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THE DAWSON WEEKLY JOURNAL.
B. WESTON,
gasoil %fMi
r[Ill) i.»V" rncMPAT. 4
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additional charge of 10 per cent will
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RAIL -ROAD GUIDE.
S»iilliw«»l«rit Itsiilroad Pa-»-
avHiser Train*.
#ls HOLT, Pres. | VIRGIL POWER, Sop
flnv. *«"»• 8:00 A ‘ “
Ariht-tfmfauls 5-30 r m
iejreEi'ailti 7:20 A. M.
AwtreatMac. P M
wi h AI «nv branch train a’
£„iih?i le, Mud *»»h Fort Gaines branch train
it CVhhe .
IDfltlU NIS'IT ASD ACC 'MMODATI'N TRAfNS
Ls«t« ,lf<c»n 2.) P. M
Arrir a' Kulala 1 1 :0 " A M
L*»*i. Ej'au s 7:1 8 P. >l.
Arr>« s.lfictm 3:10 a. m.
ffoni«i *1 S nithvlle wiih Al snv train on
if>nd»r, Taesdsf, Thursday end Friday
sights. Ns trsin leaves on Sauirdsy nights.
COLCMD7S PASAKROfKR TRAINS
Love IfscOn
Arrive at Cal . ... .. -..-1 —2 P m.
toveColumbv:« 12:2.5 p.m
Arrive* nr If con «:“5 "• *•
IWMICS SIGHT passknokr train
L"-s(. Vn-.on 7:4tt p, m.
Arrive at Oola'nbus 5:05 a. m
UjU Calnmbus .. .7:00 p m
Itrire at Jf*son 4:4:1 a. M.
Huron anti Brimr wicJc Pamwiii
gpr Ii iiitls,
GEO. W MAIELfIURSf, President.
£mw f*enn 9:15 A. V
A'rite s' Bruti'wick.. ,10:20 rM.
Use Htiieessrek *3<l A-M
and rive at If es'ts .7:50 P. M
train* To n*»Atssvrat.R
Luvei M icon ... .....8:00 P. M.
Arrirr at Hswkinsville 6r3<l P M
leave Htwkinsviile 7:nO a Jr
Arrive at Macon 6:15 A. M.
This train iuns daily, Sundays excepted.
\Vo*l«rn & lilwitiic Hstifroscf.
FOSTER BLODGETT, Sup’t.
SIGHT passenger train
leire Atlanta 7 00 P. M
Arrive a* Chattanooga 3.80 A. M
Ltavu Chattanooga 7.50 P. M
Arrive at Atlanta •. .4 14 A. M
DAY PASS ENG Ell TRAIN.
Leave Atlanta .8.15 A. M
irrive at Chattanooga 4.2tt P. M
heare Chattanooga ~7.1*' A. M
Arrive at Atlanta 3.17 P. M
daltos accohksiiatios.
We Atlanta 3.10 P M
Arrive at Otlten 11.*5 P. M
heave &cfc<m 4.00 A. M
srofr«ioual <Sw&.
._R. F. SIMMONS.
attorney at law,
n./irsar, «.i.
liuOMPT K'tcn'ion given Mr »!? business
intruud to his care.
soglt Sttf
*• 1. Wwrr*. L O. HOYLK.
WOOTEN & HOYLE,
A.ttorneys at X^aw,
c. W. WARWICK,
aU J at Law And Solicitor in Equity,
smith ville, ga.
ll fircuU» ,C 'r < 'ii n S . n "’ h W '‘* ,,rn *’ l ' l Pttao
• promptly remitted.
K - J- WARREN,
attorney at law,
*' 7 ' i '‘ t KSr'ILLE, - . - G.I
INMAN & C 9„
COTTO.S PACTOSS
c . . ASD
°nuiiission Merchants,
l w r ° a ’ ,|Vte TTork.
*5, tf** 11, A S* w j Dawson, Georgia
' Daw§on "Business fatorf,
Dry Goods HercbuiitV,
CRf .li, dTxilCl4EU;yDe«lers in all
kinds of Dry Goods and Groceries. Main
Street.
KITTNIER, JACOR, Dealer in all
kinds of Drv Goods, Main street.
T OVLESS A GRirriN, Dealers
in Staple Dry Goods and Groceries also
and Commission Aferchants, AFiin Street,
TfTrKEMNEY & CKOIICIV,
r'l Dealers in Drv Goods, Clothing, Staple
Ootids and Family Groceries, J/ain street.
aKI7a W . V. Dealer in Fancy and sta
ole Dry Goods, Main at., under ‘‘Jour
nal” Printing Office.
Groeterf NfcrcliaiilM.
