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(The iptfg (fmmfti *v»aMi .» tc * ksm i f " i . VOL. TV. Advertising Kates. One Square, first insertion ... $ 75 finch subsequent insertion sft One square three rgonths 5 ftft One squire si* months Ift Oft One square twelve months 15 ftft Quarter column twelve months... lift ftft Ifilf column six months.,../... 4ft ftft Half column twelve months ftft ftft One column twelve months 10ft Oft «s»' Ten lines or less eonsiilereil n sqnnve. All fractions of squares are counted as full squares, NEWSPAPER decisions. 1. Any person wfin takes n paper regu larly from the post nffiee—whether directed to his name or another’s, or whether he has subscribed or not—is responsible for the pavnjent, 2. If a person ordeis his paper discontin ued, he must pay all arrearages, or ihe pub lisher may continue to send it until payment is maje. and collect the whole amount, vhether the paper Is taken from the offiee or n it. 3. The courts have decided that refusing to take newspapers and periodicals front the postoffiee, or removing and leaving them un called for, is pnmn facie evidence of inten tional frand. TOWN DIRECTORY. M ayor —Thomas G. Barnett. <’ommi««ionf.rs—W.VV. rnmip*eed,D. B. Bivins. K G. Harris, E. 41. James. <’i.krk—K. G. Harris. Trhasurkr—W. S. Shell. Marshals —S. A. Bolding, Marshal. J. W. Johnson, Deputy. CHURCH DIRECTORY. Mktwodtst Kpisoopal Church, (Konth.) Rev. Wesley F. Smith, F’astor Fourth Sabbath in each month. Sunday-school 3 p. m. Prayer meeting WedHWMhy*(!thning. VlKriionrsT Protrstant Church. First Sabbath in each month. Sunday-school 9 A. M. Christian Church, W. S. Fears, Pastor. Second Sabbath io jsacli luoßth. Baptist Church, Rev. «T. P. T.von, Pas* tor. Third Sabbath in eacli month. CIVIC SOCIETIES. Pina Grovk Fxidor, No. 177. F. A. M Slated communications, fourth Sat unlay in each month. *lOl TOH" .SALOON t (In rear of D. B. Bivins’,) HAMPTON, GEORGIA, IS KEPT BY CHARLIE MCCOLLUM, And is open from 4 o’clock in the morning until 10 o’clock at night. Bead Liquors of dl Blades And at prices to suit averybody. If yon want good branch Corn Whiskey, go to the Bon Ton. If.yon want Peach Brandy, from one to live years oid, call at the Bon Ton. If yon want good Gin go the Bon 1 on and pet a drink at 5 ceuts or a dime, just as yoj want it. It you want a pood smoke go to the Bon Ton and get a free cigar. Ice always on hand at the Bon Ton. Nice Lemon Brinks always on hand at the Bon Ton. f * ' NOT THE LARGEST, BUT THE BE SI SELECTED STOCK OF LIQUORS IS TOWS. 1 have just opened my Salooo and am de termined io make it a success. Fair dealing and prompt attention to ail. Cali and see, call and sample, Call and price, before baying elsewhere. THE VICTORY. They reach d the little gate ; he stood Amid the shadows, hut the sun That moment sent a glorious flood Of light upon the path that led Up to her door, lie sighing said, •‘Our future seems to be begun." And open wide he threw the gate, “The sunshine longs for you, and so Walk in the light; why do you wn t?” Her face with crimson blushes dyed, Like one with sudden hush she cried : “Do you not know ? l>o you not know ?” “Your path with summer bloom is bright. And mine is cold and dark,” he cried. “I may not so your love requite, I.may not bid you go with me; Oh. love, dear love, you still arc free, And still the gate isopen wide.” And song and bloom and beauty cull, ‘(’orae back, all pleasures wait Here in the light!” Above it all •She only heard her own heart’s cries— She only saw bis pleading eyes— V\ ith quick, firm hand she closed the gate. The shadows have no dread for her, And once more Love is conqueror. Aurelia's Unfortunate Young Man. The facts in the following ease come to me by letter from tryming Indy who lives in the beautiful city of Son-Tose ; she Is per fectly unknown to me, and simply signs her self “Aurelia Maria,” which may, possibly, he a fictitious name. But no matti r. The poor girl is almost heart broken by the mis fortunes she has undergone, anil sn confused by the conflicting counsels of misguided friends and insidious enemies, that she does not know what course to pursue in order to extricate herself from the web of difficulties in which she seems almost hojieles.sly involved. In this dilemma, she turns to me for help, and supplicates for my guidance and instruc tion with a moving eloquence that would touch the heart of a statue. Hear her sad * j • She sayp, that when she was sixteen years old. she met, and loved, with all the devotion of a passionate nature, a young man from New Jersey, named Williamson Breckin ridge Carat hers, who was some six years her senior. They were engaged, with the free consent of their friends and relatives ; ■ and for a time, it s#med as if their career was destined to be characterized bv an immunity from sorrow beyond the usual lot of human ity. But