Georgia weekly telegraph, journal & messenger. (Macon, Ga.) 1880-188?, April 16, 1880, Image 1
JOURNAL AND MESSENGER.
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GEORGIA TELEGRAPH BUILDING.
'ESI ABLKIIED1826-
MAOONj ESEDAT, APRIL 16, 1880.
VOLUME LV—NO. 16
WHO SHALL GO FIRST?
"Who shall go first to the shadowy land,
My love <5rl ?
Whose will it be in grief to stand
And press the cold, nnanswering hand,
Wine from the brow the dew of death,
And catch the softly fluttering breath,
Breathe the loved name nor hear reply,
In anguish watch the glazing eye;
His or mine ?
Which shall bend over the wounded sod
My love or I?
Commending his precious soul to God,
-’Till the doleful fall of the muffled clod
Startles the mind to a consciousness
Of its bitter anguish and life distress,
Dropping the pall o’er the love-lit past,
With a mournful murmur, “the last—the
last,”
My love or I ?
Ah! then, perchance to that mourner
there,
Wrestling with angnlsh and deep despair,
An angel shill’Come through the gates ol
prayer
And the burning eyes shall cease to weep,
And the jobs melt'down in a sea of sleep
While "fancy, freed from the chains of day,
v Through .the shadowy dreamland floats
.* Ljafriyi ! J
• I Y^'My love or I?
Whish shall return to the desolate home,
*• My love pr I ?
And list for a step that shall never come,
And hark for . a voice that must still be
dumb,” *
While the half-stunned senses wander
back . { k ■ ■ j
To the cheerless life arid thorny track,
Where the silent roqm and vacant chair
Have memories sweet and hard to bear:
My love or I ?
And then, metliinks, on that boundary
land
My love and I!
The mourn’d and the mourner together
shall stand • *.
Or walk by those rivers of shining sand,
’Till the dreamer, awakened at dawn of
day, •
Finds the sepulchre rolled away;
And over the cold, dull waste of death.
The warm, bright sunlight of Holy Faith,
“r love andl!
My love am
k BAD .SPECULATION.
BY EDWA1SD GAR11ETT.
Time came when he most send for his
daughter, and formally ask her what
were her feelings towards her declared
lover. lie had had no experience in
such things, and there seemed to him
some nameless incongruity about it—
something like writing a love-letter on
lawyer’s brief. His daughter was cooler
and calmer than he, sitting opposite him
In her airy, niorniug dress. O little Jane,
in the shabby mousseline-de-laiHe, with
the darned frills—where are you gone
away, and will you never come back
agaiu ?
“It is a very serions step in life,” said
the father tremnlously. “It is as solemn
as a birth or. 'death; only, unlike those
crises, this is left so "much to our own
will.”
“Not altogether so. Circumstances
guide us a great deal,” Said his daugh
ter Jane.
It was a truth; but out of place, like
a cabbage ia a rose garden. Mr. Bun
combe had exalted “circumstance” only
too often himself, but now the sound gave
him that jar peculiar to our jown -words
when thrown back upon our ear, out of
harmony with our present mood. He al
most thought Jane "must bo mocking.
But she met Ills glance with eyes that
were perfectly sincere and- serions in
their own way. • * • -1 -. • i
“Jane,” B6 said, "^marriage is a veiy
solemn thing. Your life becomes your
husband’s henceforth. You are one with
each other, and must^go together all the
way, bo it wide aud fair, i or scant and
gloomy. You cannot read the future.
No prophet can hint what it may bring;
but this at least : you > should take to it—
truest love and firmest faith, so that yon
can hear all for your husband and trust
him in all< 4 Is it so ifow, Jennie ?”
It was his daughter's. turn to Jook up
astonished. “I think Godfrey and 1 un
derstand each other,” she answered
thoughtfully. “He has spoken to me-
very considerately about : all his possible
future arrarigembnfe. * fh.eliCve he would
I'l*
■ each other for so many years Is a great
comfort.” • .*j jUJ* , £7’
“And you think this is 1 quite enough to
begin with, eh. Jennie?”'asked her fath
er. almost sadly.
iJanSspiiled, amiblushgd—there can be
something mechanical even in a blush—
> for there is tlie' blush of the rose, and the
•blush ogthe pinkJight in the pantomime.
“Well, papa,” she said, “L should scarcely
have expected - you to require a love-
match. They’re often •' unsatisfactory
enough, I’nf sure. We must choose be
tween things, and make the best of our
choice. At any rate, I hive never liked .
anybody better than Godfrey. - The lot Lj^Rf.
shall have Twill suit me. I’m sure I’m
not tit for a poor man’s wife,” she added,
with a lone almost like a sigh', as if
something stirred among i the tendrils of
her withered, worldly youth. < : ’
“Then will you take him?” asked her
father doubtfully. r
* *' She paused, 1 and looked up with those
blue Q-es Of' hers, all'unconsciously so
hard aud keen.', “I shall never do bet
ter,” she said, “arid we have known each
other a long while, and I shall be near all
of yon.” * — ____ _ - u.
So it was settled. Bu? For’daysaiid
day^ ■ after,: while mother and daughter
were merrily. driving from shop to shop,
collecting the trousseau, the father sat in
his study, resting his head on his hands,
and pondered heavily of many tilings.
-His pondering was not thought. His
ledgers always seemed to ‘need alllhe
sharp decisive i ihoughthe had to spare.
It was just raj VortfuaeTK"pondering of Ids'
own sweet limifafASve'vuiking, with all
its eager hope and pure ideal, and how
Jane’s courtship knew nothing of all this.
But tliis had not seemed to dorueito much
after all, and yet surely if ought ! He
was like one who falls asleep over a deli-
— cate web of embroidery, and awakes to"
find the threads in hopeless tangle.
The ghost of his old 6elf .returned to
him sometimes in his ninsings. v The im.
age of the .ardent young man who had
counted wife and babes as the best wealth
of lifej whose temper would never have
been ruffled by a scantier tapfoor a plain
er ro6m,'i who. Chad spoked “Vfo God fri
prayer, and heard his voice in the Bible,
and to whom'the Sabbath had been a day
of rest outside heaven’s gate, but, within
hearing of the sweet sounds within. Was
it all but the enthusiasm serf 1 youth, a
happy dream, the morning dew on the
earth, which tlie noon-tide sun must diy
away._ ne had had fears and anxieties
then, lie- remembered ,them, now but as
gossamers ‘floating on what had surely
been pure .sunlight. He'had trembled
for the stability cf his home, for the. fu
ture of his wife and ■children; but how
much more to him were boms, and wife,
and children then than now! nc might
indeed be wealthier—for lie was now
ounted a rich man—but he was only
poorer in all for which he had valued
wealth—in leisure, in domestic comfort,
in true friendship, in honest peace of
mind. There was another future now,
which troubled him more sorely than the
old one of care and poverty. He had
once felt lrmself a Christian man; he did
not seem such now, even in his own con
sciousness. And as the old beliefs of his
youth rose vividly before him, with the
once comforting assurance of the Saviour,
“Those that Thou gavest me I have kept,
and none of them is lost,” he thought bit
terly that the spiritual grace and peace of
those days could have been only a delu
sion, a very snare of Satan, and that,
after all, there was nothing better than to
be as he was—upright, honorable, and
conscientious; religious, too, in what
seemed to him a common-sense, practical
way. Only there was a beauty about
the vanished dream of which this reality
knew nothing. And he conld have wish
ed that his children did at least see the
vision. For if he had so degenerated
from a youtlxhood which had it, what
would be the old age of a youth which
had never known it ?
