Georgia weekly telegraph, journal & messenger. (Macon, Ga.) 1880-188?, March 31, 1882, Image 1

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Georgia weekly telegraph, journal & messenger., March 31, 1882, Image 1

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Newspaper Page Text3 m JOURNAL AND MESSENGER. THE FAMILY JOURNAL—NEWS—POLITICS—iUTERATUBK—AGRICULTURE—DOMESTIC NEWSO^KTCt—PRICE $2.00 FEB ANNUM. GEORGIA TEL AFH BUILDING ESTABLISHED 1826. - MACdN, FRIDAY, MARCH 31, 1882. VOLUME LVI-NO 13 i m I'EttiKCTiay. She K»t, li:»R siiaieil iron the glare Of common light—aenaUurerare A.iO fln'nhea with perfection; From dark crow ned nat to slender foot, I looked—no mortol e'er could put DUprainc in Ills inspection. Th« angel face that men had praised I dm? • spumed, with lotgaeus raised, My study no. concealing; She Ixi.-e It with the proudest case, 8ha felt so con ildcnt o Jlie:sc, Such beauty fine revealing. I wondered if an Inncrgroca Mulched all this loveliness of foe*, And used thy mental eya glosses; Its searching crvstal only saw A mlndi-o free from rust or flaw That 1 laid down my *py glasa. I grew to love her, day liy day: tthe knew It, liked if—woman’* way— Was pleased with t'oc new-comer; jshc saw uuoihc-s’ave enroll • Hi* heart for oerse.-cnc control Aud liked me—for a summer. I was a fool; I sought her heifrt; The calm face dhl not feign nor start, Surprise to sceiu to cover; She only avid, with rand Id speech, She really hail not mc.'.nt to teach E Me to become her lover. J smile to think that I have’earned <\Vi;h lorgneitocritically turned) So little worth iUswnilnjj For now I sec without my gloss. One great defect—well, let ft pass; No heart. Was she worth learning? MILDRED'S EDITOR. Whether the fact originated in an at tack of low spirits, because she felt a sud den prompting of genius, or—and this seemed the general answer to the enig ma—for want of something better to do. Mildred Lester look to writing poetry, and the editor of the Faroborough Met cury, happened to be in good hurnor and in want of '‘padding” when her first efln- slon reached him, aud the sad effusions found their way Into the poets comer, 1 — — and the readers of the Mercury becamefyes,’ and pointed to you going down the while Mr. Lester was with you at the station,’ continued the stranger, “but the fact Is, —I—I did not know you were so young.” Mildred positively started with surprise. Had Fred willfully misled her, or had he made some unaccountable mistake ? He had certoinly told her that Mr. Morston was os old os her father, and now she was called upon to identify the editor of the Mercury with a man a little older than her brother and not lets good-look ing, and her perplexity was visible in her face. “Ton are not Mr. Marston ? ” she 8&ida “Indeed i am,” was tbe reply, “and a!- low me to introduce my fried Mr. Carry*; he bos been very anxious for an introduc tlon.” If such had been the case, ha took very little trouble to improve the acquain tance, for be mode some vagne remark concerning an engagement and speedily decampedf leaving Mr. Marston and Mil dred alone. The pair bod walked on-some little distance m silence, when Mr. Marston feeling that ha must say something, ob served: “1 am afraid my foolish habit of actiDg on the Impulse has possibly caused you some annoyance, Miss Lester. I noticed you and your brother on the platform, and fancied he did not look overly pleased.” “I expect that was because he thought you were not there.” “How could he think that?” said Marston. “Carrys and I were the only two, besides some cauntry people, who got out. Of course, we saw you and thought you seemed to be looking for some one; yet you turned away so sud denly that I had not time to collect my scattered senses; but Carrys came to the rescue by asking the station master if he knew Miss Lester, and ii she had been at the station this morning. Mhe man said k accustomed to M. L.’s moods, and the correspondence between Mildred and the editor waxed fast and furious. St, things having anlved as this psss, a letter was not destined to be raad and pocketed in tbe usual dignified silence,for Mildred Its common with-other speci mens cf ill-usea genius, was not accus tomed to meet with much sympathy in the homa circle, but on this occasion sur prised conquered caution, and looking up from the letter she exclaimed: “Ob, mamma, Mr. Marston Is coming through Ellsden tc-day, and he wants to speak to me about that volume of poems he sent me, and ho has asked me to meet him at the station.” “Well, really, Mildred, that’s a rather novel proceeding,” said her mother. “Can’t Mr. Marston come here it he must see you ? ” “Rut he’s going to London, momma, ond he only waits to change trains at Ellsden,” replied Mildred. £ . “Oh, mother,” chimed in Fred Lester, “let her go; geniuses are not bound by the small proprieties like commonplace mortals.” .... _ , “Nonsense, Fred,” said Mrs. F Lester, '‘we know nothing of the man,' 1 a state ment, which, though true, sent the hot blood with an Indignant rush to Mildred s cheek, whereupon Fred, after a pro longed stare at his sister, said. “I rather think I can accommodate you with a voucher concerning tbe old gen tleman’s respectability.” “You, Fred! ” said Millie; “how ? ” “Simply because I’ve seen him, Mll-a lie.” “You never told roe,” sold she. “No, I never did,” said Fred, slowly, with a suspicious smile curling the cor ners of ids mouth. “And why not?” “Because I was not bad-hearted enough to give you the verb deslllusioner to conjugate, and because, ob, Millie— Here Fred put down his knife and fork, and, leaning back in his chslr, laughed in a manner that made Mildred long to box his oars—“because your silent hero wor ship was too rich a treat to bo lost. Why, child, he’s old enough-to be your grand father and awfully deaf, to all Ellsden will hear your conversation, besides, I doubt if the top ci his bald head will reach your s' oulders.” Mildred tried hard to conceel her an noyance, but the effort was very trans parent. os she s-id: ... “Bui, mamma, what am I going to do ? D* you think there would be any harm in my meeting him?” “No actual harm, my dear; hut It scarcely seems tho thing. What do you know of him, Fred ? ” “Very little, mother. About a year ago our firm took it Into its bead to have a series of advertisements inserted in the Mercury, and I went to Mr. Marston to make airangements for them.” “And what is he like ? ” “Like a very ordinary-looking elderly gentlemen, with, I thought, a remarkably keen eye for pounds, shillings and pence. Perhaps l’n better add,Millie,” continued Fred, provoklngly, “that be has a wifn to match himself and heaps of children. “Then I don’t think there would be any harm in Mildred’s seeing him,” said Mrs. Lester. , . ... „ HjfOj mother. I don’t think there will, said Fred; “she won’t aenu