Newspaper Page Text
(Die Heitqt d'ouniii HWtlg.
•> * , * 1 ' M * * ** ■ *■ -♦ • ; •' m
VOL. IV.
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 m0nth5....... 15 00
Quarter column twelve months... 80 00
Half column six m0nth5........ 40 00
Half column twelve months 60 00
One column twelve months 100 00
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All fractions of squares are counted as full
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xawsrarn DRomiexs.
1. Any person who takes a paper regu
larly from tho post office—whether directed
to his name or another’s, or whether he has
nbseribvd ar not—is responsible for the
pavment.
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 made, and collect the whole amount,
whether the paper Is taken from the office or
art.
8. The courts lave decided that refusing
to take newspapers and periodicals from the
postoffice, or removing and leaving them un
called for, is prima fatie evidence of inten
tional fraud.
TOfFN DIRECTORY.
Matos—Thomas G. Barnett.
OomnssiOMua—W.W.Turnipseed.D. B.
Bivins, E. G. Harris, E. It. James.
Cl*ax—E. G. Harris; os
Triasurrr—W. 8, Shell.
IfaiMU&s—B. A. Balding, Marshal.
J. W. Johnsou,Deputy.
CHURCH DIRECTORY.
Mbtuodist Episcopal Church, (Sooth.)
Bov. Wssley F. Smith, Pastor Fourth
Sabbath in each month. Sunday-school 3
V* m. Prayer meeting Wednesday evening.
Mrthodist Protistakt Church. First
Sabbath in_,sach month. Sunday-school 8
A. H.
Christian Church, W. 3. Fears, Pastor.
Second Sabbath ivaach month.
Baptist Church, Rev. J. P. Lyon, Pas
tor. Third Sabbath in each month.
CIVIC SOCIETIES.
Pinh Übovb Lodok, No. 177, F. A. M-
Stated cornmnnications, fourth Saturday in
aacb month.
THE
“BON Tor
salo<sn
(In rear of D. B. Bivins’,)
HAMPTON, GEORGIA,
18 KEPT BY
CHARLIE MCCOLLUM,
And is opsn from 4 o’clock in tbe morning
until 10 o’clock at night,
(food Liquors of ell Bredos
And at prices to suit everybody.
If you want good branch Corn Whiskey,
go to the Bon Ton.
If yau want Peach Brandy, from one to
five years old, call at the Bon Too.
If you wact food Gin go the Bon Ton and
get a drink at 5 cents or a dime, just as you
want it.
II yon want a good smoke go to the Bon
Ton and get a free cigar..
loe always on band at the 800 Too.
Nice Lemon Drinks always on hand at the
800 Ton.
NOT THE LARGEST, BUT THE
BE SI SELECTED STOCK OF
LIQUORS IN TOWN.
1 bare just opened my Saloon and am de
termined to make it a soonest.
Fair dealing and prompt attention to alt.
Call and see, call and sample, call aod price,
before buying elsewhere.
CHABLIB HeCOLLP*.
aug22;6m
"IF THIS BE LOVE.”
If to be sad when all are gay;
To Ibink all gone with one way ;
To start, to thrill, then back to sink
From expectation’s joyous brink;
If a few pen-strokes bring a Heaven
All the Jnt»e sunshine bad not given;
If all expression proved too weak
Till heart to heart and cheek to cheek
Alone sufficed that won] to speak
Which set the pent-up passion free.
Brought back the soul's tranquility,
And laid the struggling heart at rest,
Dropped like a bird into its nest—
If this be lout, as lovers say,
Dear, I have loved tbee many a day.
If to oppose when snffering most
The pain the opposition cost;
To listen with averted face,
Yet yearn to close with aa embrace ;
To watch, to smile, to sigh, to grieve,
Reproof to bear, advice receive;
To work, to wait, to pray, to live,
And to give all, and still to give;—
If this be love, believe me, dear,
That I have loved thee many a year.
And if, amid the vap’rons whirling
Of men and things that, upward curling
Id cloud and mist, come floating by
Fram the deep gulf of memory,
One face shines oat, one form, one power,
One influence quickening every hour,
A speaking profile upward tamed,
Or a deep look that throngb me burned; —
If this be love, love came to me,
And stays, methinks, eternally.