at last the tide ot fortune turned. Young Cnnithers became infected with small-pox of the most virulent type ; and when he recovered from his illness, his face was pitted like a wnffl ’-mould, and his come liness gone forever. Aurelia thought to break off the engagement at first ; but pity for her unfortunate lover caused her to post pone the marriage-day for a season, and give him another trial. The very day before the wedding was to have taken place, Breckinridge, while ab sorbed in watching the flight of a balloon, walked into a well, and fractured one of his legs; and it had to be token off above the knee. Again Aurelia wns moved to break the engagement ; but again love triumphed ; and she set the day forward, and gave him another chance to reform. And again misfortuue overtook the un happy youth. He lost one arm by the premature discharge of a fourth of July cannon, and, within three montk , be got the other pulled out by a carding-rrachine. Aurelia’s heart was almost crushed by these calamities. She could not but be deeply grieved to see her love passing from her by piecemeal, feeling as she did, that h° could not last forever under this disastrous process of reduction, yet knowing of no way to stop its dreadful career, and, in her tearful des pair, she almost regretted, like brokers who hold on and lose, that she had not taken him at first, before be bad suffered such an alarming depreciation. Still'her brave soul bore her up, and she resolvi d to bear with her frieud’s unnatural disposition yet a little longer. Again the wedding day npproacbed, and again disappointment overshadowed it. Caruthers fell ill with the erysipelas, and lost the use of one of his eyes entirely. The Iriends and relatives of the bride, considering that she had already pat op with more than conld reasonably be expected -of her, now came forward, and insisted that the match should be broken off Bat, after wavering a while, Aurelia, with a generous spirit which did her credit, said she bad n fleeted calmly npoo the matter, and could not discover that Breckinridge was to blame. So she extended the time once more, and he broke his other leg. It was a sad day lor the poor girl, when HAMPTON, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, OCTOBER 17, 1879. try previous experience, and her heart told her the hitter truth that some more of her lover wa= gone. She felt that the field of her affections was growing more and circum - “eribed every day; but on"e more she frowned down her relatives, and renewed her betro'hal. Shortly before the time set for <he nup tials. another dicaster occurred There was but one man scalped by the Owens River Indi ns last year. That man wa« William son Breckinridge Oaruthers of New Jorsey.- He was hurrying home with happiness in his heart, when he lost his hair fo ever ; and in that hour of bitterness he almost cursed the mistaken mercy that had spared bis head. At last Aurelia is in serious perplexity ns to wlmt she ought to do. She still loves her Breckinridge, she writes, with true womanly feeling—she still lov>« what is left of him. But her parents are bitterly op posed to the match, heenupe he has no property, and is disabled from working, and she has no sufficient means to support com fortably. "Now, what should she do?” she a*ks with painful and anxious solicitude. It is a delicate question ; it is one which involves the life-long happiness of a woman, and that of nearly two-thirds of n man, and I feel that it would be assuming too great a responsibility to do more than make a mere suggestion in the case. How would it do to build to him ? If Aurelia can afford the expense, let her furnish her mutilated lover with wooden arms and wooden legs, and a glass eye and a wig. and give him another show : give him ninety days, without grace, and, if he doe 9 not break his neck in the mean time, marry him, and take the chances. It dors not seem to me that there is much risk, anyway, Aurelia, because, if he sticks to his infernal prospensity for damaging himself every time he secs a good oppor tunity, his next experiment is hound to finish him, and then you are all right, you know, married or single. If married, the wooden legs, and such other valuables as he may possess, revert to the widow, and you ished fragment of a uuble but must unfortu nate hushßiid, who honestly strove to do right, but whose extraordinary instincts were against him. Try it, Maria! I have thought the matter over carefully and well, and it is the only chance I see for you. It would have been a happy conceit on the part of Oaru'hers, if he had started with his neck, and broken that first; hut since he bus seen fit to choose a different policy, and string himself out as long as possible, I do not think wc ought to upbraid him for it, if he has enjoyed it. We must do the best we can under the circumstances, and try