him much poetry afterward, and I’ll guarantee she won’t tail in love with him. 1 ’ “You’ll have to go with her, Fred. . “Don’t see how I can, mother—there 8 the cricket match; however, what tim% does the tnrin come in, Millie ? ” “Two,” was the reply. .. . . “Ob, then I can manage it,” said he, “if I’m at the ground by three it will ^ Accordingly, a few minutes before two, Millie and Fred stood on tbe platform of the little railway station, andjmnctual to (be time the train came in. The brother and sister narrowly scanned the lew'pas sengers who alighted at Ellsden, but, os Fred observed: “There waau’t such a thing as an elder ly gentleman amoLg them." Mildred felt inteusely vexed at the de fection of her hero, aud she looked up at Fred half afraid of his teasing proclivities, hut lie understood the look, and though sorely tempted, said good-naturedly, as lie turned away: “Never mind, Millie, it’s no loss; hut by Jove, ir I ever meet that Mr. Marston again, lie shall hear wliat I think of his conduit;” aud then, after a moments pause, Fred continued: “1 say, Millie, I anould like to get down to the ground os soon os I can; there’s no reed for me to come home with you, is there?” ’ .... “Of course not,” she replied; “besides, I have to call ou Fanny—gnod-by; mamma and I will come down and see you win.” With these words Mildred turned down the road that led to her home, while Fred started bfl at full speed in the opposite direction. * The day was very warm, and Mildred was in no hurry to tell tbe tale of her dis appointment at home, so she walked along slowly, and bad gone a very short distance when the sound of rapid footsteps behind her attracted her atentidn, and the next minute she waa overtaken by two youug m:n, one of whom, raising F i hat, said, rather hesitatingly: “Miss Lester, I believe ? ’, . Mildred was too much astonish.*! to be prepared wlih a suitable amv, er, so abe merely bowed assent. “I am very sorry I did not speak to you road, so we hurried after you.” Mildred glanced up at her companion, and began to think that the reality was better than Fred’s “elderly gentleman,” after all, and growing determined to solve the mystery, she said, the words being accompanied by a slight blush: “My brother must have made some strange mistake. Mr. Marston, for be dis tinctly told us this morning that be had seen you, and that you were—” HerejMildred. remembered that she could not well repeat Fred’s^somewliat uncom plimentary description, the remembrance flushing her lace a still deeper red. “I cannot understand how that can be, Miss Lester, for I have a keen memoiy of faces, seldom forgejtlng a person I havo once seen, and I have not the slightest recollection of your brother. Did he say when or where he had met me? ” “Oh, It wa3 a long time ago,” she re plied—“three years, 1 believe—Fred came to your office about some advertise ments.” “Threeyears! Why, Miss Lester, I was not in England at that time. Ab, now I understand”—and Mr. Marston laughed—“of course, he must have seen my father, and naturally concluded that he was still the editor, Instead of which the dear old governor retired on his lau rels a year ago, and I took his place; so that will explain tho mistake, and,” he continued, mischievously, “I expect it ac counts for your presence at the station this morning.” Mildred could not help smiling, but she said, demurely: • “Well, you had no grounds for making a similar mistake, Mr. Marston, as im plied jest now tha you had done.” “Certainly not,” he replied, “I have no one to blame but myself, only, somehow, from the tone of your letters I thought— well, you will not be cross?—that you were of a certain ago, and—is this your home?” he asked, as Mildred paused at the garden of a pretty villa. “No; a married sister of mine lives here Will you come iu, she will be glad to see you ? ” she replied, desperately, in wardly hopiDg that tbe London train went loo soon to allow her offer to be ac cepted, aud heartily wishing her compan ion anywhere but where be stood, for her dread of quizzing made her very qnick- sighted, and she had noticed that when they reached tbe garden gate her little niece bad been standing at the drawing room window, which, after a ifiomem’s glance at her aunt and her companion, she quitted, returning almost immediate ly with her father, and Mildred knew him too well to hope that he would allow her morning’s adventure to pass over without comment. * Mr. Marston stood talkingto her a little while longer,and then,with a hope several times repeated that he should hear from her again soon, and a somewhat lingering pressure of tbe band, he turned back toward the station, and she ran into the house. She had expected to be received with a volley of questions and exclamations, and was surprisrd to find herself greeted with her usual welcome, her brcther-ln-law simply telling ner to be quick and take off her hat m luncheon was ready, but Mildred knew the ordeal she had to pass through was only delayed, when on en tering the dining-room she saw Mr# Car rys seated at the table, and she felt she was blushing as she bowed in response to her second introduction to him that same day.J “Where have you been for a walk Mildred ? ” asked Mrs. Lowe. “Only to the station,” was the reply. “Goodness! what a dusty walk such a hot day as this! ” said her sister. “Aunt Millie,” exclaimed a small voice at the other end of tbe table, “I thought that was a gentleman with you, but papa says he’s only a newspaper man, and he says he’s afraid it’s a case. What’s a case, auntie ? ” “Eilie,'do be quiet,” said her mother. “George, I’m surprised at your letting the child hear such nonsense. What do you mean, sister ? ” “Ob, Fannie,’i interrupted her husband, before she could reply, “1 forgot; you haven’t heard tho news; Mildred has been to.see her editor.” “Well, aud what is he like, sister? ” “Really, I can’t tell you, but no doubt George, can,” was tbe rather sharp an swer; “he stared at him long enough.” “Ob, don’t him, Mildred,” said Fanny, good-naturedly; “you know he must tease. Go ou, George.” “Well, this morning I met Mis. Lester in the town, aud she said that Mildred bod had a letter this morning from her editor, asking her to meet him at the sta tion. Ot course the maternal respect for the small proprieties was aroused, and she refused permission till Fred said he’d vouch for Mr. Marston being old as Me thuselah and as ugly os the Yelled Proph et, and so Mrs. Lester, taking pity on the old gentleman's legs or crutches, said she might go, if Fred attended as escort. They had just gone when she left home, and there her story ended.” “And yours begius, I sugpose,” said Mildred. “Precisely, Millie,” replied George. “After leaving your mother I was on my way to the mills, when I met Carrys, who was, you know, an old college chum oi mine, looking savage enough to throw stones at his grandmother. It appears that Carrys haring nothing to do, a very commod complaint with him, I believe, was prevailed upon by Mautou to accom pany him to an elderly female dragon, otherwise the renowned poetess M. L. Only he forgot that poets don’t reckon like we meaner creatures do, and so he found that M. L. was in reality young, and—what was the exact term you em ployed, Car. /*?