Two Great Editors.
James Gordon BenDett arrived from Eu
rope yesterday morning, went down to Co
ney liland and took a bath, a fish, and cham
pagne dinner in tbs afternoon, in the
evening Sew ovor to Newport and rented
the Winthrope-Chandler residence for the
season.
How does Mr. Bennett look T
I met him at the Union Club a few hours
after his arrival I never saw him looking
so well or stf handsome. Imagine before yon
a tall, slim man, about forty-five. His face
is florid, and hair prematurely white. Mr.
Bennett's eyes are very singular. He has
what a horsemau calls “watch-eyes.” That
is, the iris of the eye is a light gray, while
the popil or central dot is white. Walker,
the Filibuster leader, had the same restless
“watch-eye.” Mr. Bennett’s white hair is
like that worn by Stokes, who killed Jim
Fisk ; Frank Lord, the son of the late Mr.
Hicks Lord, and young George Law. It is
caused by drtoking champagne in place of
water. Champagne makes gray hair, while
too rich food produces gout. Bennett is a
drinker, and not an eater. If be had 83 to
buy a meal with, he would spend 82 85 for
champagne and fifteen cents for a sandwich.
Bennett is really one of the loudest livers fo
this country. Besides the big house np on
Washington Hights, left by bis father, he
has a big doable hoase on Fifth avenue, a
bouse in London, a “shooting-box” in Lan
cashire, and now a 84.000 villa at Newport.
All these things can not cost him less than
SIOO,OOO per annum. He spends his money
like a king, and he is really admired In
New York.
Mr. Bennett, tboogh a man of talent, has
really very little to do with the Herald. Hie
business is simply to call about four times a
week aod "shake the boys up.” While
abroad he does bis “shaking up" by tele
graph. One of Mr. Bennett’s peculiarities
is this “shaking up” mania. One night after
a champagne-dinner be flew down to the
office, “shook np” Connery, the managing
editor, and then wrote a loose, slashing edi
torial, patting the retail price of the Herald
down to three cents. Tie not ooly “shakes
np" his newspaper but be “shakes np" bis
friends. His trouble with the Mays was
caused by bis appearing at the May resi
dence at 12 o’clock at night, “shaking up"
the door-bed, clearing off the bat-rack, firing
a shot or two into the mirror, and then giv
ing Miss May a pocket-pistol to defend her
self with. Religiously Mr. Bennett ought
to be a Shaker, though in fact he is a Catbo
lie. The Herald is ready considered the
Catholic organ of New York. During the
fire which burned off the top of the Fifth
Avenue Hotel. Mr. Bennett, fresh from a
champagne party, appeared on the scene in
full dress, and proceeded generally ts “shake
op" the firemen. Now, a paid fireman in
Now York is an autocrat while the fire is
on. So, when Bennett took bold of the
hose, one of the firemen turned a fall stream
of water on him. It was s earn Of the shaker
shook. I shall Dever forget bow Bennett
locked with bis full-drees suit drenched in
water. Tbs scat day, and for weeks after
ward, the Herald in long editorials “ebook
op” the proprietors of the Fifth Arenas
Hotel and the I? r-'jf
HAMPTON, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 1879.
about 12 o'clock I thought I beard a cav
alry-charge coming dowo Fifth avenue in
front of Mrs. Stewart’s bouse Horns were
tooting, men were shooting, and then, all at
once, I saw the leaders of a four-io-band
drag go sprawling on the pLretaent. Almost
anybody wool A have been afraid in such a
position; but riot so with Bennett. He sat
on the box, and “shook np” the wheel-horses
with a loog whip till some Union Club fel
lows got up and held his hands. The party
had been op to Jerome Park “shaking up”
champagne. Bennett is a mao of impulse.
We all remember, when the Duke of Edin
burgh admired Bennett’s yacht which beat
the British and woo the Challenge Cup, how
the handsome fellow tnrned around and gave
her to the prince. It was a gift worthy ol
Loo is XIV.
New York editors are of two kinds—fhe
post-facto and the ante facto. Post-facto
editors, like yoong Bennett and Hugh J.
