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VOL. IV.
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TOWS DIRECTORY.
Mayor—Thomas G. Harnett.
Commissioners— W. W. rnruipseed.D. B.
Bivins, E. G. Harris, E. It. Janies.
Clerk — E. G. Harris.
Treasurer —W. S. Shell.
Marshals— S. A. Balding, Marshal.
J. VV . Johnson, Deputy.
CHURCH DIRECTORY.
Methodist Episcopal Church, (South.)
Rev. Wesley F. Smith, Pastor Fourth
Sabbath in each month. Sunday-school 3
p. m. Prayer meeting Wednesday evening.
Methodist Protestant Church. First
Sabbath in each month. Sunday-school 9
A. M.
Christian Church, W. S. Fears, Pastor.
Second Sabbath in each month.
Baptist Church, Rev. J. P. Lyon, Pas
tor. Third Sabbath in each month.
CIVIC SOCIETIES
Pike Grove Lodge, No. 177, F. A. M
Btated communications, fourth Saturday in
each month.
THEi
“BOH TGI”
SALOON
(In rear of D. B. Bivins’.)
FIAMPTOIV, GEORGIA,
IS KEPT BY
CHARLIE MCCOLLUM,
And is open from 4 o’clock in the morning
until 10 o’clock at night.
Good Liquors of sll Gr&dss
And at prices to suit everybody.
If you want good branch Corn Whiskey,
go to the Bon Tod.
If yon want Peach Brandy, from one to
five years old, call at the Bon Ton.
If yon want good Gin go the Bon Ton and
get a drink at 5 cents or a dime, just as yoj
want it.
If you wont n good smoke go to the Bon
Ton aDd get a free cigar.
Ice always on hand at the Bon Too.
Nice Lemon Drinks always on band at the
Bon Ton.
SOT THE LARGES?, BUT THE
BEST SELECTED STOCK OF
LIQUORS IS TOWS.
I have jnst opened my Saloon and am de
termined to make it a success.
Fair dealing and prompt attention to all.
Call and see, call and sample, Cull and price,
before bujiDg elsewhere.
CHARLIE McCOLLUM.
aug2*2;6m
THE OLD , OLD STORY.
The pastor's little daughter
Sits smiling in the sun,
Beside her on the old stone bench
T he story book just done,
And lurking in her wine-brown eyes
A story just begun,
For yonder, pruning the apple trees,
Behold the farmer’s son.
Slowly adown the pathway
The pastor corn's and goes,
And settles with bis long, lean hand
The glasses on his nose.
Bore ever dry brown branch before
So beautiful a rose ?
Ah. he thinks his blossom only a bud,
Though he watchts it as it blows.
Is it the story of Moses
In his rush-wrapped cradle found,
Or of Joseph and his brethren,
He thinks ns he glances around ?
“You have finished your volume, Amy ;
Is it something scriptural and sound ?”
Ar.d his little daughter blushes and starts,
And her book tails to the ground.
Go on with your walk, good pastor,
You do not yourself deceive ;
It has been a scriptural story
riince Adam first kissed Eve.
And never blush, little lassie,
The tale was written above ;
No other so speaks of heaven
As the old, old story of love.
The Surrender at Appomattox
—General Gordon on the Un
written History of the Event.
‘On the night of the 7th of April was
held Lee’s last council ol war. There was
presPDt General Lee, General Fitzhugh Lee,
as head of the cavalry. Pendleton, as chief
ol artillery, and myself. General Longstreet
was, I think, too busily engaged to attend.
General Lt-e theu exhibited to us the cor
respondence he had had with General Grant
that day and asked our opinion of the situa
tion. It seemed that surrender was inevita
ble. The only chance ol escape was that I
could cut a way for the army through the
lines in front of me. Genera! Lee asked me
if I could do this. Ir< plied that I did not
know what forces were in front of me ; that
if General Ord had not arrived—as we
thought theu he had not —with bU heavy
masses of infantry, I could cut through. I
guaranteed that my men would cut a way
through all the cavalry that could be massed
in front of them. The council finally dis
solved with the understanding that the army
should be surrendered if I discovered the
next morning, alter feeling the enemy’s line,
that the infantry had arrived in such lorce
that I could not cut my way through.
“My men were drawn up in the little town
of Appomattox that night. 1 stilt had about
four thousand men under me, as the army
had been divided into two commauds and
given to Gen. Longstreet and myself. Early
on the morning of the 9th 1 prepared for
the assault upou the enemy’s line and began
the last fighting done in Virginia. My men
rushed forward gamely and broke the line
of the enemy and captur'd two pieces of
artillery. 1 was still unable to tell what I
was fighting I did not know whether I
was striking infantry or dismounted cavalry.
