
never met her in the neighborhood, and
walked up to her with a puzzled expres
sion on his countenance.
“Can I do any tiling for you, Miss—?”
he said, as she turned to him with a
startled look on her bright face. The
voice that answered him was as sweet
and clear as silver hells.
“ I have lost my way, sir. Wish to
get home —to Mrs. Patterson’s, if you
please.”
“To Mrs. Patterson’s?” echoed Mr.
Pierson, as the blushing face crimson
ed still deeper beneath his ardent gaze.
“ Why, you are a good two miles from
there.”
“ Oh, dear,” exclaimed the girl with a
weary sigh. “ then I won’t have the ber
ries home in time for dinner.” She
glanced down at the tin pail standing at
her feet, and Pierson saw it was not
half full of berries.
“ Berry seeking, ch” smiled Pierson
"I never knew Mrs. Patterson owned
such a charming daughter.”
“ Daughter!” she echoed with a mer
ry laugh ; “I am the bound girl—free
in one mouth. Mrs. Patterson s dainty
daughters do not wade through wet grass
and I r iniblts after berries. But please
tell met the shortest route home; Mrs.
Patterson will be angry at my delay.
“ Mr. Pierson stepped aside and spoke
to a servant who was passing.
“ Come, now,” he said laughingly,
“as you are a neighbor, I must use you
neighborly. While Seth is filling your
pail with fruit from my garden, I will
order a lunch and see that you get home
in time for dinner.”
“Oh, Mr. Pierson, you are too kind ;
no one is ever kind to Marah Gray,”
she says, with a bright smile ; although
her dark eyes are full of tears. And
they walk side by side up the cool ave
nue. the young bound girl talking with
the grace and ease of a thorough woman
of the world and Mr, Pierson stammer
ing bewildered answers in a manner to
tally unlike his usual genial frankness.
But his momentary diffidence soon van
ished as they became better acquainted
over the delicate lunch the servants pro
vided. He found, by a few cautious
questions, that Marah Gray was an or
phan and very unhappy in the house of
Mrs. Patterson, who had two daughters
of her own—vain, homely girls—who
envied the poor bound girl her beauty
and kept her in the background. He
found her intelligent, and was astonished
The Hartwell Sun.
By BENSON & McGILL.
.'Ol. IV—NO. 11.
at the shrewdness of her remarks, while
ais heart ached at her pathetic stories of
ger child-life.
“ What a beautiful home,” she said as
they stood together on the portico. “ I
think you must be happy.”
She lifted her shy, dark eyes to the
jrave, gentle face of the man before her.
The tender light of some newly-awaken
■d feeling was in their depths, and Gil
bert Pierson’s heart gave a great throb
is he thought of the possibility of hav
ing the girl's face always at his fireside.
“ lain not so very happy. Riches do
not always bring happiness you know,”
he said with a smile.
“ And I know,” she replied, “ some
people have everything their heart de
sires, hut coutentment. I hope I shall
never be among the number.”
“ Yet you are not content,” he says
wistfully.
‘‘Not very; hut still lam thankful
for the few blessings showered upon me,
one of which is your kindness this morn
ing,” she laughs, as she trips down the
steps and takes her seat iu the wagonette
Seth had driven round.
“ What splendid berries !” she ex
claims, as Mr. Pierson takes his seat by
her side. She felt confused and shy, for
she expected Seth to drive her home,
and tried to hide her confusion in exam
ining the berries. “ Mrs. Patterson will
be delighted.”
“ I hope so, for I intend to ask a favor
of her.”
Marah Grey's cheeks were like roses,
and her eyes glowed like stars as they
drove home under the tall maples, for
some strange, deep happiness had crept
into her lonely heart. Her life had
been so joyless that Mr. Pierson’s gently
proffered kindness seemed but a glimpse
into another world. Summers might
bloom and fade, winters come and go
with chilling blasts and cheerless rain,
but the glory of that summer day would
never grow dim. The crimson poppies
that edged the corn flushed a deeper red
as the sunlight touched their silken
leaves, wild roses nodded gaily as the
girl’s lovely eyes fell on them, an 1 the
bird’s in the green boughs over head
broke into blithe snatches of song, as if
they would re-echo the gladness in the
young girl’s fresh, sweet voice.
“ I can never thank you too much,”
she says with a smile and a blush, as
Mr. Pierson set her down at Mrs. Patter
son’s door.
