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ill Hewn (fuirolii WtcMjj, VOL. 111. Advertising Kates. One square, first insertion .$ 75 Each subsequent insertion 50 One square three m0nth5........ 500 One square six months 10 00 One square twfiire months 15 00 Suarter column twelve months... 30 00 ulf column six months 40 00 Half column twelve months 60 00 One column twelve months.' 100 00 *6?*Ten lines or less considered a sqnare. All fractious of squares are counted as full squares, NEWSPAPER DECISIONS. 1. Any person who talus a paper regu larly from the post office—whether directed* to his name or another’s, or whether he has subscribed or not—is responsible for the psvment. 2._ If a person orders his paper discontin ued, he must pay all arrearages, or the pub lisher may continue to spnd it until payment is made.* and collect the whole amount, whether the paper Is taken from the office or not. 3. The courts Lave decided that refusing to take newspapers and periodicals from the postoffice, or removino and leaving them un called for, is prxma facie evidence of inten tional fraud. TOWN DIRECTORY. Mayor —Thomas G. Barnett. Commissioners —W. W. rurnipseed.D. B. Bivins. E. G. Harris, E. R. James. Clerk —E. G. Harris. Treasurer —W. S. Shell. Marshals —S» A. Beldinp, Marshal. J, W . Johnson,Deputy. JUDICIARY. A. M. Speer, - Judge. K. D. Dismukk, - - Solicitor Genera!. Butts—Second Mondays in March and September. Henry—ThiSe 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 and Octo ber. Rockdale —Monday after fourth Mondays in March and September Spalding—First Mondays in February and August. Opßon First Mondays in May and No vember. CHURCH DIRECTORY. Methodist Episcopal Church, (South.) Rev. Wesley F. Smith, Pastor Fourth Suhbath in each month. Sunday-school 3 p. h. Prayer meeting Wednesday evening. Methodist Protestant Church. First Sabbath in .each month. Sunday-school 9 A. X. Christian Church, W. S. Fears, Pastor. Second Sabbath iD each month. Baptist Church, Rev. J. P. Lyon, Pas ter. Third Sabbath in each month. CIVIC SOCIETIES. Pine Grove Lodge, No. J 77, F. A. M. Stated communications, fourth Saturday in each month. DOCTORS. DR. J. C.TURNIPSEED will attend to all calls day or night. Office t resi dence, Hampton, Ga. "IkR. W. H. PEEBLES treats all dis -I* 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 caD be made at my residence, opposite Berea church. apr26 JF PONDER, Dentist, has located in • Hampton. Ga., and invites the public to call at his room, upstairs in the Bivins House, where he will be found at all hoars. Warrants all work for twelve months. LAWYERS. TNO. G. COLDWELL, Attorney at I,aw, w Brooks Station, Ga. Will practice in the counties composing-the Coweta and Flint River Circuits. Prompt attention given to commercial and other collections. TO. NOLAN, Attorney at Law. Mc • Donoagh, Georgia: Will practice in the counties composing the Flint Circuit; the Supreme Court of Georgia, and the United States District Court. WM. T. DICKEN, Attorney at Law. Me Donougb, Ga. Will practice in the counties composing the Flint Judicial Cir cuit, the Supreme Court of Georgis. and the United States District Court. (Office up stairs over W. C. Sloan's.} 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. mch23-6m JF. WALL, Attorney at Law, f/amp ton.Ga Will practice in the counties composing the Flint Judicial Circuit, and the 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 aod other collections, and cases in Bankruptcy. BF. McCOLLUM. Attorney and Coun • sellor at Law, Hampton. Ga Will practice in Henry*■€ layton/Fayette, Coweta, Pike, Meriwether, Spalding and Butts Supe rior Courts, aod tn the Supreme and United States Courts. Collecting claims a specialty. CMfce uo stairs in the MelutOsb Bunding. YOU'LL NEVER GUESS. I know two eyes, two soft brown eyes, Two eyes as sweet and dear As ever danced with gay surprise, Or melted with a tear ; a In whose fair rays a heart may bask— Their shadowed rays serene— But little maid, you must not ask Whose gentle eyes I mean, I know a voice of fairy tone, Like brooklet io the June, I'hat sings, to please itself alone, A little old world tune ; Whose music haunts the listener’s ear, And will not leave it hea; But I shall never tell you, dear, Whose accents they may be. I know a golden-hearted