Hastings, never know anything about their
newspapers until they come out. They then
bay a copy of a boy, and come tearing into
the office with a ——
“What the devil did you put that article
in for 7”
That is, they "shake np” fhe whole office
and tear out handfuls of good hair, after the
newspaper is oat, instead of knowing what
is going into the newspaper beforehand.
Now, Mr. Dana is an ante facto editor.
He has the proof of all the editorial portion
of his newspaper placed before him every
day. Now tbat be is away, John Swioton,
the great Communist aod author of our best
school geographies, makes this examination.
Engaged on the Sun are Amoz Cnmmings,
the snake aod alligator editor ; Mitchell, as
safety-valve or air-brake on everybody;
Ballard Smith, who smokes good cigars and
talks to everybody that cornea to bore the
editor; and Mr. John Wood, the “great
American condeoser.”
Mr. Dana lives down at Glen Cove, on
an island which he -joins to the mainland by
a drawbridge. He bas a magnificent place.
One day I asked S- L. M. Barlow, bis neigh
ber, what Dana’s peculiarities were.
“Oh ! he runs to trees, fighting-eocks and
billiards.”
“How do yon mean I”
“Well, he has every known tree in the
world on bis place ; he raises the best fight
ing-cocks, and be ca n play a game of bil
liards that would shame Maurice Daly.”
Mr. Dana's revenue is over 8100,000 an
nually. He is going to be a very rich man.
The Bartlett family bother the editors of
the Sun a good deal. They are not journal
ists, bnt think, like all non-professionals,
that they know just bow a newspaper should
be run. One son is a Secretary of the Sun
Company, at a good salary, and another
fools over the foreign exchanges enough to
draw a salary. One of the Bartlett boys
once started out to report tbe Yale Harvard
boat race at Bpriogfield. He nsed up a
whole column in sophomorical descriptions
of tbe landscape, the bright sunlight, the
young breasts swelling with ambition, etc.,
and, when the race eame off, be had just time
and space to say :•
“Tbe race was then rowed.”
John Wood, Amos Cnmmings and Mitch
ell swore that night; and when Dana saw
Bartlett’s report the oext morning, on the
Glen Cove boat, he felt like kicking the
cabin boy. Young Bartlett %as nut written
for tbe Sun since. Not that be was not as
good writer as any collegiate, bnt because a
journalist most have experience, aod must
gst at facts without any preparation and
end withoat a valedictory. —New York
Letter.
a Lsy an, Macduff.”
Old Basembee was returning from the
elub the other ereniog, when, ae be hung up
his overcoat on the hall hat rack, and pre
pared to go op stairs, be beard such strange
ly excited voices in the front parlor that he
paused to liateo. A vofoe that he recog
nised at once as belonging to that fast
looking young Bnyder be had warped Maria
to be careful about, said, contemptuously :
“Peace, woman, and weary ms no longer
by your reproaches. I tell yaa the day of
my wedding with Alice Mootreaeor is fixed,
end by heavens, nothing shall prevent oar
anion 1”
Coo}d these words he addressed to his
own daughter? Yes, it was Maria’s sob
choked tones that replied t
“This, then, is the reward tor my sacrifice,
my devotion. Ruined and forsaken, you
taunt me with yoqr latest conquest. Mop
ster—coward.”
It only required a setjond for Basembee
to rush up stairs and get hia shot gnn oat of
the closet. The next moment be burst into
the parlor with blazing eyes, and burling the
pieced tbe muzzle of bis breach-loader to
bis temple, kissing :
“Villain, swear to me that yon will mak?
an honest woman of this poor doped angel,
or I will strew the floor with yoor devilish
breinel”
“Hooray 1” shouted young Snider, sitting
up and clapping his hands. “That's way
up; Magoifi Sper-leoded I”
“Beautiful, papa. Encore I Encore l
Bravo 1” added Maria, delightedly. “Never
•aw anything better at Baldwin’s.”
“We were so afraid that yon woatd object
to my taking part in the private theatricals.
Ma said yon would never listen to it. But
yon act better than any of ns—doesn’t be,
Bobby r
“Yon bet!” replied Bobby, fervently.