FI’EiTON, J. A., Warehouse and
Commission Merchant, and Dealer in Ba
eon, Flour. Meal and Provisions generally, at
'hsrpe k Brown’a old stand, Miin st...
FAmif. kHARFT & CO..
Dealers in Dry Goods, Groceries, aDd
Plantation Supplies.
GREER & SinilONS Grocery
and Provision Dealers, South side Pub
lie Sqnare.
Bool*,, nr. nr.. Dealer in Groceries and
Familv suooUes generally, 2nd door to
Journal" Office, Main st.
MIZEI.Ev If. C. A C*». Grocer? and
Provision de tiers. Seit. door to the Ho
tel Rain Street, Dawson.
Drntfgislsi
piIRATIf lRe V A., Druggist and
V 7 Phv«ieian. Keeps a good supply o<
Drugs and Vedicinea. and prescribes for all
the ills that flesh is heir to. At bis old stand,
the Red Ding Mafn st
J4HE-4 Ac "I.OYI.ESS, Dealers in
Drugs, AF'dicines, Oils, Paints, Dye
S'uffs, Garden Seed, Ate., 4c.
BAKERY.
?L. SOL.OTION, Biker, Confee
• tinner, and dealer in Family Groceries
Fi*h nnd Ovsters, .lOn Street, next to J. VV
Roberts & Cos.
PII.SICIAAS,
nO»\E TT4j|. 11. Practicing Phv
eician, and Surgeon. Office at Cheat
ham’s Drug Store.
Dkn. j. \v. i»;;ice & ioa,
thankful for past patronage bv dost
attention and moderate chargp* hone to re
eeive a 1 cnntiiitwnce of the same. Offi.'e, Dr.
Grinin’s ol'd s'and j *n 13, ts
AA tilt'll l<a-|>airer.
A MEN, .IOIIAI P., will .epair
tVa'ches, Clocks, Jewelrv, J/n«ic Bvek»,
Acco dions, 4c . alwavs to he fnnntf at hie
old standt on Sorth side of Pnhlie Square.
trffery
JiARAUH, A SHARPE. Pale
L and Feed Stable. Horses and jVul s
for sale. Horses hoarded. North side Pub
lic Square.
PRINCE, If. G. & J. K.. Sale.
1 Feed and Liverv Stable, Depot. S re* t
Good horeea and vehicles for hire on reason
able terms. Aptil 14, ly. '
RIR ftOOH.
PAT fA’ARD. Dealer in Fine Wines,
BYandir s. Whiskies, Lager Beer, 4c,
West side public Square, Main street.
n. R. ABAMS, ». K. WASmH'RN, A A. ADAMS
Entooton, &a Savannah, Ga. Ameiicus.G.i
ADAMS. WASBORN l CO.
FACTORS
AND—
Commission Merchants,
No. 3, Stoddard’s Lower Range,
arl3’69;«n Saranrah. Ga
Alt’* H. Colqcitt, Jamks Bagus.
Baker Oountv, Ga. Newion, Ga.
Hugh H. Colquitt, Savannah, Ga.
COLQUITT & BACCS,
COTTON FACTORS & GENERAL
COMMISSION MERCHANTS.
Baysti-crt, Savannah,<Sa.
Special attention to the sale of Cotton,
Lumber and Timber. Liberal advances on
Consignments. Maj'6;tf
BROWN HOUSE.
E. E, 81t0W.7 & SON,
Fourth St., Opposite Passenger Depoi
At a can, Gttorgia.
r pHl3 Boiwe having lately been rt-fifed
1 and repaired, and is now one of the best
Hotels io ihe State, and the most conve
nient in the city. The fable is supplied wi-h
everything the market affords. leblS ilf
LYON, DfGRAFFENXEFB & IUYI.\,
w ift
Jflncon, - - - Georgia. ■,
WILL give attention to PiofVssionil Busi- .
neea in the Macon, South-western, and
PalauU Circuits ; in the U. S Couits, in Sa
vannah and Atlanta ; and by Spevial Con
tract in anv part of the Slate.
Sept. 23/69; ly.
pustltioi fob sale
ram offering for sale a plantation npar
Whalev’s Jfills, in Terrell cotn.tv, nine
; mile» SoeibweM of X>aW»on, eoo'arnine Si
H'tndied acres of Oak and Hiekorv land;
300 acres cleared, with good improvements.
Gin House and Screw, Ac., A '.,
For particulars as >» terms nad price, catl
n„ the subscriber in Ziiwson.
June 16,'f. W *l. KAIGI.ER.
