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QKfe (Tfliinfji HjWMjf, VOL. 111. Advertising Kates. One square, first insertion $ 75 Each subsequent insertion 50 One square three months 5 00 One square six months 10 00 One square twelve months 15 00 Suarter column twelve months... 30 00 •ilf column six months 40 00 Half column twelve months 60 00 One column twelve months...... 100 00 BSP 1 Ten lines or less considered o square. All fractions of squares are couuted as full, •quarts, NXWSPAPKR DtemONS. 1. Any person who takes a paper regu larly from the post office—whether directed j to his name or another’s, or whether he "has subscribed or not—i 9 responsible for the payment. 2. If a person orders his paper discontin ued, he must pay all arrearages, or the pub lisher may continue to send it until payment is wade, and collect the whole amount, whether the paper Je taken from the office or ««t. 8. The courts have decided that refusing to take newspapers and periodicals from the pestoffice, or removing and leaving them un called for, is prima facie evidence of inten tional fraud. TOWS DIR KOTO RY. M ayor —Thomas G. Barnett. Commissioners —VV. W. I’nrnipseed, J. 8. Vfyatt, K G. Harris, E. It. James. Clerk —E- G. Harris. Treasurer —W. S. Shell. Marshals—S. A. Beldine, Marsh*!. J. W . Johnson,Deputy. JUDICIARY. A. M. Spekr, - Judge. F. D. Dismukk, - - Solicitor General. Butts—Second Mondays in March and September. Henry—This; Mondays in April and Oc tober. M onroe—Fourth Mondays in February, and August, Newton—Third Mondays in March and September. Pike—Second Mondays in April aud Octo ber. Rockdale—Monday after fourth Mondays in March and September Spalding—First Mondays in February and August Upson—First Mondays in May and No vember. CHURCH DIRECTORY. Methodist Episcopal Chuboh, (South,) Rev. Wesley F. Smith, Pastor. Fourth Sabbath in each month. Sunday-school 3 t. v. Prayer meeting Wednesday evening. Methodist Protestant Church. First Sabbath month. Sunday-school 9 A. M. Christian Church, W.S. Fears, Pastor. Second Sabbath in each month. Baptist Church, Rev. J. P. Lyon, Pas ter. Third Sabbuth in each month. CIVIC SOCIETIES. . Pink Grovk Lodqb, No. J 77. F. A. M Stated communications, fourth Saturday in «aeh month. DOCTORS. »R. J. C. TURNIPSEED will attend to all calls day or night. Office i resi dence, Hampton, Ga. B\R. W. H. PEEBLES treats all dis- J ' eases, and will attend to all calls day and night. Office at the Drug Store, Broad Street, Hampton, Ga. DR. N. T. BARNETT tenders his profes sional services to the citizens of Henry and adjoining counties, and will answer calls day or night. Treats all diseases, of what ever nature. Office at Nipper’s Drug Store, Hampton, Ga. Night calls can be made at my residence, opposite Berea church. api26 JF PONDER, Dentist, has located in * Hampton, Ga., and invites the public to call at his rooji. upstairs in the Bivins House, where he will be found at all hours Warrants all work for twelve moDtbs. LAWYERS. JNO. G. COLD WELL, Attorney at Law,; Brooks Station, Ga. Will practice in the countiea composing the Coweta ami Flint River Circuits. Prompt attention given to commercial and other collections. TC. NOLAN: Attorney at Law. Mc • Donough, Georgia. Will practice in the couoties composing the Flint Circuit; Ihe Supreme Court of Georgia, and the United States District Court. WM. T. DICKEN, Attorney at Law, Lo~ cust Grove, Georgia, (Henry county.) Will practice in the counties composing the Flint Judicial Circuit, the Supreme Court of Georgia, and the United States District •Court. apr27-ly GEO. M. NOLAN, Attorney at Law. McDonough, Ga. (Office in Court house) Will practice in Henry and adjoining coun ties, and in the Supreme and District Courts of Georgia. Prompt attention giv°n to col lections. mch23-6ia JF. WALL, Attorney at Law, //amp . ton.Ga Will practice in the countiee composing the Flint Judicial Circuit, and ,tfce Supreme and District Courts of Georgia. Prompt attention given to collections. ocs EDWARD J. REAGAN, Attorney at law. Office on Broad Street, opposite the Railroad depot, Hampton, Georgia. Special attention given to commercial and other collections, and cases in Bankruptcy. BF. McCOLLUM. Attorney and Cnnn • sellor at T.iw, Hampton, Ga. Will practice in Henry, Clayton, Fayette, Coweta, Pike, Meriwether, Spalding and Bails Supe rior Courts, and in the Supreme and UaHed States Courts Collecting claims a specialty. Gttee no stairs in Schmfer's