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TOWN DIRECTORY.
Matos —Thomas Q. Barnett.
Oommisstohrss —B. B. Bivins, E: It.
Jtraes, (I. P. Bivins, W. B. Pierce.
Ol*«—G. P Bivins.
Tssascrks —W. S. Shell.
Marshals—S. A. Belding, Marshal.
B. H. McKneely, Deputy.
JUDICIARY.
A. M. fIptCRR, - Judge.
IT. D. Pisnuxß, - - Bolicit6r Genera!.
Butts—Second Mondays in March and
September
Henry—Third Mondays in January and
Jalv.
Monroe—Fourth Monday* In February,
and August.
Newton—Third Mondays in Mnrch and
September.
I'ike —First Mondays In April and Octo
btr.
Kockdalc—Third Mondays in February and
and Au»*»t.
Spalding—First Mondays in February
and August.
Upson—First Mondays in May and No
vember.
CHURCH DIRECTORY.
Mkth#dist Episcopal Church, (Month.)
Kov. Wesley F. Smith, Pastor Fourth
Sabbnth in each month. Sunday-ochool 3
r. it. Prayer meeting Wednesday evening.
Mktrodist Psotsrtant Citoroh. First
Sabbath in each month. Sundaj-schooi 9
a. n.
Ohriattan Church, W. 3. Fears, Pastor.
Second Sabbath in each month.
Baptist Church. Rev. J. P. Lvon, Pas
t#r. Third Sabbath in each month.
CIVIC SOCIETIES.
Pink Grovr Lodok, No. 177. F. A. M i
Stated communications, fourth Saturdays in
each month.
DOCTORS
T\R. J. C.TURNIPSEKD will attend to
JJ all calls day or night. Office <i resi
duaoe, Hampton, Ga.
•f\R. W. H. PEEBLES treats all dis-
J ’ eases, aad will attend to all calls day
and night. Office at the Drag Store,
Broad Street, Hampton, Qa.
DR. D. F. KNOTT baring permanently
located in Hampton, offers his profess
aional services to the citizens of Hampton
and ricinity. All orders left at Mclntosh’s
■tore will receive prompt attention. sp26
DR. N. T. BARNETT tenders hi* profes
sional services to the citizens of Henry
and adjoining comities, and will answer calls
day or night. Treats all diseases, of what
ever natnre. Office at Nipper’s Drug Store.
Hampton, Ga. Night calls can be made at
»y residence, opposite Berea church. apr26
JF. PONDER, Dentist, has located in
• Hampton. Ga.,and invites the public to
•all at his room, upstairs in the Bivins
House, where he will be fonDd at all hours.
Warrants all work for twelve months.
LAWYERS.
CW. HODNETT. Attorney and Coun
s sailor at Law, Jonesboro, Ga. Prompt
atteaMto given to all business.
/lEORGE P. BIVINS. Attorney at Law.
" Will practice in the State and Federal
Courts. Collection* promptly attended to.
Office ap ataira in toe Mclntosh building.
Hampton, Ga. marl2tf
TO. NOLAN, Attorney at Law, Mc
• Donough, Georgia. Will practice in
the counties composing the Flint Circuit;
the Supreme Conrt of Georgia, and the
United States District Court,
WM. T. DICKEN, Attorney at Law, Lo
cast Grove, Ga. Will practice in the
counties composing the Flint Jndicia) Cir
cuit, the Supreme Court of Georgia, and the
United States District Conrt. apr27-ly
GEO. M. NOLAN, Attoricbt at Law.
McDonough, Ga. (Office in Court bonue)
Will practice in Henry and adjoining coun
ties, and in the Supreme and District Courts
of Georgia Prompt attention given to col
lections. mcb23-6ra
Jf. WALL. Attorney at Law, //amp*
, too,Gw Will practice in the counties
composing Ike Flint Judicial Circuit, and
ths Supreme and District Courts of Georgia.
Prompt attention given to collections. ocs
EDWARD J. REAGAN, Attorney at
law. Office up stairs in the Mclntosh
building. Hampton, Ga. Special attention
given to commercial and other collections.
AN IVY SONG.
In the mellow autumn sunshine.
When the year was on the wane,
I dreamed a dream of earthly bliss
That cannot come again.