“Goees yon tnutt have been a regular ama
teur Maeready once, sir 1”
Then Mr. Basembee coughed and wiped
bis forehead, and mumbled about bis having
seen a good deal of that sort of thing when
he was young, and that Maria must b 6 sore
to take in the mat trhen her yoang friend
had gone, and went np to bed and dreamed
be was playing an outraged community to
crowded houses all night.— San Francisco
Post.
Gen. Forrest’s Game of Poker.
Bcvetal yeurß ago General Forrest visited
the city and stopped at the old City Hotel.
That night several gentlemen called to see
him, among them a gentleman now connected
with tbe Banner. The room had been
crowded during the early part of the night,
and Forrest had received the usual attention
bestowed on him. Now, however, be was
sitting off by himself, and appeared worn
and tired ont. Onr informant wishing to
have a talk with him about himself, sought
him and entered into conversation with him.
“General,” says he, “I’ve heard yon were
a great poker player 5o yoor time.”
“Yes,” says the General, “I have played
some,” aod bis eyes began to sparkle with
the memory of old times, and he at onoe
seemed interested in the subject, for be it
known that no one was fonder than he in
recounting bis wonderful exploits,
“How much, General, was tbe largest
stake yoo ever played ?”
“I once called $48,000 in New Orleans.”
“Did you win f ”
“Oh, yes! I won it.”
“What was yoor hand, General?”
“It was three kings.”
“Bat,” says he, “the hardest pa me I ever
played was at Memphis. Jast after the
war closed, me and my wife wer.t to Mem
phis, and we stopped at the Worsham Hoase.
Ttie next morning we got oar things to
gether, and T empted all my papers oat of
my trank on the floor, and Mary (I’m Dot
certain his wife’s name was Mary, bat that
will do for the tale) went over and over
them, hunting for something to raise money
oat of. I emptied my podtets and Mary
emptied ber'n, and between as we had $7 30.
After buntin' over everything we found that
every man who owed me was either dead or
broke. I hadn’t one single paper on which
I could raise a cent oaten. After we got
through the pile I looked at Mary and Mary
looked at me. ‘Now what’s to be done,
Mary V says I. ‘I don’t know,’ says she,
‘but the Lord will provide.' You «oe, Mary
was one of the best women in the world, aod
she had a heap of faith in her religion. I
looked at her right straight for a ioog time,
and at last says I: ‘Mary, you are a
mighty good woman, and I’m going to tell
you something. There’s to be a big dinner
at . ■■■ this evening, and I'm invited
They always play poker at that boose, and
you have always been agio me playing, and
I reckon yoa sre right about it. Bat things
have beoome desperate with as, and somehow
I feel if yoa wouldn’t be agio me, bat, would
pray for me, 1 could make a raise to-night.'
“Rays sbe t ‘Bedford, I can’t do it; It’s
wrong for you to do it, and I’d a heap rather
yoa wouldn't.’
“ ‘Bat, Mary,’ says I, *1 never was io such
a fix before. Hero we are with no money
bat $7 90, and that wouldn't pay oar tavern
bill. I can't lose no more than that, for I
swear I won’t bet oq a credit, if I lose
that 111 came borne; and if I win, then well
have something to start on. 1 Well, I ar
gued and argogd with her, bat abe wouldn’t
say yea Bat at last she say*:
“ ‘Bedford, I know your unind is set oo it,
and 1 know yoa are going to bet, whether I
am willin' or not; so I won't say nothing
more about it.’
“But, somehow, 1 felt wbeo I started that
she was for me, and I jist knawed bow
’twooid be.
