The bulletin. (Irwinton, Wilkinson County, Ga.) 191?-19??, July 04, 1913, Image 3

The bulletin., July 04, 1913, Image 3

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Newspaper Page TextMacon; Dublin ano savannah RAILROAD COMPANY LOCALTIMETABLB. Effective July 2, 1911. No.lß N 0.20 Stations' N 0.19 N 0.17 AM. P.M, Ly. Ar. A.lit P.l* *7:10 Macon 11:15 4:30 7:22 3:37 Swiftcreek: 11:02 4:20 7:30 3:45 Drybranch >0:55 4:12 7:34 3:49 Atlantic 10:51 4:09 7:38 3:53 Pike’s Peak 10:48 4:02 7:45 4:00 Fitzpatrick 10:42 4:00 7:50 4:04 Ripley 10:37 3:53 8:00 4:14 Jeff’sonvllle 10:27 3:42 8:10 4:23 Gallemore U»:45 3:30 8:20 4:33 Danvilel 10:07 3:22 8:25 4:38 Allentown 10:02 3:17 4:34 4:47 Montrose 9:53 3:08 8:44 4:57 Dudley 9:42 2:58 8:50 5:03 Shewmake 9:36 2:52 8:55 5:09 Moore 9:29 2:45 8:10 5:25 ar Iv 9:15 2:30 Dublin 8:15 5:30 Iv ar 9:10 2:25 8:17 5:32 SouMD&SJet 9:08 2:23 8:21 5:36 NorMD&SJet 9:04 2:19 8:31 5:45 Catlin 8:54 2:09 9:40 5.54 Mlntor 8:47 2:01 9:50 6:05 Rockledge 8:36 1:50 9:55 6:10 Orland 8:31 1:43 10:08 6:23 Soporton 8:19 1:33 10:19 6:34 Tarrytown 8:07 1:21 10:28 6:41 Kibbee 8:00 1:15 10:40 6:55 Vidalia 7:45 1:00 ‘ CONNECTIONS. At Dublin with the Wrightsville and Tennille and the Dublin and South western for Eastman and Tennille end intermediate points. At Macon iwth Southern railway from and to Cincinnati, Chattanooga, Rome, Birmingham, Atlanta and in termediate points. Also the Central •f Georgia, G., S. & F. railway, Ma eon and Birmingham railway and the Georgia railroad. At Rockledge with the Millen and Southwestern for Wadley and inter mediate points. At Vidalia with the Seaboard Air Line for Savannah and intermediate points, and with the Millen and South western for Millen, Stillmore and in termediate points. J. A. STREYER, G. P. A., Macon, Ga Foley’s GRIND I/axative la Pleasant and effective OURKS Constipation, Stomach and Liver Trouble, by •Emulating these organa and restoring their natural action. la beat for women and chil dren as ORINO does not grip* •r nauseate. /> Portable and Btstletwry AND BOILERS. •ms, lath and MHngta Milla lajeetm! Pumps and ittlno, Weea Sawa. SpMk ten, Shafts, PtaUaya, Betting, OeM •as Boginas. LARGB STOCK AV LOMBARD Veaadry, Kaohina and Boiler Waato Supply Store. AUGUSTA, »A. ROYSKTONEYCUM Wakes KJdaeya sad Bladder Right LSYour Printing czq pzzi If it is worth doing at all, it’s worth do ing well. □ First class work at all times is our motto. Let us figure with you on your next job. czd___ tzz GEORGE WASHINGTON Installment 18 He was cut to the quick that his own officers should deem him an ad venturer, willing to advance his own power at the expense of the very principles he had fought for. His thought must have gone back at a bound to his old comradeship with brother Lawrence, with the Fair faxes, George Mason, and the Lees, and all that free company of gentle men in the Northern Neck who re vered law, loved liberty, and hated a usurper. But he could not blink the just com plaints and real grievances of the army; nor did he wish to. Though others were angry after a manner he scorned, no man’s grief or indignation was deeper than his that the army should be left penniless aft er all it had suffered and done, and be threatened, besides, with being turned adrift without reward or hope of pro vision for the future. Promises Justice to the Army. "No man possesses a more sincere wish to see ample justice done to the army than I do,” he had declared to Colonel Nicola: .“and as far as my power and influence, in a constitu tional way, extend, they shall be em ployed to the utmost of my abilities to effect it.” The pledge was fulfilled in almost every letter he wrote, private or pub lic. He urged the states, as he urged the congress, in season and out of sea son, to see justice done the men who had won the Revolution, and whom he loved as if they had been of his own blood. His Counsel Disregarded. But even his great voice went too long unheeded. “The spirit of party, private Interest, slowness, and nar tional indolence slacken, suspend, and overthrow the best concerted measures,” the Abbe Robin had ob served, upon his first coming w'ith Rochambeau; and now measures were not so much as concerted until a final menace from the army brought the country to its senses. A troubled summer came and went, and another winter of anxious doubt and ineffectual counsel. The very approach of peace, as it grew more certain, quickened the angry fears of the army, lest peace should be made a pretext, when it came, to disperse them before their demands could be driven home upon the demoralized and reluctant govern ment they were learning to despise. Another spring and the mischief so long maturing was ripe; it looked as if even Washington could not prevent it. A Menace From the Army. It had been rumored in Philadel phia, while