A et when he left his study and return
ed to the active side of life, he again de
tected his own peevish, fevered hankering
after out ward good which he foreknew to
be unsatisfactory. Not Mrs. Duncombe
nor any of the family were more dis
turbed under their irritations and disap
pointments than he was, if the cookery
was not quite perfect, orthe parlor-maid’s
attendance negligent. How could he do
without these things? He might feel a
loathing self-contempt at his own anger'
and impatience; but it only made him
more angry and impatient thereat.
Jane Buncombe became Mrs. Godfrey
Mallock. There was a splendid wedding
and a fashionable honeymoon, and a
grand coming liome to a luxurious house.
How different from the time when Henry
Buncombe and Ills Margaret had been
married in an empty church, and had
gone for a fortnight to Hastings, and re
turned to the little den in the Hampstead
Road, only partially furnished too, with
divers of its chambers left empty and
locked np!
“Jane takes it all very coolly,” said
Mrs. Buncombe, as she sat in her dress
ing room, long after midnight, fagged to
death with the gaieties of the “house
warming.” “Young people aren’t senti-,
mental qow-a-days. To look at her, she
might have been married twenty times.
Well, I don’t know but what I’d rather
lie as.we were, though it was liardjiues
at first. But .people can’t have every!
thing.” • •
Yet it did not strike either Mr. Dun
combe or his wife that they might have
'robbed their child of a pearl to give her
a stone, that they might verily have ex
changed her birthright for a mess of pot
tage."
Now that Jane was gone, there was
less domesticity than ever in the house in
Belsize Park. There were few “even
ings” now when guests, aud music and
gaiety kept even the young men at home.
Sirs. Duncombe was often out at her
daughter’s house, and the father drifted
more and more into the mere man of
business. A ledger may be as fascinat
ing aud as deadly to a merchant as
rouge-et-noir to an idler of fashion. It is
the spirit, rather than the game, which
makes the gambler.
So Steenie and Tom were left almost
entirely to their own devices. They ran
into debt, and had to come to their moth
er to wheedle their father. Mrs. Dun
combe used to cry about them, and
“talk” to them. She was sure they both
meant well, and would be two fine young
men when they began to settle down. It
was the cant of the circle she lived ip, and
Margaret’s was not a mind that looks be
fore "and after, aud pierces into the neart
of things. She had half forgotten what
she had hoped for her boys, when tlicv lay
in their cradle or knelt at her knee, and
she was willing to accept an idle trust
that things were not so bad as they seem
ed, and would shortly mend. Not tliat
it did not trouble her. She was really
unhappy about them. But with all her
good-heartedness, she was not a strong-
hearted woman, and lacking her early
discipline of constant and necessary
work, she had drifted down into a poor
helpless creature, who could scarcely have
foregone her afternoon nap and cup of
strong Bohea, even for the salvat ionof
those who were dearest to her.
Matters grew worse and worse. Peo
ple began to talk about the young Dun-
combes, and invitations to parties grow
rarer, and were seldom accepted when
they came. Godfrey Mallock angrily de
clared that he mnst shut his house against
his brothers-in-law, since they, atid espe
cially Steenie, did not know when they
bad enough wine, and were over-candid
and quarrelsome under such circumstan
ces. Jane reported her husband’s words
to her parents, with all the influential
dignity of a young matron. Her father
must really use. his authority, she urged.
She hferself quoted Godfrey to her eldest
brother, but 'for her pains only got a
langli and a reply, that made her veiy
angry with. her brother, but, somehow,
rather bitter.to wards her husband.
It camerio an eadLat last.. c( Ttiere Tr cre
blood-stains .on ,-f.he floor orthe fashion
able hotel which the brothers had most
frequented, and officers of justice hurry
ing to and fro .about the grand house in
Belsize Rark. There wa* a sad, sad story
in the papers, and an honest name dragged
through the.mire of public criticism.
There were the two younger boys, half-
puzzled, all shamed. There was the bro
ken mother, wearily crying out to God as
she had not cried for many a thoughtless
day and night. There was Tom, with his
own reputation gone in the prime of his
youth, telling. the truth plainly—half in
inanfulness, half in defiance—of all the
levity, and sin, and passion, and rage,
which had at last tempted his brother to
lift his hand against a fellow-reprobate;
and had drive a him out to wander the
world with the mark of Cain on his fore
head. Ml
At;d there in his study, with grey head
resting on nerveless hands, sat the old
father. Even in that hard time, it could
not let him be—this costly prosperity of
liis. Clsrks came in and out, among the
policemen, with invoices and contracts
for his signature, and'A single stroke of
Ins pen, made in mechanical obedience to
liis managing man, brought him three
thousand pounds. Wliat did he care?—
except to bate the mon6y. Mr. Mallock
and Godfrey might come in and sit oppo-
sitehim,''Hid" talk stonily aud cruelly of
Steenie—bis own Steenie, his own frank
and inge’niftns boy, whom God had made
for so much better things, and who his
heart-broken father, felt might be nearer
God still, In all.'his outlawed infamy,
than this Learf-bollow son-in-law of his,
who thought nothing to be sin blit crime,
and never dreamed that respectability w
rvmlil ornr tiorol wanAtifitnoA Pit? Inf ! !•:
first days of stormy anguish would return
—that he Would ' give his whole posses
sions just to speak with his first-born
child again, even if it were on his roddf to
the gallows. Anything!'anything, better
than this dead silence, this dull hopeless-;
ness. 'ii
.. And he had still three sons left; but
there seemed a spell on him so that he
could not stretch out a hand to save
them. He could not talk with them,
scarcely in an ordinary way, far less on
the fears and yearnings that were crowd
ing his heart almost to bursting it He
had lost the habit. His children were
strangers *tb him. While- he had been
forming his “desirable business connec
tions,” and heaping up his gold, they had
not been standing still. And lie could
do 'nothing! The power was not in him.
Talk of the anguish of a living soul chain
ed up in a paralyzed body! What of a
heart still loving, left in the chill of a
paralyzed soul ?
Those were dark days too for Tom
Duncombe. In all their recklessness,
Steenie and- he had loved each other.