“Well, I went some time before dinner,
aod, sure enough, they were at it, They bad
three tables—one bad a quarter ante, one a
half, and one a .h-lfc ■«&«*■*>***"*■
make it, so 1 set down to the quarter table
We bet oo natil dinner, aod by that time I
bad won enough to do better; and alter we
bad eat, I sat down to the dolUr-and a-bulf
table. Sometimes I won, and then again I’d
lose, on until nigh about midnight, and then
I had better luck. I koow'd Mary was set
ting up and praying, I felt like it, and it
made me cool. I set my hat down by ray
side on the floor, and every time I’d win I'd
drop tbe money in the hat We played on,
and I didn't know nothing about bow much
I’d won. I didn’t keep any count, bnt I
know’d I was winning. I thought may be
I’d won a hundred dollars, or may be two
hundred, bnt I didn't know, I set there
until day broke, aod then we went home. I
took my bat up in both hands and mashed it
on my head and went home without taking
it off. When I got to my room there sat
Mary in her gown, and tbe bed wasn’t
mashed. She’d set np all night waiting for
me. She seemed tired and anxious, sod
though she looked mighty bard at me she
didn't say a word I walked right up to
her, and pulling off my bat with both bands
I emptied it all right in tbe lap of ber gown.
And then we set down and counted it.”
“How much was there, General T”
“Just fifteen hundred dollars even.”
“And tbat,” added tbe General, as he
walked of!, “gave me a start.”— Nashville
Banner.
Simpson’s Experience.
When I met Simpson one day after I had
been absent from the oity for several months
I noticed that be wore a wig. I asked him
tbe reason for assuming tbe wig, but be
said : "Never yon mind I” and appeared to
want to avoid tbe snbj ot. When I reached
my office I asked him in, and I pressed him
to tell me what was the matter. Finally,
he consented, and locking the door sod pall
ing down tbo window blind, he said :
“You know old Partridge, tbe phrenolo
gist ?’’
“Yes.”
“Yon know he has aa awful pretty daugh
ter, Bailie T”
“Yes.”
“Well, sir, I was in love with tbat girl,
aod I thought she loved me. And so, one
day, 1 called at Partridge's boose to kind of
sonnd him to see if I stood any chance. And
tbe old man, you know, he was a little re
served, bat be told me that any man who
wanted to get a favor from him conld do so
by permitting him to shave off bis hair and
map out his scalp. Said, yon know, that be
wanted a living to leaturs fram in
stead of a piaster bust."
“Yon refused, of course ?”
“Well, you see, I was wild about his
daughter, so like an immortal idiot I let him
practice on me. He. took off every hair
clean, and then got a stick of caustic and
laid ont my sealp in town loti, with a pic
tare io each reservation. Just look at tbat 1
Isn’t tbat infamous f ’
Simpson removed his wig. His head
looked like a globular ebecker board, with
frescoes of tbe mest amazing and hideous
characters dan bed into each square. There
was a prise fight in progress npon bis bnmp
of combativeness; two black doves that
looked like buzzards were billing npon his
bnmp of amativeness ; a grimy angel with
parasols for wings, stood on bis veneration
bnmp ; and on bis bnmp of pbiloprogeni
tiveness there was wbat appeared to be a
comip picture of “teu little Indians standing
in a line.” It was the iposf startling spec
tacle I ever beheld, and I said to Simpson—
“ Old fellow, I pity yoq 1”
“Pity me! Humph ! Why blame it, man,
do you know that those frescoes will never
come off? Carry them to my grave, just as
they are. And then, you know, Partridge
wasn’t satisfied with that. He said that my
bump of acquisitiveness was a great deal
too small. And when I asked him what be
was going to do aboat it, he said it mast be
swelled op somehow. He said if be eyer bad
a son-in-law it mast be a mao whose
amativeoeas was strong. 8o that fetched me
and I told him to go ahead. He first pro
posed sawing oat a square inch of my skull
aod setting in a bqmp that woald about
meet his views; bat I was a little sby, aod
so be said be coold either cap me like the
man io Marryat’s novel, or else work me op
uoder some sort of a hydraulic pressure, or
suction or something, ”
“Did he do it T”
“Well, all I know js that I was kept in
that ofice for four oights and three days
with a bucket on my Lead, put there to bold
the machinery down ; and that I was so
delirious moat of the time that be bad to
strap me to the bookcase. When I came to,
I found I bad a bump over my ear as large
as a foar-ceut loaf of bread, aod old f*art-
it with caricature in caustic of a miser
grasping a hag of gold ! I’ll kill that old
idiot yet, if I g«t a chance!”