“ I will call to-morrow and ask Mrs.
Patterson’s permission to call on you.
May I?” he laughs merrily.
“Oh—” with a little shrug of horror,
“ you must not; Mrs. Patterson would
not like it.”
“ We shall see.”
And he did see. Mrs. Patterson was
politeness itself until Marah Grey’s name
was mentioned. After that ice itself
could not have been colder. She could
not understand how a man in Gilbert
Pierson’s position could stoop to associ
ate with a bound girl. But she was too
wise to risk her reputation by refusing
her permission, and Marah was sent into
the parlor becomingly dressed, to the
chagrin of Mrs. Patterson’s
who had often tried to attract the atten
tion of the bachelor master of Locust
Heights.
Marah Grey’s bondage was drawing to
a close. In two days she would be free
—free to go where she pleased; yet,
strange as it may appear, somethingakin
to fear lent a saddened expression to her
bright face as Gilbert Pierson stood by
her side in Mrs. Patterson’s elegant par
lor.
“ I have not had a happy home here,”
she says, in a low voice, “ but in two
I days I will be homeless.”
“ Does Mr3. Patterson refuse to retain
you in her service?”
“She says I cannot stay one hour
over my time.”
Marah’s eyes fill with tears, for Gil
bert Pierson’s friendship had cost her
many a frown.
Marah ” —bis face is very close to
j iers —“ have you been blind? Do you
1 not know that I would not have sought
your society unless I loved you, for I
think I have loved you since the first
moment I met you. Oh, my little home
less one, let me give you my love and
protection for life.”
Marah’s head drooped lower and her
HARTWELL, GA„ WEDNESDAY NOVEMBER 12. 1879.
lips murmured si me faint protest against
his marrying a hound girl.
“ Bound or free, you are mine.”
And he read the answer in the dark
eyes as he kissed the upturned face.
Mrs. Patterson was shocked. But
Gilbert Pierson had his way, and car
ried Miss Grey off to the Delaney’s, who
were delighted with the bride-elect. In
one month they were married, Jack De
laney giving away the bride.
What Is Castile Soap {
A subscriber wishes to know how
this differs from other soap. The hard
soaps made in this country are almost
exclusively from animal fats; in the
south of Europe, where the olive grows
abundantly, the poorer kinds of olive
oil are used for soap-making. Common
soaps are soda and animal fat, Castile
soap is soda and vegetable oil. In
making Castile soap, great care is taken
to avoid an excess of all alkali (the
soda), only just enough being used to
neutralize the oil. On this account the
soap is much milder, and may be used
on wounds and other surfaces where
common soap would irritate and give
pain. The mottled appearance of Cas
tile soap is due to a small quantity of
solution of copperas (sulphate of iron)
which is stirred into it before it hard
ens ; this leaves a bluish oxide of iron
in the soap which, when exposed to the
air, becomes changed to the red-oxide.
White Castile soap is also sold, which
is the same as the other, without the
coloring. Though called Castile, it is
by no means exclusively made in
Spain, the largest share coming from
the south of France, and indeed it is
generally known in Europe as Mar
seilles soap.
Derivation of “ Yankee.”
The term “ Yankee ” is a modifica
tion of the French term Anglais, mean
ing English. It is stated that the Eng
lish settlements were called by the ab
origines Ingese or Yengese, and in af
ter years, especially during the strug
gle between the colonists and the moth
er country, Yengese became modified
into “ Yankee,” and was used by the
British soldiery as an opprobrious epi
thet. According to Thiery, “ Yankee”
is a corruption of Yankin, diminutive
of John, a nickname given to the Eng
lish colonists in Connecticut by the
Dutch settlers in New York. Dr. Gor
don, in his “ History of the American
War,” says it was a cant word in Cam
bridge, Mass., as early as 1713, and
that it means excellent—as a yankee
good horse, or j’ankee good cider. He
supposes that it was adopted by the
students as a by-word, and being car
ried by them from the college obtained
currencj’ in other colonies, and so was
subsequently applied to the New Eng
landers.
Jury Exemptions.
According to the recent act of the
General Assembly, the following are
the exemptions from all jury duty, civil
and criminal under the new law: All
ministers of the Gospel engaged regu
larly in discharging ministerial duties;
all physicians and apothecaries in the
practice of their profession; school
teachers engaged in teaching school;
millers and ferrymen engaged in their
occupation; all railroad employees,
whom the superintendent of a railroad
shall certify to the Judge are necessary
and are actually engaged in the work
of running railroad trains; all male
persons over sixty years old ; all tele
graph operators, and officers and mem
bers of each fire company in this State
to the number of twenty-five, doing ac
tive duty, as firemen, whose names
shall be filed in the office of the Clerk
of the Superior Court, by the secretary
of such company, on or before the first
day of January of each year.