Both their characters had been full of
good impulses. But in the profane,-un
converted man, good impulses are but
weaknesses!—fatal inconsistencies in
wickedness which surely ruin them for
the wdrld which now is, without availing
them for that which is to come. Without
strong principle, their warm sflections
and enthusiastic natures had been easily
led into all sorts of guilty excess, and yet
had offered them specious chance of easy
return to comparatively innocent society
and pleasures.. No more such chance.
The more reputable companions, whom
Tom liad really liked best, drew utterly
away from him no w. He was an unmis
takable black, sheep. Others, whose lives
his had hitherto touched but occasion
ally, and then with consciousness of low
est mood and speedy return, claimed him
wholly, no longer with a sort of deferent
invitation, but with proffer of sympathy-
nay, even of pity and patronage. It was
a dreadful time for Tom Duncombe.
He shrank from his parents. His fath
er seemed so stem and strange, his moth
er did nothing but bewail him to bis very
face. He shrauk’from his younger broth
ers—he saw they shrank from him. He
would not enter GodfreyMallock’s bouse.
Tlie poor fellow had a sort of half-blind
consciousness that all this would uot have
happened if Steenie and he had never
gone to the Derby and the theatres with
Godfrey, in his fashionable sham-decor-
detonation". As for Jane, whenever she
saw'him, she did not spare him. “They
should have remembered they were gen
tlemen. They should have known where
to stop. She was not proud to remember
they were her brothers. Tom must not
be astonished to find himself shut out of
society. Without being puritanic, people
could not tolerate a man who was mixed
up in a public scandal.”
Tom took it all very meekly from her,
only when she was gone he said to his
brother James, who had overheard her,
“It isn’t the doing a thing, but the-being
found out, that matters with Jane.
Don’t you go on that principle, my boy.
Its fearing man and daring God, aud that
seems to me to be courage turned upside
down.”
Tom wandered in and wandered out,
and sauntered- about. His sOnl was too
sad and galled to return at once to tbe
old dissipations. His heart was empty.
The unclean spirit had gone out for a
while. Should it return, it would be
with the old, old story of the compatiying
spirits more wicked than itself, and then
the hopeless end.
Tom took after his mother. He was
ready to follow, had only too fatally fol
lowed the course that had presented itself
as easiest. ^Jle had a large, soft heart,
poor fellow, and from the time that he
had helped Steenie and Godfrey Mallock
to rob a nest in the great elm at Heath
Castle and then had sincerely but vainly
tried to keep the fledglings alive, he had
always followed bis more daring brother
into evil, and then remained behind to
humble himself under condemnation, al
ways heartily endorsed by himself. Tom
had never been a favorite with the Mal-
locks. Mr. Mallock said he had the
“natural stamp of a ne’er-do-well, and
that if he were Duncombe lie would havo-
put him into the navy long ago.”
It was Sunday morning, in ju3t that
same dawn of summer in "which, sixteen
years before, Harry Duncombe went to
chapel and did not hear the sermon that
was preached by the good minister who
had been dead so long. And now this
fair Sabbath morning, “poor Mr Dun
combe” would go to his great pew- in the
fashionable church. It would be for the
first time since his household calamity;
his two youngest sons might possibly go
with him, but not his wife Margaret. She
was far too broken down. Nor his son
Tom, though he might be lounging idly
in the dining room, as tho others took
up their books and went. Tom never
went. Nobody expected him to go. It
was useless hoping that he would. The
father might see Jane and her husband in
■their own pew. * They- were punctual at
morning service, however they might give
dmner parties and “a little sacred music,”
in the evening.
Somehow, as he sat in church this
morniqg^that other nioming rose vividly
before poor Mr.“Dnncombe. Was it tlie
sunshine or the breeze 4 that brought it
back? He even saw his .wife’s poor darn
ed glove, and the blotty type of Jane’s old
Bible, as sbe handed it to him that lie
might read.
“He gave them their request, but sent
leanness into their soul.”
Poor Mr. Duncombe! He almost groan
ed as he sat. Oil, if he had but known
when he was really rich! If only he had
not thrown away gold that he might
gather oyster shells! Oh if he had only
prayed to God not to let “the cares of this
world” urge him towards “the deceitful
ness of riches,” till all the precious seed
of Heaven’s sowing was trampled dead
beneath his eager feet!
And now it was surely too late. Yes;
too late, lie said to himself. And let his
thoughts career on by unreined despair,
till tliey were suddenly arrested by/he
closing words of the sermon:
“Rend your heart, and not your gar
ments, and turn unto the Lord thy God:
for He is gracious and merciful, slow to
anger, and of great kindness, and repent-
eth .Him of evil. Who knoweth if he will
return and repent and leave a blessing
behind him?”
The words answered his heart like a
a voice direct from heaven. They were
God’s words—God’s words for him just
as much as the exhortation, “Take no
thought, saying what shall we eat? or,
what shall we drink? or wherewithal shall
we be clothed? For your heavenly Father
conld ever' need repentance. ~ But let[ knoweth that ye have need of all these
them talkliow they would, the miserable : things.” . If he liad repented of disregard-
father scarcely heard them, for still in his- i ing that, should he disregard this? Heed-
soul there sounded, like the knell of a "
funeral bell—“What doth It profit thee,,to
gam tlie whole world, and lose thine own
soul, and the souls of thy children ?”
The fever of excitement and confusion
subsided by-and-by, and only left life
very dreary in tlie great house in Belsize
t And he rose from. his knees with a
strange light bn his worn grey face. How
does a man look when, after sixteen years
wandering in the wilderness, he once
more comes .In sight of his father's man
sion? And yet as he turned from the
MpuntoftheLord aiid went once more
toWard^ the moil andsbiTof the: world,
the old spirit that haddoubted “Jehova
Jin:” could scarcely keep from asking
“Whence can help come now?”
“Is the.Lord’s arm shortened, that, it
cannot save?” He lias known from the
beginning of the world, every prayer that
shall reach Him, and He has know how
he shall answer each. The river wheye
the wounded deer shall slake his Hurst
to-day was started from its spring six
thousand years ago. The clock strikes-at
the hour but it was wound up long before.
Say not, -therefore,. “.What need of
prayer?” Say rather, “Lord teach us how
to pray.”
• • •; • •
It was a dull affair, the family dinner.
The roast partridges and the almond pud-
(liugs. tlie strawberries and the choice
wine could not enliven it. Tom was not
present. The servant reported that “he
had gone out directly after Mr. Dun
combe and the young gentlemen.” Tljmr
knew they need not expect his return till
late at night. The boyB tried to talk a
little between • themselves. The mother
was tearful with the ■ sense of the empty
places at her household, board. Mr.
