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8Bu| gjerald and gdtoytigy. Newnan, Ga., Friday, September 21,1888. THE COUNTRY EDITOR. Disastrous Results Which Followed the Introduction of New Features into Rural Journalism. By One of Them. Some years ago, for the space of three months, I edited a weekly newspaper in a country town. I could have stood it longer, but the paper couldn’t; so I re tired and allowed another fellow, who had a hankering after the laurels that are to be gathered in journalistic fields, to experiment with the thing. He was sold out by the sheriff. I gave him my sympathy and $2.75—all the money I had saved during my editorial career— and he returned to his father’s house and resumed the peaceful occupation of agriculture. The paper lived, and yet lives, though no less than a dozen men have bankrupted themselves while at tempting to put it on a paying basis. But its history is too painful to dwell upon. When I entered upon my editorial work I did so with courage and enthu siasm. As time passed my enthusiasm vanished and my courage dwindled, but the work stayed by me until the last. A man can’t be editorial writer, • ex change editor, reporter, business mana ger, advertising solicitor, bill collector, mailing clerk, book-keeper, proof-read er, compositor, pressman, office boy and janitor, even in a small newspaper es tablishment, without being occupied the greater portion of his time. Still the proprietor of a journal which has only seven (lundred subscribers can’t have a lot of hired men working for him. lie couldn’t pay the men, and, even if he could, the country people would say he was putting^on a heap of style. Nothing is more odious, in the eyes of the average countryman than style, especially the heaped-up variety. Besides attending to his pri /ate busi ness, an editor has public duties to per form. He must go to church. If he doesn’t, people will think he is locked up in his office writing editorials, and they will say so, and his reputation will be irreparably damaged. He must be present at public gatherings of every sort to take notes, to make speeches if called upon, and to shake hands with his subscribers. He must mingle in politics and act as chairman or secretary of the county campaign committee. He must also have a respectable suit of clothes, as he is the one man in all the village most likely to be sent away as a delegate to political and agricultural conventions. He must be able to write obituary poetry to order, and to give advice about appropriate inscriptions for tombstones. If his town has a lit erary society he must be an active mem ber, and do its job printing for nothing. There are some other things that he might do if his publication day didn’t come around so often, which would add' to his popularity. When I took from the press the first number of the Pigeonville Palladium, issued under my proprietorship, and looked it over, I was proud of the pa per—at least of that side which was not “patent.” There was a “we,” an “our” or an “us” in every original par agraph. Some distinguished foreigner, I think he was a Frenchman—at least, he spoke that language like a native— is reported to have said, “L'etat—c'est moi.” I felt that I could excuse him. I reflected thus: “The “we” is I, and t he Palladium is the work of my own hands and bains.” A few hours later I wasn’t a bit proud of that number of the paper, and it struck me that the patent part was far better than the rest. Undoubtedly my judgment was correct. A number of people drop ped into my office to read early copies of the paper. They were not subscrib ers and didn’t need to be, as they could look over the papers in the office just as easily as at home, and save $1.50 a year for the trouble. The first comer pointed out two errors in the spelling of names, one of which was his own. The next said I had got the report of the school meeting all mixed up, and the third took exception to the editori al views which I had expressed on the subject of the drainage of the swamp lands. Typographical errors without number were pointed out, and I was mortified to discover that Judge Hap- good’s name had been spelled Halfgood. The Judge met me soon after on the street, and, though he laughed at the mistake, he expressed the opinion that of course I had something to learn yet. I had, and 1 soon found it out. Time went on, and I introduced a number of new features in the paper. I ran a column of original “Jokelets,” for several weeks, but I had to drop it, because some of my readers fancied that some of the foibles of the Pigeon- ville people were held up to ridicule. Then I began to stick in here and there short bits of verse of my own manufac ture. The consequence of this rash in novation was that the poetic talent of the surrounding country was given loose rein, and my office was flooded with bushels and barrels of pastoral, elegiac, and epic effusions, and my office was besieged morning, noon and night by young, old, and middle-aged poetasters, all