warehouse. BEGINNING AGAIN. When sometimes sur feet grow weary On the rugged hills of life—- The pn'h stretching lo: g and dreary With trial and labor rife— We pause on the toiisome journey, Glancing backward in vulley and glen. And sigh with an infinite longing . To return and begin aga n. For behind is the dew of the morning, In all its freshness and light, And before are doubts and shadows. And the chill and gloom of the night. We remember the sunny places We passed so carelessly then, And ask, with a passionate longing, To return and begin again. Ah, vain, indeed, is the asking! Life’s duties press all of us on, And who dare shrink from the labor, Or sigh for the sunshine that’s goneT And it may be not far on before us Wait fairer places than then— Life’s paths may y<-t lead by still waters, Though we may not begin agaiu. Forevermore upward and onward Be our paths on the hills oi life, And soon will a radiant dawning Transfigure the toil and the strife ; And our Father's band will lead us Tendi rly upward then ; In the joy and peace of a fairer world He’ll let us begin again. Behiad a Blue Veil. BY BOTH RANSOM. •‘Me?” cried Mr. Purple, with a short, derisive laugh, as be turned away from the looking-glass, where he had been sprinkling bis ambrosial locks with Jean Maria Purina cologne. “Me carry a great square-shoul dered market-basket through the streets? Upon my word, Kitty, I think it’s pretty cool <sf you te expect it of me 1” “It's only as far as aunt Pouncet’s,” said Mrs. Purple. “Two mince pies, a cold roast fowl, and a jar of cranberry jelly, for ber birthday dinner.” “Oh, confound aunt Pouncet 1" said Mr. Purple, bultouing a pair of lavender kid gloves with great nicety and precision. •‘Aunt Pouncet is ray godmother,” said Kitty Purple, with tears in her eyes. "She is an old nuisance !” pronounced Mr. Purple. “Can’t you send the girl ?” “Mary Ann has sprained ber ankle,” said Mrs. Purple. “Hire a boy,” suggested the husband, “I don’t know of anyone to hire,” said Mrs. Purple; “and besides, I particularly wished to go myself. Aunt Pouncet is so very particular!” “Old dragonesses like that have no busi ness to be particular!” said Mr. Purple “And besides, she lives down in that crazy old rookery of a place by the river, where it’s as much as a man’s life is worth togo— *’ “Ob, she don’t live there any longer!” eagerly interrupted Kitty. “She has moved to—” “Where is my hem-stitcbed pocket-hand kerchief?” interrupted her husband, imperi ously. “And my muffler? There, there, Kitty I You’re a very good, dutiful little girl; but I’ve no desire to know where your blessed old euut Pouncet bas moved to And, once for all, I desire you to understand that I never will carry a basket through the streets of Philadelphia 1 It’s against ray principles to make a market maD or an ex press agent of myself. So by-by until eve ning I” ’ And with a wave of his lavender kid fingers, Mr. Purple departed for the store, leaving bis wife in a sort of indignant de spair. “It’s too bad of George!” said Kitty, with a sudden April showet'of tears. “And we not married a year yet I He said he’d go through fire and tempest for me before we were married, and now he isn’t even will ing ’o carry a market basket half a rioz-n blocks J He declared he’d die for me ; and laet night he went deliberately to the theatre and left me sitting alooe by the fire at home. And when I asked him why he didn't take me, he burst out laughing, and said. ‘Never once thought of you, my dear ’ And I’m almost certain he went with thoue Bloom inglia les ; and Bell is tuck a flirt ; and Mary Mason says they were engaged onee—Bell Blooujingdale and my huaband. Ob, dear! ob, dear ! Why didn’t I take aunt Pouncet’a advice and remain Ringlet George hasn’t called me an angel for at least six raootfes; and he scolded dreadfully yesterday when be found that button of! his shirt collar ; and he mml he thought it unnecesMrily extrava gant when I aiked him for money to buy three yards of velvet to remodel my old black grot gram walking suit. Upon the whole, Ido think I was mors radependeot when I was pltio Kitty Kingsdowoe, and gave HAMPTON, GEORGIA, MARCH 28, 18m lessons in music, and wax-flower making, and water color painting. And, eh, dear! when we were up at the park, skating, last week, he strapped on Flora Wiley’s skates so gallantly, and left me to struggle with my own, and then pretended he supposed mine were all fast-ned And when Flora slipped, he flew to help her up, and found her muff, and guided her all nroand upon his arm ; and when f got that bad full by the fence, he only laughed, and asked me whether I was practicing for a circus, and if it wasu’t as easy to get up as it" wus to get down. I do think George is too bad! And I’ve almost a mind to tell aunt Pouncet about It. But Site would be'sure to say, ‘I told you so!’ and that is something I never couid endure to hear!" And sitting solitary and alone by the fire, Mrs. Purple made np her feminine mind that aunt Poancet should have her mince pies, and cold roast fowl, and bottle of claret wine, happen what would. 