not feel exasperated at him. Mark 1 wain. The Long Journey. She cime into the depot with her hands full of daisies—pure daisies that fairly brought with them a whiff of the fresh country air. A knot of them was pinned at her throat, and a garland of them twined round the little coquettish sundown hat, which only half hid a sweet face, that looked for all the world like a daisy, too. A tall young man was with her, and the two were laughing and talking, seeming to enjoy themselves so heartily that I felt an envious thrill pass over me. They came and sat down just under me. and I heard him whisper : “ Ettie, you are going away to begone four long weeks. Mind you don’t forget.” “Oh, Harry, what on idea !” and her sil very laugh rang out. “But, Ettie,” he said, sadly, “do you know I dread this parting. I dieamed last night tliat you had gone off on a long journey never to come back again, and 1 was, ob, so lonely.” The tender blue eyes dropped, and a deep blush dyed her fieacb-colored cheeks “So you’d miss me, Hairy?” she whis pered ; “I’m glad, for I couldn’t forget you ; no, not even in eternity ! ’ “God bless you for those words, Ettie,” he said huskily. “Passengers for the train going North !” shouted the conductor. He snatched her traveling bag and they followed the crowd out. .As ho helped her aboard the train I saw her smile and hand him one of her daisies, which be pinned in the button-hole of his coat after the train was out of sight, and weßt away whistling an old love song. ****** It came flashing over the wires—" Horr ible accident I Train going North collided with B Express ! Send help !” There was great consternation and rush ing to and fro Anxious Iriends gathered in crowdf to receive the news from the dis aster. Some low tones. Conspicuous among them I saw Hurry’s tall form. I knew he was waiting to hear from Kttie. He still wore the white daisy she had given him. How the hours dragged I I felt as if I must go faster. I skipped five minutes and struck four Then I thought, this won’t bring them any quicker, and stopped dead still for the next five. At last I heard a faint whistle. "That’s the Fire-bug,” said Simmons to the Jacket ageut, who was standing near. I un derstood instantly that it was the locomotive that had been sent up. We should soon know the worst. Harry heard the whistle, too, for I noticed him tremble and shut his white lips closer together. Slowlyshe came in, bearing her burden of dead and wounded. I saw them lifted one by one from the cars. I heard the sobs and groans of the friends, and the cries of joy when one l came forth unhurt Hnrry tried to force his way info tho car. “Stand hack! You cannot enter,” cried the officifl. He drew back. They Rfted an old woman out; and then —I tried to cover my face wi'h mv hands, hut they would not shut out the sight. A stained white robe, a crushed sundown hat, with soiled blue ribbon and the daisies at her breast—the pure daisies that lifted their leads toward heaven that morning, now all covered with blood, and the sweet daisy face silent nrnl col I. lie Prtw her. “Oh Rttie,” he shrieked, and rushed for ward. , But though he kissed her white lips again and again, though h* held her limp little hands close in his own, though he called her all the sweet pet names she used to know and lov», she never once heeded. Ah I she had gone out on the long journey I—“ 'The Dqmt dock's Story,” in Detroit Commercial Advertiser. A Southern Romance. - TWinc rhe rebellion a well-to-do family, and daughter, were driven from their North Carolina home because of its occupation by Federal troops, and settled in Walker county, near Birmingham. Alabama. There accompaniid the migrating family a hand some woman, who thonch called a quadroon, was hardly to be distinguished from a white person. This quadroon devoted her time to the care of Mrs. Reynolds, a confirmed Invalid. After the war Henry Horton set tled on an adjoining plantation. He had a son, Maik, and Mark grew up as a playmate of Jessie, the daughter of the Reynolds household. A few years ago, both families being prosperous, it was arranged by Reynolds that if the children could be in duced to love each other there should he a union of the houses. Jessie wns sent to a girls’ school in Louisville. Kentucky, and Murk entered at Princeton. N. J. Returned from their collegiate s’udieg the young folks sure enough fell in love, and were married under the most promising auspices A month or 60 ago a child was born to them, and it was remarked that young Horton and wife were among the happiest of mortals But ft cloud came up on the boriz n shortly after the birth of the child. The quadroon fell B ick, and I)r. Blackman, the Birmingham physician, told her that her death was at hand. The quadroon sent for young Horton. She told him that her conscience had tor tured her into making a death bed state ment. She said that Jessie had negro blood in her veins—that she was her daughter. John Reynolds was Jessie’s father, but the invalid Mrs. Reynolds had never been a mother. The life-long illness of the latter had in fact been caused by Reynolds, who, at Jessie’s birth, forced his wife to acknowl edge the child of the quadroon as ber own. The death of the quadroon occurred soon after Horton had been given the statement. Horton at once told his innocent wife the story of her parentage, drove her from her house and sued for divorce in the Walker county court, now sitting. 