maid For whom 1 built a shrine, A leafy nook of murmurous shade, Deep in this heart of mine ; And in that calm and cool recess To make her home she came— But, oh ! you’d never, never guess That little maiden’s name. A Speech by Zach. Chandler. * I don’t reckon yon ever heard the story of Zuch. Chandler aDd Eugene Hale,” re maikcd Grandfather Licksbiugle yesterday evening. The family said they had heard it a num ber of times, and, as i( the recollection of it wa9 too much for them, laughed inordinately. Grandfather could not be choked off, how ever, and went right ahead. “The scene is laid at the residence of Zachariah Chandler; time, when Eugene Hale was courting his daughter, the girl whom he alterward made his wife. Hale was pretty far gone on Miss Chandler, and one evening induced three or four amateur musicians, friend- 1 of his’n, to go around with him to Chandler’s house and serenade the girl. The love lorn Hale had a guitar that he could pick in a doleful sort of manner, one of the other boys hud a fiddle, another had an accordeon, and so on. It was about midnight when the serenadin’party arrived, and, sneakin’ up in front of the house, they stood behind the lilacs and struck npeom* soulful serenade or other. They played along soft and easy like for about five min utes, when an up-stairs window was raised, and who should step gayly forth npon the piazza but old Z icb himself. Hale told me afterwards that he fully expected the old man to blaze away at them with a shotgun, or at least fire a bucket of slops on their heads, but he didn’t do nothin’ of the kind. He hemmed and hawed a while, an’ then, much to the astonishment of the boys, sailed in: “ ‘Fellow-citmens : Of coarse you do not desire a speech from me at this late hour, but I wish to thunk you from my heart for this testimonial of your kind appreciation of my poor services.’ ” “Here he paused for cheers,” said grand father; “but there wasn’t aoy, and be went on : “ -I have been laborin’ not for myself, but for my beloved constituents, and it affords me onbounded pleasure to know that— ’ ” “‘Well.l’ll be cussed f exclaimed Hale to his companions, after be had recovered from the shock. ‘How the thunder and Mars coold the old man have made this mistake ! We ain’t no brass band, are we T We hain’t been playin’ Hail Co'umbia or cheering for anybody, have we?’ ” “‘We’ve been playing “The Venetian Lover’s Serenade,” ’ said the man with the fiddle. " ‘Well, that’s wbat I thought,’ said Hale, mad as a wet hen. “All this time,” continued Mr Lick shingle; "the old man was up there in the moonlight, talkin’ about the sheep law, the dog law, the duty of the supervisor, and that sort of thing. “ ‘Let us open his rheumy old eyes to the real situation,’ said Hale, and with that he began to pick, ‘Come Where My Love Lies Dreaming.’ The other boys joirfted in, but every note they struck only seemed to en thuse the old man more. After breakin’in on him fifty or sixty times with snatches of love songs and serenades, and all to no pur pose, Eugene shouldered his guitar, 6neaked down through the rose bushes, followed by bis party, crawled over the fence, an’ left Mr. Chandler staodin’ on the piazza talkin’ about the star spaogled banner and picturin’ the utter ruin an’ desolation that would fol low the electioo of tbe opposition ticket io October.”— Cincinnati Enquirer. Yassar girl, eating ber first gooseberries: “Yum—m—m —tn! Wouldn’t I like to see tbe goose that laid these berries.” A farmer out West who bought a kick ing caw three weeks ago, already talks of withdrawing from the church. HAMPTON, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, JUNE 27, 1879. Biography of Methuselah. What a tremendous boyhood old Methuse lah bud ! He died at the rather advanced age of 969 years, about 900 years more than man’s spau of iife. At that rate, when he was 200 years old he about equaled the or dinary lad ol sxteen. He was thirty or forty before his parents bought him a rattle to play with, and he didn’t have the measles or other infantile diseases until he was over 100. lie wusin noliurry about these things, as he had srt far to go. We imagine that be was rather a delicate child to begin with, as most people were who lived to a groat age. We can imagine his mother’s anxiety with regard to his delicate