ERRORS OF YOUTH
A Gentleman who suffered for ve.irs from
Nervous Dehilitv, Preniatnre Decay, and all
I the effects of youthlul indiscretion, will, for
the sake of suffering humanity, send free to
! a || who need it, the receipt and directions for
making the simple remedy bv which he was
• ured. Sufferets wishing to pro*> bv the ad
veatieer’s eiperience, pan do so by address
ing, in perfect confidence,
JOHN B. OGDEN,
une3>lj No. 42 Cedar reel, HN.Y
BfcWSOIT, GA., THUItNIMI, AUGUST 4, 1870.
ORIGINAL POE » nY-
For the Dawson Journal.
The Fellow flint AAVur* a
‘*Sh'OOa.y|,ja,t*'
BY SCE Z.VN.
0 ! the fellow that wears a ‘‘shoo-fly,”
And whistle ditto on the street—
The “Grecian bend” with love will die.
For he looks so very sweet.
His eyes are large, bright and round,
Her cheeks are glowing red,
The most becoming hat to be found
7s that “stove-pipe” on his head.
His trowsers fit him to k“7 T ANARUS,”
Which is indeed a pleasant fashion—
For then you know a hungry flea
Can’t get in to take a “rushion.”
When you see on his fingers glimmeriug sett
Don’t ask him il ’tis glass,
For hen he goes out be never forgbts
To take with him plenty of “brass.”
He wca~R his mock diamonds bright,
And jewelry wonderful Vb behold ;
Though g a y and flashing to the sight,
‘J All that glitters is not gold.”.
MISCELLANEOUS.
[From the Atlamn Medical Journal,.-Ingu»t, 1860
*a libit ill llinical Rcnovoluiice.
BY A BE*. MEANS, M. D
Messrs. Editors : Although I pro
fess to be a sincere admirer of that
heavenly philanthropy which melts
the lioart and opens the hands te the
Belief of human suffering, there is in
these modern days a specious kind ol
clinical benevolence, whoso cluims to
my admiration I think- not entirely un
questionable.
When Disease, in the course of its
indiscriminate depredations upon the
health and happiness of our race, has
settled upon its victim in a village or
neighborhood, and the em related
frame, pallid cheek and parched lip
of a suffering fellow-creaturo plead
feelingly for the hand of relief, that
unatlecting charity which is quick to
hear, and swift to obey the call of dis
tress, cluims and receives my heart’s
.highest tribute of admiration, and es
pecially when I recognize it in man’s
amiable and sympathising counterpart.
When female loveliness, regardless
of the studied fripperies of dress, and
the meaningless tormalities of fash
ion, and moved by those kindly and
'benevolent emotions which character
ize the heart and distinguish and eno
ble the soul of woman, is seen pressing
to the house of sickness, and bending
over the bedside of disease, unosten-
Itiously administering by a thousand
kind oflices, to the comfort and relief
of the stricken and languishing inva
lid, then does beauty wear a diamond
lustre, and exert an uudefiuabio but
captivating power over the yielding
soul of our sex—-Winning our profound
respect, and enkindling a deep and
virtuous affection, wlncli the butterfly
decorations of dress, or the ephemeral
blandishments of the ball-room can
never— never inspire.
But during many years’ intercourse
with the alincted, I have frequently
been called to witness sic--bed scenes,
* when the circumstances forbade me
to hope that the short-lived, but often
extravagant attentions bestowed by
! occasional proceeded troiu the
warm region of the heart, where true
philanthropy resides. Such visitors
come, it is true, to visit tlie sick, and
especially on that “first best day of all
; the seven,” on which the laws of the
land and an enlightened public opin
ion, exact a temporary respite Ironi
their secular employment. Nor does
the evil which provokes the present
reluctant stricture, confine itself exclu
sively to any condition of civilized so
ciety, or to any class or caste in com
munity. Its traces are seen in our
populous towns and stcepled cities,
wnile our retired villages aud thriving
country places* give frequent aud put
ent exhibitions ol its prevalence, winch
caunot have escaped the unwelcome
notice of every discerning physician.