Duncrmbe himself was sad and silent
enough. He had been up to the Mount of
the Lord; but now he had returned to the
camp, and, oh! lie' kne.w that the golden
calf which had wrought such have? there
was of his own making! ’ r ' _y ,
And what had become of Tom? Well,
he had sauntered out with a vague design
of lounging ontho.bcath. He chose the
very narrowest by-paths, at once to avoid
the pharisees who would thank . God
they were not as he was, rand the publi
cans who would hail him as fellow.
He turned down a narrow lane of neat
little cottages, with wooden-paled gar
dens, rejoicing in peonies and hawthorn
bushes. ' He half remembered the place;
he must have known somebody there a
long time ago. Surely' there was- also
something familiar in the trim little e) 7
derly figure which came out of ppe of tlie
houses and stepped towards him. But
Tom Duncombe had not kept life mind in
that active state which must gives name to_
every shadow that passes over the mifrfer
of memory, ne would have thought no
more of the vague recollection r lyyl not
that slight figure as it^assejj him suddep ;
ly paused add turned back to ifiquire—
“Is hot this—Mr. Tom Duncombe ? ”
He looked down-at her. Yes.' The
hair was silvery now, butthe fashion of the
bonnet little altered, and tlie kind, blue
eyes were tlie same'as cler. It was liis old
friend of bun and sweetmeat memory,
kind-hearted, long-forgotten Miss Griffin.
“Are you gomg anywhere very particu
lar ” she asked. It was the satqe Cheery
tond that had once' held out'tempting
choice between Coliseums and Waxworks,
and it carried bim back to the free, inno
cent old days. “Because if you are nbtj
there’s to bd such a good minister preach
at our chapel to-day. -1 wish you'would
come with me; for I’m expecting'a real
treat. Do come.”.
And before he knew wliat lid wis doing,
Tom Duncome consented. j -
' It was :he old chapel of his childhood.
It thrilled him with tender, touching asso
ciations. The same old service. The same
old style of singing. Oh, if Steenie were
only here once more sitting by, liis side,
aud all of it had never happened!
A critic would have said that tjie sermon
was rough and queer, disconnected in
might not please God, and that Ho would
not listen to you.”
Tom looked up at her frank, kind face’
with his sad, weaty eyes. > •,'
“I woidd give all I have or shall ever-
havcifl could be that child agapi,” he
said, and buried his face in his hands.
Miss Griffin was frightened.' H^r life
had had but limited experiences of this
kind of thing. . iai ■*»» wfUio j "***’’
“Dear, dear, I didn’t think it .would
touch you so,” she pleaded, nervously.
“I’m so' thoughtless, forgive me. As for
wishing one was a child again, I’ve felt it
myself. But there’s better before' than
there can be behind us, dear. Wore al
ways children in our relation to ’God;
He’s always our Father. Thai’s, the com
fort of it.” .w
“Yes, for you good people,” said Tom
faintly. i'. r ‘ ' l? ’ r
> “T-here’s none good except. God,“ re
turned the little woman.- “There’s small
reason f<Sr wS sinners Jo draw distinctions
between ourselves. The moment we set
ourselves up among the > just we lose our
Saviour for he came ‘not tq call the right
eous hut sinners to repentance.’ Dear
know to apply to Mr. Duncombe.Ho
cannot'find his own Steenie, but he helps
every such poor prodigal that lie comes
across to another chancei for this world
hnd the next; silently praying, “God send
somebody to do as much for Steenie.”
And he>understands th»t, after all, prayer
ia alt 'tbat-one can do .of oneself, 1 for-fib
can do no more for Jane, who he sees con
stantly, and who, in her hardness : and
worldliness, and vanity, , he feels to be as
faraway as the lostsoa.. .
: And so he goes down to the grave quiet
ly— thankful to God who has given him
to see so much salvage from the home
wrecked by his pride and,:impatience."
For the' -two' youngest ylads are
doing well in the .sight of
God - and man, and poor, hum
ble, docile Tom, having once found his
Heavenly Leader, has never turned aside
from following him. ■ The.soft, easily per
suaded heart is softest and easiest persua
ded..by. its. Saviour. He has passed
through dark days—hard days—days when
‘otionehandp he’ must confront contempt,
ridicule anger rand on Jlic. other! doubt,
suspicion,coldness.’ But lid' conquered
me,” she thought to herself, “I wish I bad . all, and hears bis victory, so meekly that
not got to talk about these things, for Bui he scarcely needs the warning which lie
Miulflntlv rpnnato ** I M r
a weak creature, and sure to be making
blunders.?’
And she was ve
suddenly raised his _
effort resumed something like h& usual
look and manner, and asked her if she
overplayed hymns now, and persuaded
her to go to the piano and slng'ber old
favorite, “Rock of Ages.” And then -they ,.
looked through some of her religious; *7° ®!
constantly repeats to himself.
; “Let him that lliinketh he sta'ndeth,
take heed lest he fall.” i .
r ‘ Agricultural. " 1 '' .
-J. ti « - PRE3EJ1VINQ BOSS. , , .
TKe Uachor und Conditor Zeitung has
orite, “Rock ofAgcs.” And tSeq they P^- P reserv "
. uu ked through some of her religiousi ?* en „ lateIy recoB ?"
books and periodicals, and compared the
physiognomy of missionaries. This—who, ! 2^1’ se ^’ ( -S ie
Miss Griffin thought, must look like the ^^re placecUn a solution of fifty
loved Annstlp John and who had so grammes of salicytic *md, rand a little ......
won the hearts Gf his Monlefthat spirits Of wine, diluted with one liter of mother ran out of butter one morning,
a Chief Who l^d nnee » Jin- i water i afterwards packed away in and needing some before it could be had
nibal had walked'two hundred miles to ®. f
look nnnn his a~od fjtoa-i in death—with they Were found in perfect condition and
look upon his aged' taps” in death—with
the countenance-of missionary That, "bo.|
had so set his face against certain .bjoody i J? ^ eggs thus treated, should keep
and Jfirbaron3heathen rites,' that they ( finally good for a mui longer time, as
had utterly disappeared from the! distri^' j;^“ dv “ ntaseS of
where he Lad worked, though, he himself odder weather m their fovoiv |
liad fallen a victim to the treachery of ■ . ■
treachery
savage enmity.. It was ail simple talk,
mere chit-chat sotfie people might call it,
But it was titter change of air to.Tom’s
soul. ' And change of air cores more ef
fectually than sharp surgery or hitter po-
tipn." -.
: w!ffiy.kad tea fogetheo tpid Tom. ac
companied her co chapel for, her evening
service, but left "her at the door and went
home, : i,-
The great house in Belsiza Park was
very quiet. The boys were out. Poor
Mrs. Buncombe lay in her bed room in
dreartiy lamentation. Tho servants told
Toin that “master was in the library,”
Tom found him there, poring over thQ
great family Bible/ the shabby old family
Bible with pictures, which he had not
opened for many a day. - ! ,?j, S
The fathe.r'glanced at his son; arid has
tily turned again to his page, secretly
groaning under his terrible dumbness. ,i,‘
“Lord, Lord, would that I could speak!