The gentlemen at a dinner table
were discussing the familiar line : “ An
honest man’s the noblest work of God,”
when the little son of the host spoke
up and said, “ It’s not true. My mo
ther’s better than any man that was
ever made.”
The next session of the North Geor
gia Annual Conference will convene at
Augusta, on Wednesday before the Ist
Sunday in December next, Bishop G.
Pierce presiding.
Devoted to Hart County.
Wi ll NANCY irAKT.
UY Till! HWEKT II.MIKM OK BOWKKBVILLK.
W nttm fur Thr Hartwell Sun.
Time linn rollwi the season around,
When in our midst wo hear the sound
Of her, who is most beautiftil and smart,
W'hoae name we call Our Nancy llart.
liehold her as she rolls away ;
Uer dreas how trim, how neat, how gay;
The boys all come to ace her start;
tier name is called, Our Nancy Hart.
The Conductor is as white as Snow
The Engineer—him we all do know.
Who would fail to take a part
In enjoying a trip with Our Nancy nart t
Train bands all kind and polite,
Among them none ever te be found tight.
If any do wish to ride with a dart,
Come go down with Our Nancy Hart.
Some say that Nancy cannot draft—
Dare you to say before Capt. Craft ?
To see w hat is done by science and art ,
Is to come aud look at Otir Nancy Hart.
Among the boys who are so merry,
None seem to be more ao than our Berry ;
On tatde he'll fix plum pudding and tart,
Whon rolls into Hartwell Our Nancy Hart.
Some so glad they seem almost silly,
Among such is found our Uncle Billy ;
But we’ll excuse him, w hen we think what a part
He lias always taken for Our Nancy Hart.
All in the country seem to be delighted—
In praising our engine, how they are united.
The hotel-keepers, Marion and Bart,
How it does tickle them to see Our Nancy Hart.
Many iu Hartwell, I guess, will rejoice
When iu her streets they hear Nancy's voice;
You'll hear such a tooting wherever thou art—
The boys all mimicking Our Nancy Hart.
We admit little Nancy is very small.
Yet the work of our county, she’ll do it all.
Yea, even from Elbert cotton will start
To get aboard the train of Our Nancy Hart.
Yea, a many a bale she'll make quiver
Brought to her from far, far over the river.
Cotton shipped over Elberton R. R. in part
Will be furnished it by Our Nancy Hart.
Sonic people can't be beaten by the Jews—
For instance look at the Toeeoa News.
Look out, friend Schaefer, for a fiery dart,
Hurled fruiu the battery of Ou> Nancy nart.
NANCY MS** IN THE SPIRIT OF 1779.
My rrotto is meekness, submission and mild,
But when provoked I am as a lion that's wild.
I feci .some emotion now at this time,
Causing me to forjret my verses’ rhyme.
Be ye all informed, by reading my stories.
What w as the fate of seven impudent tories,
Who when captured were leprous as Xauman,
Then on the post-oak hanged high as was Hainan.
If then, when much weaker than now,
I could make seven cruel monsters to bow,
Why any now dare engage iue in strife !
I tell yon, sirs, it’s at the risk of your life.
I’ve heard enough of your multiplied clash,
Which amounts to nothing but the lightest of trash.
Talk about bucket ami armful of wood,
To supply me sufficiently as an article of food!
From Bowersville down, drank every well dry
which to the road is anyways nigh.
If Uncle Billy don’t hurry up his tank,
lain sure I will suffer for something to drink.
Some think I am a singular being—
If I am cross-eyed, don’t binder from seeing.
When I get to Hartwell, our beautiful town,
Then with gladness I’ll look all around—
My eyes shall be turned in every direction
To give my new situation impartial Inspection.
My motto will be to know no lK>uiid,
But to servo in the interest of all that’s around.
I'll look to the east and west, to the north and south,
And help to make good the effects of the drouth.
I will gaze on Atlanta, with Charlotte in view,
And to every appended interest I will prove true.
I ll look to Toccoa’s mountains and Klberton's plains,
And the mid country plowed by narrow-gauge trains,
My purpose shall be, by day and by night,
To promote every interest with all of my might.