constitution, telling Mrs. Brown across the way, on his nineteeth birthday, that she was afraid she ‘never would be able to raise thaLchild.” njllenera tions of men lived and passed away while he was going around in petticoats, and he was almost a centenarian before he got into his first boots. His father used to lick him when he was 150, for robbing a neighbor's watermelon patch. Young Methuselah was probably in the vicinity of 100 years old when he was first sent to school. We can imagine him sitting on a low bench learning his a-b-abs, among the great-great-grandchildren of people who began life when he did. He was mischiev ous, of course—all boys are, no matter what their age—(we experienced a slight friski ness ourself, occasionally.) and had to be punisbid for it. “Willium Henry Methuselah, stand np !” says the teacher, catching him in the very act of placing a bent pin in a seat where a schoolmate was about to sit down. “Wlrnt do you mean by such conduct as this?” Young Methuselah begins to sniffle and wipe his eyps with the corner of his jacket. “One would think,” continues the teacher, sternly, “that you was'nt over seventy five or eighty years old by the way you be have. Instead of that you have already celebrated your first centennial—almost a young man, in fact. You ought to be asham ed ot yourself.” Then Methuselah Is condemned, ns nn ex piation. to “sit among the girls” until recess, Hnd if you think this isn’t an agreeable form of punishment, you will have to ask some one older than Methuselah. Whenever a circus came to town, with “children half-price” on its bills, young Me thuselah must have experienced considerable difficulty in nmking the ticket seller under stand that he was entitled to go in on a half price ticket, particularly after he had got along toward bis two hundredth year. But he probably did it. Boys are enterprising and persistent where a circus is concerned. And we will bet that Methuselah in his youthful days could accumulate as much old iron as the next boy, and lay it by lor the coming show. When this youngster got into his teens— say from 200 to 300 years old—he probably did as other young gentlemen of tender age do; went around with the girls. It must have been a little embarrassing to him, after beauing a young lady about a spell—taking her to concerts, balls, etc., to discover that she» waft a great-great-great great-great grandchild of his father’s friend, but these things were inevitable onJer the peculiarand exceptional character of tbe circumstances. There is no record to show that any woman lived in his time to an age that would begin to compare with his. And if there had been the world would not have known it. At least, not from ber. She wouldn’t have ac knowledged to anything over forty had she lived to twice the age of Methuselah. This is the kind of a hair-pin a woman is. Employing the proportion of twenty-one to seventy to Methuselah's years, we find that he was a minor until he was 270 years old. If the laws regarding minors were en forced in his day, young Methuselah must have been run out of billiard rooms aod shut out from bars for over two centuries. And wbat a sensation must have been created when lie stepped up to deposit his vote. Of course be voted for all tbe Presidents from Washington (with whom he remembers hav ing shaken hands) down. All old meo do that. And when he got along in years, say 900 or such a matter, be could sit and tell the boys abont the hard winter of ’32, and the panic of '37, and the flood of ’39, and the hard-cider campaign of ’4O, and all that sort of thing. This is all we have to write of Methuselah, tbe original old<st inhab itant.” “Ob, yes,” she said, “I’m very fond of little boys,” and as she tripped oo a string stretched across the pavement, ehe added, “I feel as if I con'd eat a couple of ’em this this minute, raw.” Teerk is a man in Indiana who takes 32 newspapers, and you might as well try to ride a whirlwind oo a side-saddle as to at tempt to impose uoon UiaLmm A Modern Arabian Niglit. It was during the reign of the good Caliph, when Abou Tamerlik came to the city of Bagdad, threw bis grip-sack on the counter, and, as he registered, spake cheer fully unto the clerk, saying : “A sample-room on the first floor, nnd send my keyster up right away, and coll me I for the 