The vesper lights were glesming
On a ruined castle tower,
And I stood there dreaming—dreaming,
When the (vy was in flower.
Down below me lay the shadows
Where the alder bushes grew ;
The fields were dim with golden mist,
The sky was faintly blue;
No restless wind came creeping
Through my etill sjid leafy bower ;
Life was sweet and pain was slrepiug
When the ivy was in flower.
Oh, the bonnie, burnished ivy
Clings around the ruin yet!
My blissful dream is over now ;
I woke to vain regret.
But patience soothe* repining,
Sorrow brings a priceless dower,
And God’s light will still be shining
When the ivy is in flower.
—Sunday Magazine.
Bessie Paschal.
A most distressing affair recently occur
red in the suicide of Captain Edward Wright,
son of Judge “Jack” Wright, who was re
cently convicted and fined for his assault on
Secretary Delano, and then graciously par
doned by the President. Captain Wright
was one of the finest officers in the ordnance
corps, and his improvements and experiments
in his line have gained him great credit.
Two years ago he met at the Arkansas
flat Springs the beautiful Bessie Paschal,
daughter of a noted Texas lawyer, and di
vorced wile of Frank Gasmway. A more
fascinating and lovely woman is seldom
seen than she, and nfter a two weeks’ ac
quaintance they were married. Three
months ago they were separated, and since
then Copt. Wright bad been depressed and
gloomy. After a painful interview with
bur last week they parted finally, she wing
ing her way to Philadelphia and fresh for
tunes, and be ending his unhappy life by a
piilol shot from his own band. The career
of bis wife has been something remarkable.
Seldom outside ot novels and old memoirs
do we know of a waraan exerting such power
over men by the mere spell of beauty.
Gray-beards and callow youths have wor
shipped her, and grave politicians and pro
fessional men gone wild. As a young lady
she was a belle, and as a lovely widow she
exerted a more potent power. Don Cam
eron at one time was announced as about
to marry her, and the list of her conquests
is a long one. A graceful and perfect fig
ure, great, sad, pathetic eyes, fine features,
and a most lovely smile, first impress one
on peeing her, but the indescribable sharm,
the strange fascination of her ways, the
witchery and magic of ber are too evanescent
and intangible for prose. Her beauty, her life
and her lortunes would need the worldly
gushing pen of Ouida to portray some side*
of it; for others the profound analysis of
George Eliot could hardly suffice. As a
figure in the social world she is destined to
reappe ir, and those who have watched the
amazing incidents of ber life since she first
entered Washington a precocious young
witch of sixteen, will not be surprised at aoy
sequel.— St. Louts Globe Democrat.
Two Laws.
Several days ago a white man was ar
raigned before a colored Justice down the
country on charges of stealing a mule and
killing a man.
•‘Wall,”aaid the Justice, “de facks in dis
case shell be weighed wid carefulness, an’ ef
I hangs yer ’taint no fault ob mine.”
••Judge, you have no jurisdiction only to
examine me.”
"Dat sorter work ’longs to de ratgnlar
Justice, but yer see I’se been put ou as a
special. A special hex de right ter make a
mouf at de S’premo Court ef he chuses ter."
“Do the best you can for me, Judge."
"Dat’s what Fee gwine ter do. I’se got
two kinds ob law iD dis canrl —de Arkansaw
an’de Texas law. I generally gins a man
de right to chuse fur hissef. Now what law
doea yer want ; de Texas or de Arkansaw ?”
'1 believe I’ll take the Arkansaw.”
‘•Well, in dat case I’ll dismiss yer fur
stealin’ de mule”—
“Thank you, Judge.”
“Au* hang yer fur killin’ de man"—
“I believe, Judge, that I’ll take tbe Texas
law."
“Wall, in dat case I’ll dismiss yer fur
killin’ de man”—
••Yon have a good heart, Judge.”
‘ An’ hang yer far stealin' de mule. 11l jis
take de 'casion heab ter remark dat de only
difference ’tween de two laws is io de way
yer state de case.”
HAMPTON, GA., FRIDAY, JtTNX? 4, 1880.
The Home of a Hard Mon-
Drop by drop, and thus tbe granite of the
everlasting bills is worn away! Year by
year, month by month, week by week, day
by day, hour by hour, and thus we are worn
away, each Satorday night bringing <i» •
step nearer home.