—not bad-looking.” “Get oat, you torment,” was the reply. “Had I known Miss Lester was your sis* ter-in-law, I should baye held my torgue.” “How was it you'Ieft your friend, Mr. Carrys?” said Mrs. Lowe. “Because be felt that he was uncom fortably de trop. In other words, when he caught sight of Miss Lester’s black hair, he vanished and left the poetical pair,” said Mr. Lowe. “There, Mildred, what do you think of that ? Iam begln- ningto believe I have a future before me. flow does your editor do up his hair! I believe that’s of some importance, and—” But here Mildred’s patience was ex hausted, lor she rose, and after briefly telling her sister she was going to tbe cricket match that afternoon, and af.er wishing tbe others goed morning started for home, very much inclined to wish that she had never beard of the Fainbor- Mercury or Us editor. For seme weeks after that Mildred wrote no poetry. Mr. Marston in .de spair sent her several letters, obtaining short and rather sarcastic replies. So at lost, by a series of manoeuvres, be man aged to make Fred’s acquaintance, and the sloiy ended, as George Lowe observed it would end, by Mildred’s editor becom ing her husband. THE BACHELOR'S COXEESSIOX. Eg Heir* Forest Craou. I live in a French fiat. Or course there are objections to French flats. So there are to most things. I can’t afford a hotel and I detest boarding-houres. A bachelor of thirty odd, who has been at tbe mercy ot boarding-h cue keepers ail nis day, can easily voders'end that. So when I engag. ar 'te of rooms— third floor in a Fro ,ch fiat edifice—and arranged my honseholl roods therein, with a fine lookout ver r. gtcen dot of a park in front, amij glimmer of a palis ade far in the rear above a forest of ship ping, I considered myself well off. What is my profession ? I haven’t any in particular. I’m an artist and draw a little. Daily, in front or uyeasel, I contribute to tbe press, and write when the divine afflatus seizes me. I re., i the law wlieu I feel like it, and c> aw a little income from a snug little property left me by an uncle in India. Consequently I was able to decorate my new quarters very prettily with Bagdad rugs, old China dragons, black and gold Japanese screens, aud pic tures I had picked up at a bargain. And when the fire was burning cheer fully iu the grate, tbe first rainy May evening, the student lamp shining softly on tbe red, carved table, and the waiter lrom a neighboring restaurant had brought me my frugal dinner of a broiled bird, a mold of currant jelly, a slice of roast beef aud a raspberry dumpling, I considered myself pretty tolerably com fortable. “Upon tbe whole,” says I to myself, “I rather approve of French flats.” I rang the bell. Tbe janitor—a respec table, decent sort of fellow, in a round jacket and carpet slippers—answered the- summons. “Janitor,” said I, “who occupies tho floor above ? ” “Nobody, sir,” ‘he man answered. “Last par.y moved out yesterday. New party moves in to-morrow.” “A large family? ” said I, rather dubi ously. “Bless your heart, sir,” said the man, “no family at all—single lady, sir.” At this I congratulated myself more and more. “I shall have the prospect of a little peaco now, I think,” I said to myself, and 1 ate my dinner in a fool’s paradise of happiness. Tbe single lady moved iu on the mor row. She must have moved in while I was down town selecting some new mill boards and color lu res fur the summer sketches I Intended to make, for when I returned fondly expecting once more to enter my kingdom of peace and serenity everything was changed. There was a ba ging and pounding overhead, a thumping and hammering—a sound as if some mtdd'e-aged giantess in hob-nailed shoes was enjoying herself in a promenade. I sent for the janitor in a towering rage. “Is tho house coming down ? ” interro gated L ■ “It’s the new tenant a-movin’ In, sir,” said he, apologetically. “Does her furniture consist entirely of Herring’s safes and square pianos? ” said “There is two pianos, sir,” said he. “She’s musical.” ■ “The deuce she is! ” roared I. “Two pianos! And docs she play on’em both at tbe same time.” “Don’t know, sir, I’m sure,” said the man, with a distressed expression of countenance. I endured tbe noise until midnight, and then I sent up the janitor’s wife. “Third floor’s compliments to the fourth floor, and wishes to know if this sort of thing is to go on all night.” Down came the woman again. “Fourth floor’s compliments to the third floor, aud would like to know if he ex pects people to get settled without making a noise! ” The next day the piano—only one, however, commenced, i was elaborating a skeleton for a scientific essay, and it disturbea me serious'y. I endured it as long as I poosibly could, and then 1 had recourse once more to tho wife of the jan itor. “Third flyor’s compliments to fourth floor, and will fee! obliged if she will fa vor ma with a little peace and quietness long enough for me to do some necessary writing.” There was no reply, and the music ceased abruptly. Bat that evening, when I was beginning to solace myseit with a little violin practice in the twilight, tap, tap, tap, came tbe knock of tbe janitor’s wife at my door. “Fourth floor’s compliments to third floor, and will feel obliged If he will fa vor her with a little peace and quietness, long enough to wnle a letter.” How I bated that woman 1 So we “lived for a month, exchanging constant missives of warfare. I could have cheerfully have given up that mis erable French flat and gone back to board ing, only, unfortunately, I had engaged it for a year. » The fourth floor elocutionized and had friends to select private readings, whose voices were deeper than Hamlet’s and more sonorous than Charlotte Cush man’s. She was charitable, and had classes of heavy-hooted girls twice a week to sing hymns and learn howto sew. A single lady, indeed! If she had been a quadruple lady, she could not have made more noise, or enjoyed the making of it more. At the end'of the month, however, an incident occurred which changed the cur rent of my whole life. I went on a picnic. I don’t often go to anything of the kind; but this one, well, this was an especially select affair, gotten up by my friend Harold Webster. I went, and there I met liarbora Willis, and fell straightway in love with her. She was not. exactly young,but neither am I,and ux my taste a lull-blown rose is sweeter than a bad, wherever you find it growing. She