When I bear the shrill notes of John Henry Jones,
I'll promptly reply in softest of tones.
If my policy John Henry doth fancy,
He is made welcome to come to see Nancy.
By many in this section it often is said,
John Henry and I ought to be wed.
In regard to that I have this much to say,
If our feelings are mutual, t hen well we may;
If it should prove not to be so,
I will beg to be excused while I'd say no;
But if he my regard doth reciprocate,
Then well wc may be joined in a wedded state.
Then in all business of transportation life,
I’ll confess inyself his legally wedded commercial
wife.
Then our banner will be ever unfurled,
The motto of which—“ The Good of the World.”
OUK NANCY.
King Solomon, founder of Masonry,
instituted a law by which no candidate
was permitted to electioneer for official
preferment, and that law bolds good
with the fraternity until this day. At
the present time the exact reverse is
the rule. Query : Is the average office
seeking public of to-day wise, or was
King Solomon a fool ?
President Hayes has issued a proc
lamation appointing Thursday, the 27th
inst., as a day of national thanksgiving
and prayer.
$1.50 Per Annum.
Mistaken Identity.
I Burlington Hawkey*.
The other day an omuibus full of
passengers drove up town from the
Union depot. Side by side sat a com
mercial traveler named William Mc-
Caliy and Mrs. Winnie C. Dumbleton,
the eminent lady temperance lecturer.
When the omnibus reached the Barret
House the commercial mis ion ary seized
tiis valise and started out. The lady
made a grab after him and he halted.
“ I beg your pardon,” she said, “ but
you have my valise.”
“You are certainly mistaken, mad
am,” the traveler said, courteously but
firmly, “ this is mine.”
“ No, sir,” the lady replied firmly ;
“it is mine. 1 would know it among a
thousand. You must not take it.”
But the traveler persisted and the
lady insisted, and they came very near
quarreling. Presently one of the pas
sengers pointed to a twin valise in the
omnibus and asked :
“ Whose is that ?”
“It isn’t mine,” said the traveler ;
“it is just like it, but this is mine.”
“ And it isuJt mine," said the lady;
“he has mine, and I want it or I’ll
have the law on him. It’s a pity if a
lady can’t travel alone in this coiuitry
without being robbed of her property
in broad daylight.” Eina ly, the trav
eler said lie would open the valise to
prove his property. The lady objected
at first, saying site did not want her va
lise opened in the presence of a crowd
of strangers. But as there was no
other means of settling the dispute she
at length consented. The traveler
sprung the lock, opened the valise, and
the curious crowd bent forward to see.
On the very top of everything lay a
big flat flask, half full of whisky, a
deck of cards and one or two things
that nobody knows the name of.
The traveler was the first to recover
his self-possession and speed).
“ Madam,” he said, “ you are right.
The valise is yours. I owe you athou
sand apolo—”
But the lady had fainted, and the
traveler relocked his valise with a quiet
smile. Early in the afternoon a sign
painter down town received a note in a
feminine hand, asking him to come to
the Barret House to mark a red leather
valise in black letters a foot and a half
long.
Many fruit growers make the mistake
of allowing a tree or vine to carry to
maturity all the fruit which 9ets after
the bloom, the consequence in most
cases being a large yield of inferior
quality and size. Careful experiment
has shown that the results have been
more profitable when the system of
thinning out the young fruit at least
one-half has been adopted, producing
large, fine, perfect specimens, which
will always comman 1 a remunerative
price, even when the market is glutted.
Apples, pears, and peaches should re
ceive this attention before they become
larger than ordinary marbles; grape
clusters may be thinned while in blos
som, and plum trees by vigorous shak
ing’ can be relieved of their unncces-
I?
sary surplus.
The day before you wish to boil a
ham, scrape, wash and wipe it dry, and
put it in the sun ; at night put it into
water and let it soak till next morning.
Then lay it witli the skin down in a
boiler of hot water, and boil slowly for
five hours. If the ham is large, boil
six hours. When perfectly done and
tender, set the boiler aside, with the
ham and liquor undisturbed, until cold.
Then take olf the skin, sprinkle black
pepper over thickly, and sift over
crackers first browned and pounded ;
for special occasions, place at equal
distances over the ham, scraped horse
radish in lozenge shape and edged with
curled parseley. This mode keeps the !
ham juicy.
