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OLUME VII.
BRUNSWICK, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, MAY 20*. 1882.
NUMBER 46.
Advertiser mid Appeal,
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY, AT
TNSWICK. - GEORGIA,
BY
O. STACY.
subscription Hate*.
fop, one year II
ropy alx month* 1
■Ivertlaemcnt* from responsible parties will
mbltahed until ordered out, when thetlme is
meflfled, and payment exacted accordingly,
muiunicattons (or Individual benefit, or of a
, on al character, charged a* advertisements,
irriages and obituary notice* not exceeding
lines, solicted (or publication. When ex-
ling that space, charged as advertisements.
1 letter* and communications shonld bo ad>
■eil to the undersigned.
T. a. STACY,
Brunswick, Georgia
CITY OFFICERS,
u. J. Colson.
vn- J, J. Spears, J. P. Harvey, V. J. Doer
a. C. Littlefield, J. M. Couper, J. Wilder,
Hardy, J. R. Cook.
,t Trcaiurer—James Houston.
Marthal—J. E. Lambright.
nun—D. B. Goodbread, W. U. Rainey, 0. B.
C. W. Byrd.
of Guard House and Clerk of Market—IS. A.
lhiitician—J. S Blain.
'/i'/xtetnn—J. R. Robins.
, white Cemetery—C. G. Moore.
Colored Cemetery—Jackie Wbito.
i/,u(«r—Matthew Shannon.
Wanlent—Thus O'Connor, A. E. Wattles, J.
UTANDISO COMHITTSES OV COUNCIL.
cr—Wilder, Cook and Spears.
in, Uiuiss Biuwiks—Harvey. Hardy and
. ,■ i'iimoms—Harvey, nardy and Spears.
irsiaKs—Littlofiold, Doerilinger aud Hardy.
,i;—Hardy, Cook and Littlefield, •
ic uuiuunos—Harvey, Couper and Wilder,
loans—Wilder, Spears aud Hardy.
VTI os—Cook, Couper and Wilder,
iv—Spears, Harvey and Cook.
KVAurMkNT—Doorfllnger, Haray and Spears,
t—Wilder. Cook aud Harvey.
UNITED STATES OFFICERS. , ‘
tor ofCustoms—II. F. Farrow.
,,—H.T. Dunn.
ior Internal Revenue—D. T. Dunn,
v Marshal—T. W. Dexter,
inter—Linus North.
iMoner—C. H. Dexter,
mg Jommisaloncr—O. J.Hail.
iAN LODG-E No- 214.F-AM.
A
lar communication! of thi* Lodgo arc hold 1 on
ami third Moudaya In oach month, at 7:30
.g anil all brcthreulu good standing aro ira-
invitod to attond. „
J. SPEARS, C. L. FLANDERS,
Secretary. " • “■
every Tuoaday night at eight o’clock.
H. PIERCE, N. G.
J. T. LAMBRIGHT, V. Q
LAMBRIGHT, P. k R. Secretary.
ILLINERY!
s HETTIE WILLIAMS
W RECEIVING A LARGE AND WELL-SE
LECTED STOCK OF
inery & Fancy Goods,
I,ACES OF ALL DESCRIPTIONS,
ttern Bonnets
l tho latest itylea, Just from Now York.
A full lino of
arettesLadies’Underwear
HILDItEKPS DRESSES, Etc.
ss-Maklng a Specialty,
the moat fashionable itylea, orders prompt-
aprltt-ly
SPECIALTY J
—: • - f ; nr*t.
lts’Furnishing Goods
-m D gTt-p^“
cv er Before Known!
• me xml ace my stock, which wa* bonght
• lur this market.
J. B. WRIGHT.
A Buried Secret.
Even in the kindly shadows of the
gathering twilight, she looked older
than be, this woman of rare grace and
matchless charm, whose eyes rested
so worshipfolly on the face of the man
who had thrown himself on the cush
ion at her feet—older than the years
themselves would’ warrant, for she,
Sydney Reed, was, in reality, but six
years George Winston’s senion. But
six years leave tbeir impress when
their way lies over burning plow
shares.