On the “Day of Rest,’ these, alter a :
late morning s meal and a protracted
toilet have prepared them, to under
take tlie task, and meet the public
eye, they set out upon their mission of
love (f). Or, it may be, after the te
dious sanctuary service has closed,
and the weary worshipers have baited
hugely, and snoozed snugly for an
hour, "as if to indemnity uieir over
taxed and panting patieuce, that they
rise in reaUMiess to exercise ehanty to
the woes ol the world, and start out
with commendable sell-sacriuce and
re-iuvigoruted purpose, to endure tde
monotouous sceues ol the lingering
day, or while away the irksome Hours
ol its remaining sun-light. There are
seen, men ol high and low degree —
the “gentle’' ami the “simple/ all
clad in their Sunday’s ward-rube, and j
making their way to the homo ol sul- |
Icnng —some tresnly shorn on c.ieek
and cliiu —otliers with countenances
prolusely draped witli Aaroiiie honors,
and unw and men a precocious young
ling, nursing an unfledged mustaeuo,
temler as tue down upon the duck
ling’s back ; while whole bevies of the
garnished lair, swimming in crinolines
aud caucus, silks and luusuus, and ac- (
cuuipamed by some hall dozen restless
i an u rollicking inmates ol the nursery,
unite in tiie cavalcade which moves
I towards the chamber ui the sick- They
' reach the place ol destination. It is,
perhaps, a quiet and retired cottage,
surrounded by the implements and
scenery ol rural life. The ladies en
ter with noiseless footsteps, aud are
ccntly welcomed by some ol the house
hold. In the meanwhile, the doe
skins and danglers who have officious
ly iteriormed the important duty ol
gallants, snugly ensconsed themselves,
with curved spine and well-braoed
heel-taps, upon the top-most rail of
the neighboring fence, to puff pig-tails
and whittlo sticks by the hour, until
tho waning day brings out the softer
sex, to smile them from their perch
and reward them for their patience
by die'soft dalliance of an eYeniug’s
walk.
Tho visitors, once entered, flock into
the sick-room where a- mother or
daughter lies iu anguish—occupy ev
ery corner, and hang over the bed-side
of the oppressed patient, until, from
the want of free ventilation in her
crowded apartment, the romping and
crying of the petulent “small-fry, ’
and the stale, oft-ropeated, aud teaz
ing interrogations of, “How do you
feel to-day f” “Did you rest well "last
night V” “What shall Ido for you ?”
“Do take some soup—try a little but
ter-milk,” &c., &0., the panting suffer
er and her impationt physician, would
most gladly have transferred a portion
of this glut of Sabbath kindness, to
the lonesome hours of tho approaching
night and subsequent week. But,
alas ! this desire, though often inti
mated, and sometimes half expressed,
is unheeded and unobtained. So
soon however, as the Sabbath sun
sinks low in the western skies, and
lengthening shadows begin to steal
across the plain, there is generally a
‘bustle iu the apartment of the sick.—
The sympathizing visitors rise to go.
One, and another, and another, is re
spectively entreated, by some anxious
j friend or relative, to- remain through
'the night, and alternate with those al
ready worn out with watching and fa
tigue, in administering to the wants
ot the languishing patient. The kind
appeal, however, is commonly met
by some apologetic recital of coughs
or colds, or recent accidents, or some
pressing domestic duties just recollect
'ed, which, most unfortunately, pre
vent their attendance for tho night;
but they all, yes, every creature ot
them, “will call again shortly.” In
sooth, tho proverbial adroitness of
“College boys’ in supplying excuses
for absence from morning prayers,
finds many a counterpart in older cir
cles.
But no more can now be urged.—
They all depart to their respective
homes aud fire-sides. The yard fence,
too, t,iat enclosed the lonely cabin, is
now deserted. The lounging idlers ot
our sex, that had peopled its crazy
rails, have left it once more to the om
inous chirp of the cricket, or the
stealthy tread of the scared green liz
ard returning to its haunts Gradual
ly tho subdued sun-light melts away
in the calm, blue West, and darkness
drops her curtain upon the world,
i\ lulo the sleepless child of aiflicUun,
tossing upon tier fever-heated coucli
through tne long and dreary hours oi
night, is indebted alone to tne beneio
lent vigilance of one or two humane
neighbors, in aid of her almost ex
hausted family, lor those necessary
services and nameless attentions whicn
soothe the excited mind, aud rob dis
ease of much of its poignancy.
But night passes away The pow
erful “lxung of Day” agaiu smiles
Ironi the eastern heavens, and mounts
in grandeur up their broad, blue arch,
as if to cheer, by tne very exuberance
of her beams, the lonesome chamber
where the sufferer lies, lie stays not
in his Course, however, until, hi, bright,
uiurnal career closes in the glowing
Occident, while the pale but pitying
stars seem silently to emerge Ironi
their invisible homos iu the deeps oi
ether, to shed their solt and lamoent
light over the deserted earth and skies,
and. whisper ol hope aud Heaven.
For six successive periods have the
vicissitudes of day and night passed
upon the world, while few and seldom
have been the visits to the house ot
disease, until the still, dozy hours ot
another Sabbath, again stirs tho heb
domadal beneVbifenoe of some sympa
thizing neighbors, aud tne sicn-rojui
is agaiu thiongod with ail inquisitive
and officious crowd. On occasions
like these, a scene such as we nave at
tempted to portray in tne dramatic
representation iollowiug, must have
presented itself, ill whole or in part,
to the reluctant observation of almost
every physician who has claims to ex
perience m the practice ol his respon
sible aud benevolent profession.