I ODly knew that my men were driving them
track, and were getting further and further
through. Just then I had a message from
Geneial Lee, telling me a flag of truce was
in existence, leaving it to my discretion as
to what course to pursue. My men were
still pushiug their way on. I sent at once
to hear from General Longstreet, feeling that
if be was marching toward me, we might
still cat through and carry the army for
ward. I learned that be was about two
miles off, with his meu faced just opposite
from mine, fighting for his life. I thus saw
that the case was hopeless. The further
each of us drove the enemy the further we
drifted apart and the more exposed we left
our wagon trains and artillery, which was
i parked between us. Evety time either of
; us broke only opened the gap the wider. I
saw plainly that the Federals would soon
j rush in between us, and then there would
have been no army. I therefore determined
to send a flag of truce. I called Major
Hunter, of my stuff, to me and told him that
j I wanted him to carry a flag of truce for
ward. He replied :
“ ‘General, I have no flag of truce.’
“I told him to get one. He replied :
“ ‘General, we have no flag of truce in our
command.’
“Then said I : Then get your handker
chief, put it on a stick, and go forward.’
“ ‘I have no handkerchief, General.’
“ ‘Then borrow one, and go forward
with it.’
“He tried, and reported to me that there
was no handkerchief in my staff
— «vwi«i tsvnerais. 'TudealLl
HAMPTON, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 12. 1879.
“ ‘Then, Major, use your shirt!’
“ ‘You see, General, we all have on flannel
shirts.’
“At last, I believe, we found a man who
bad a white Glirt. He gave it to us, and I
tore off the back nod tail; and, rigging this
to a stick, Major Hunter went out toward
the enemy’s lines. I instructed him to
simply say to Genera! Sheridan that General
Lee had written me that a flag of truce had
been sent from his and Genera! Grant’s head
quarters, and that he could act as he thought
(test on this information. Iu a few moments
lie enme back with Major ,of Sheri
dan’s staff. This officer said :
“ ‘General Sheridun requested me to pre
sent his compliments to you and to demand
th• unconditional surrender of your army.”
“ ‘Major, you will please return my com
pliments to Gen. Sheridan, and say that 1
will not surrender.’
“ ‘But, lGeneral, he will annihilate yon.’
“ ‘I am perfectly well aware of my situa
tion. I simply gave Gen. Sheridan the in
formation on which he may or may not
desire to act.’
“I showed Gen. Sheridan Gen. Lee's note,
and he determined to await events. He
dismounted, and I did the same. Then, for
the first time, the men seemed to understand
what it all meant. And then the poor fel
lows broke down. The men cried like chil
dren Worn, starved and bleeding as they
were, they had rather have died than have
surrendered. At one word from me they
would have hurled themrelves on the enemy
and have cut their way through or have
fallen to a man with their guns in their
hands. But I could not permit it. The
great drama had been played to its end.
But men are seldom permitted to look upon
such a scene as the one presented there.
That these men should have wept at surren
dering so utuqual a fight, at being taken
out of this constant carnage nnd storm, at
being sent back to their families, that they
shonld have wept at having their starved
and wasted forms lifted out of the jaws of
death, and placed once more before their
hearthstones, was an <xhibitioii of fortitude
ami patriotism that might set an example
for all time.
‘Ah 1 sir, every ragged soldier that sur
rendered that day, from the highest to the
lowest, from the old veteran to the beardless
boy, every one of them, sir, carried a heart
of gold in his breast. It made my heart
bleed for them, nnd sent the tears streaming
down my face, ns I Saw them surrender the
poor, riddled, battle-stained flags that they
had followed so often, and that had been
made sacred with the blood of their com
rades. The poor fellows would Rtep for
ward, give up the scanty rag that they bad
held so precious through so many long and
weary years, and then turn and wnng their
empty hands together and bend their heads
in au agony of grief. Their sobg and the
gobs of their comrades could be beard for
yards around. o‘hers would tear the flags
from the etufl and hide the precious rag in
their bosoms and hold it there. As Gen.
Lee rode down the lines with me and saw
the men crying, and heard them cheering
‘Uncle Robert’ with their simple but pathetic
remarks, be turned to me and said, in a
broken voice, Oh. General, if it had only
been my lot to have lallen in one of our
battles, to have given my life to this cause
that we could not save.’ I told him that he
should not feel thnt way, that he had done
all that mortal man could do, and that every
man and woman in the Sonth would feel
this and would make him feel it. ‘No ! no!’
he said, ‘there will be many who will blame
me. But, General, I have the consolation
of knowing that my conscience approves
what I have doue, and that the army sus
tains are.’