6:28 train east in the morning.” And Busier el Jab, the clerk, looked at him, but went away to the miiror and gazed Bthfs hew diamond. And Abou Tamerlik hied him forth and went into the booths and bazars, and laid hold upon the merchants and enticid them into his room and spread out his samples and besought them to buy. And when night was come he slept. Because, he said, it is a dead town and there is no place tp go. And bofote the second watch of the. night, Kbomul cm Uph, the porter, smo'e one of the panels of his door, and cried aloud : “Oh. Abou Tamerlik, arise and dress, for it is train time.” And A bon rose nnd girt his rain.ent abont him and hastened down stairs and crept into the ’bus. And he marveled he was so sleepy, bei enuse he knew he went to bed exceedingly early and marvelously sober. And when they got to the depot, 10, it was the mail west, and it was 10:25 p. m. And Abou Tamerlik swore and reached for the porter, that he might smite him, and he said unto him : “Cany me buck to my own room, and see that thou call me at 6:28 a m. or thou diest." And ere he hnd been asleep even until the midnight watch, Rhumnl cm Uph smote again upon the panels of his door and cried aloud : “Awake, Abou Tamerlik, for the time waneth, and the train staveth for no man. Awake and haste, for slumber overtook thy servant, and the way is long, and the ’bus gone.” And Abou Tamerlik arose and dressed, und girded up his loins, and set forthwith great speed, for his heart was anxious. Nev ertheless he gave Rhumnl cm Uph a quarter and made him carry his grip, and he cursed him for a driveling laggard. Arid when they were come to the train it was 11:46 p. x., and it was a way freight going south. And Abou Tamerlik fell upon Rhumnl em Uph and srnote him and entreated him roughly, and said : “Oh ! pale gray ass of all asses, the Prophet pity thee if thou cullcst me once mote before the 6:28 a m. east." And he gat him into his bed. Now, when sleep fell heavily upon Abou Tamerlik, for he was sore discouraged, Rhumul em Uph kicked fiercely against the panels of his door and snid : “Oh! Abou Tamerlik, the drnmmub, awoke and dress with all speed. It is night in the valleys but the day star shines on the mountains. Truly, thy train is eveti now due at the depot, but the ’bus is indeed gone.” And Abou Tamerlik, the drummnh, swore himself awake and put on his robes and hastened to the depot, while Rhumul em Uph, the porter, went before with a lantern. For it was pitch datk and raining like a bouse afire. And when they reached the depot it was a gravel train going west, and the clock in the steeple tolled 2 a m. And A bon Tamerlik fell npon Rhumul em Uph, the porter, and beat him all the way home, and pelted him with mud and broke bis lantern and cursed bint, and he got him to bed and slept. Now, when Abou Tamerlik awoke the son was high, and the noise of the street car rattled in the street. And bis heart smote him, and he went down stairs, and the clerk said to him : “Oh, Abon Tamerlik, live in peace. It is too late for breakfast and 100 early for dinner, nevertheless, it won’t make any dif ference in my bill." And Abou Tamerlik. the drummuh, sought Rhumul em Upb, tbe rorter, and caught him by tbe beard, and said unto him : “Oh, chuck el edded pup (which is, Tbou that skepest at train time !') why bast tbou forgotten me ?” And Rhumul em Upb was angry and said: “Ob, Abou Tamerlik, tbe drummuh, basty in speech and slow to think, wherefore shooldst thou get up at daybreak, when there is another train goes tbe same way to morrow morning ?” But Abou Tamerlik would not hearken onto him, but paid bis bill and hired a team and a man to take him to the next town And be hired tbe team of the livery stable and be cur.