4 I’ve carried heavier baskets than that before 1 was married,” reflected this injured wile; ‘‘and I can again, before I will allow poor old aunt Pouncet to be neglected !” Upon the whole, matrimony had been rather a disappointment than otherwise to poor little Kitty Purple. She had supposed, i like many another sentimental little fiancee , that she was to walk on sunset clouds and roses, and live od nectar and honey dew. all the rest of her life, after the ring and the veil and the orange blossoms. George Purple, however, was rather dis posed to be thoughtless and selfish, and Kitty’s disallusioD had been more sudden than that of many brides. She had expected love in a cottage, all gable ends, plate-glass and inlaid wood, and, instead, Mr Purple bad inducted her into rather an indifferent style of -flat,” wi'h a gentleman overhead that gave lessons on the violin, and a lady below who owned nine noisy children. And npoD the whole, Mrs. Kitty Purple wasn’t quite as rapturously happy as she bad con fidently expected to be “I suppose life is a series of disappoint ments,” thought Kitty. “Oh, dear me I I didn’t want nine to begin before I bad been married a year.” Mr. Purple was coming home that eveniog in the horse oars. It was what the English novelists call a “nasty night,” with a sullen sunset, framed around with flurries of snow, cold wind, and clouds of dust that penetrated into one’s bronchial regions with merciless accuracy. And, of course, the cars were crowded—and, of course, Mr. Purple retreat ed behind his newspaper, when an old Irish woman, with the dressed poultry under her arm, «Dd the young German fraulein, with the bundle of ready-made coats, struggled their way in. Was he, George Gordon Byron Purple, to sacrifice his comfortable seat for such as these I But presently the bell rang again, and a slight, preity little figure glided in, with a blue veil twisted around its face, and falling in fluttering ends behind, the prettiest of gray-gloved hands, a No. 3 boot, and a huge basket on her arm. “By Jove !” reflected Mr. Purple to him self “a diamond in the rough I A factory girl, or a little seamstress, bringing home her Saturday right provisions. I kuow she’s a beauty. Nobody with a foot and a band like that could help being pietty.” Atid he sprang nimhly to his teet, with a bow that would have doue honor to Beau Bruinmell himself. “ l ake this seat, miss.” said he. “I couldu’t think of it, sir,” lisped a soft little voice. “But you must.'” said Mr Purple, gal lantly relieving her of the basket. “Don’t let me trouble you with that, sir,” said the lady. ‘•I assure you it’s oo trouble in the world,” said Mr. Purple, with another imitation of Beau Bruinmell. And he stood there, balancing himself most uncomfortably, ia the mddle of the car floor, with the four corners of the huge wicker basket making themselves most ob tr«sively ohooxious to the other passengers aud (be conductor, until at last the blue veiled bouri rose op. “Have you far to walk ?” questioned our hero. And, as be b«nt over the lady, a delicate perfume of Lubrn’s violets saluted bia senses —his favorite extract, of all the flowers of the field. “Olt, no 1” fluttered the lady- “Only a few blocks.” M r. Purple stepped off the car, also. “Allow me to carry this basket for you,” said be. “Oh. pray, don’t!” said the lady ; “it’s too heavy.” “Not in the least,” said Mr. Pnrple. He walked along, a modern Chevalier Bayard, hazarding occasional remarks upon the weather, end wishing bis fair little oom- psttion wonld put Up her veil just for hi If a minute—block after block, street crossing “Tier street crossing, until his arm began to ache and his courage to Hag. 'This wus rather more than he hud burgained for. Suppose the walk should last a mile or so longer? And with Kitty-jealous, unrea sonable lit lie Ki ly—waiting for him all this time! But, just *.