was dark-eyed, with full cherry lips, satin brown hair, and a complexion as fresh as roses and ivory. We talked; oar ideas coincided exactly. It seemed as though our souls were two looking-glasses to mir ror each other’s. “Miss Willis,” I said, “why is it that we have never met before ? I feel as if we were old, old friends.” As 1 said this I gently pressed her hand, and she smiled back unutterable things. I went to my friend Harold, who was making up quadrilles on tbe upper deck. We were accompanied by an ex cellent brass band. “O, Harold !)” exelaimed I. “I can never tliauk you enough for introducine me to that angel! ” “Do you mean Barbara Willis ? ” said he; “well I do think she is rather a fine girl.” We grew confidential as we sat together ou tbe promenade deck and watched tbe moonlight ripple over the surface of tbe tides. “A bachelor’s life is not half, Mias Wjl- 11s,” said I. “I can readily imagine that," said she, softly. “I live n a flat,” confessed L “Do you,” said Barbara—the sweet, old name was just like her—“why, how strange! So do IP’ “Isn’t it nresdful 1 ” said I. “Horrid 1 ” said she, closing her lips os though she meant it. “And there’s a female dragon occupies the floor above me, and torments me oat of my life 1 ” “Well, if this isn’t a remarkable coin cidence.” replied Barbara. “There’s a detestable old crab of a bachelor under me who takes all the pleasure out of my “Should two lives be thus blighted?* said I. “I—I don’t think so,” replied Barbara, looking intently at the bouquet of pansies she held in her hand. It was past midnight when the boot landed. Harold Webster came up. “I promised to see • you home,” Miss Willis,” said Harold, rubbing hii hands briskly. “You need not trouble youaself, Har old,” said L “I shall be most happy.” 1 called a hack and helped the divine Barbara in, feeling more and more as if I were walking in clondiana. “Where shall I drive to?” said tbe man. “No. 02 Ravenal street,” said she, “fourth floor.” “What! ” cried I, “not the Ff -nandine flats?” “Exactly," said she. “Why, that’s where I live ! •‘Are you tte third floor? ” said she, breathless i “Are yon the fourth ? ” I counter- qnestioned. “But your’e not a crab at all 1 ” “Nor are you a dragon. On tbe contra ry—” But what matters it wbat was said? Things were altered from the very be ginning. I took my violin up-stairs tbe next day, and helped my divine Barbara oat with a sonata of Beethoven’s. I sug gested a new edneation theory for the hob-nailed classes. I listened enchanted to her recitation of Tennyson’s Brook— and at the end of the quarter we are to be married—Barbara and I. “This little episode seemed tout like a solemn warning, and after that we kept our powder under the mattress ot a man who didn’t snorin a foreign language. “The good old Anglo-Saxon snore', is good enough for the eveiy day humdrum ot life. When the language of this couu- try isn’t good enougU to snore with in a mining camp, it’s time to adjourn.” “Old U” Honsslsk. Jocksanville Tine*. . Old SI was around early this morning o put ol in tbe lamps, and empty #.he ipnng poetry out of the waste- basket. Suddenlyjhe remarked; “I got awftil homesick dis mornin’—de fust time since I been down byar.” “What made you feel so ?” “Only dat I run across de fust Georgy mule dat l’se seed in Flcridy. He wss a thorough-bred and hadn’t got climated yit! ” “What was be doing so extraordina ry?” “He warn’t doin’ nuffin dat was ’stroiv dinary for a Georgy mule, but hit ’peared like er earthquake had sot down on the sand on Fereyth street in front ol dat sta ble.” “Did they have much trouble with him ? ” “Well, dey look’d like dey wantld ter liab sum ’scusshun wid him, but not seein 1 no Georgy nigger in de gang he jess tuk de flo’ on his own moshun. By de time he’d dubhled up one darkey like de letter V an’ flung anudder ober a red ’spress waggiu dere didn’t seem no m' d’zire der ter Interfere wid dot cyclone.” “Did he finally get away from the crowd ? ” “Weil, dot’s de mos’ uselessness ques chin what you eber axed me ! I tho’" dot Jiu kno’d aat er Geoogy mule wuz 1 like a uigger pollytisbuu—when he kant Lab his own way no under way he jess rare up befo’ an’ kicks up bebiue, an’ fo' yer kin tell which eend ob him is in de a’r dor ain’t nuffin lef’ in sight but a cloud ob dus’ way down de big rode! ” Which idea so tickled the old man that be forgot bis homesickness and went out whistling gaily. AGRICULTURAL ATOMS. FOB THE EYES OR HOXEST &OXS or TOIL. Snoring In a Foreign Tongas. Eill Hue in Boomerang. “It’s funny how careless they got about giant powder, after they get used to it,” said Woodtick Williams to a Boomerang man. “It’s mighty harmless-looking stuff, and you wouldn’t think if you didn’t know what it was, that it would blow up a man any quicker than a ball of non-explosive Nebraska butter. “I know when I was sinking on tbe Feverish Hornet and bad a cabin up in .Slippery Elm gulch, at first we was mighty careful about our giant powder and kept it in a hole on the side of the hill, but after wo got more familiar with it we got to keeping it in the cabin, and in about two months we used to sit on the box when we played Black Marla and Pedro. Alter this we found that tills kind of groceries worked belter if It was kept kinder warm, aud we used to keep the little cakes of joint powder under the mattrass nights, so that it would be kind of warm in tho morning to blast with. We had a Polauder on the night staff of the Feverish Hornet that the boys ealled Neuralgia Pblaskowiski. He wss tbe worst man to swear nights and snore days that I oversaw. When he used ta go down in the shaft and awear a few times in the dialect of his fatherland the other men had to come to the surface for fresh air. He generally swore till he got excited and his jaw got cramped on an imported gob of profanity, and then lie. would quit awhile. We called his style’ of swearing the Anglo-Kosclusko swear. It generally jarred the foot wall and shat tered tho vein matter, so that we had to timber up a little after be had got through. “His snore was.abont as blood curdling as his uolque style of swearing. Housed to suore in hfs own native tongue. Of course the force of habit is strongest on a man when lie is asleep, that’s why he never tried to snore in English. “When he seemed to bo getting the most comfort out of his slumbers and bad his mouth open so you could throw a Magnolia ham against his liver, and snored so as to get in all the double Pa and q’s and Polish diptbongs and other funny business, it made the floor of the cabin creak, and the cook stove used to fall down aud the clock used to slop, and stock in the Fevqrish Hornet would go down to ten cents a share. “Neuralgia Pblaskowhiski, working in the night shift as he did, had to do his heavy sleeping in the day, while the rest of us was to work in the