clamorous to have their work published. I selected the best and made a bon-fire of what remained; then announced through the paper that the supply of poetry on hand was sufficient to last ten years, which stayed the flood of poetry and gave me a rest, But in an unguarded moment I did a thing which had a worse effect, if pos sible, than the publication of poetic gems. I started a correspondents’ col umn, wherein I confidently announced: “All queries of an interesting nature propounded by our readers were to re ceive attention and be answered to the best of our ability.” I was soon re minded of a fact which I ought to have thuoght of earlier, but didn’t, name ly: that anybody can ask questions that even the editor can’t answer. But hav ing established the department there was no escape for me, uuless I acknowl edged that there were things that I did not know—and no country editor was ever known to humiliate himself by such a confession as that. So, hour af ter hour, by day and night, I wrestled with histories, dictionaries, cyclopedias, almanacs and other books of reference, trying to enlighten an“An Old Subscrib er,” “A Constant Header,” “Anxious, " et id omne genus on obscure pofhts like the following: “Explain the doctrine of evolution, the nebular hypothesis, the theory of glacial formation, and also, if possible, inform me what was the price of pota- tatoes in 1849.” “Please give me the name of General Jackson’s wife’s mother, and also state the depth of the Atlantic ocean at the deepest place.” “Give an account of the reign of Al fred the Great, and how to kill lice on cows.” “What is the oldest building in the world? What makes the Tower of Pisa lean, and who built the Chinese wall? Why does a dog scratch himself when there ain’t no fleas on him?” jThis was propounded by “Schoolboy.” “Please state in your valuable paper whether the United States pays a pen sion to any man who is the father of seven children or more, and if so how one can secure said pension.” Ridiculous as some of these questions may appear, they are all genuine, and were propounded in all seriousness. Is it any wonder that editors grow gray very young and wear a care-worn ex pression habitually ? Legends of the Forget-Me-Not. Harriet C- Cox in the Autocrat. Almost every flower has connected with it some story or legend, originating either from fancied resemblances or from circumstances in which the flower has played a leading part. Some of these legends are weird and strange, others light and fanciful, but nearly all per tain to love. Flowers are used as symbols express ing thought; yew for sorrow; syringa for memory; and then the tender for get-me-not, which is essentially the lov er’s flower. In itself, with its tiny pet als reflecting the azure of heaven; the faint pink caught from the summer sunset; or the pure white, symbol of purity, the flower is especially attract ive, and the very name, forget-me-not, has so sweet a significance that when presented by some youth to the lady of his love, it invariably causes a rising- blush to spread over the fair cheek. It is not strange, then, that with its color and name it should have legends connected with it, nor that the subjects of these legends should be love. Doubt less thre are many connected with “this tiny flower with heart of gold and petals of light blue.” Two espec ially come to mind. The first has been beautifully set to rhyme, and relates the circumstances under which the flower received its name. Two lovers engaged in a low, sweet conversation, walk along hand in hand, unmindful of where they are wander ing, living in the world of love. Sudden ly the maiden, looking, sees there close behind them a bold cliff or gray stone which seemed to pierce the sky, then to slope abruptly to the sea, whose rest less waves beat never ceasingly against its base. Springing out from a jagged seam in the rock, smiling there so dain tily, she spies a tuft of fair, blue flow ers. Seeing these and the half spoken wish in her eyes, the ardent lover starts for.vard, exclaiming, “I’ll get them for thy sake!” Over the rocks he bounds, gains the dizzy height and leaning far out, plucks the flowers. The tuft to which he firmly holds gives way, and, without a sound, he drops down, down, into the dark water below, which seems to rise and meet him, and then daflce in glee as the white, stricken face of the maiden gazed spell-bound on the cruel water. Rising on the surface, the drowning lover throws a knot of flowers .toward the shore, exclaiming, “Forget-me-not,” and with a last fond look sank from sight to rise no more, clasping in his hands a few of the dearly bought blos soms. So they called it the forget-me-not; So love’s chosen color is sky-blue; So ’tis said to be with magic fraught, To which fond lovers only hold the cltw. Another legend coming from the lau rel-covered mountains of New Hamp shire is somewhat as follows: A. wayfarer trudging along the rocky street, tired and weary, threw himself down Deside a sparkling