'I he other day the court decreed the marriage void because of fraud Pending tbe decree Horton dis posed of bis property and left for California. Reynolds is now endeavoring to sell so that he may return to North Carolina The poor young wife and mother is wild with grief. It is not likely that she will bear the strain, and an educated, refined girl will be broken under ber weight of woes. Cincin nati Commercial. A t.irru! girl about four years old and a little boy about six had been cautioned not to take away the nest-egg, but one morn ing when they went for the eggs the little girl tcok it and started lor the house. Her li fuiliouilili hroj iw»r < y y Fighting the Devil With Fire. If there is one thing that more than an other annoys a good wife, who is nervou ly sensitive to all that is gross and ill-timed, it is the habit some husbands Imve of using profane language in their homes. In many cases this is mere thoughtlessness on the p/rt of the good man. who never gives a thought to the finer sensibilities of his bet ter-half, and even should she mildly remon strate. he pays no attention to the rebuke. We hove just had a case in point, which happened in one of the thriving Missouri cities on the banks of the Mississippi, which the ladies of Georgetown should know some thing about. A lady who«e husband was addicted to the bad practice we hnve blind'd to. came to her family physician, laid her grievances before him, and said : “Now, Doctor N .won’t you remon strate with him, and try to break him of this habit ? I know he will listen to you.” “Why, madam,” said the doctor, "he would pay no attention to anything i could say to him ; but, as you have come to me, although somewhnt out of my line, I will recommend a prescription, to be adminis tered by you, that will certaiuly cure him It is an infullible remedy” "Oh, what is it, doctor ?” "Well, when John comes home ngnin and swears, do yon swear back ut him. Of course, Ldon’t want yon to take the name of the Ixird in vain, but d—n things a little* for his benefit." “Doctor, for tbe sake of the final result, I'll do It." And she did The next day John came in and inqnired whether dinner was reudy, and was told it was not. “Well, why the d— 1 isn’t it ?” said he. “Because,” she coolly replied, “the wood wns so d—d wet that the fire wouldn’t burn” “Why, Mnty, what is the matter with you ? Are you crazy, or have you beer, drinking ?’’ the teeth—it rather resisted all efforts at mastication, like so much india-rubber, and finally John blurted out : “What mukes the d—d beef so infernal tough ?” Mary looked up archly and replied : “Well, John, 1 suppose yon went down to the butcher’s and, without knowing tbe difference, picked oat a piece of some d—d old stag that hadn’t been fed for u month ” John jumped up, looked at his wife in dismay, and wanted to know what such lan guage from her lips meant ? “It means just this, John ; yon are the head of this family, and just as long as you think it manly to swear in my presence, I intend to do the same If you don’t like to hear it, you know how to prevent it.” The cure was radical, and to this date Mary has never been compelled to administer anolher dose of Dr. N ’s prescription.— Colouido Miner. Goldsmith Maid's Afvkotion— Recently Charlie Cochrane, who was for many years ihe faithful groom for the celebrated trotter, Goldsmith Maid, arrived ffom California, and wishing to nee the grand old trotting mare and her colt, called‘on Mr. Smith, her owner, to' obtain his permission to visit Fashion Stud farm, New Jersey. Mr. Smith accompanied Cochrane to the farm, and on arriving there remarked : “Charlie, the Maid is very jealoos of her colt, is very cross, and will permit no ooe to approach it.” Cochrane arranged that Goldsmith Maid should hear his voice before she saw him, and, although they had not seen each other for years, a loud whinny presently assured the visitors that the mare had reeog nized the man’s voice. Cochrane Bext showed himself, when a touching s<;ene occurred. The old queen of the turf, who for months would not allow any one to ap proach her, making use of both heelß and teeth if it was attempted, rushed with a bound to her old friend, forgetting even her colt and rubbed her head upon his shoulder, her nose in his face, plnved with his whLker> and showed by her every action that her heart was full of joy to see him. Directly the colt came up to them, and the old mare was delighted when Charlie plawd his hand on the little fellow. When Cochrane left the place the mare followed him to the gate, whinnying for him even after he had passed out of her sight.