SCENE- —(-4 sick-room—small and im
perfectly ventilated.)
DKAMATIS PERSON.®.
Mrs. Ailing , (the patient) Mr. Ailing ,
(her husoand.) Mrs (ioodloce , (a
psoas and attentive frieud.) Phy
sician and Nurse.
Mr. Ailing —(Looking out at the on
ly window.) My dar wile—a trial is
approaching for you. Yonder comes
your (Sabbath visitants —their number
largely repleuished by children and
dogs. " I dread your interview with
the idle, garrulous group.
Physician —Mrs. Ailing, conversation
■will exhaust you, aud may superin
duce a relapso, Iroin which it may be
difficult to recover. You must retrain
therefore —keep quiet and cool, and
let your talkative lriemls deal ou their
own capital. Alas ! it is to be regret
ted that their stock in trade is not
likely soon to fail.
(Enter Mr*. Over much, Mr*. TTksasre,
and Mrs. Alarm , with a half dozen
children. All go directly to the
bedside.)
Mrs. Overmuch —Why, raly, I’m sor
ry to see you so low, Missez Ailen’; I
never know’d so much as that yc were
complainin untel last week. How do
ye tool to-day '< What hurts yo 'l Do
you think ye are any better Y
Patient —(With parched lips and
burning brow). Very sick. The
Doctor—must tell—it exhausts me—
to talk.
Mrs. Overmt&h —(Pooping down at
her through her broueu glasses.)
Well, well T I say it How ye have
fallen off since I seed ye. I would
hardly a’ knowed yo. Where is yer
pain F I do wonder es you’r got the
lung fever ?
Physician. —Suffer me to reply, mad
m, as Mrs. Ailing.’s great uehmty
endors it extremely imprudent to at
ompt conversation. Symptoms
omewhat more favorable this morn
ng, and with proper regard to die*,
egimen, 4c., a speedy convalescence
nay be reasonably expected.
Mrs. Alarm. —(ln a loud whisper to
Vfrs. Wisoacro, after tney have taken
heir seats,) La, me ! did you ever set
such a 'natomy ! Her eyes look like
hey were dentil-struck now. I won
der if her nails aii t turnin’ blue ? I
don’t think she’ll live till mornui.
She looks for all the world like my
poor neighbor, Mrs. Mortal, who dit and
t other day.
Mrs. Wiseacre .. —(With- a, knowing
wink,) Ah ! Ive seed a heap of sick
ness in my time. “Ye can’t cetch an
old bird with chaff” She sin a slim
way, I tell ye. Slle's been physic’d
Vrnost to death, I’ll venter. Suse
Trollop told me as how she had tuck
Fust and last, fully a'ruost half a tea
spoonfull o’ Calomy the poison
truck! Jim Needles tuck a dost ten
years ago, and he s had a pain in his
knee afore every wet spell, since last
hog-killin’ time, and the steam doctor
said it was the Calomy. So he tuck
him. through a course of Lobely, and
give him a corn-sweat, and swellered
him up wi’ bilin’ hot blankets, afore
ever ho could get the canker out o’ the
creatur’s bones.
Mrs. Alarm —Dfear me-, alive ! It's
a massy some of my childer havn t
been killed by it already ; tor the doc
tor has give it to ’em lots o’ times,
when they’ve had the fevor, but sur
prizin’ to sav, they’ve gener’ly got
well, a tor a dose or two. (Then in a
loud whisper, glancing at the patient)
—Look how she breathes ! (grasping
her arm, half way between her wrist
and elbow, like seizing a' poker,); As
I m a livin’, she hasn’t got a bit o’
pulse ! Dear me, if Dr. Dozy had
been here, I’ll bet my old gander he’d
a had her up afore this. He smy
doctor.
Mrs. Ovf.rmfch. —So I say; I won
der they havn t had somebody else
here. Do ye think we could prevail
on ’em to send for Dr. Blarney . —he’s
so obligin’ and easy like. He never
comes to our diggin’s, but what he
calls to ax for a drink o water, or
somethin’, and allers takes uip* o«ur lit
tle greasy Bets, and' smacks lips.—
Why, let me tell you; last Sunday,
arter meetin, he walked; home with
our Nance, with a whole gingerGake
in hie pocket for Bets. He cotch her
comin. from the dinner pot, whar
she'd been soppin’ the pot licker, tuck
her upou his kuee, and the way he
did buss her was a caution to old
bachelors Bless the man ! He knows
the valLec of daughters.
Mrs. Wiseacre, —Well, you may
all think as you please, but it aiut my
judgement that all the doctors in the
universal world can save this ’.>man.