“In a few hours the army was scattered,
and the meD weot back to their ruined and
dismantled homes, many of them walking all
the way to Georgia and Alabama, all of
them penniless, worn out and well nigh heart
broken. Thus passed away Lee’s army;
thus were its last battles fought; thus was
it surrendered, and thus was the great
American tragedy closed, let us all hope,
forever.” — From an Interview in tin Phila
delphia Times.
Cremona.
The word "Cremona” is endeared to all
lovers of that most noble and delicate ol aJI
instruments, the violin. In the latter part
of the sixteenth century, one Andrea Amati
commenced makiug these instruments iu the
town of Cremona, Italy, acquiring great ce
lebrity as a most skillful workman, and also
for the production of violins possessing a
tone of surprising power and sweetness. He
continued in this avocation uotil the year
1619, when he died. His two son 3, Hie
ronymus and Antonio, succeeded him in the
business, forming a copartueiship which
lasted only six years, but it was during tltia
a' MHv ' --*M
short period, when the brothers were work
ing in conjunction, that many of the very
finest violins were produced Hieronymus
fell deeply in love with a ludy he could not
marry, owing to (be disparity between their
social positions, nnd finally began to lose in
terest in his avocation, and at last bid fare
well to the aff.tins of this wicked and deceit
ful world nnd spent the remainder of his life
in a cloister. Antonio was succeeded by
his son Niccolo, who took as a pupil or ap
prentice the celebrated Slradivarius. Thu*
ends a brief history of the Amati family a*
regards their connection with violin making.
We have lately had the pleasure of inspect
ing A genuine ‘‘Cremona” violin made by
Hieronymus and Antonio Amati in the year
1612, two years after die death of Andrea
It was in the hands of a well-known repairer
of instruments of this city. Prof. M. L.
Munger. This very rare old instrument is
the property of Or. F. A. Wurm. the well
known senior of the musical profession ol
Atlanta, for tunny years a professor of music
and the fine arts in several colleges of Ala
bama and Georgia. Near the western fron
tier of Bohemia was founded in 1133. the
Cistercian Abbey WaldsH-oeu, which in the
course ol time rose into a sovereign power
under un Abbot prince. It was at this
place, and on the banks of thp little river
Wandreb, that the father of the present Dr.
Worm was born in 1778, nnd received his
literary and musical education at the Abbey.
When quite young, he so pleased the Prince
by his performance of a solo that he received
as a gift, from the hands of the Prince
himself, the violin now in question. Dr.
Wurm inherited it from his lather; so it
has, therefore, been in the Wurm fumily
already ninety years. The instrument bears
still the impress of one of the Abbot princes,
with the crown of the sovereign Abbots, and
the type of the old label inside shows ex
actly the particular form of prints of the
seventeenth century compared with the
Cambrenis edition of Virgilus in 1646.
Having passed through the skillful hands ot
Mr. Munger, the repairer, this grand old
violin has now the brilliancy unu beauty of
tone of old times, which had been impaired
by years of climatic influences, as well as by
unskillful and unscientific repairings— At
lanta Phonograph.
Flirting in Vera Crux.
Standing within an open casement, behind
a grille of iron burs which project to give
room for a balcony, (often ornamented with
massive gratings) or leaning over the para
pet that borders in the terraced roof above,
may be seen the fair Vera Cruzian of the
better class—she of the Andalusian type—
upparelcd in heavy silks, with long, black
mantilla falling back from a high comb ovei
her shoulders, and flirting a fan, every mo
tion of which has a meaning. A closer in
spection will often discover a cnvaliero sta
tioned on some other terrace, or perhaps in
the street below, for whoso benefit all this
play of woman’s witchery iu enacted. He
watches her with scrutinizing glance, and
interprets his fate in every turn and flirt of
that bit of pasteboard and muslin I was
witness of such a scene not long since.
Leaning over the parapet of a house of
the better class was a face crowned with
loose waves of hair of that rich, purple
black which dislinguishes the Iberian every
where ; ihe nose arched with a curve that
implies command ; the mouth and chin deli
cately chiselled, but firm ; the eyes cold and
clear, and self-controlled, languishing and
fiery by turns, but oftenest superbly calm ;
the head carried on a long swan-like neck,
as befits a descendant of the old conquista
dores. Below, on the opposite side of the
street, lounged a tall, slender gallant, wrap
ped in the convenient mum! cloak, and seem
ingly gazing intently into space. Ooly clore
oDservation discovered, by the covert glances
he shot from time to time in toe direction of
the terrace, and bis solitary position on the
pavement, the purpose that bail drawn him
thither, and which was engrossing his entire
attention. The play had evidently been in
progress for some time.