There were lines upon the lovely
face and a sadness in the beautiful
eyes no time, unaided, could have
wrought. She passed her hand now,
half-oewilderingly, across her Brow.
“Is sorrow for me really at an
end?” she murmured. “I cannot
grasp it.”
“At un end forever, darling, if my
streugtb avails anything to keep it
from your door, for to-night you be
long for the last time to yourself. To
morrow you belong to me 1” answered
the young, confident voice.
He was but twenty-two—this boy.
She was twenty-eight, and a widow.
Her married life had been one of un
utterable wretchedness. Four years
before her husband had deserted her.
Two years later she had learned of
his death, which had taken place in n
drunken brawl in a far western city.
She had put oa her outward badge
of mourning in memory of the days
when he, handsome and rockless, had
smiled away her girl’s heart. She bu
ried in his unseen grave her weight
of woe, and with it all his faults. She
thought, too, that she had long buried
youth and happiness, but three
months since they bad resurreoted
themselves, listening to George Win
ston’s pleading words and loving
prayer, she found resistance had failed
her, and so granted him the boon he
asked of hor.
And to-morrow was to be hor soc-
oud wedding day. Fondly and hope
fully he painted to her tho coming
years, each moment of which should
be to her a recompense for past mis
ery. She said little. It was snob* joy
to heiiv his voice, to feel bis touch, to
creep into the shelter of his love and
rest there, grateful and content
It was ten o'clock whon she bade
him good-night She still felt the
tender prossare of his lips upon her
she mounted the stairs to her
room. She had made him leave her
thus early because some of her prepa
rations were yet to be made for to
morrow and she had promised him to
retire before midnight, though her
waking dreams, she said, were
sweeter than any slnmber might be
stow, she hardly ‘thought the ex
change • fair one.
There were some letters she wanted
to look over—some to be destroyed,
others to be preserved. Among these
latter were a few be bod written her,
dariug a short absence a month pre
vious.
She took out the first from its
wrapper to re-read, but hud not
turned the page when there came u
low rap at the door.
“Gome in 1” she replied, half-impa-
tiently, without looking np.
She had given orders to her ser
vants not to be disturbed. She had
told Maria, her maid, to come to her
at midnight. It was not yet half-past
ten.
The door opened at her summons,
bat no one entered or spoke.
'Well, Maria, what is it?” she ques
tioned, and slowly raised hor eyes, to
fiud—no Maria, no servant, but a
man’s form, gannt and haggard, dark
ening the threshold—a man’s eves hot
and burning—fixed m>on her face.
Sbe sat carved into stone. I was
pitiful to see the blood recede from
her face, leaving it white aud drawn.
If three hours previous sbe had looked
older than her lover, ten years were
now added to her age.
Her lover? No longer bad she a
right to the sweet title, for he whose
gaze held hers was her living hus
band—the man whom for two years
she had mourned as dead.
He came forward at last closing the
door behind him and advancing with
feeble, tottering steps toward her.
“Speak to me 1” he said. “Give me
one word of welcome—one word of
forgiveness.”
She opened her lips then, bnt no
sonnd came.
“I—I know,” he went on, “you
need not tell me; you were to have
been married—it would-have been a
crime. Bat for this I would not have
come. I wonld still have let you give
credence to my death. Oh, Sydney,
will yon believe me when I swear to
you that both for your sake and my
own, I wish I were dead.”
The ntter misery of his tone brought
her own desolate anguish more fully
before her. With a low cry she bu
ried her face in her hands. The let
ter she bud fell from them. Still she
heard her husband speaking as
though from afar off.