-ed tbe house that be bad put up at. Now, tbe livery stable belonged to the landlord, all the same- But Abou I'amerlik. The Texan Coivboy. The Texas cowboy is a rare bird, fie is a sort of happy.jiok of the wilderness, a.dry land sailor, who takes his fun in large doses whenever he g ts to port—port being to him the nearest town with a dance bouse—his jun pure deviltry. He can yell louder in an unearthly key, swagger more and swear harder than any man of his inches on the continent, nis dress is evidently ‘intended to ape the Mexican counterfeit of tlje Span ish cavalier, with a sneaking regard for borne conventionalities thrown in. Imagine the conglomeration! Having no fixity of form it is wholly indescribable, and varies with the whim of the individual. Yet he is proud of his “make up,” and pays particular at tention to the style of his hat, hoots and spurs. The hat is an elaborate affair. Broad-leafed ,tasselled, tinselled, it spreads its far-reaching shadow over the form of its festive owner a few acres beyond. His only pet is his horse; his only toy his pistol; but be would prefer losing bis horse for a day to being severed from his six-shooter for a moment. All his strength is in this toy. Like the savage Indian, when deprived of his weapon (of offense always, never oeeded for defense.) his "heart is on the ground." A small boy couid thrash him then. Give him the pistol and “the drop" on a man and ho will rejoice in his ability to “bore a hole in him big enough for a good sized dog to crawl through,” as if the boring process were something to be exceedingly proud of. This is because cowards are not hung often enough in Texas, and the reason they have ffof been is because they have been employed nnd protected by the cowman wiho steals, just like the murderous ward politician might sometimes be -protected by the dishonest, corrupt district attorney iu some Northern cities. We have had some very distinguish ed cow-boys in this part of the world. Bill Long ley, who killed thirty seven men in the course of his brief experience, was a cowboy most of his time, as was also John Wesley Hardin, better known us Wes, Hardin, who has been known to k’ill a man for snoring in his sleep. These miscreants have had no such words as fair play in their lexicon. If they intended to get a quarrel up they first “got the drop" on their victim, then bullied him into active resistance, then shot him ‘ in self-defense.” This sort of cowboy has been more frequently seen heretofore than at pres ent, but we have slill a few left. —Fori Worth [Texas) Cor. N. Y. Herald. The Bashful Poet and the Knowing Young Newspaper Man. Anybody could tell what he had. Every man in the sanctum knew in a minute. The timid knock at the door gave him clear away at the very start. No man or womtfn ever knocks at a sanctum door unless he cornea on tbut fatal errand. Then he came inside and took of) his hat and bowod all around the room, when every man on the staff roared out in terrible chorus. “Come in ! !'’ Then he esked for tbe editor, and when the under lings, with a fine mingling of truth and grammar, poihted to the fbuogest and tbe newest man ia the office and .yelled “That’s him I” be walked up to tbe young gentleman designated, and before he ceuld unroll his manuscript we knew the subject of it, and a deep groan echoed around the room. “Poetry, young mao ?” asked the editor. “Tea, sir,” said the pOet, “a couple of triolets and a son rtf t on the marriage of my sister with an old college friend.” “Old college friend—male or female, young mao?” asked the editor, severely. “Male, sir,” raid the young man. He said “sir” every time, and every time he said it all the young gentlemen of the staff, save the yonng gentleman who person ated the governor, soick p red. He looked severe. “Anything morp, young man ?” he asked. “Yes, sir,” replied the infant Tennyson; “a kind of an idyl, an ode inscribed ‘To .My Lost Love?” “Love Wn lost very long, yonng man ?” asked tbe journalist, very critically. “Well, it's immaterial, that is,” stammered the young man ; “it's indefinite—-it’s—” ‘’•Ever advertised (or it ?” asked tbe re porter, who was writing a puff for Slab’s tombstones, but he was soon fiowned down. “Anything more?’ asked the principal interlocuior, “anything more, young m»n ?” “Yes, sir,” wbb tbe hopeful response, “a threnody in memory of my departed brother.” “Brother dead, young mao, or ODly gone j to Sagetown?” “Dead, sir.” “Your own brother?” “No, sir. I never bad a real brother; it’s 1 only imaginary.” * “Can’t take this, then, young man,” was tbe chilling reply. “Poetry, to find accep i taoce with tbe Uawkeue , must be true. Have Very beautiful. but because it is Dot true. Now, how much do ydn want for there others ?” And he fingered them over like a man haying mink skins. The poet really didn't know. He had never publi-bed before ; he had barely dared hop? to