Oh speak to me, Father of forgiving mer
cies.”
voice. He '.wanted* to* be! •,.encour
aging, sympathetic, “"fatherly- ,Rgt
nothing came save a constrained {‘-{im
deed. ’ ...
! “And I went' ttf ! chapel with her-, I
have'Stayed with her till now.. ;.8ho.is»
died his subject strongly. He had lired
out the parable himself, and coming from
the husks and the exile,he gaydnew touch- ;
es to the old, old picture.'‘Poor Tom
Duncombe, still among the swine, with
the veiy husks failing, felt a hand sudr
denly laid oq his jsoul. .i q,.
It was the first time for many a day
that lie had been in a place of worships
and this was one hallowed with the .'.asso
ciations of innocent .childhood—tender
with memories of tho^ost brother and the
changed home. They se6med all in the
sermon. It might not have been heeded
without them, without* it, they would
lfave'ended in a useless pang and a des
perate throw for forgetfulness. The har
vest depends chiefljron the soil and the
seed. oLet the' sowers be humble. For
without fitness of these they can do noth
ing, and with it a mere bird of the air
may do as well as they. |
Miss Griffin had expected another kind
of discourse, and her first impulse was to
feel a little disappointed. But one glance
at the face beside her, silenced even her
kindly criticism. How can one say a
slight ing word of the roughest rope that
has saved a drowning man ?,
She invited Tom to dine with her, arid
he went. She was a kindly, honest little
woman, and her heart yearned towards
the poor prodigal that she had known a.
"happy, bright-faced child. She was not a
Woman to dare to think of aiding" a^cou-
versiou—was far too humble to hope that
W? „
the food which otherwise might only tie-'
imperfectly digested. Actual experi
ments carefully conducted have demefo-
strated that where two hogs were fattened,
pne fed salt in tee food, the other with
salt excluded, the one fed salt food fat
tened very miiChr faster and in several
weeks’ less lime. It exceeded' in weight
by a considerable proportion Itpe onti : fed"
wjthout salt in its : food. Stock should
kaye free access to salt, and they will on
ly fake what is 'needfulj hut |pthey are
left without it for some time, a surfeit is
often taken which operates injuriously. *
TO CUBE FOOJ-BO.T 1ST -SHEEP. ’
The preparation of the foot is just as,
essential as.the renie'dy, for' if! every part
of the disease is not laid bare, the remedy/
will not effect a cure. A solutiou of blup
vitriol as strong as can bp made, and as
hot as you .canbepr your hand in, even for
a moment, having theRquid three or four
inches deep! or deep enough, to coverall
the affected parts; then, hold the diseased
, ... . foot in this liquid ten minutes, or long
voice, crying m tho - my boy.” L * , ■ ' ' | . -i enough.to perietrate-to all the diseased
... j Aud there wai thp faded writing,, 4ri ,a. parts; put the sheep on a dry
ft-nm dr.-,, of y 0U ng man’s plaifi, film hftid 1 — k ' --- ■*
, ,“As, for me arid my'house, we will>ae:
the Lori”. ,Y.V. k '' ' : * -_ v -»H
,>§ValIiqy fault,Tom,” said.the. pld,
mam re wrote mairimon over that in my
heart, 1 ,’ arid,liis grey‘head dropped on .the
ygllpw pa raas.he.nioaried: “O [Steenie!
my 8oq,wpuJi!p'oa ! haq died for thee,’
my son, my son t
t __ w his
preacher liad been a wild, bad man once; father’s eyes arid understood them- Oh
he had done evil as he could! Ndw jie j could any one* misuridterst arid'the eyes of
wanted to save sinners. ! ’... .a dumb man, pgohizlng to cry >out a.-wel-
It was not such a sennon a3 Tom’s . come to one who was' lost and is found?
father bad needed sixteen years before-J “Father, I liaVe givcn you a great deal
It was not a sermon to, probe the shell. of trouble and Sorrow. Will you forgive
of self-rigliteousncss, nor yet "was it meet. me.arid help me begin totry again ?” • J
for the building up and perfecting of a true ' The father stretched out -his harid si-
saint. The work of God’s spiritual world j lently. '” " ,.’j
is as diverse as tlie work of physical crea-! “I would not ask for your pardon be-
tion, and calls for as many kinds of in- 1 fore I’ve liad.tjirfe to show repentance,”
strument?. If there was but the sculp-_ said poor Tom,’“but Ilhirik to know that'
tor’s burin, and the dainty lawn-mower,' I’ve told you to expect'me.ta he^dilfererit*.
wliat would break up the granite boul- wijl help me to be so. T^y to hope for'
ders, or hew down the forest ?. j The rough j me, father!” ’
tools ’
[place ■
but how
out them H
the Mount, came the
wilderness.
Tlie text was taken from the story of young man’s plain,'
the Prodigal Son; and the preacher han-
GRANT8JGU CK
A Characteristic Anecdote.
A prominent Republican Congressman
is responsible for the following in the Cin
cinnati Commercial:
If people think that Grant is indifferent
tri the nomination, they are greatly mis
taken. I will tell you a conversation I
once had with Grant, bfit I.don’t wish it
published, as some might, think that I am
committing a breach of honor - in repeat
ing a private conversation. It was about
tlie time that Graut’s name was first men
tioned as an available candidate, for the
Presidency. I was on a train going to
Washington, being a member, of the
House at that time. Grant got on the
train at Harrisburg, and we rode to Wash
ington together. .
Well, I wanted to hear some expression
from him about bis candidacy, and he re
plied that he had some doubts about hb
being able to get the nomination. I then,
in order to draw him out, reminded him
of Zachary Taylor .at Coipus Christi. How
he had happened to be in command there
at the’first outbreak of Mexican maraud
ers, that terminated in the Mexican war,
and how pure accident and the exigencies
of that war had made an humble"border
Colonel President of the United States;
aud I added that it was more frequently
the smallest things that made men great
than the pursuit of a well defined ambi
tion.: He sat musing for a time after tell
ing him this story, and then, turning
around to me, said:
“I’ll tell you, H——,, there’s something
in that, aud lent tell you of a smaller
circumstance than Taylor’s. When I
was a boy, living in Georgetown, my
A writer oft fungus growths says'their
cost to agriculturists is many millions of
dollars. 1 They blight hb fruit trees from
the seed; they blight his grain crops more
or less every year; they blight liis fruit
from-blossom to its end, pursuing it with
a determined hate; they mildew his beans
and peas; they impair his corn and pota
toes; they poisonous hogs and .disease hb
cattle; they destroy hb loved -ories often
with ' insidious disease; and, then, rot out
lib store-houses, hb dwellings, and eveu
fasteningnpon himself chains at last, as
fit ground on which to ripen their spores
•for deadly work on others. No pest b so
deadly, none so insiduou3 in its jvorkiugs,
riofte'so varied—meeting us everywhere
and under almost all conditions. Insig
nificant in themselves, their yery obscurity
gives them the best opportunity for doing
us injury.—Prairie Farmer.