“Courage, Sidney!”- he said. “You
will only need patience, dear. Look
at me! Is it not hard to see that I am
a doomed man ? I have never recov
ered from the wound I received in the
affray in which they* reported me to
have been killed. Dissipation helped
the work along, thoagh since that
night, Sydney, no drop of liquor bus
touched my lips. When a man stands
so dose to death that he recognizes
his icy breath, he sees things with a
new clearness. Daring my long and
desparate illness, I thought of you
with a longing yon can never dream
of, bnt I dared not send for you.
felt that all my right was forfeited.—
Nor will I trouble you now. When I
am dead you shall learn of your free
dom. Until that time you will hear
of or from me never again.”
He stopped as be finished. Sho
knew that he lifted up the material of
her dress and pressed it a moment to
his lips.
Slowly and faltoringly he again
crossed tho room. His hand was on
the knob of the door, when she broke
the spell that bound her, and roso to
her feet.
“Stay, Harold 1” she cried. “Your
placo is here. It was yon who de
serted me. Yon shall not say that I
deserted yon.
He staggered against the wall.
“Is this an angel or a woman who
thns speaks to me?” he cried.
It is no angel,” she answered, “on
ly a woman, striving to do her dnty
so plainly marked before her.”
Bat the strength that had upheld
him in his hopelessness now failed him.
With a great cry he cast himself down
at her feet, striving in vain to catch
the sobs which so cruelly rent him.
Very gently she soothed him. She
bad no time to realize her own mis
ery, until, at last, she left him, quiet
and sleeping.
How the night passed she never
knew. With locked bands clasped
before her she sat watching the dawn
break, conscious neither of heat nor
cold, of day nor darkness, nntiPat
nine o’clock her maid brongnt a cap
of coffee to her door. The servants
had been apprised of the master’s re
turn the night before. She took the
coffee now and drank ik
“When Mr. Winston comes,” sbe
said, “admit him yourself, Maria, aud
bring him immediately here to me.”
An hour later her door opened.
“Not dressed, my darling!’’ cried
a happy voice. “Syduey, what has
happened ?”
With marvelous strength and calm
ness she told him all. He listened
silently nntil she had quite finished,
aud then with one bound had gath
ered her to his arms.
“What is this man to you, that he
should take you from mo ? You are
mine—mine! I never will forego my
claim!”
At the old tender masterfulness of
his tones, her womanhood re-asserted
itself. She bowed her head upon bis
breast and burst into a passion of
sobs.
“My love—my own!” be whispered,
“this is but a chimera of tho dark
ness. Our wedding day has dawned
—you are mine 1 Oh, my darliDg,
come to me!”
But now she lifted up her face.
“He is my husband, George,” she
said. “My duty lies with him. Now
leave me—I can bear no more. You
—who have always said you loved
best in me my womanhopd, my parity
- you would not tempt me to sin ?—
No, dear. Leavo me and forget me.
You are young—yon have but to look
for happiness and find it."
"Sydney, I cannot resist your words;
you bid me go, and I obey yon. But
first, love, I exact a yromise—whon
you are free, send me word. I will
leave an address, where a letter will
always reach me. I must put the
ocean between ns—I conld not stay
here and prove obedient But, my
own, I never will ronounco my claim,
and, be it one year, or ten or twenty,
one lino will bring mo to yonr side,
to leave it never again.”
Then with a dozen kisses he sealed
the promise he had exacted, and went
out from her, believing earth held no
such wretched man as he.
Five years had passed—fivo years
to Sydney Reed of faithful, devoted
duty—five years during which her
lovo and care alone fostered the fee
ble spark of life of Harold Reed’s re
morseful heart, and then ho lind laid
the benvy burden down, and with liis
last words murmurs of grateful love
and blessing, tho tired eyes closed,
shutting out forever more tho vision
which all these years had been tbeir
light and gladness.
Sbe bad no word from George all
this time. He had kept his promise
faithfully. For a year longer, sbe,
too, would be silent, and then—ab,
then she would send for him. Once
more she would look into his face—
once more listen to his voice.