— Baltimore Sun. A stort is told of a clergyman who forgot his notes on Sunday morning, and as it was too late to send for th m he said to his au dience. oy way >»l apology, that this mnrn- How to Attain Lonc Life A scientific paper gives these directions: “He who strives ufter a long and pleasant term of life must seek to attain continual equanimity, and carefully to avo d everything which too violently taxes his feelings. Nothing more quickiy consumes the vigor of life than the violence of the emotions of the mind W.i know that anxiety nnd care can destroy the healthiest hody ; we also know that fright and fear—yes, excess of joy—become deadly. They who are naturally cool and of a quiet turn-of mind, upon whom nothing can make? too powerfa! an impression, who are not wont to he excited either by great sorrow or great joy, have the best chance of living long and happy after their manner. Pre serve, therefore, under all circumstances, a composure of mind which no happiness, no misfortune, can too mnch disturb. Love nothing too violently; hate nothing too passionately; fear nothing too strongly.” Wc don’t believe in any such ideal of Ufa It is better to live earnestly for some truly good purpose and die at thirty, than to deze and drone, and vegetate until ninety. Some of the most nsefnl and successful men have died early. They lived while they lived aod • hen went into a higher sphere of being. Ut us seek to live well rather than to live long. Who Wouldn't be an Editor ?—On* at the beauties and charms of an editor’s life is in his “dead-heading" it on all occasions. No one who has never tasted of the sweets of that bliss can begin to take in its glory and its happiness. He does 8100 worth of advertising for a railroad, gets a pass for a year, rides 825 worth, and then he is looked upon as ad' uilhead, or a half-blown dead beat. lie “pnfls" a theatre or concert tronpe 810 worth and gets 81 in “compli mentaries” and is thus passed in “fret.” If the hall is crowded he is begrudged the room he occupies—for if his complimentnriee were paying tickets the tronpe would be so muchl in puck t. lie blows and puffs a rhurch festival free to any desired extent, and does jiff! ba!/..r«tea_and rarelv woik gratuitously for the town and com-' rnunity than all the rest put together, a> d gets cursed for it all, in many instanced, while u man who donates a dollar for the fourth o( July, base ball club, or church, is gratefully remembered. Oh, it’s a sweet thing to be an editor. He passes “free,” you know. Tbk paternal author of a Saratoga belle, shortly after his return to the springs, was approached by u youth, who requested a few minutes conversation in private, and begun : “1 was requested to sec you, sir, by your lovely duugbter. Our attachment —" “Young man,” interrupted the parent briskly, “I don’t know what that girl of mine is about. You are the fourth gentle man who h»s api rouebed me this morning on the subject. I have given my consent to the others, and I give it to you. God bless you!” A man broke a chair over his wife’s head a week or two ngo. W hen he got to j iil nnd the clergyman undertook to talk with him he disp’ayed a good deal of penitence. He said that he was very sorry that he had permitted his ancer to get tbe master over him and to suffer him to do such an net. because it was a good chair, one of those good old fashioned Windsor chairs, which was an heirloom in bis family, and ho knew that he never could replace it. Bok I.sokrsou, says “that to plow is to pray.” This shows how little Bob knows about farming. "When a man is plowing and the implement is brought to a stand still by striking a concealed rock or stamp, and the handles collide violently with the man’s abdominal regions as he suddenly lur ches forward, he—well, he doesn’t pray. Some of the words he makes use of would fit very well in a prayer, but he doesn’t take time to arrange them properly. “This, dear children, is the shoe of a Chi nese lady ; see how little it is. wbat a nar row sole it has ” * I'll bet it isn’t as-qarrow as Beacon Fattier says bis goal will fall through a crack in the floor some day and get lostwas the shrill comment of a boy given to sharp listeniog. The Superin tendent put the Chinese shoe in his pocket and requested the school to sing “Pull for the Shore.” Onk had better sail bodily, in almost any direction than drift without any direction at | all. One had better sail in the maddest I storm that ever troubled the sea of life, than ! lie on the sea and drift with any ch-nce wi.nl NO. 15