shaft. The day shift consisted of myself and a man named Marco Bozzaris Smith, and tbe night shift was composed of a picked crew,consisting of Neuralg a and a man from Union tliat we called Anonymous, because we never knew what his name was. “Anonymous slept in a tent, because be said be was a little fidgetty and nervous- like and couldn’t sleep in a boiler lactory. So be pitched bis tent about a mile down tbe gulch, where Neuralgia’s snores were partially deadened. “About 2 o’clock p. m., one pleasant July day, there was a loud crash in Slip pery Elm gnlcb that agitated tbe country for four miies around, and filled tbe air with fragments of bed clothes slid cooking utensils. We went down to tbe cabin, but it wasn’t there. • “Tbe concussion of Neuralgia’s snore bad set off tbe giant powder concealed atfbut bis bed, aud distributed the whole dog-gone ranche over the surrounding scene. • “We postponed tho funeral for two weeks and asked the prospectors of the State to bring in sneb fragments of de ceased os might be found. At the hour appointed the mourners gathered ’round a baking powder can containing all that was mortalof Neuralgia. “Death had worked a wondrous change in tbe expression of tbe features of the remaies. Very few coaid recognize the decesed. “Mr. Pblaskowhiski had always been cursed with a tear that be would be bur ied alive, and Marco Bozzaris Smith sug gested that tbe remains should lie in state for a week or two, but the rest of us felt so positive about his death that tbe cere monies were allowed to proceed. Cfeareb Etiquette. If all men were devout and all women had their minds more on tbe service and leas on the home dinner, a hint ou church etiquette would be unknown because nn- needed. But, as at present constituted, the church politic stands in about as much need of a friendly prompting as the body politic does of a kindly cleaning. Therefore, friends— Go to church early. If the stranger is there before yon, see tbst be is well seated. Proceed down the aisle leisnrely. Seat younraelves quietly. Follow tbe lesson devoutly. Do not look around you from idle carl prayer. Avoid conversation with those who sit boside you. Pass the book to tbe chance visitor. Hold your bymu book in your hand un til tbe singing is concluded. Hold your book in your'band after tbe closing bymns until the benediction is pronounced. Bow your bead during tbe benediction. Plenty of time to arrange yaur wrappl and put on yonr overshoes when it i« con cluded. Pass from the church quietly,addressing your friends with subdued warmth. Greet the stranger cordially who may find his way within yonr doors. Do not criticize tbe sermon. Refrain from comments on tbe choir. Let all things be iloqe decently and in order, aud so fulfill the law of Christian decorum and kindness that is supposed to dlstinguishjyoa from tbe heathen round about. • CUPID’S CAPTURES. HOW THE Rosy GOD IS BUILD- I.VG UJP THE STATE. Story Woles ot Bnmsrsas Alllaoee* Which Have Been Formed lu Beer- ala. At Sterling, Glynn connty, Ga., March 15,18S2, by Kev. A. B. Curry, Mr. Alex ander C. Mitchell and Mrs. Carrie D. Brunt, formerly of Albany. Married, on the evening of March 10, 1851, at the residence of the bride’s moth er, by Kev. J. B. Deavore, Mr. M. L. Lee to Miss Fannie Harvey, both residents of Webster county. On Sunday morning last, at tbq resi dence of Mr. G. W. McLeod, Miss Wine- ford Lewis and Mr. E. D. Wales, by Bev. G. W. Smith, all of Emanuel county. In Irwinton, on Sunday morning last, Mr. W. C. D. Carlisle and Miss Sallie Gillmore were married by Ber. E. J. Coates. Married, at the residence of tbe br’de’s father, on Sunday morning last, Mr. Far mer Bachelor and Miss Herndon, all of Walton county. At the residence of tbe bride’s father, on Sunday morning last, in Marlon couuty, by James M. GUI, Esq., Mr. John T. Cranford and Miss Mary A. Davis were married. • At tbe residence of tbe bride’s father near Oglethorpe, on Thursday evening, by Judge A. H. Greer, Mr. John P. Lane, of Henderson, Houston county, to Miss Lucy Sutton. On last Sunday morning, at 10 o’clock, at tbe residence of tbe bride’s uncle, Mr. J. L. Kimmey, Mr. H. H. McAllister, of Albany, to Miss Clara Brewer, of Ameri cas, were joined in the holy bonds of mat rimony; Rev. J. O. A. Cook officiating. OnWednesday morning last, at tbe residence of tbe bride’s father, Mr. Wil liam G. Overby, in Stewart county, Miss Ella Overby and Mr. Robert J. Grimes were united In matrimony, Bev. H. B. Stephens performing tbe ceremony. Tbe attendants were Mr. T. D. Miller and Miss Susie Moore, and Mr. A. B. Harrison and Miss Madge Shi. Mountville was tho scene of a romance tbe other day, in the marriage ot Mr. P. J. Nelson and Miss Lady Truitt. The marriage was to bare come off on tbe 23d and preparations were being made for that time, but tbe bride being on a visit to Mr. C. D. Hudson, the happy couple de cided not to defer tbe consummation of their happiness longer, and were forth- wite made one. Immediatelyafter tbe cer emony the bridal party left for the home of tbe bride’s father, who knew nothing of tbe affair until a lew minutes before lbe bride and groom arrived. * Miss C. F. Hancock and Dr. J. Elder, both of Greene, were married on the 11th instant by Kev. T. O. Korie. Also, by tbe same minister, Miss Sallie Anthony was married to Mr. Miles A. Caldwell, on the same Instant. All of Greene. .» Cla.ua Mouius having fainted Tues day, according to tbe business at the end of the third act of “Article 47,” in the Union Square Theatre, lav under the roller of the curtain as it made its descent. Result: A blow, nervous shock, delay, apology, sympathy, performance pro longed, aud, fortunately, nothing more serious. I |lr you wish to make a cake that will keep well use the yoik of eggs only, they make it much more moist and less liable to dry than the whites do. —, r - Isssasd Frews Owt-eT-tbe-Way sums ta Our Ixskasiss, Pro—d Cf Pi—wild for Iaspsettsa. Mr. Frank Wngbt,of Crawford county, has the finest lot of oats in his beat, and if the season continues as now the yield will be abundant. There ia no reason wbv every farm in Georgia should net be self-sustaining. The Fort Valley Mirror says : “We regret that our friend, Mr. Elbert Fagan, lost six hales of cotton in tbe recent fire which consumed Anderson’s warehouse in Macon. Mr. James Taylor, of Crawford county, lost twelve bales of cotton In tbe ware house of Anderson & Son. A live deer was brought to. Rome on Tuesnay, the 17th instaut, by a country man who caught it ou Lookout Moun tain, and sold it to Mr. Wesley Bouns- ville. Truck farmers near Valdosta report a good stand of melons. With no backset Irish potatoes will be in tbe market about tbe data they were all killed down last year. v Iron or steel immersed in a solution of carbonate of potash or soda wilt not rust for years, not