They might be friends only, bnt
would friendship e’er before have
been so sweet ? The love she loDg re
pressed as sin still held sway. It had
burst its fetters and bad renewed its
strength. When the time came for
her to write the letter sho knew not
how to word it, thongh every day for
months she had fancied the hour
when she shonld pen it. But at last
she wrote these simple words:
Come to me, George. You will
not have forgotten me, and I—I have
lived but to remember.
“Sydney Reed.”
Then she sealed and addressed it
to the address he had given her, and
SAnk back in her chair to dream
awhile, ere touching her bell and or
dering it posted.
A happy smile played upon her lips.
The future so long closed to her
opened its gates of promise and feast
ed her hungry gaze.
Idly sbe took up a paper at her
hand, holding it before her eyes as a
screen from the fire, « lieu her atten
tion was arrested Lv a imme—the
name which was inaoribed ni«>n >he
envelope whose ink was scarcely jvt
dry. ’ ’
It was a printed description of
George Winston’s marriage to the
young and beantifnl heiress of one of
England’s noblemen. The marriage
had taken place in Lnndou, a fort
night before. N '
Once, twice, thrice she read it
through, and then, very quietly reach
ing forth, she took up r.ne letter she
had written, pressed it an instant to
her white, quivering lips, and, falling
upon her knees, dropped it in the
flames.
As the fire darted up she laughed
aloud in the strange stillness.- Others-
wonld have seen but. the light the pa
per gave, bnt she saw more—it was
the fuueral pyle of a broken heart.
Insanity lu Oeorgla.
Augusta Chronlcla and CoustttuUouaUsti
Dr. Powoll, Superintendent of the
Georgia Insane Asylum, reports that
there are in all G3G patients in the
State Asylum, of which 223 are col
ored. Among the latter, Dr. P iwell
says insanity is increasing witn amaz
ing rapidity. The illnstrations-whicb
the learned. Superintendent uses are
said to be familiar enough to thoso
who come in contact with the uegro.
Before the war idiocy was the only
form of mental alienation to be found
among them. Now drinking, grief
and loss of property take hundreds to
the asylum where none went before.
The Doctor says: “A uegro, for in
stance, sets his heart on buying a
male, gets all bis little fnnds togeth
er, stints himself, and finally makes
the purchase. The mule is carried
over, and in a short time dies,, and
the man broods over his loss until he
becomes insane.”
Freedom has brought the colored
man pains and penalties he never
knew in bis condition of servitude.—
It is the old lesson, us the Psalmi-t
says, that “as we increase knowledge
we increase sorrow.”
The rate of insanity in Georgiu is
about one in fifteen hundred. This
is low compared to New England,
where tho rate is one in five hundred.
Female Typo-Mottora,
Somebody writes of feminine type
setters:
“As a class female printers are dil-
igenfrand worthy. They never ‘sojer;’
they never bother the editors for
chewing tobacco; they never prowl
aronnd amon the exchanges for the
Police Oasetle\ thoy never get them
selves fnll of budge and try to clean
out rival print shops* they never
swear about the business manager;
they do not smoke old nasty clay
pipes; they never strike for more pay;
they never allade to editorial matter
as ‘slush’ or ‘hog wash’—in short*
they are patient, gentle, conscientious
and reliable.”
A paragraph is going the ronnds of
the press stating that a New Hamp
shire man, who is seventy-two years
of age, aud on excellent farmer,
claims that he bfs never ridden on a
railroad, altbongb one passes within
a few rods of his house; never travel
ed below Cbncord, ten miles from
home; never owned a watch or gun,
and never nsed tobacco in any form,
except to kill vermin on his catt.o and
sheep. Thu only comment we should
care to mnke in sncli n case is that a
world full of Immun beings like that
man wonld be alanit as interesting,
and not half os n-eful. as a bed of
clams or a collection ui mummies, be
cause tint clums could h<- eaten ami
the mummies used for firewood.