Airs. Overmuch, you Old Moth
er Tuggle. She was down, for six
months, lor all the world like Mrs.
Ailin . She used to beg for warter,
jist like this ’oman, and her skin was
not, too, jist like hern, (Winking and
nodding significantly.) I reckon I
can see as far into a millstone as him
that pecks it. And 1 know the doc
tor s truck never done her a bit of
good, and he worked hard, too, arter
lie got thar, aud that mout a been a
matter of two or throe hours aforo she
died. I tell ye, thorn are “slow fevers”
are monstrociuuis lu*rd to break.
Mrs. Goodlove. —(coming in cau
tiously from an opposite room, and
addressing the patient in accents of
tenderness,) Dear Mrs. Ailing, I have
had some nice chic Ken soup made, ac
cording to the doctor’s directions,
wnich I hope you will relish, and
which I know will comfort and nour
ish you.
Mrs. Ailino. —Thank you, thank
you, my kind friend.
Mrs. Ctermi CH.-Missuz Ailin’, won’t
you have me to do something lor you ?
Your head don t lie light. (Adjusting
the p.110w.) Can t you eat something
that 1 could make for you ? That
soup's too wishy-washy. Mayby you’d
eat a little dried beef, or some fried
crab-lanterns. And now I think of
it, I’ve got some number-one sour
crout at home, and I wouldn’t mind
| giviu’ you as much as you could eat.
| ingurns, too, is a mighty relish, fried
I rate done.
Physician. —Mrs. Ailing docs not
deserve such food, I am sure, ma’am ;
and if siie did, prudence would forbid
its use, at present, as it is extremely
indigestible, and unwholesome to one
in her condition.
Mbs. Oveukccb. —Well, but doctor,
only a leetle,, you know : only a few
I moutiuls at a time wouldn t hurt I
' used to give my son Johnny o most
! any tiling he craved, when he had
been sick, and was a leetle on the
j mend ; and if it hadn’t been for an
unaccountable backset he got one day,
'justartera hearty bait o cold leek,
i nock and fried greens, he would a
! mended mighty last. Hut I aiu t a
livin’ es he didn’t like to kick the
bucket that time. Though 1 a rver
! could guess what Rung him back.
PnrsiciAX. —I should be by no
means puzzled to account for it myself,
ma’am, nor could Airs. Ailing expect
a better fate, it' site escaped with her
life, wore she to load her enfeebled
stomach with a ditt wnioh might tax
1 the digestive powers of a ploughman
or grubber, i hope, however, both
myself and Mrs. Ailing duly appre
ciate your intended kindness.
Mbs. Ovebxich. —Y r es, for sartain,
sure, I only meant it for her good.—
Weil, Doctor, have ye ever gin her
any catnip tea, or sweated her over
bitter yerbs vit, sieh as worm-wood,
pine top and Horehound ?—That is
wonderful healm. Mrs. Jinkins, did
it a few months ago. She was guine
about, howsumever, when she begun,
and after a week or two she was te
totafly well.
Physician.—l have not? vet though
her at tho steaming point, Ma'am
nor would her malady ju itify such n
mode of treatment.
Path nt. — Please giro me a littl<
toast water to moisten my lips. (Hen
the three ladies all bustle about, eacl
in the t ther’s way, to s irve her ai
onco.)
Mrs. Wiseacre. —Poor dear crea
turo ! —how helpless she is. Here
,Mrs. Overmuch, hold up her dem
head. Mr. Alarm, run and fetch some
good, cool warter to mix with this 'ei
toast warter, —its so oudacious hot.—
(Patient drinks) —Thar now—it take
'me to know what sick folks hone for.
My old man allers said I gin him co' J
wartor better nor any any body else
‘(dropping her head and squinting sig
nificantly crer her eracked, full moon
spectaeles). Look ee here, Sfrs. Alarm,
(taking her aside) may be I say it that
oughten to say it, —but don t breathe
it to a liven soul, (in a loud whisper)
Es ye’ll believe my racket, es Dr.
Soakum had just a gin Ailen' the
doose, (the cold douche.) two or three
days ago, and ha’ packed her well,
she mought ha’ been a eookin dinner,
or a spinnin’ by now.
During the above scene, several
other groups come in, and. each, in its
turn, sallies up> to' flhe- bedside, and in
stains of melancholy condolence, sa
lutes the sufferer. One fair hand ad
just the patient’s cap-strings, another,
; smooths back her hair, while at third,
pats the already well arranged bed
clothes.
J ust at this lull, in the conversation
al storm, Mrs. Ovennuch’s pouting
son Jimmy, knocks an apple out of
Sairmy Alarms hand, and gets a
'bruiser upon his flattened nose, from
tho fiery little pugilist, when both ur
chins clinch, and puii hair and scratch
most lustily.