The fair dame upon the housetop was to
all outward seemiDg engaged in studying the
shipping in the harbor. Her r:ght hand,
holding the fan, rested carelessly upon the
parapet, as if lor greater ea°e or security.
Occasionally the fan twirled slightly. A
rnomnet after, her gaze, recalled from the
tranquil harbor ostensibly to adjust some
article of dress, fell an instant upon the gal
lant below. It was the merest glance, seem
ing to rest Dowhere, and a glance which ap
preciated every detail of the answer in its
passing® The reply was equally evane-eunt
and apparently irrelevant; aD almost imper
ceptible shiug or a motion of the band uodcr
the cloak, unintelligible to any but her lor
whom it was interned. Then the gaze went
out seaw>^|
the cavaliero was intent upon the sign of i
shop further up in the street.
The two faces wore the far-away expre*
sion of those whose thoughts were wool-gath
ering in the clouds. But the npp'-nranees
were never more deceitful. The gallant soon
lost interest in the perusal of the sign and
resumed his covert glances toward the para
pet; the mantilla a second time demanded
readjustment, and the pantomime went on as
before. At last, after at least a dozen repe
titions of the scene, the fan suddenly closed
with a snap, the cavaliero raised his hat
slightly, as if to place it more firmly on his
head, the face disappeared from the terrace,
ami the little episode was at au end.
Wandering along the street Imlf an hour
later, I saw the same black mantilla eluding
the same patrician face, looking out in
quiringly (rom behind the iron grating of
the first-floor windows, nnd a little further
along the same slender gallant sauntering
irrelevantly toward the casement. And I
thought the fair Iberian would have been
happier in some stolen ramble on the hills in
an humble peasant’s d'ess, with her hands
full of flowers, and her lover’s arms about
her, than in the family prison at home.
An RdUoi’s Business.
Some of his townspeople having criticized
Bert. Sikes, of the South Georgian, rather
severely, he desparingly appeals to his breth
ren of the press to tell him ‘‘what is an edi
tor’s business.’’ Well, good brother, we
have hardly learned in eight years, but will
give-you the benefit of what experience we
have had : An editor’s business is first to
know everything and never bo wrong. He
mast know as much law as a lawyer, as much
grammar as u school master, as much theol
ogy ns a minister, ns much policy as n poli
tician, and know how to heal wounds like a
doctor. He must have a thick hide and
learn to receive unmerited abuse without
flinching, and be cursed where his mo'ives
were of the best. He must learn to bear
misrepresentations without murmuring, to
have charity tor others’ failings, to be nceus
id of all manner of unfairness, und to calmly
see bis labor go unrewarded. He must learn
to live on air and sleep on a clothes line, to
labor for the good of others without thanks
for his pains, and to strive to ennoble tin
races without any one to hold up his hands
He must learn to rise above nnd beyond
petty spites, to have patience with poor weak
humanity, in short he must learn to be un
angel, and wear patched clothes in place of
wings, have his ears ussailed with curses in
stead of being chunm-d with heavenly music,
and have his stomach filled with the husks
of life instead of the nectar winch regales
the grids. When he has learned all this,
then lie is about fitted to do himsell and the
world some good as a newspaper editor.—
Gainesville Eagle.
Tattooing tlie Legs.
It was through a brief advertisement in
an English newspaper that one of the most
remarkable ami peculiar of the domestic
habits of English life was recently made
public. Perhaps it is hardly accurate to
say that it wus thus made public for the
first time, for the peculiar habit or custom,
or question, must have been long familiar to
Englishmen living at home. Still, no one
outside of England suspected its existence
until the advertisement to which reference
has been made appeared.
It seems that a young English lady re
cently left her home und disappeared totally
from the knowledge of her parents. Being
intelligent people, they, of course, did not
employ a detective to find out the missing
girl and to compound with her abductors
for half her vulue, but they inserted an ad
vertisement in a daily paper, describing her
appearance and offering a reasonable reward
for her recovery. The peculiar feature of
the advertisement was the fact that, after
setting foilb the height, weight, age, dress
and color of the eyes of the desired yoang
lady, it mentioned that she was‘‘tuttooed on
the leg.” From the way in which this
assertion was made, it was clear that the
tact of the tattooing was not regarded by
the advertiser us anything unusual. In fact,
from the comments since made by the
English press, it is very evident that in
England it is regarded as the customary and
proper thing to tattoo the youthful feminine
leg.