even when exposed to a damp atmosphere. Tbe flowers are blooming, the gardens are booming, tbe bumblebees are juntng, and—well, language falls us to further ex press that summer is at band. From September 1,1881, to tbe present there bas been shipped from Gordon a fraction over two thousand bales of cot ton. There will be at least 225 tons or com mercial fertilizer sold at Gordon thU,*ea- son. There bas not been so much corn and bacon sold there this year up to tbe present as there were lost year. Frnit trees in Gordon are in fall bloom and garden herbs are looking a little fox eared. It is stated that there are three hundred acres planted in watermelons in Bcooks county, and many of them are up and looklog fine. . A Western editor received a letter from a subscriber, asking him to publish a cure for apple tree worms. He replied that he could not suggest a care till he knew what ailed the worms. We would impress upon the minds of the farmers not to forget to plant their corn deep. We know you know howto piaat your corn, but bear in mind a dreutn may strike it while It Is making. Augusta city dealers are sending out the celebrated “rattlesnake” watermelon seed all over the country. An order from Alabama was filled this morning, so great Is the fame of the Augusta watermelon abroad. The grain crop of Pike county bids fair to be the best of years. With the in creased acreage of grain and the decreased acreage of cotton and tbe most unani- moa* desire, as has been expressed by farmers, to economise and live at home, we are constrained to believe they will jretcome out much less in debt at tbe end of the year than they have heretofore, If tbe majority of oar farmers put in plenty of corn they can hold tbelr cotton for good prices next fail, while the all cotton planters are forcing the price of cotton down by being obliged to sell. If the majority had been prepared for it in that way the past season, they would have long since compelled the market to go up to a fine price. On a recent visit to counties below, we learned that the farming outlook is a fine one. VV# heard nothing of rust being in the oats, or of the wheat crop being so far a failure; but up to this time the farmers are expecting tbe most sanguine resalts from tbe present outlook. Tbe peach trees, we noticed, all of them have fully come oat, and it is tbe opinion of those well versed in fruit culture that the peach crop will be a most excellent one. Acd we are glad to notice this, for when the land thrives the people are happy.—Snm- ter Republican. “Old man” Benson, of the Hartwell Sun, is a noted wag, but the following paragraph indicates that there is a great deal of solidity about him. His remarks are pungent and polutod: “A farmer who spends the winter visit ing grog-shops and the little railroad sta tions now in every neighborhood instead of staying at home, fixing up fences, haul ing leaves, making manure, and getting his land in order for the next crop, cau- not expect to feed himself and family on cotton option com and bacon, and if noth ing else will stop tbe foolishness of such fools, a good old-iashioned famine, such as they bad wbeu Joseph ‘chawed’ bis brethren in Egypt about Benjamin’s cup, would do good.” Habbisom, the boy revivalist, is reviv ing in wicked Chicvgo. He converted two young ladles who had bought tickets to tbe opera. They asked him wbat they should do with them, and he told them to give them to him and he would burn them. They did so, and some people are wicked enough to say that he sold them and pocketed tbe money. A Nebraska couple were married by telephone recently. The county judge performed the ceremony at tbe telephone n his own office, while the happy couple stood up before the telephone of a hotel office. _ Tattooed br Her Fa. AVw Tork Special ta Chicago Timet. I rene Woodward is the name of a tattoed wo man who will make her first appearance on Monday morning at a museum here. She Is nineteen years old, and has never been exhib ited before. She says that she has spent mos. of her life living iu a settler's wagon with her lather and brothers. In order not to lone he-, her father tattooed a spool on her arm. The process was painful, but she liked the result so well that she urged him to tattoo her more. During the next six years, in his Idle moments be tattooed her entire body with skill and taste There are representations of insects, animals men and women, flags, shields, mottoes and many other things. Tlse lass to nsasstf. t Australian Aries. The Australian heart Is tough, and we are not surprised at the touching plea lately put In by a man charged with stealing 570 sheep had no effect on that obdurate organ. Frankly con fessing that he had appropriated the animals, he laid tbe blame on Cupfd. He had courted a young lady, whom he loved very much, but iftie looked coldly ou his suit by reason of hi* poverty. Just then he chanced upon a pad- dock full of very marketable sheep, and, urged on by his passion, he opened the gate and as sumed tho role ol shepherd, and dq>ve off the whole lot It was a mistake, he confessed, per haps a crime. But he really “meant to become an honest man” with the proceeds of the rob bery, and a happy one, of course, in the posses sion ot the girl of his heart. Unfortunately, those very unsentimental folks, the police. In terfered, and from the depths of his dungeon the victim cried, "I have failed; I am ruined; my hopes are forever blighted.’ As he had been five times previously sentenced to im prisonment for horse and sheep stealing, hi; persistent efforts to become an honest man and a husband certainly deserved a better fate on this last occasion. The bride and bridegroom of a wedding Haehea at Latrobo, Fa., were ran over and killed Bats, mice, ants, flies, vermin, mosqui- ©a their way from the church to the rail-1 toes, Insects, etc., cleared out by ‘Bough road station. on Rots.” 15c boxee at druggist*, dly HIs Wife’s Sister. [Loudon Truth ] When Hush Toilet's young wife was on her death-bed she turned to ber bus baud, who wss bolding one of her tbln hands between his, and whispered, almost with ber lost breath: “How nice it would have been dear, if you could have married Maud!