Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

(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 linos or lese considered a square. All fractions of squares are counted as full squares, 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