■< U".:. SALT FOB STOCK.
1 The value of salt for stock cannot h 3
overrated. It is an undoubted fact that
where animals have ‘ unrestrained access
Tom sat dowri gentijria a ahair,nearly to salt st all times, many. of the diseases.
opposite, and for a riddle there .was’m- to which they are liabla-'are warned off
lence. '■-iq andynreveirted by.-.
“Father,” said Tom softjy at last, ,“I
m'et Miss Griffin this morning.” ; , „
Mr. Duncombe yearned towards, a
something he heard in foa < sonfq
vnirn. He ' w!mted*?to he -. encour-
keeping tbs ' System'
regular. . Farm "anfmals, when kept' oil
grass or green succulent feed, J naturally
take -more salt than wheu kept ou dry
fodder. Salt assists digestion by increas-
Ingthe fiow of saliva, aiding-also further
by promoting thirst, and a constant floyv
'i}F‘fluids assist in dissolving much 'of
ijrapn l , f. r - V
“It was for qur sakesyou did it,father,”
pleaded Torn. -JSYou’a rievpr have .been
teqaptpd but.for.us*j f 'Pm.sure j it was not
for'your, .own .bapg^rieM! Father, bow
can you expert me .to take heart to begin:
again, unless you wili^youfoelf?? ., • n n.
Long and Jofig the-, faaer and semsat
closeted together. Tlie boys came home,
and the servants got the supper ready, ana
yet the bell didhnotiring.' And when it
did, Mr. Dancombe’s order,Was simply^
tins: ' •*.«» bna «f; . « } • "!'m» i
“Call Mrs. Duncotobe, andlet'everybody
else in tbe house come:heie.”- . , ■'
Poor demised Tom, -poor'torn black
sheep, had been the first to -find the way
back to the fold, by the humble way 1 of re
pentance and humiliation. And straight
and narrow ilsaithat .path might be,
there was nevertheless an awfhl grandeur
about it. Npt even tlie little ilight-mind-
ed, idle foot boy,, foil inclined io titter as
Tom’s fine voice' trcftfolingly' started, the
good old hytain hefflfid hhritd once "before,
that day; and the shortness of 'Mr.’Dun-'
combe’s prayer;but addedtp its force.
“Father, wg.haye .sinned, against 'Ifo^v-'
en and before Thee, and we’ are no. more.
she might drive one nail into the urk of a 1
soul’s salvation. But she Wanted tp.be,, hearts.** ^nifot give thorn to Thee,
good to him-to let him feel that' dveiy-1 ^
Jody had fl
that there
1U TTe 5 «at down in the Hriihhle little rod™ Tcouia; we come to ifteo co unao it. Don
to toe hon^cold d “ ? Therefor the sakeofXh*life,and: dqath of ot
such self-revelation as ^anything which 1. ~ --
throws us back on the past.. By the places
and ways that have .never changed, wo.
best see the changes In ourselves.
•Lord, we ask it... Amen.’',j
• • 4 V' j *U.->yli-fl
How dld’it end?' 1 ' •**•«* ! •*-'« ,.U V
The Buncombes. stiLMlve.in the great
5 - v, .. . _ • • house at Belsize Park. 'iThe father and
Miss Gnfiin -asked a blessing, and ; mnt.hecgling to ,t as the old nest whence
then _went on cliattirig _ in _her- simple, their boy was blown outiiito the' cnrel
. ^ * rmJ:. - 'J Li xLi*. ^ w. mJj* M
cheerful way. Asking afipr Jane and lier
baby. Talking of old njigbbors yiio .liad
died or gone away. Bringing to mind .all
the quaint details of tire old child isi ex
cursion days. ■ Tom ansriered arid talked
as best he might, until she i lighted An an
anecdote of a time .when,, she h^d taken
him tostay With her'for“a ’ while, a .little
mite of six or seven, (in trutji it'was
when his youngest 1/rother.was bo.rnJ.
world.' Their ! old acquaihtaifces' T ‘pro!- !
nounce them “to. be almost gone out of
society.” But 'though Mrs."Buncombe
never went to another party at Heath
Castle, she scent nearly a fdrtriiglrt fhefo-
last winter when Mrs. Mallock hid ft par
alytic stroke. Mrs. DunconAic Is stronger" 1
now than, she has been 'fdr years, and
works almost as liardin. other homes
rilip nncp . ri in linr nwn. * Youtut "Mi
less of the departing congregation, the
poor successful merchant knelt down in
his pew, and once more he felt there was
verily a Father God who listened while
his soul-cried out—
“Lord thou hast rent niy heart for me.
Thou only canst turn it to Thyself. Thou
Park. The father Went again to liis offi- , art gracious and merciful. Thou art slow
ces and warehouses, and knew that his to anger, else I should be utterly consum—
own clerks, and porters spoke of him as cd. Lord thou kuowest If Thou w ilt re-
“poor Mr. Duncombe.” He returned to tum aml pardon and leave a blessing be-
lus desolate home, where Margaret sat, hind Thee. Oh Lord I have led my cliil-
always weeping, until she had wept so dren from Thee. I cannot lead them _ ... _ ..
long "that slw could weep no more. He back. O Lord, have mercy upon ma, a ! and I told you to say them standing", inactive life, but yf anybody wants help are invited to call arid examine the"nov
would sometimes almost long that the sinner.” 1 Poor little dear, you were afraid that in an unostentatious act of mercy; they elties in her line.
_ she once, diil iuher own- 1 Young Mrs.
“You were suriltra little mischief,” sbe j Mallock is very dngiy, and (tolls her bus-V
said, “my olftcabdid not know children,! band tii^t “since Stccniri’s disgrace, ma
aud could not understand jou; at all, ***’" '
remember he 61tmb*e'|l tf.oi kitchen t
board to get-away from you. and you tried i people, aud behaving
to follow him and fell and hurt your knee, i grandmother to them all,
It was a bad.fall- and frightened,me,,}jut from renswing friendship ri ith that Slisd
you boys are so determined. to‘bc"bjave Griffin. Fancy' taking out sudi a .fright-
,'It ali comes
. bare flooi;
for fiwepty, hours" "to'/ gwe . it a chance
to take effect. In cv^ry case where I have,
tried it, it has; ^ffocted a pure, and I
.have never given a sheep,, medicine inter
nally for foot-rot. The remedy I, call,
dead, shot when the foot is. thoroughly pre
pared, but a more , expeditious way, and
where you hardly hope to ^exterminate
the disease but keep it in subjection, is
this : After preparing the feet as for the
vitriol cure, take butyr of antimony, pour
oil of vitriol into it slowly until the heat
ing aud boiling process ceases, ami apply,
with a swab. This remedy works quiek-
er, and is stronger than the vitriol, and is
just as safe, but its mode of application
renders it lee sure.—OMo Fairmeri-.