Mrs. Alarm. —(Springing: between
them). Bless my soul, Sammy what
do you mean—right here in the crowd
too, and around the sick o’man s bed.
Jerusalem ! —it’ll never do. Why
folks'll think your mammy hadn’t
teached ye no manners But I know
bettor, I’ve been beaten em into ye
ever since ye were knee high to a
'duck. Let that little snub-nosed
knoty head alone, then, Sammy, but
when you. kitch him, out—gin Kiin
“Jessia”—tho little runt!—
The Sabbath sun now began to
sink low in the western heavens. The
group become restless, a>nd ai general
bustle is heard in the sic t room
Mrs. Overmuch. —(To the pationt).
Well I raly wish I could so something
more for you. Bat I must go, for my
folks have been lookin’ for me, 1 dare
say these two hours—but when I get
. where the sick is, I never knows when
to quit.
Patient —(with feebleness) Pleas#
stay —if you possibly can, and watch
t with me this one night.
Mrs. Overmuch. —My dear child, I
be glad to stay, but—but—they all
[ specks me at home, and besides, Bets
squuils like all natur, when she wakes
up and don’t find mammy. More n
all—l promised Mrs. Liddy Pluck to
go down to tho Manynn' with her
tiright and yearly in the morning,’
ana a body must liave rest. That old
rogue, Ike, ye know, is gwino to turn
the corner to-morrow, ’cordeit to law,
aud I wants to see him off.
Mrs. Wiseacre —( to go) Good
evenin’ —Missez Ailin’—l'm sorry to
leave ye in this fix, but I’m trouble
wi lthumaty pains woen I ’spose rny
'self. Ye’.e in a critical siteation, I
take it, and I hope folks won’t sleight
yo. I’ll be back, tho,’ sure tiro, iu a
day or so.
Mrs. Alarm. —Well I mui t be
guine, or it will be dark.
Patient. —(Pleadingly ) Do pray —
don’t all leave me.
Mr Ailing. —Do Mrs. Alarm, con
sent to rouiain through the night with i
us. 1 see all the other ladies are go
ing, aud we shall be left alone.
Mrs. Alarm. —Well, I declare, its
unlucky that I can t stay ; for though
1 sjrt o’jubous that this fever s seten
in,’ yet l would stay any how, but
Luky and Jince, —The pesfcey little
minxes,—have both cotcb bad colds,
and have a runain’ at the nose, and
I’m afraid to leave ’em arter night to
themselves, they kick the kiver otf so,
when one ain’t by eiu. But I liaiu’t
gin ye up for good yet- Missez Ailin’
aud es 1 hear ye’re a livin’ I’ll drop in
agin to see ye.
Mrs. (rooalove. —Allow me to say,
Mr. Ailing, that I came from home,
expecting to remain with your wife
to-night, and render every attention in
my power. I can do so with perfect
convenience, and it will afford me sin
cere pleasure to serve her. Her con
dition is slowly improving, and I hope
soon to see her and yourself at our
humble home.
Mr. AUmg. —(With a grateful look)
Many, many thanks, my dear madam.
Your kindness will never be so. gotten
aud yet y<m have a higher and noble
reward than myself or my loved wife
can ever render you, from your own
approving conscience, aud your btufl
iag trod.
Thus all, save one or two tried and
truly benevolent friends, soon pave the
way for an exit, aud vanished from
the room—leaving the philosopher
and the Christian to deplore' tiie self
ishness and uisinctrity of too many of
our rare, and cent, a-t that loud bois
terous noon day philanthropy, which
submits to no inconvenience, renders
no sacritice and magnifies every trivi
al service, with that silent, unostenta
tious benevolence which cheerfully «n-
VOL. V.r—NO. 25.
counters difficulties, and overleaps ob
stacles, in the order of its zeal to pro
mote tiie well-being of the suffering
and desti' ite. Such a disinterested,
lieavenl inst«.»f^ t —j n the Bible appli
cation U!r. , —neither covet*
popular applause, nor shrieks from
the wail of suffering humanity, but
shines with bright and steady luster
around the midnight couch of disease,
as well as in tho black and fireless hut
.of poverty an in the glowing and
gorgeous chambers of wealth; anti
and in the profusion of its unlimited
goodness, delights in acts of mercy
and krothorly kindness, as much
amid the cares of the busy week-day,
•as during the calm of the sacred Sab
bath.
‘The Worn-out Font ot ’ffpe.•
I'm hitting by my desk. Goorge ;
Before me on the floor
There 114* a worn-out font of type,
Full twenty thou sand • Boore.