What do we liv<- for? Why are we here?
What good to others or oureelves ? Who
of us write for others, live for others? Who
of as who really live for ourselves ? No one
who lives for himself cun live for himself,
for he who lives for himself here has not a
frirnd “Over Yonder"—has not planted a
seed on earth to blossom and frail in jtl T"
en.
And there are not many who do ont
how to live. That is, they do not know
how to bp happy—they will not strive to be
—will not try to make others happy. How,
then, can others have the heart to make them
happy— to draw back tht curtains which
care throws over tbe heart, to reveal the
silver lining there is behind every, cloud
in the heavens or hearts.
We know a man who is a husband—a
father. He dreeses well. He appears on
the street and at his place of bn*ine«s like
a gentleman, and is afraid people will think
he is not. He goes to his place of business
neatly dressed, and giving evidence that lov
ing hands have arranged bis toilet. ;
At night be gees to his home, and from
the moment he enters tbe door thereof till
he leaves, the sunshine of the fireside te un
der a cloud—is frozen. He is cro»s, peev
ish, ugly. Nothing pleases him. He' has
no kind words—no smiles, no heart warm
greetings.
In sets be is a tyrant. In talk Le is
coarse, low, slangey, foul mouthed and pro
fans. He acts at home like a moral and
mental slouch. Nothing done at honfis dnr
ing the day suits him. He scolds his wile
and children He is harsh, unfeeling, and in
anger that he te not pleased and made hap
py. He demands all—gives nothing. The
iron statute of a hog is not mere unfeeling
than he is at times. Like a detective, an
eagle, a dog, does he watch everything. If
the house is net in order he frets. If a
child has broken a plaything he > ;cjds and
curses. If the house does not seem ' like a
funeral when he is there he is in his glory,
for then be plays tbe tyrant. No matter
how well his wife, er child, or servant has
done a thing, it might, it should, it shall be
done better, and be follows up his heart
thrust with a cruel oath as a plaster or a cap
to keep it fast iu the hearts of his home
ones.
He iR looked npon aas tyrant—a cold,
heartless man—just as he deserves to be.
Children »re ordered like dogs to do this
and that, to fetch and carry. A kind, lov
ing request —one that is beneath a man I
No matter what economy his poor wife ex
ercised—she is blamed. If she spends a dol
lar for a little article of dress without con
sulting him she is cursed. If she would
please him, to surprise him. to make
him happy, he is m*d. If she doea not
always appear neat, smiliog, happy and at
tractive, be is cross and ugly. The mors
she strives to please him, the more ho hates
her. despises her, as a slave, and holds her to
the ice.
His home is only his boarding house—
his home ones are his slaves—happiness for
others is where he is not. God knows we
pity snch wiv»s, such families. Boldiers on
dress parade, to move this way or that, at
word of command.
How can a wife nestle to the heart, to
the bosom, to the arms of such a husband T
How can she, who is a weary prisoner be
hind the cross-burs of bis selfishness and
tyranny.
There are prisoners in bastiles doomed to
live alone for years. There are prisoners
waiting the hoar of deliverance, and God
alone knows how anxiously Bat th-y are
happy compared to the shrunken-hearted
wife whose life is death, whose heart is but
a circle mass of anchor ice, whose nnloving
keeper is the one who swore to love her for -
ever. Perhaps he thinks he is loving her.
'Chat in giving her his name be gives her
all. And because she cannot be happy with
him, should she smile or feel glad in the
presence of others, his rage iucreuaes, and he
drives her to another heart, or to that pros
titntion whose bitter stings are joys compar
ed to the happiness of the one who is oot
loved at borne.
And who can blame her for going astray T
Who can blame the prisoner for tryiag to
leave bis dungeon behind and roaming, with
out chart or compass, anywhere tor liberty 7
And who can blame the family of such a
man for growing ap despising the world,
home, and home restraints?
They think other bouses are like theirs,
and lose love for all, or they know they are
not, and in tbeir heart grows a feeling of
fear, diitrust, dislike tnd disgust for tbe one
who is by his c«nr eness, selfishness, profani
ty. *nd iovele*sne»s at home, gradually
J rev ting ont the good, the pure, the loving,
the beautiful from bis heart and the hearts
of those he should teooh to lav*.