mountain brook to rest and refresh himself. There he saw, growing amid the fresh green grass a tiny blue* flower, as yet unknown to him. Charmed with the discovery, he made inquiries and learned that the flowers were called forget-me-nots and had sprung up to show a lover’s fond love and the broken heart of the maid en. Long years ago a young man deeply in love with a fair girl sent as a token of his affection a beautiful bunch of rare flowers. Deep in the heart of the bunch, where none but a lover’s eye might see it, was a tiny three-cornered note telling of his love and imploring her, if she in any degree returned his affection, to wear a certain flower upon her breast. Evening came and with it the maiden, but his flower was not there to reward his anxious gaze—buy in its place another shone upon her breast. Without a word of entreaty or expla nation the broken-hearted lover sought another land and other joys, while the poor young girl, broken-hearted .too, slowly and sadly languished and finally died with the name of her absent lover on her lips. The ill-fated bouquet was found dried and crumbling where the girl in despair had thrown it when her lover had appeared faithless. Here they found thqm, and springing up just where they lay were these tiny blue flow ers, and in the bouquet, just where they were placed by the loving hands, was the note which had never met the eyes of the maiden. These flowers were called forget-me-nots, for the heart of "the lov er spoke from the note while the flow ers were falling to decay, and from their love sprang these flowers, which are destined to be of such sweet signifi cance to lovers. Other legends there are, as many as there are givers and receivers of flowers, and each has its memories. Some have been told and handed down from gen eration to generation, while others are locked deep in the breast, never to be shown to mortal eye, there to live and there to die. Name of a Lovely Rore. Leslie Popular Monthly. The Marechal Neil is one of the love liest roses of its kind, the noisette, and in its name and origin there is one of the hitherto unwritten romances of the court of France in the second empire. In 1869, when the French army was sent to help King Victor Emanuel drive the Austrians out of Italy, the third army corps was commanded by Gen. Neil. This officer, as his name implies, came of one of those Irish noble fami lies who emigrated to France after the battle of Boyne in 1690, as did the Mac- Mahons, the Fitz Jameses and others, who are now Irish in nothing but name. Gen. Neil had commanded and fought his corps with such eminent ability and distinguished courage that, when peace was made, with his country men and friend, MacMahon, he was created a marshal of France. It was well-nigh autumn before Gen. Neil was able to return to France. He had been terribly wounded, and had suffered besides from the dreadful fever of the Italian marshes. For months he was between life and death, with only his surgeon, who was his constant compan ion, and a soldier servant, who proved to be an admirable nurse in his illness and convalescence. One day a peasant woman brought him a whole basket of wild roses from the Campagna region. Gen. Neil had always been extremely fond of roses, and most of these were new to him, and tlius served to amuse him until they were withered. He observed, however, that one particular shoot had not fad ed and died like the others, but* had grown into a beautiful green plant of, perhaps, 10 inches in length. When he looked to see why this one had grown and the others, faded, he found that a bit of the root had been cut away with the flower, which was of a palish yellow hue. Scarcely knowing why, Neil determined to keep the shoot so curiously preserved. When lie return ed to Paris he placed the young shoot with an expert floriculturist, and next spring it bore four of the loveliest buds in the world, of a pale lemon tinge. At that time Gen. Neil was sentfor to receive the highest military rank then known in France, the Grand Cross of the Legioh of Honor and his commis sion as marshal of France in the presence of three emperors and all the kings in Europe worth naming. After the sol emn ceremony was ended and he wore for the first time in that day the grand cross of the Legion of Honor, he went to the reception of the empress—who was splendid in her perfection of beau ty—and presented to her a curious yel lowish rose of perfect form'and perfume but different from any‘she liad ever seen, and told her its story. “And so you have proved the truth of what the old abbe used to say in his dreadfully tedious sermons at Pan about casting the bread on the water,” said the empress, (who, like Queen Elizabeth of blessed memory, “loved a fine man,”) to the handsomest and most daring as well as one of the ablest of the marshals of the second empire. “Dear me, but he was tedious, that good abbe,” continued her majesty, with the softest look of retrospection in her lovely dark eyes. “Now, Monsieur