—I should have gone away so happy to think she would be a mother to my poor bahlse—” There woe e wistful look in the dying young mother's look at she said this; for thoughts were passing through her mind which could not speak. Maude was her fejnlte sister, who bod nursed ber throu$fher illues*. and had taken lender- est care of her children. NSbody else could have taken such cere of them, and the young mother could not help wonder ing why any law should exist to prevent Hugh from marrying Maude. A time might come when Hugh might be married Main to some strange girl, and when Maude herself would go away to a home of her owe. Wbat would become of the children then? Would Hugh’s new wife lore them os Maude did, treating them as her own flesh and blood for her own dear sister's sake? Tbe young wife considered it would be a natural and most holy thin;; that Hugh and Maude should be marrietl to each other, and her last moments were saddsnod with anxieties from reflecting that this could not be, • Yet, when she was dead, her sister con tinued to reside in Hugh Foliet’s bouse; taking up that anomaio'is position which public morality only nominally sanctions, daude became ber brother’s housekeeper, his companion, ana tbe guardian of his children, whom she truly loved as if they were ber own. She was a sweet and comely girl, very like her sister in appear ance, and with a voice which so muen re sembled hers that whan Hugh closed his eyes and heard her talk he often fancies that his dead wife was in the room. He could have felt for no other woman what he felt for her, for part of the love which he bore her came from the dead affectron which he had cherished toward his wi'e: and she could bave'regarded no man as she did him, because the memory of her beloved sister'and the dutiee she had undertaken toward ber child -en formed the strongest natural link between her heart ana his. Yet Maude was in law only Hugh’s sister, and other men had right to pay her a’tentions and make her iroposals of marriage—which they did, to ler own distress and to Hugh's misery and annoyance. Maud refusea all offers, bu. when it was seen that she did so systemat ically people began to whisper.' People are very good natured. They might have tolerated Maude’s residence with her brother-in-law had she been an elderly woman, but they do«bt< 4 the propriety of ber living with him as things stood, for all which they kept on repeating emphati cally that she was only his sister, and several of them expressed the hope that she would not so far forget lie; sell os to marry her brother, in whose house they held It improper for her to live otherwise than as a wife. This curious confusion of strictures, pro duced by an unnatural law which had muddled public opinion, had Us inevitable effects upon Hugh and Maude. It would have been very bitter for them to part; in deed, Hugh felt that the whole future of his children must be affected for the worse by their being deprived of such motherly love os Maude gave them, and Maude, ou her side, believed it was her plain duty, in the sight of heayen, to watch over tbe poor little things who clang to her, and were learning to call her mamma. Besides, was it not the opinion cf the great majori ty of the nation—nay, of the whole civil ized world—that a man ought to be allow ed to marry his dead wife’s sister? The House of Commons had just passed bill, giving its sanction to such marriages, and it had only been rejected by tbe House of Lorda, a body which in no way repre sented public opinion. Everybody was saying that tbe Lords could not hold out long against the good sense of the commu nity, and so Hugh and Maude waited another year, hoping the Lords would at lost give way. But, meanwhile, Hagh thought it honest to tell his friends that he and Maude bad made up their minds to many, and were only waiting until the law had been altered. The consequence was that poor Maude was more whispered against than ever. Once again the Hered itary House threw out tho Commons bill, and then a day came when some, of Hugh’s triends told him it would be better for Miss Ashurt’s own sake that he should moke her his wife without delay. “Peo ple will talk, you know,” they said “and after all, every person whose opinion is worth having will tbluk yon are doing right. The bill must. ba passed before long, and then a clause will certainly be inserted to give it retroactive effect, so that your marriage will be legalized.” Accord ingly, Hugh and Maude went to Switzer- landjone autumn and got married, if Hugh hod been rich he would have probably set tied in Switzerland uutil the Lords chose to bear reason; but be earned his living by an appointment which obliged him to re side iu England, and even this short trip abroad caused him iuconvenieuce. But be took it because his conscience would not have ailowed him to give an untruth ful answer to the adjuration; “I charge ye it ye know any just cause or impedi ment,” etc. Though he knew of no just cause before God why be should not con tract a marriage for which unanswerable Biblical warranty exists, ba found himself in a dilemma. Besides a marriage in England would have been of no use to him. In Switzerland, where a man may wed bis deceased wife’s sister, he was joined, as he believed, iu a perfectly law ful union. Mr. and Mrs Follet came back to Eng land, aud bad some right to expect to be kindly received by the friends who had counseled them to marry. Certainly, the men friends greeted them pleasantly enough; but if was different with the ladies. It ia curious bow certain ladles, irreproach able in most respects—or at least appar ently so—should take such pleasure in seeing members of their own sex placed in cruel and humiliating positions. Maude Follet was known to be very good, and yet many who passed for good forsook her. Even those who braved prejudice for her sake did not dare do so long. The maguate of the neighborhood was a Lord Jinka, whose own morals were noneof the strictest, generally speaking, bnt on this question of marrying a deceased wife’s sister be professed to have strong opinions. So had Lady Jinks. Tbe noble pair tabooed Maude Follet, and their example wu followed by the community, not because anybody thought much of the Jinks’ opinion, but because few had the courogeto put themselves in opposition to p:er a and peiress. It was a painful life which Maude was made to lead. To live amid tbe respect of one’s nqjgbbors, or to be exposed u> uncongenial stares and whispered jibes makes all the difference between residing la a sunny climate or an icy cold one. Moreover the cold introduced itself into Maude’s home. Accordingly as men ere made of strong grit or disposed to feeble ness they meet public injustice with a stern front, which • becomes more and more stern; or else their self respect gets slowly obliterated. Hugh Follet first suffered keenly from bis wife’s unmerited disgrace; then be got accustomed to it, and from weakness of character, came to make mental concessions toward public opinio", or rather toward tbe opinion of Lord and aloot from the houses of bis friends be cause their wives would not receive Maude. One day be compromised his dignity by accepting sn invitation to dine at a friend’s bouse without his wife, and on that oo- cosion he virtually crossed the Rubicon. Every step be took from that time was a false one. asked bow his children were, they always meant tbe elder two; and assumed chilly expressions if he inadvertently said the last