Haw can children love home if modi un
pleasant ? And whose hnsmess hut lha hus
band’s to set the protecting example ?
Will those who are in and with and for,
and by and of and from each other, in big
homes or little ones, give ns in thought a
chair by their firesides to-night, and let as
be happy with thembreauswby an.l through
love and good influences they are happy ?
and then Ist all who are hftppy in their
homes—in the arms, the love, the kisses, or
caresses, or confidence of their loved ones,
give a thought to those who are in heart
bonduge, who are in fear, and misery of heart
in so-called homes where those who slionld
teach love are practicing tyranny from each
Bundav morn till each Saturday night.—
Brick Pomeroy.
Wesley 1 * Courting Troubles.
In 1949 occurred an odd episode in Wes
ley’s life On one of his missionary journeys
he had been taken sick at Newcastle, where
he was nursed by Grace Murrey, one of his
female “helpers,” a handsome, clever widow
of fonr and thirty, Wesley himself being
twelve years older. He H*ked her to marry
him. She seemed amazed, and replied,
‘ This is too great a blessing. I can’t tell
how to believe it. This is all I could have
wished under heaven.”
Wesley, quite naturally, took this as a
formal betrothal. But Grace had not long
before nmsed John Bennett, a Methodist
preacher, of about ber awn ag* ; and Wes
ley was soon aatouDded by a joint letter from
Greoe and John, asking bis consent to their
marringe. Then ensued a comedy lasting
for months, tbe like of which no playwright
has ventured to put upon tbe stage. Grace
would have been qnite content with either
of her lovers, were it not for tbe other. But,
contrary to all example, it was the absent
one whom she wanted. When Wesley was
with her she longed for Bennett; when Ben
nett was present she longed for Wesley.
Htow many times she broke and renewed
her engagement with each it would be hard
to tell. “1 love yoa," she said to Wesley,
“a thousand times belter than I ever loved
John Bennett, but I am afrnid if I don’t
marry him he’ll rnn mad." That very eve
ning she promised herself again to Benneit.
A week after she told Wesley she was deter
mined to live and die with him. She indeed
wanted to he married at onco. Bat Wesley
wished for some delay. Grace said she
would not waif more than a year. A fort
night Inter she met Bennett, fell at bis feet
and acknowledged that she had used him ill
They were married a week after. This
strange marriage seems to have turned out a
happy one. Bennett died in the trinmphs
of laith ten years later. Grace sorvived
nntil 1803, dying at the ngeof eighty-*even.
For years she was jt bright light in the
Methodist society. Wesley saw her three
days after her marriage, sod once more on
earth. Thirty-nine years after she cam* to
London on a visit to ber son, and expressed
a wish te see Wesley. He was eighty-two
years old, she past seventy. What could
th*-y now have to ssy, except “Hail and fare
well ?’’
A Southern War Story.
In 1853 fonr gentlemen entered their sons
at a boarding school at Cokesbury. 8. 0.
They had been for years intimate friends and
clergymen io the Methodist church. These
boys remained at this school, room-mates
and class-mates, and entered Wofford col
lege, standing relatively first, second, third
and fonrtb. They then entered a law office
at Spartanburg, and studied law under the
same chancellor. The war broke out, and at
the call for troDps they all entered Jenkins’
rifle regiment from South Carolina, and were
mess-inates in tbe same company. Being
near the same height, they stood together
as comrades in battle in this regiment. At
the second battle of Mannassas, August,
1864, a shell from tbe enemy’s batteries
fell in the ranks of this company,
killed tbe9o fonr boys and none other
in the company. They are buried on tbe
same battle-field, and sleep together in
tbe same grave. Their names were Ca
pers, McSwain, Smith and Duncan, ami
were tbe sons of Bishop Capers, Itev. Drs
McSwain and Smith, of South Carolina, and
R<*v. Mr. Daocan. ot Virginia, tbe last be
ing a brother of Rev. Dr. Duocan. of Ran
dolph Macon College. The grave is marked
by a granite cross aud inclosed with uu iron
railing.
A colored Pinafore troupe is threatening
to take the road. We hope it will take
some road leading oat of town.