le Marechal,” said she vivaciously, “I shall ehisten this rose for you.” “Do so,” said the Franco-Irish soldier, bowing very low, but flashing at her a glance of profound admiration, so warm that it deepened her color as they stood alone, for, though the great salon of the palace was crowded, no one dared to interrupt a tete-a-tete, which she herself had allowed, between the em- S ress and the handsomest general of his ay. Lightly putting the rose to her lips, she said: “It is named the Marechal Neil, for the soldier sans peur et sans reproclie, as gallant in the salon as he is on the battlefield.” This gracious speech went straight to the great soldier’s Irish heart. “You will wear it to-night, your maj esty, will you not, and afterwards give it to me to keep, this happy rose?” “Monsieur le Marechal! ’ said the em press with great dignity. “1 pray your forgiveness,” he .answer ed. “No, no, I am not as angry as I ought to be,” she replied, “but—but people might hear,” and with a Parthian glance she departed. Four days thereafter Col. Lewal, then Neil’s chief-of-staff, but not long since minister of war for the French Repub lic, observed his chief take a surrepti- I tious rosebud out of an envelope he j had just received, and lock it up in a private drawer. NEW HARDWARE AND SEED STORE. Single and Double Buggies, Phaetons, Carriages, Road- carts, in any style, with springs to suit purchaser. I carry a full assortment of heavy and shelf Hardware, fine Stoves, stove-pipe and vessels, stove polish and adjustable stove- backs, Razors and Scissors, of genuine English product— Smith & Wesson Pistols, 15- shot Winchester Rifles, rim and central fire Cartridges, farm Bells, grass Blades, bird Cages, Wagon and Buggy ^ Timbers, tire Iron. Grass and Garden Seeds, German Millet. Wheelbarrows, stone and wooden Churns, Lamp and Machine Oil. Several styles of Tin Water Sets and a stock of Agate Iron Ware. A. POPE. J. A. PARKS. W. G. ARNOLD. J. S. WARE. THE NEWNAN CARRIAGE AND BUGGY WORKS. We are now prepared to do all kinds of Carriage, Buggy and Wagon work, and in a style that cannot be excelled in the State, or anywhere else. Our work men are skillful and efficient; our material the best that money will buy; our equipment thorough and complete in every department. In fact, we have spar ed neither pains nor expense in preparing for the bus iness, and our facilities for doing work in this line are first-class in every respect. We have on hand the finest lot.of material ever put into buggy or carriage work in this section of the State, and workmen that know exactly how to put it together. We do not get our vehicles “knocked down,” from the North, as many other manufacturing firms do, but make them out and out. This is our strongest recommendation. We manufacture— CARRIAGES, PHAETONS, LANDEAUS, HEARSES. ROAD-CARTS, BUGGIES, SULKEYS, WAGONS ETC? We are also prepared to do all kinds of carriage, buggy and wagon repair work, in the •best style and at the lowest prices. Plantation work and horse-shoeing a specialty. Give us your work; we guarantee satisfaction. J. S. WARE, (late with Summers & Murphy, Barnesville,) Superintendent. BROKEN WATCHES REPAIRED -AND- WARRANTED BY WALTER E. AVERY, THE JEWELER. Any one wanting Watches or Jewelry can secure a big bargain by buying now. My prices are always as low as any ’egitimate dealer, but during the dull summer months to keep trade moving and to get in some money I will offer cash customers great induce ments. W. E. AVERY, Newnan, Ga. COLE’S SEED COTTON ELEVATOR Will add to the popularity of your Gin because it cleans the cotton and thus IMPROVES THE SAMPLE, saves labor, lessens the danger from FIRE, and makes the 1 COST OF GINNING LESS. Our Elevator is sold for less than half the cost of any other system of handling cotton. W. W. MORGAN, WITH MUSIC & O’REAR, WHOLESALE & RETAIL GROCERS, 33 West Mitcnel St., Atlanta, Ga. Will be pleased to have his Coweta friends cali upon him while in the city. The best goods at the lowest prices. TAX COLLECTOR’S NOTICE. FIRST ROUND. I will be at the following places, on the davs specified, for the purpose of collecting taxes for the year 18S8: Hharpsburg, September 24th, A. M. Turin, September 2tt,b P. m. Senoia, September 25th, a. m. Haralson. September-25th, p. m. Young’s Tan Yard, September 26th. Grantville, September 27th. Kirby’s Store, September 28th. Newnan. September 29th. J. C. Mixon’s, October 1st. Cedar Creek Court Ground. October 2d. Sewell’s Mills, October 3ri. Handy, October 4th. Hurricane Court Grour.d, October 5th. I, N. FARMERf Tax Collector* We have just received a car-load of PIPING, From the Pittsburg Mills, and can sell at prices that would surprise you. You can not afford to be without PROTECTION FROM FIRE when pipe is so cheap. Save your boilers by having our i c JET” PUMP to raise water from well. It is cheap and the best means on earth for raising water. Inquire about our anti-Wind Mill Water System. R. D. COLE MANUFACTURING CO. » . ^ NEWNAN, GEORGIA.