« he was breaking into a sort of cold perspiration at the idea that this was to be an endless walk, the yousg lady paused in froDt of a respectable old red brick house, with stone steps, and iron railings on each side. She ascended these stone steps, Mr. Purple following Hfter like a docile little dog. She rang the bell, and presently an old lady, in a dyid black silk and a white net cap, opened the door. “Put down the basket, George,” said the Indy of the blue veil, lifting that envious screen nt last, and revealing a pair of spark ling azure eyes. “ This is aunt Pouncet!” ‘Kitty P’ shouted Mr. Purple. "Yes, dear," said Mrs Purple. “What does this mean?" •‘I didn’t ask you to carry the basket, my love,” said Mrs.- Purple. “Particularly as you gave me so distinctly to understand that you never would curry a basket—a ‘square shouldered basket,’ the expression was, I think—through the streets of Philadelphia." “My dear !” said Mr. Purple. “Well?” said Mrs. Purple. “A man is very capable of making a fool of himself at times." “So I should think," said Mrs Purple. So they unloaded aunt Pouncet’s basket, bade thut astonished old lady good uigbt, and went home. But from that night henceforward, Mr. Purple abomioated the sight of a blue veil ; for Mrs Pupie hud the advantage of him, nor did she scruple to use it. A Deserved Fate. The awful fate of the professional flirt is thus vividly depicted by the London Truth : Ad honest man naturally assumes that a girl is ingenuous at any rate in her affections He has a right to suppose, if she displays a preference for him, that she entertains it; and if she exhibits this sentiment beyoud a certain point, be is entitled to conclude that she will accept him aB a lover, and finally as a bu-band. io case his means are sufficient to justify bitn in aspiring to the responsible position of the head of a household. He has every cause of complaint if, after leading him to believe himself engaging, a young lady refuses to be engaged to him. It can not but be mortifying to a man to feel affec tion for a girl, which she shows do symptom of returning ; yet this is a lot to which no brave mao would demur. It has happened to some of the best, the most virtuous, the most distinguished, and even the most fas cinating of the male species. But it must be something more than mortifying to a rnun to fall in love, and to be made to fall in love with a girl who, all tbc time she was leading him on, was calculating what a triumph it would be to drive him oil 'That there are girls who do this ia certain ; and they are the girls who get the “no end of offers” Once a girl permits herself to indulge in this pas time, habit soon becomes a second nature, aud sbe ends by being as incapable of loving a man as of not wanting men to love her. Al ter a t ime she ends her career of disenchanting then by herself becoming anything but en chanting Sbe gets “blown upoo,” and the result of her numerous ofler* is that she can not fiud a husband. It is not that men be come afraid of being rejected by her, but rather that they would dread being accept ed She may still maintain all the deport ment ol a successful flirt, and some men may yet flirt with ber. But they go no further. She must console herself with her doubtful reminiscences. Her passion for homage bas survived in all its intensity; but it is a fire fed with very little fuel. It will then be found that she seeks comfort in imagining that meo are still proposing to her, and she drops mysterious bints as to lovers who have still to be discarded. People smile and pity ber. Yet sbe scarcely deserves to be pitied. She forgot that admirable truth : “He comes too near who comes to be de nied.” And after having spent her youth in denying others, sbe bus to pass the middle age in de nying herself. Giu icon Cook, a Calvin Baptist preacher, welt known in this vicinity a quarter of a ceotury ago, was a man very eccentric io speech, even to bis lust earthly moments. A few hours previous to bis death, bis brother, also a pieaeber, came to bis bedside and in quired, “Do you think you are dying, Gid eon ?” And the reply, sharp ami quick, came, “Dou’t know—can’t tell; never died ” —Biddeford Miniature. Drifting Apart. For one friendship that is destroyed by a sudden blow, thousands die and pass by that slow sail process known as drilling npirt. The fracture caused by a short, sharp quarrel, harsh edged ns if