“Yoo recovered, though ?”
“Yea; and next day Partridge said h«
most have a cast of that noble bump at all
baaarda Said he wanted it to use to illus
trate his anooal address before the Philo
sophical Society. So, like the incredible
ass that I am, I yielded. He pot me 4 own
oo the sofa, plugged my nose with quills,
and then daubed some kind of white mud
over my face. I stood it patirotly till the
stuff hardened, and then the old man took
the mould off. About an boor later be had
a bast of me, witboaf hair and with a bulge
oo one side that looks like a cantelope
skewered oo a watermelon. He b«s it on
his table now, with baste of murderers,
pirates, pickpockets and paupers.”
“You got bis daughter, though ?”
“That’s what I was coining to. After he
had finished the bust, I thought I'd done
about enough, and so I asked him plnmply
if I could buve her. And do you kpow
wbat the beastly old buccaneer said f
Actually rose op and *uid that Sally wag
engaged to young Jim Duncan, and the an
nouncement would be made on Tuesday !
tiaid me right out! The girl had gone bock
on me, fair and square I And so here I am.
I bought a wig and went off to hide my
misery.” '
Then Simpson said good morning and
left. It struck me that bis case was rather
bard, taking it altogether.— Max AdtUr,
The Ureen-Efed Monster.
Mr. Kroger waa tranquilly eating his
breakfast, a morning or ao ago, when hfa boy
broke the silence by ssklng him for twenty
five cents to go to the minstrels with that
night Mr. Krosger promptly refnaed on the
ground of hard times. t
Mr. Kioeger’s boy is more than » boy,
and when be sets his heart oo having any
thing he generally sucoerd* in getting it ;
so, when his father refused to comply with
his request, be moved over by his mother,
and said :
“I guess 111 tell ma wbat the cook said to
you last night.”
Mrs. Kraeger’s eyes Sashed like two balls
of fire.
“You’re a nice man,” she said sarcasti
cally, “to conte home and pet me, and kiss
me, and call me your dew-gemmed tulip, aad
then go snd receive the caresses of the cook.
You miserable frog-eyed runt, for two* cents
I’d go over there and rake your eyes out.”
“I—.ah—" stammered the Lord of the
manor, when his wife broke in :
“Ob, yes—l’ll ah you I” and, turning sud
denly to the boy, she demanded an explana
tion.
“Will you gite me 25 cents ?*
“Tea.”
•‘Give sse the money first," said the boy.
“Pm opening the year on the 0. O. D. prin
ciple.’*
He got the money, and relieved his motbey
by telling her :
“Last night cook came to pa, and got
pretty close to him—"
“Oh, you wretch !" hissed Mrs. K.
f‘ And, when she got beside hiss, she smiled!
snd said, ‘Mr. Krcsger, the potatoes are get
ting low, and you bad batter get another
sack.’ ”
The boy got out as fast as possible, while
Kros 'er lifted his paper before bis face ta
veil the smile which made it look, like a oa!->
cium light —Exchange
A Lrtteb Poe MußrtiT.—-A little freck
led faced ten year old schoolboy stopped at
the poet office the other day and yefled out ix
•* Anything for any of the Murphy a ?*’
“No, there Is not."
“Anything for Jane Murphy?”
“Nothing.”
“Anything for Anu Morphy?”’
“No.”
“Anything for Tftm Murphy t”’ 1
“No sir, not a<bit”
“Anything for Terry Mhrpby?*'
“No ; nor for Pat Morphy, nor for Den
nis Murphy, nor Pete Mhrpby, nor for any
Murphy, dead, living, unborn, native or for
eign, civilised* savage or barbarous, male or
female, black or white, franchised or die
franchised, naturalized or otherwise. No, ,
sir, there is positively nothing for any of the
Murphys, either individually, jointly or sev
erally, nosr and forever, one and insepara
ble.”
The boy looked at the postmaster in as
tonishment and said-:
“ Please look' if there is anything for n*J
teacher, Ciaienoe Morphy.”
A writer ou style* says : “It is the fash
ion in Prance for ladies to take their tea >“•
bomete and gloves.”' It may be, but w*
_ oi—
NO. 9