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About The Dawson weekly journal. (Dawson, Ga.) 1868-1878 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 4, 1870)
THE DAWSON WEEKLY JOURNAL. B. WESTON, gasoil %fMi r[Ill) i.»V" rncMPAT. 4 ten.**-**** 11 * |H ' ltlv ™ r '' Three '» , »< llh » .*.*..!.*! 1 25 Sii ... 2 no <*» i***-”' _••_••*••• —— ADVERTISI n G RATES : ONE MONTH. , TWO MONTHS | I I THEKK M THB 1 SIX MONTHS ONI X«AR. No. f J o« * 6 00 $ 7 on sl2 60 .fill) 00 Ofll* * r ~~~ ioo 7 60 10 00 13*00 20 00 lfr». 7 (W) 10 00 12 00 20 00 30 00 —" aOOI2 00 15 00, 26 0O 40 00 roCR. 9 v io OO 18 00 2 5 00 40 00 60 00 16 00 *6 00 55' 00 80 00 MO 00 rr.rl a <*> 4o °° 6o on no 00 200 00 'fo JJvrrtl’tm ;-T'.e ™.n«r (O. ad filing coueid-.'rad dab after hr* m.er * Aarorti.ement. inerted .t interValki to Be «sirred *• new each iuseriion. additional charge of 10 per cent will on advertisements ordered to be m "xdrertise**"l* head of “Spe . , Sol ices" will be inserted f»r 15 cents h«» for tho first insertion, and 10 cents 5,, lioe'for etch su-seqnent insertion. S.'reriiseinent-i in the “ Local Column, eilllbi inserted »t 20 cents per line for the jrn, and! Js*ceni* per line for each subse •cent inseriioo, . *!< communications or letters on hn-iness mt( „ led f„r this office shnaM be addressed U, •> THS [laws is JufRSAL ” 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