PrlfMe Theatrical^
‘ By gum! * 4
Mr. and Mrs. Defoe sat before n Mbwrbil
fir* io their home the other evening* There
had been a long period of silence, whna Mf.
Defoe suddenly exclaimed as ahove.
“What i* it, dear!" she responded.
“Say. we’ve got tired of playing games,
and what do yob say to private theatri
cals?"
“How ?’’
“Why we’ll get three or four of the neigh
hors to join in and we’ll itvet a? each oth
er’s hon«es and have regular plays.’’
“Thnt will be splendid 1 ” die gasped.
“Hanged if it Won’t f Wonder we never
thought nf it before. Twenty dollars will
gef us all the scenpry we want, and each one
can furnish his own wardrobe. By gnm !
we’ve got tho idea now J”
“Wbat sort of a play could we play ?”
she asked, as be marched up and down with
tragic step.
“I have it—aha !” he exclaimed, ns he
stopped short. “Don’t you remember I
started to write a play about five years ago ?
I’ll finish it and we’ll bring it out. Now
let’s see how the characters run. There is
the {fount Ditmdnrff, who is in love with
Geraldine the Fair. I’ll be the Count, of
course, ns he is tbe hero. Ife kills four
men, rescues Geraldine from several dangers,
and there is a good deal of kissing and love
making, and a happy marriage.’’
“And I'll be Geraldine.”
“Yon! O, yon couldn’t play that part.
She must be young and vivacious. Let’s
see. I think I’ll cast you for Hannah, who
keeps a bakery near a park in Paris.”
“I'd like to see myself playing Hannah in
a bak ry, I would I” she dofinntly answered.
"If you can play Domdorff l know I can
play Geraldine."
“O. no yon can’t, my love You are a lit
tle stifl iD tbe kaees, and how you’d look
throwing yourself in my arms as the villians
pursue ! I shall cast that little Widow D.
for Geraldine.”
"Then there’ll be two Geraldines of ns!
If yon can play Domdorff with your lame
back and entarrh l know I can play Ger
aldine with Ibis little lameness in mv left
knee!”
“Now yon listen to reason, Mr*. Defoe.
You aren’t built for a Geraldine ; yon are
too fat; your feet are too large; you haven’t
got the voice for it.”
“And you'd make a pretty Count Dnm
dorflf, you would I" she fired back. “You
want te get that crook ont ef your hack
that bald head shingled over, your mouth
repaired ami your eyes touched up with a
paint brush ! I think I see you killing four
villians—ha! ha ! ha !”
“Woman I dc not auger me I” ho said in a
deep toned voice, as he rose np.
“And don’t yon anger your Geraldine,
either!”
“Geraldine I Why, you don’t k*ow a sky
border from a flat 1"
“Dumdorff! And yon don’t know a
Skye terrier from tbe big fiddle in tbe or
chestra !”
“’Tis well I We’ll have no playing here I"
“Then yon needn’t! When 1 play Han
nah in n bakery to let you hug and kiss the
Widow I). or any other woman all over
the stage, you’ll be threo or four Coonl
Dui.idorfM”
“I'll burn the play, jealous woman !”
"If you don’t I will, vain man !”
Then they sat down and resumed their
former occnpaiion of looking into the fhe,
and the disturbed eat went back to the rug
Hnd her dreams —Detroit Free Press.
Gough l * Ruse.
Most lecturers who have been introduced
to their audiences have suffered from tbe
high eulogiums passed upon them before
band by their misjudging introducers. The
natural effect is to arouse expectations that
cannot be met, and to produce marked dis
appointment. John B Gough relates how
he once managed, before a London e«oembly,
to avoid such a result. His introducer bad
pronounced birn the greatest orator wbo had
ever lived, and ended a long and fulsome
eulogy by telling tbe people to prepare
themselves to listeo to loci) a burst of elo
quence as they bad never before listened to.