may be, can often be repaid by good will and mutual de sire, so that the friemhliip shall be rece mented and made as good as new—in all save the sear ; and that neypr goes. But the gradual widening of what was ut first an almost microscopic rift can neither he pre yented or mended. You might as well try to fill up the center of Mount Vesuvius with pebbles from 'Torre del Greco as to bridge over the constantly increasing dis tance between two hearts that have begun to drift apart. No method known to ordi nary man is of the smallest avail. You do your best to seem the samo as before. You use the same words of endearment which habit has made familiar, and perform the same little offices which affection once made pleasant privileges; but the spirit which gave them life and mending has gone from them, and you are simply galvanizing the dead At first you are only conscious of a certain weariness where you formerly had happiness ; but as time goes on and knowl edge becomes clearer, this weariness changes into active disinclination, then into repug nance, and finally to loathing. If you arc bound by such personal conditions as yon can not break, and therefore are forced to conceal what you feel, your loathing for your circumstances takes on the additional contempt for yourself, that you are—albeit obliged to' be—hypocritical and insincere. For when you have confessed to yourself that your terms of endeai merit are false, your little offices of whut wus once a loving friend-hip only a corvee that you are bound to perform, then you stand face to face with pretense and hypocrisy which leave you neither pride nor self-respect. So must it ever be. We build for eter nity, and the frost cracks, the rain rots, the wind blows down our fragile castle that looked as if it would stand till the crack of doom. We love, and changes come into our lives, our souls, which carry us on to other currents where we drift away from what was once part of our very selves, and Iparn to live without that which once made all life sweet Partly by folly, and partly by the force of circumstances which nothing can arrest, these great changes come about. But whether by our own doii gor not, we have one duty that is paramount, namely, to be true to ourselves, and bruve enough to ac knowledge thing* as they are—to cling while we can. and when we can no longer, to con fess the riving, and cease to prstend the friendship which without truth is without value—an insult, out au honor—anguish, not delight. Gentleness. Whoever understands his own interests, and is pleased wilh tlie beautiful, rather than the deformed, will be careful to cherish the virtue of geutleness. It requires but a slight knowledge of human nature to convince us that much of our happiness in life depends upon the cultivation of this virtue. The mao ol wild, boisterous spirits, who gives loose rein, to his temper, is, generally speak ing, a strauger to happiness: be lives in a conlinuul storm—the biller waters of con tention and strife are always swelling np in bis peace, and impairing its beautiful influ ence on all wilh whom he is connected. He excites (be disgust and ill will of those who are acquainted with his character, and but few can be found to wish him success in any of bis undertakings. Not so in the influence of gentleness. This virtue will assist its possessor in all bis lawful undertakings ; it will often render him successful when no’h ing else could ; it ia exceedingly lovely, and attractive in appearance; it wins the heart of all—it is even stronger than argument, and would often prevail when that would be powerless and ineffectual; it shows that be ia above tbe vulgar, whose characteristic is to storm and rage like the troubled ocean, at every little adversary or disappointment that crosses their paths; it shews that he can soar away in the brigut atmosphere of good feelings aud live in continual sunshine, when uU around him are enveloped in clouds and darkness, and driven about like maniacs in the sports of tbe r passions. The most favorable situations in life, the most lovely objects in nature, wealth, and all that is calculated to iDcrease the happiness of muD. lose tbeir charms upon a heart destitute of Ibis virtue. This fashion reporter who wrote with reference to a belle. “Her feet were encased in shoes that might be taken for fairy bootß,'’ tied bis wardrobe up io a handkerchief and left for parts uukuowu, wheu it appeared next morning : “Her feet were encased in shoes that might be taken for ferry-boats.’’ The Family Album. There is a sort of d- lirioos joy in iookii g tirer a family allium, especially if it is a very old album with sprained back, which occas ionally and unexpectedly drops thrmnrh rour fingers, leaving a couple of eou-ios in one band and three aunts in the other, and the balance of the family under the chair. ’The first picture is of an eld gentleman with an expression of warv cautiousness in his face, as if he were engaged in dodging a wild hull and wus somewhat doubtful us to the result. Opposite to him is the grandmother, a pnfient-TooWng fady in a black dress, with a hook in one hand and a pair of spectacles ia the other There is a feeble but weH-miao ing eflbrj to look safe in her face On the next leaf is a middle-ngd man looking as if he hid been suddenly shot thraugb the roof of a starch factory, and bad landed in the middle of a strange country. Opposite is the picture of his wife, who had heard a rumor of the catastrophe, and has made up her mind to be prepared for the worst. Then follow the little children—little girls looking so prim as to make you squirm, and little boys with their eyes tuned on their noses and on their faces nn expression of unearthly solemnity 'Then follow the uncles taken in the’r overcoats, with a spreading inclination in their clothes, hair and face, as if they were bound to get their money’s worth ; and nnuta with warts on their noses, and varnish ia their hair, and preposterous lace collars about their necks. 'Then there is the bashful young mno, |>enned opposite the aggressive young lady, whom heaven and married womeu have de signed for each other. 'There are uteo tire pictures of cousin Alex and his wife, who stopped here when on their tour, and no young man looks at him with out retiring und registering a terrible vow never to get married. Then there are two or three fiiie looking corsairs of no particular identity, aud s veral broken spirited women with babies io their arms—directly and indirectly related to the owners of the album—aud tbc exhibition closes. A Tyrolean Cocrtiko Custom. —The Tyrolean observe a siugul.tr custom in mak ing proposals of marriage. The first time a young man puys a visit as an avowed lover, he brings with him a bottle of wine, of which he pours out in a gluss, and presents to the object of his desires. If she accepts it, tbs whole affair is settled. Very often the girl hus not yet mude up ber mind, and tbeu she will take refuge in excuses, so as not ts drink the wine, and yet not refuse him point blank, for that is considered a gross insult, proving that she had been merely trifling with the affections of tier lover. She will, for in stance, maintain that the wine looks sour, or that wine disagrees with her, or that she is afraid of getting tipsy, or that tbs priest bas for hidden her to take any. In f act, she makes use of any vuoterfuge that presents itself at that moment. Tbs purport of these excuses is that she has not yet come to a decision, and that the wine-offering is pre aiuture Shy lovers find this custom a singularly happy institution. A famii.y is like UDto an equipage. First, the father, the draught boree; next, the boys, the wheels, for they are always tunning around; then the girls, they are surrounded by fellows. The baby occupies the iapboard, and the mother well, what's a wagon without a tongue, anyhow f Wsn a dog snaps at a fly that has been fooling around him four or five hours, and misses it, he feels just like a girl who pours thg full fide ot ber affections over a young mao and suddenly discovers that it won t soak io. When we are young we waste a great deal of time in imagining what we will do ■ when we grow older, and when we are old. we waste ao equal amount of time io lying about what we did when we were young. “A slitter in the baud is worth two on my leet,” soys the stern mother, as she doubles hei youngster into a parabolic curve uctoss ber kuee. Tbeu knee set up a howl. Many a mao who prays not to be led into temptation would be awfully disappointed if bis prayer was granted. 'Hie quiet fellow in the corner who let* bis rival do all the talking generally marries tli* girl. A woman too often reasons from ber heart; hence two-thirds of her mistakes and ber trouble. Tuk man who tries to build a fire with wet wood acts io a dausp-feeJisb manner. * Better be beset by busmens diff)cullies than ron down by your wife’s folks. NO. 38