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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 eolumn twelve months... 30 00 Half column six months 40 00 Half column twelve months 60 00 One column twelve months 100 00 JUsg-Ten lines or less considered a square. All fractions of squares are counted as full squares, newspaper decisions. 1. Any person who takes a paper regn larlv from the post office—whether directed to his name or another’s, or whether he lias subscribed or not—is responsible for the payment. 2. If a person orders his paper discontin ued, he must pay all arrearages, or the pub lisher may continue to send it nntil payment is made, and collect the whole amount, .vhether the paper Is takeo from the office or n >t. 3. The conrts have decided that refusing to take newspapers and periodicals from the po«toffice, or removing and leaving them un (ailed for, is pnma facie evidence of inten tional frand. 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