■ Atigusta Iteina.
Augusta; Ga,; Aprff lS.-^-ileavy frosts
for the last three nights have killed r both
fruit and vegetibles in this section. The
dturia^e has been exfousive. ’' . \ ,7
., ,Dr. MT. E. Bland, who vis shot in, jin
election riot at Edgefield, S. C., yester
day, died to-day.
At a,meetlng of the Georgia Railroad
directors to-day, a contract for.five years
.With the Louisville and Nashville Rail-‘
road, was confirmed.
X threat. UlMovtty by i»'Grcntlliui!!
TliiyJ primarily, is what IVamer’s Safe'
.Nervine 13. The great man, is one of the
most,'famous living physicians. He found
Jt harmless remedy for all kinds of paui,
others improved it* arid the'final result is,
the Safe Nervine pow manufactnred only
by H. H. Warner & Co.
FroipHi"well-known citizen of Chicago:
CmcwfiBo, III., January>1, i860; •
£L_U. Warner & Co., Rochester, N. T.:.
, Gentlemen—I have,Used gamer’s Safe
Kidney and^Ldver Cure with the greatest
satisfaction. It is the, only remedy I have
ever !.used" that jf can recommend to my
friends, m .it'.' hits ’cured mo of Bright’s
Disease of long standing, after having vis
ited the White Sulphur Springs of Yir-
ginia, and trying" innumerable so-called
“remedies” of the day. Having resided
here for foiJy-scVen years, my friends will
,be gjlad-to see fliis statement. The-dis
coverer is, indeed,a public'benefactor.
Wxr. HI Patteksow,
1,491 Wabash avenue, near Twenty-ninth
street. ' ,. . , ‘ aprl4-lw
' The hnmerise rush at tlie New York
Store, - at the closing 'out of tlieir retail,
stock, is a sufficient guarantee how goods
ate being sold, ri-cm ■ aprld-lt
Bemsmbeb we must disjiosc of our i-c-
Nn. Ik S. Rees
will-open 011 next Thursday and Friday
that you did not make much fuss. Only ' in the carriage; rind still mamma will do , tho largest stack of imported PaUeraBou-
when you were going to bed you found 1 it.” i nets and Hats ever brought to this city,
yon could not kneel to say your prayers, | Mr. Duncombe has ceased to mix much Her customers and the public generally
at the store, she sent me over to the next
door neighbor to borrow some. Well, I
was just as well acquainted there as I was
at home almost, and opened the door and
went in without .knocking, and just as I
went in, one of the folks—the old gentle
man, I believe—was reading a letter from
a son who was in West Point. Well, I
didn’t want to disturb them while they
were reading the letter, and stood there
and heard what .was read. Well, the son
said-in this letter that ne had been found
—that is, '.he had failed' to pass
examination, and he would have
to come home, and he had sent the
letfou>QC mail ahead, so that the surprise
at bis return might not be so great. Well,
when they got through, I borrowed the
butter and took it home, aud then rushed
down to Thomas L. Hamar’s office—he
was our Congressman then—and I asked
him if he wouldn’t send me to West
Point. Ho told me that he couldn’t send
me until this other hoy got through, and
that wouldn’t be for three yearS yet. ‘But,
Hamar,! said I", ‘suppose this boy should
fail to pass examination, and should he
sent liome, will you send me then?’
“Well, Uly,” said he, “I guess if he
can’t pass there’d be no use of you trying
it.” - - •
“But I want you to promise that yon
will send me,” said I.
.“Ali -right,’,’ said he; “if he can’t get
tftrougft X jHvmiau to. let you tty.lt.”
“Well, during the day Hamar heard
about the other fellow, and the next day I
.went and asked if he had heard the news,
lie-said he had, and after laughing at me
-for the,way I had got him to make the
promise, he said it was all right, I should
go. y. T eil, I went, and because my moth
er happened to be-oiit of butter, lias made
me General : of the army of the United
States,-and I don’t know, after all, but
whafiib may make me President.”
“You gap. draw your own conclusions
as to whether Grant is anything of a
schemer,”-laughingly said tbe gentleman
to the writer, as be brought the conversa
tion to a close.
A FLYING-MACHINE.
Professor B-itchell’s Proposed Aerial
, r _ Voyage to."the North Pols.
. Professor Ritchcll made a flying ma
chine about two years ago that would re
ally fly. It went up or down at the wish
uf the operator, went forward and back
ward, .turned around, remained in one
place, or went to any desired point—in
short, it proved that a flying machine was
possibly though it fell far short of realiz
ing wliat its projector hoped for, and that
while navigation in the air was possible
.under oertain conditions, there were cir-
cqanstancea when it was not practicable.
The macfcineiwas .exhibited at Philadel
phia, at the Permanent Exposition, at
Hartford and subsequently at., Boston.
Its performances excited wonder and sur
prise, and indicated the correctness of the
principle upon which its construction was
based, even if it did not go further. But
-even flying machines lose their novelty as
a showpiece, and Professor UiteheU is
now in tlie field with a new proj
ect, suggested, e perhaps, by Commander
Oheyne’s grand scheme of reaching the
North Pole-Tby wroufcutic voyages. Pro
fessor Ritchcll says : “I will go to tbe
North Pble in my airship, and the very
reasons -'that will keep Captain - Cheyne
from reaching there will be the ones by
which I will be able to succeed. In carry
ing out this idea, he has built a working
model of the airship he proposes to send to
the Arctic regions. It does not materially
differ from the one exhibited a few
months ago; The lifting power is in a
horizontally placed cylinder of gossamer
cloth—fine linen coated with India rubber.
It is charged with hydrogen gas, made by
the usual process from iron turnings and
sulphuric acid. Broad bands extend
over the cylinder, which is about twenty-
feet long and- fifteen feet in diameter,
narrowing toward each end. The bands
are fastened to a light, strong rod, from
which the car is suspended. Tlie machine
is sliaped something like the skeleton of a
cutter sleigh, on the top of which is the
operator's seat.
THE FBOPKLL1NG PBOCKSS,
In iront of the seat is a cog-edged wheel
about ten indies in diameter, with double
haridles, geared to a four-bladed fan, mov
ing horizontally beneath the operator.
It can be turned 2,500 times a minute.