After recovering from the shock insepara
ble from suddenly learning the existence of
so extraordinary a custom in England, the
tboughttul foreigner at once begins to ques
tion its origin and motive. The tattooing
must doue as a measure either
of utility or oinuuieut, and it is by no means
easy to decide which motive is the true one.
All statisticians agree that there are a great
many girls in England, and certain English
_ pgnwtwJte&aAalh iLuwo
years dwelt, with much emphasis upon tie
tendency of the English girl of the period to
defy conventional resiraints of 'former davs.
May we not, then f assume tl at English girls
are prone to stray away from home, and
that being so very numerous, they are fre
quently mislaid and forgotten? We have
here a sufficient explanation of the tattooing
problem. The eareful British parent desires
to mark his girls for identification. If he
pastes labels on their backs or attaches tager
to their belt, the tags and labels can readily
be torn off and lost* To brand a girl with
a hot iron, or to slit the ear—practices
which aie in vogue among cuttle drivers—
would obviously be open to serious objection.
The careful parent, in these circumstances,
falls back upon tattooing, and in order not
to disfigure his girls, he has them tattooed
where the indelible mark is not. as a rule,
constantly forced upon the public gaze. —*
Sew York Times.
Wouldn’t Take Water.
A party of young men traveling in Europe
lmd among them a citizen of our great re
public, who was so thoroughly patriotic that
he could sec no excellence in anything in the
old world a 9 compared with his own countrr.
Mountains, waterfalls, churches, monuments,
scenery, nnd other objects of interest were
inferior to what the United States cou’d
show. His companions became somewhat
tired of his overweening bonsllulncss, ard
determined to “take him down a peg ” The
party spent a winter in Rome, and one
evening, having all things prepared, they
Induced their young friend to join in a drink
ing bout, and so rn inaged that they kept
sober while be got gloriously drunk. There
upon they took him into the catacombs, laid
him carefully down, with a caudle in ieucb r
and retired a short distance out of sight to
wait for developments.
Alter a while their friend roused up, hav
ing slept oil hiR first drunken stupor, and, in
a state ol some astoni-hinent, began endeav
oring to locate himself, ot the same time
muttering : “Well—hie—this’s very strange.
Wonder—hie —where I am, anyway.”
He got out his watch, lighted hia candle
and began to study his surroundings. On
each side were shelves piled with grinning
skulls, and niches filled with skeletons, while
all about were piled legs, arms, ribs and
vertebrae— a ghastly array, and altogether
new to him. He nodded to the skulls on
one side with a drunken “how d’ye do—hie?”
and on the other with ‘how d’ye feel—hie—•
un) way ?” took a look at bis watch, and
again at hL surroundings, got On his feet,
took off his hat, and holding it above his
head remarked, loud enough for his friends
to hear : “\S all right ; ’s—hie—all right.
Morning of the res rrection, by jingo !—hie.
First man on the ground—’rah lor the
United States! Alters übead. ’Rah for
me specially.”
A Strikino Story. —ln the old cemetery
at N<w Haven we used to be shown a tomb
of enormously heavy stones —the grave of a
man who planned it for himself in de6ance
of the Angel of the remrrection. Whether
his impious challenge his ever been met by
such a silent rebuke os the one here recorded,
we cannot say : A young German counters
who lived about a hundred years ago was a
noted unbeliever, and especially opposed to
the doctrine of the resurrection. She died
when about 30 years of age, and before her
death gave orders that her grave should bo
covered with a solid Flab of granite; that
around it should be placed square blocks of
stone and that the corners should be fastened
to each other and to the granite slab by
heavy iron clamps. Upon the covering this
in'cription was placed, “The burial
purchased to all eternity, must never be
opened ” All that human power could do
to prevent any change in that grave was
done, but a little seed sprouted, and the tiny
shoot found its way between the side stone
and the upper slab and grew there, slowly
bat steadily forcing its way until the iron
clamps were torn asunder, and the granite
lid was raised, and is now restir g upon the
trunk of the tree, which is large and flour
ishing. The people of Hanover regard it
with almost a kind of superstition, and speak
in lowest tones of the wicked countess ; and
it is natural they should, for as 1 stood be
side that grave in the old cbnrchyard. it
certainly impressed me more deeply than I
can express. Standard.
‘•Yoc politicians are queer people,” said
an old business mao to un impecunious par
tisan.
“Why so?” asked the politician.
“Why, because you trouble yourselves
more about the debts of the State than you
do about your own.”
Thb mosquito almost always succeeds iu
gutting a speech from the person it bou« »
NO. 10