Gough, knowing that the best effort be had
ever made would, under such circumstances,
fall far short of anticipation, deteimiued to
practice a ruse, and the ruse was to aflret
stupidity. He opened by stammering aud
hesitating, beginning bis sentences and leav
ing them unfinished, until, as be said, tbe
worst speaker in England could not have
done worse. He soou overbeard those ou
tbe platform whispering ibeir disapprobation
aud censure, oue man sayiog : “O, this will
Dever do here, you know. It may do very
well in America, yoa know, but iu England,
you kuow, it is quite a different thiug.” He
•till euhtinnod in his •lull, disconnected way
until awn that he hod a back-ground
lor hi* lethal picture. Then He gradually
adnpfbpj hia nntnrnl manner, and ah sentence
after arntrnce rol'ed nil) vivid and fesonafft
(mm hia lip«, hia andietvs* grew enthniiastie.
and fairly roared their applause. Ha had
never been more rapturously greeted than
he waa then and there. Those who heard
him declared that they had never known a
man to ebaage so after be had ones warned
op ' U
| Jfo Tax Man.
Bill Srocdlcv wa* resting hts left foot on
the top keg In front of a saloon in
Buttle Oily. Sfoutana Territory, tbs last
time I saw him. O') bis heat left knee be
rested do elbow, thereby arranging his arid
so as to support his chin, which rested on
his hand. His clothes were well worn, and
here ami there a rent. His hair stock out
through a hole in the crown «f bis bat, white
the great toe of his right foot peeped forth,
ruddy and cheerful, from the boot. The
whiffs of smoke, drawn front a short black
pipe, curled lazily from bis lips. His eyes
wore hull closed and dreamy. His thoughts
were in dreamland. Bill had experienced
the ups and downs of Western life ; bad
been rich and poor by turns, and was now
very poor. He had grown pbilosopbie, and
looked at things in a way different from
what be bad in bis yontb, when life’s path
way smiled to bim, and seemed rose-gar
landed.
'‘Hello, Bill! been looking for yon,” said
ibe tax collector, coming np.
There waa no reapoust. He repeated t
“Bill, hallo P
“Well r
“Want to collect your tax.”
“Hain’t no property.”
“I mean yonr poll tax.”
“Don’t owa no pole ”
“A pole tax ki n tax on yourself, yoa
know.”
"I ain't got no property."
* But the county court levied this tax on
yon."
“Didn’t anthorit' ’em to levy any tax on
me ”
“The law does, though.”
“What if it does; ’spose I'm gofn* tet pay
for breathin’ the air?”
“Still you are one of US ; yon live here ”
" F didn't bring myself into the world. ”
“Ton exercise the privilege of a citizen ;
you vote."
“Don’t want to yote, if yon charge for it.”
“Don’t yon wnnt a voice in the selection
of officers f"
“No ; if there was no officers yoo wonldoT
be here consumin' my timo.”
“The schools must be supported. Wo
mu«t educate the children.”
“ff yon do they won’t work.”
“There ore other county erponses—pau
pers, and so on. ff yon were to die without
means yon would wnnt u* to bory you.”
“No yon needn’t."
“Why, yon would smell bod to other peo
ple !”
“I kin s»«nd it if they kin.”
“I will levy on yonr property.” said the
officer, growing impatient ;“I will bunt it
up."
‘ I’ll help you ; I want to see some of my
property.”
The oflicor moved on rather abruptly,
while Hill continued, as if musing :
“Let them fellers have their way an’ they’d
make file a burden. Want to assess my
existence; want to charge for enjoyin’ the
bright sunshine; ask me for bshokfin’ the
beautiful landscape ; charge me for lookin’
at the grass grow and the rose nnfold)n’;
charge me for watchin’ the birds fly, an’ oug
cloud chuae t’other."
The eyes continued to blink dreamily.
The whiflk of pmoke reached up in graceful I
spirals towards the blue dome. The foot
falls of the tax collector grew aheenter and i
absenter, — Picayitnt.
Homs one put a wooden Indian under the
bed of a Detroit old maid, and of course she
saw it and jailed, and a policeman came in.
and crawled ander the bed to bring the bur
glar out, and fought the Indian for thirty
minutes before be foood oat it was wooden,
and then he tok) the spinster she was a, gooe
by old numb-bead, and went oat and parop*
ed on his bead for half an hour to get
dust eut of bin eyes.
Thkt say pAfanity wus not knowo in the
world until one day, somewhere about 500<
years before the Christian era, when Aris
tides, chasing from bis office in desperate
baste to catch the last street car, was stop
ped by TbemUtocles, who wanted to tell him*
how the rheumatism had been troubling him.
nearly all wiuter, and bow many things bar*
had tried for it.
NO. 48