baby was doing well. He had tbe meanness at length to invent excuses on Sunday for not going to chnrch with his wife. He was ashamed to show him self with her in the streets.. She, poor woman, was a long time before she sus pected all this. In her simple truthful ness she imagined that her husband was more sedulous to shield her from annoy ance than to avoid any on his own account. Even when Hugh’s manners changed when he became irritable, quick to And fault and generally unkind—she still thought that he wu vexed at the public Injustice against herself, and as it wu for her sake that he wu suffering all this, she felt for him with the grateful, wholly un selfish sympathy of women who love. One evening when Hugh hod gone out to dinner, Mr. Swain, tbe rector of the parish, called on Mrs. Follet. He wu a young man, but lately beneffcea—one of tbe good sort of clergymen; gentleman like, earnest yet pleasant to talk with. He knew Maude’s story, and entertained the since rest respect for her. He had called on ber several limes before, and bad always sought to give hsr consolation for the injustice she wu enduring by as suring her that he looked upon her u be ing beyond all doubt lawfully wedded. On tbe particular eveniug in question, ba took one of the children on his knee, and seeing her sad, said a few kind words to exhort her to bear her persecution with fortitude. Some tears escaped from her eyes, and she had not wiped away all traces of them when her husband sudden ly returned. Ha had come away early from his dinner party, u he did not feet well, and he wu in a bad, nervous tem per. Tbe sight of Mr. Swain evidently did not soothe him. “it’s a strange hour for that mou to pay you a visit,” be remarked, sulkily, when the rector bad gone. “This is tbe third time he bu called within ten days.” “He came to-night to bring me a hook,” said Maude. “It wu quite a family picture, I declare,’ continued Hugh, with a spiteful sueer- “You in tears, he sitting la my chair with a sentimental look, and holding a baby on his knee. Did he make you au offer of marriage?” “Hugh!” “Ob, be might you know. You’re a free woman iu law; only if you mean to play that game, you had better tell me, for I can play it, loo.” “Hugb! Hugh! What have I done that yon should treat me in this way?” ex claimed the poor woman; bat ber husband had left the room, telling her not to make a scene, u bis bead ached. He did not mean what he had Just said. He wai sorry for it the next day, and did not refer again to the subject, but the lut remnant of dignity had been swept away from his relations with bis wife, by the in sult he had thrown al her, and nothing he could ever say thenceforth would have the power to restore that confidence which Maude bad felt in him, and which be broken. The consciousness of this render^ ed him morose. Seeking seif-justification, be accused the iniquitous law which left him uncertain as to whether he had a wife or not; but ou Mauds there fell a heavier blight than mere moroseness. Tbe con tempt of tbe worid had beeu very hard to bear, but the slight from her own husband was unendurable- She dared no longer receive visitors, lest Hugh should be jeal ous, and she became ashawod before her own servants. Hugh, seeing her every day, did not notice that there was much change in her; but after some mouths the doctor, who bad came to see one of the children, was alarmed at her wan appear ance. Hewcntatouce ia quest of ber husband, and told him the truth. “You must be very careful, Mr. Follet, your wife is in a decline.” • “What makes you think that?” asked Hugh, turning psie. Iu an instant there rose before his imagination tbo picture ' of wbat his life would be without Maude. He hurried home. By tbe light of what the doctor had said, one glance at Maude’a face was enough; he read coming death in He sat down beside her and look her hand. It was a long, long time now since he had done her a kindness or spoken ber a jruly kind word. She looked surprised, and that halt-shrinking look cut him to the sou!. “Maude, the doctor says you are not very well,” be faltered; “you want a change of .air.” She torgave him then all at once, os women do. “Hugh, dear, I think I shall not be here long,” she said gently; “I would try to get well if I could, for the children’s sake.” “Ob!for my sake Maude!” “Yes, for your sake,” she said, with a faint smile, as she stroked bis head with one of her wasted bands. “Hugh, dear, you will promise to be good to the children when I am gone? If you marry again, dou’t let your wife speak badly of me to my two darlings.’ it almost broke Hugh’s heart to hear her talk in this way. From that day he went about asking every body what was the best thiug to do for a patient in a de cline. As if to atone for his former want of spirit be talked incessantly, and, indeed, aggressively, of his “wife,” looking as if he would pick a quarrel with any person who denied Maude’s right to that title. But all this could not save the poor suffer er’s life. She declined rapidly, and one winter evening died, leaving him with the miserable reflection that she might have lived long aud happily with him, bad ba protected her with more manlinees, and cherished her as he had sworn to do when she hod bound herself to him by a mar riage as sacred as waa ever contracted. Hugh’s troubles were not at an end when Maude had been iaid in her last bed beside her sister. The bishop of the diocese, who claimed jurisdiction over churchyards, and who, like Lord Jinks, bad strong views about marriage with a deceased wife’s sister, took it upon him self to object to Maude being described as Mr. Foliet’s wife ou her tombstone. “She is not your wife by law," wrote tbe bishop’s chaplain to Hugb, “and his lordship trusts that ypu will, however painful it may be to your feelings, see the propriety of avoid ing anything that might promote scandal.” A man who cannot stand up for hi* wife while she is alive is not likely to do battle for her very chivalrously when she is dead, so after a weak interchange of lette. s, Hugh gyre in “to avoid worry.” Tbe words on the second Mrs. Foliet’s tomb stone, which was tbe same as her sister’s, ran simply: “Also of Maude, s'stor of the above, aged 27.” But even this concession did not pacify Lord and Lady Jinks, who declared it “outrageous” that the two sis ters should sleep iu the same grave. Brain and Berra. Well’s Health Kenewer, greatest reme dy ou earth for impotence, leanness, sex ual debility, etc. $1, at druggists. De pot: Lamar. Rankin & Lama r,Macon. uuKSdly A Favorable aetetriey. The good reputation of 11 Brown’s Broil- __ chiai Troches” tx the relief ef coughs, Lady Jmks. He was‘a person ot sociable ! colds and throat diseases has gives tboat habits, who found it troublcsomo to keep a favorab'e notoriety. 1W HRuHsHBHKiL. s * « s.B.g'sis.VaHJ-w--s*