And many months hAvfe passed, Georg*,
Since tfiey'were bright and new,
i A ud many arc the tales they’re told—
The false, the strang*. the true.
FThat tale* of horror they hkre told,
I Os tempest aud of wreclf:
Os murder in the midnight hour,
Os war, full many a “speck I”
Os ships that lost away at sea
Went down before the blast,
Os stifled cries of agony
A s life’s last momenta passed.
1 Os earthquakes and of nuicidcs,
Os failing crops of cotton,
Os bank defaulters, broken banks,
banking systems rotten.
Os boilers bursting, steamboat* snrggad,
Os riots, duels fought,
Os robbers with their prey escaped,
Os thieves, their booty caught.
Os flood, and fire, and accidenf.
Those worn oiit types have told,
And how the pestilence has swept
The youthful and the old;
Os marriages, es births and deaths,
Os things to please or rex us.
Os one man’s jumping overboard,
Another gone'to Tekas.
They’ve told us hbwaweet summer days
Have faded from our view,
Dow Autum’s chilling winds have swept
The leaf-crowned forest through;
How printer’s snow hath come and gons--
Dark reign of storm and , st»»ifis
And how tne smilfrtg'Sprirtg bath ' warmed
The pale flowers back to life.
1 can't pre'&hPto mention half
Mjr inky friends have told.
Since shining brk-ht and be4•ot!fa! •
They issued from the mould- -
How unto some they joy have brought,
To others grief and tears ;
Tet faithfully the record kept
Os fast receding years.
Tlie Tidal Wave.
“There is a tide in the affairs of
men that, taken at the flood, leads on 1
to fortune.” Per contra, there is such’
a thing as a storm that may wreck
the heedless mariner who disregards
tlie sights of a coming tornado. At
. this moment, in the history of the em
pire State of the South there is an ap
j parent calm. Tlie tidal wave of pop
i ular feeling is just beginning to ruffle
the surface of our society. The peo
ple, the real people, who have been'
toiling quietly, sufferings patiently, ate
bog-inning to hope for an early eman
-cipatiou from oppression and agoniz
ing uncertainty and suspense.
Think of it! A people born free—
free by inheritance—free by inalien&bla
right—by nature and. education, the
! peer# of the proudest, as brave as th*
mightiest of earth, have, since tho night
of the great war of the States, been
down-trodden in their weakness, taunt
ed in their misery, goaded amid their
suffering, and insulted in their help
lessness by heartless adventurers, and
defrauded by wholesale and in retail,
iiess than a week ago the Congress of
the Unitod States, yielding to ‘lie de
mands of the sobered judgment of the
people, who conquered them, decreed
that tlie shackles shall be stricken'
j from their limbs, auui that; once again
; the peerage of this glorious old State
shall be acknowledged—that once
again her star shall shine with a bril
liancy unsullied and imdimmed in tha
galaxy of the Union.
Yet it is whispered about the streets
of Atlanta, in the halls of her Capitol,-
that a damning, treacherous, diabolic
al plot has been concocted by the vatlt'
pi res that 1 have been feeding and
gorging themselves upon the substance
of this people, to cheat them of the
franchise that Congress has guaran
teed them by the passage of the bill'
t to admit Georgia into the Union.
Fatality bent upon mischief, they
would snatch the cup of joy from the
lips of this people and curse them by'
inaugurating a reign of terror.
A hopeful, and to a certain extent,-
a helpless people await, with breath
less interest, the decision of the ques
tion asked by aid: Will the Legislae
ture, uow in session; i@bel against tho
government of the United States and
again subject this people to the evrJsr
of military despotism, and put off tho
day of the re-establishment of civil au
thority 2
Conspirators, •refrtfember ! A tide is
mi that will bring peace to this
people. Will a faction in the State of
Georgia attempt to turn it back with
their feeble arms, discountenanced and
repudiated as they are by that very
party iu the North, with which' they
claim 1 affiluttwHi, and with the fatuity
of maniacs swffhr themselves to be
overwhelmed, lost and buried forever
out of sight beneath its irresistible
waves 2- The people of the North aro
determined that there shall be peace
iu Georgia; but a- feeble faction of'
“rebellious prolongntibnists” in this
State are “heaping up for themselves
wrath against the day of wrath” by
disregarding the signs that portend
the resistless steady progress of the
tidal wave that has begun to swell alt
over the country.- The people every
where say “there shall bo peace;’’
“the rights of the people of Georgia*
shall be respected.” Let rebellious
prolongationiste take heed. In their
ignornnee and arrogance a few men,
claiming to be Republicans, know not
what they do. They see not the com
ing tide. It is not yet too late to ac
cept it. None but madmen will doty
it.— Atlao'ta