Tlie blades of the far are of strong wood,
and each has a superficial area of about
fifty square inches. The blades are set
like those of a propeller—that is, at a
small angle with the screw which turns
them. This constitutes part of the lifting
and drawing down'power. The gas rais
es ninety-nine pounds of every hundred to
be lifted; tlie fan takes care of the other
pound. The operator, wishing to descend,
reverses the wheel. From the front
of the frame reaches out two rods,
carrying at their extremity a verti
cally working fan, revolving 2,890 times a
minute. It is exactly like the propeller
of a steamship, except that it can be
turnod by the operator’s foot from right to
leftrind vice versa, and thus it becomes a
rudder as well.' It wilt send the machine
forward or take it backward, and also
change its direction. The two fans can
he worked together or separately, the ma
chinery being simple and quite within the
control of the operator. Such is the plan
in tlie diminutive by which Professor
Ilichtell hopes to reach the North Pole.
The machine ho now has will carry one
man. It lias been tried, and al
though much ' like the one ex-1
liibited before, it has many im
provements, is more easily con- j
trolled and perfectly balanced. Instead j
of worsted hands around the gas cylinder i
the professor proposed to have steel ad- j
juslable bands on the big ship, which will
compress the gas in the bag or allow it to
expand at will. This arrangement will,
he says, counteract the influence of the
cold weather in the high latitudes. Ha
believes ■ he can make headway
against wind blowing at the rate of ten
miles an hour. The machine has already
traveled against a six-mile wind at a fair
speed. Further details of his proposed
pleasure trip to the pole the professor has
uot yet formulated.—AT. Y. Herald.
Decisions of Supreme Court.
BENDERBB APBIL 6lH, 1880.
{Abridgedfor the Telegraph and Messen
ger, by Bill * Harris, Attorneys at Law,
Macon, Ga.)
Fuller vs. Arnold et ux. Certiorari,
from Pike.
1. Where a motion to dismiss a certio
rari was made and overruled, but no or
der was entered on the minutes; and at a
subsequent term the same ground was
again urged on a' new motion to dismiss,
there was no error in allowing the order
to be entered nunc pro tunc, and holding
that ground to be res adjudicata, no
exception having been taken at the time
when it was made.
2. It is not necessary to attach to a peti
tion for a certiorari a certificate of the
magistrate that costs have been paid and
security given, bpfore the sanction of the
judge can he obtained.
3. Before a writ of certiorari can be le
gally issued by the Clerk of the Superior
Court, there must be filed in his office,
within three months from the decision,
both the petition, sanctioned by the judge,
and also a certificate of the magistrate
that all costs have been paid and bond
and security given, or a pauper affidavit
in lieu thereof. Where the magistrate
did not sign such a cert ificate within three
months from the decision, the certiorari
should have been disriiisscd.
Judgment reversed.
Persoll et al. vs. Scott, administrator-
Equity, from Rockdale.
Where a father advanced to his son a
“wool carder,” of the value of one thou
sand dollars, and afterwards took posses
sion of it and used it, he thereby became
the debtor of his son, and the statute of
limitations would run as well against such
claim as against any other debt. If the
claim for the use of the property was
barred before^the death of tbe father, it
would npt be a proper deduction from the
advancement in a settlement of hfs estate.
Judgment affinried.
Ellis vs. U. S. Fertilizing and Chemical
Co. Complaint, from Spalding.
1. That a verdict for the plaintiff is toa
small is not good ground of exception " by
defendant.
2. Where a father and son lived lo-
jelher, the latter cultivating a part of the
ormer’s laud and attending to the entire
farm, and the son went with his fatliec’s
wagons and teams to purchase guano, it
was admissible to show that in making
the purchase, he stated that the guano
was for the use of both of them. This
fanned a part of tlie contract. The effect
which it would have on tbe father would
ribaend. profit _<*£ .tlusagepcY-OfHie snn.
3. Where one of twn paj-f must sutler
by reasomof the fraudulent conduct of a
third, he who places it in the power of tho
latter to perpetrate such fraud, must lose
rather than the other.
4. Where a son obtained’guano on a
credit by fraudulent representations that
he was purchasing for himself and father
jointly, and ou discovery of the fraud, the
agent of the vendor demanded a return of
the guano, and was referred to the father,
who agreed to lake it and useit it a speci
fied deduction should be made in the
irices, which'was assented to, he thereby
jecame liable as an original contractor.
Judgment affirmed.
Georgia Railroad Company vs. Cox.
Case, from Newton.
Wb«re the evidence as"to the diligence
used by the employes of a railroad was
conflicting, the presumption of negligence
being in all cases against the company,
and the jury find for the plaintiff, and the
presiding judge is satisfied with the ver
dict, this court will not interfere.
Judgment affirmed.
Black vs. Peters. Appeal," from Rock
dale.
The county court of Rockdale county
being governed itry the same law in re
spect to appeals as justice courts, an ap
peal therein must be entered within four
day? from the decision. H is not sufficient
that it be withiu four days from the ad
journment of the court at which the de
cision was rendered.
Judgment reversed.
Scott vs. Taylor. Equity; from Rockdale.
A bill filed by a sister against a brother
to compel the conveyance to her of cer
tain property, the title to which had been
taken in bim under a purchase made by
her, to secure tbe payment of the notes
for the purchase money which had been
given by him, and upon a verbal agree
ment to convey to her for life with re
mainder to herchiidrezi, on the payment
by her of said notes, which payment she
alleged had been made, is not a proceed
ing to change the deed to the brother
from a fee simple to a l conditional title.
Evidence of such agreement and payment
was admissabie, without infringing the
rale that it is not competent to engraft an
express trust-upon-a written deed by parol
proof.
Judgment affirmed with directions.
McAllister vs. the Singer Manufacturing
Company. Complaint, from Rockdale.
1. A plea to a suit on a foreign judg
ment which appertains wholly to matters
occurring anterior to such judgment, and
'whidh, with the exemplification of the
record, shows great negligence in failing
to set up such defense to the original ac
tion, was properly dismissed on demur
rer; especially where the facts pleaded
would have constituted no defense.
2. Since May 1790, the records and ju
dicial proceedings of tbe courts of any of
the States are admitted in any other court
within the Unibed States by the attesta-
tion-of tlie clerk and the seal of the court
annexed, together with the certificate of
the judge that the attestation is in due
form.
Caldwell et al. vs. Williams. Claim,
from Spalding.
1. Where -the court has jurisdiction of
tlie person and the subject matter of the
litigation, aud the parties in open court
enter into an agreement in relation there
to, which is recorded on the minutes and
approved by the judge,. it is binding upon
the parties. The more especially is- this
so when four days elap:e before a verdict,
which is the subject matter of the agree
ment, is taken without objection, and one
of the parties has received a benefit under
the agreement.
2. Where a question of law arising un
der a given state of facts is submitted to
the judge lor his decision, the statement
to him of what the facts are upon which
he is to decide the law cannot lie error.
3. Where counsel make statements in
their place, they may be received without,
verification, unless the same is required
bv the opposieg party at ihe time.
Judgment affirmed.'
A bite from a rattlesnake is something
not more dangerous than a severe cough
or cold. A well merited reputation lias
Dr. Bull's Cough Syrup, and this remedy
is sold by all druggists. Price 25 cents-
: ..