have his verses published at all. A few copies of the paper containing them, he was sure— **oh, no," the editor broke in, “oh, no, no sir, can’t do that { do business that Way t if tt poem or sketch Is worth pnhlfil ing, it wus worth paying for. Would sls pay yon tor these?” The poet blushed to the fl<>or with grati tude, and the youngfhurnalist grandly wrote out an order and handed to the poet. “Take that to the court house," he said, "and the auditor clerk will give you the money.” The poet bowed and withdrew, and with great merriment the journalists burned his poems and resumed their work. That wasn't the lunny part of it, however. The next day the simple-minded poet pre sented his order to the clerk designated. And it was so that the clerk owed the paper eighteen dollars for subscription and adver tising, und he promptly cached the order and turned it in when his bill was presented, and the manager just charged it to the salary ac count of the smart young journalist who signed the order, and the happiest man and the maddest man in America are living in Builington. One of them is a happy, green, unsophisticated young machine poet, and the other is a wide-awake, up-to-snoff, know the world, get-up and dust young journal ist, who is already a rival of Horace Oreely in some of the verbal departments of jour nalism.—Burlington Hawkei/e. New Hu util of Sir John Moore. Not a drum was heard, because the drummer was not feeling very well and asked to be excused, nor a funeral note Iff any kind, as his corpse to the ramparts we harried ; not a single son-of-a-gun of a sol dier discharged his farewell shot o’er the grave where the remains of the late Mr. Moore were deposited. 'I he larcweil shot business was omitted on account of the great scarcity of ammunition. We buried him darkly at the dead of night, and did the best job we could for him tinder the circum stances. We could not borrow, beg or steal a pick or shovel in the entire neighborhood, and were obliged to torn tbd sods with oor bayonets, which by the way was the first, thing that had beer, turned by said bayonets since wo had been drafted. We did say all this by thjg straggling moonbeams’ misty light and the luuterp dirnly burning, with just half enough oil in it, and a -strip ot an old flannel undershirt for a wick. Few and short were the prayers we said, the chaplain being home on a furlough and no one within forty miles to take his place. We spoke not a word of sorrow, our time being some what limited, as the enemy was not far dis tant, and advancing with gigantic strides. We thought, as we hollowed bis narrow bed and smoothed down his lonefy pillow with a canteen, that the foe and stranger would tread o’er his head, and we far away on the billow; hot not too far, however, as the enemy ontnnmbered ns about seven to one. Lightly they’ll talk of the spirit that’s gone, and wonder where they can get another flask filled with the same, and ti’er bis cold ashea upbraid him, kaowing, of course, that ho is in no condition to defend him«ell; but little they'll rick if they let him sleep on in a grave where a Briton has laid him, and not bother him to get tip and take out a bqriaf permit or ask farm to pny ground rent. We wish here lo correct the impression .that slowly and sadly we laid him down from the field of his fame, fresh and gory. We did 1 no such thing. The corpse was washed and put in good shape, and we defy any man to show that there was a drop of gore about him. It is true that we carved not a line and we raised not a stone, because there was no stone-mason handy who would do the Job at reasonable figures. About time we beard the distant random gun that the foe wus sullenly firing, so we adjourned the faneral; left the deceased alone in his glory, and made ourselves scarce iu that vicinity. Disbr at a fashionable restaurant:, calling the waiter’* attention to bis plate—"Wbut do you call thi9 Stuff?’’ Waiter—“ That, sir, that's beau soup.” Diner— ‘ Well. I dou’t want to kaow what it has been, what is it now ?’’ Now the winds that softly breathe and the ffoyers that garlands wieatlie a gentle hint of summer io the mind and so do beetles, and the spiders, and the ants. This is the month of roses. Also of tbornses. Likewise of bugsea oeeses, and the oiiifksnnoi. Sleep with your head NO.” 51