When wet boots are taken off, fill
them quite full with dry oats. This
grain has a great fondness for damp
ness and will rapidly absorb the least
vestige of it from the wet leather. As
it takes up the moisture, it swells, and
fills the boot with a tightly-fitting last,
keeping its form good, and drying the
leuther without hardening it. In the
morning, shake out the oats, and hang
; them in a bag near the fire to dry,
I ready for the next wet night.
WHOLE NO. 10'.
THE BLESSED DULLS.
AND THR WORK THEY HAVE HONE.
A Ullmpss si Mask Nprrulstilon—Twa
Ctnls I* roll I on 4'ottou— Hnll Mr oat
Helps tha Mouth.
Atlanta Cunrtltution.
It has been fashionable for a long 1
time to abuse the speculators and to
say that they cheat the farmer out of
his hard earned rights.
The south has been especially severe
on all who speculated in futures and
hns held that* “ in making a foot-ball of
our great crop.” for Wall street to play
with was not only unholy but profitless.
Those of our own people who went into
it were denounced and abused. It be
gins to look as if those who have de
fended the speculative craze are begin
ning to have their reward. A short
time ago a combination was formed in.
Wall street, probably with the famous
Jim Keene at the head, for the purpose
of controlling the present cotton crop,
or at least for fixing its price. After a
short but fierce struggle they succeeded
in getting the swing and they shoved
the price of cotton up ftilly two cents a
pound anil have been holding it there
ever since. The bears are, of course,
trying witli desperate endeavor to
break down this inflated price, but they
fail to do so, and ttie best advices are
that the price will be maintained.
The ctfect of this speculative ad
vance on the south is enormous. By
pushing the price up two cents per
pound, the speculators have added $ 10.
in value to every bale of cotton that is
sold. The receipts i Atlanta alone on
yesterday were about 1,200 bales, and
the day before 1,100 bales—so that the
surplus cash paid out in this one town
in two days, because of the specula
tion. is about $25,000. It is estimated
that fully one million bales have been
sold already at tho advanced price in
the south. This would have added ten
millions of dollars to the cash receipts
of the farmers on their cotton up to
this time. It is believed by those who
should know that this fancy price—for
it is two cents better than tho regular
price—will be maintained until the
bulk of the crop of the south is mar
keted—if indeed it is not held all the
way through. The farmers are hurry
ing their crops to> market as fast as
possible and getting tho benefit of the
advanced price and if the bulk of the
crop can. be marketed at these figures,
it is safe to calculate that $50,000,000
in cash will have been put in the pock
ets of the southern people that would
not have been paid to them except for
this combination of Wall street specu
lations.
A COTTON CltOl* THAT I’AYS A I'UOFIT.
The best part of it all is that the
$lO a bale added to the value of cot
ton by this increase is all profit. At
eight cents a pound cotton barely pays
for the production. At ten cents a
pound a profit of $lO a hale is secured.
This profit the farmer can either lay op
for a nest egg with which to improve
hi* farm, or expend it in treasures
which would otherwise be out of his
reach. It wHL be seen, therefore, that
the $lO a hale profit, makes trade live
lier and adds more to the general pros
perity than S3O a bale does when it is
obliged to go in the fixed routine of
guano, wages, etc.
We doubt very much if there has
been a crop of cotton made since the
war, that has paid a clear profit over
the cost of production, up to the pres
ent season. The price of cotton has
of course been higher, but at the same
time the price of everything that was
used to make the cotton was higher.
A closely calculating business man on
3’estcrday told us that the present crop
bad been made with meat that cost
to cents a pound, and bethought the
cotton had probably not cost over 7
cents a pound to put into market. If
this estimate be true, and we have no
doubt it is, the present crop has paid
larger profits by twice over than any
crop grown in the south since ’64.
It is not easy to calculate the advan
tages of this speculative rise to the
fanner. It will give almost every small
worker in the country a little surplus of
profit that will be wortli ten times the
amount in actual monej\ It will en
able him to fix up his farm a little ; to
improve his machinery, and above all
to clear away his debts and start even
with the world. Indeed, we should not
be surprised if this advance in cotton
does not furnish the means with which
to build many a Clement attachment,
and then, with the power in every
neighborhood to add 9 cents a pound
to the value of every pound of cotton
that is grown, we should be sadly mis
taken if the time would not soon come
when we would scorn to grow joyful on
the speculations of a Wall street
’change, as we now do.