the winter held, “that the army had secretly determined not to lay down their arms until due pro vision and a satisfactory prospect should be afforded on the subject of their pay,” and that Washington had grown unpopular among almost all ranks because of his harshness against every unlawful means of se curing justice. “His extreme reserve, mixed some times with a degree of asperity of temper, both of which were said to have increased of late, had contribut ed to the decline of his popularity”— so ran the report—and it grew every week the more unlikely he could check the treasonable purposes of his men. Springing the Mine. In March, 1783, the mine was sprung; and then men learned, by a new sign, what po-wer there was in the silent man; how he could handle disaffection and disarm reproach. An open address was spread broad cast through the camp, calling upon the army to use its power to obtain its rights, and inviting a meeting of the officers to devise away. “Can you consent to be the only sufferers by this revolution? . . . If you can, -. . . go, . . . carry with you the ridicule, and, what is w’orse, the pity of the world. Go, starve, and be forgotten. . . . But if you have sense enough to discover, and spirit enough to oppose, tyranny . . . awake; attend to your situation, and redress yourselves.” Such were its kindling phrases; and no man need deceive himself with thinking they would go unheeded. Checkmates the Movement. Washington showed his tact and mastery by assuming immediate con trol of the movement, with a sharp rebuke for such a breach of manly propriety and soldierly discipline, but with no thought to stay a righteous protest. He himself summoned the officers, and when they had come together stepped to the desk before them, w’ith no show of anger or offended dignity, but very gravely, with a sort of majesty it moved one strangely to see, and taking a written paper from his pocket, adjusted his spectacles to read it. “Gentleman.” he said, very sim ply, “you will permit me to put on my spectacles, for I have not only grown gray, but almost blind, in the service of my country.” Again a Victor. There were wet eyes upon the in stant in the room; no man stirred while he read —read words of admoni- /the story or THE FIRST PRESIDENT' BY THE PRESIDENT^ tion, of counsel, and of hope which burned at the ear; and when he was done, and had withdrawn, leaving them to do what they would, they did nothing of which he could be ashamed. They spoke manfully, as was right, of what they deemed it just and im perative the congress, should do for them, but they “Resolved, unanimous ly, that at the commencement of the present war the officers of the Amer ican army engaged in the service of their country from the purest love and attachment to the rights and lib erties of human nature, which motives still exist in the highest degree; and that no circumstances of distress or danger shall induce a conduct that may tend to sully the reputation and glory which they have acquired at the price of their blood and eight years’ faithful services.” Urges Congress to Act. Washington knew, nevertheless, how black a danger lurked among these distressed men; did not fail to speak plainly of it to the congress; and breathed freely again only when the soldiers' just demands had at last in some measure been met, by at any rate the proper legislation. He grew weary with longing for peace, when the work seemed done and his thoughts ahd leisure to turn towards his home again. But once in all the lengthened days of fighting had he seen Mount Ver non. He had turned aside to spend a night or two there on his way to Yorktown, and he had seen the loved place again for a little after the vic tory was won. Now, amidst profitless days at New burgh, or In counsel with the commit tees of the congress upon, business that was never finished, while affairs stood as it were in a sort of paralysis, waiting upon the interminable con ferences of the three powers who hag gled over definitive terms of peace at Paris, home seemed to him, in his weariness, more to be desired than ever before. Sorrow at Mount Vernon. Private griefs had stricken him at the very moment of his triumph. Scarcely had the victory at Yorktown been celebrated when he was called (November, 1781) to the death bed of Jack Custis, his wayward but dearly loved stepson, and had there to en dure the sight of his wife’s grief and the young widow's hopeless sorrow added to his own. The two youngest children he claimed for himself, with that wistful fatherly longing that had always mark ed him; and Mount Vernon seemed to him more like a haven than ever, where to seek rest and solace. The two years he had yet to wait may well have seemed to him the longest of his life, and may have add ed a touch of their own to what strangers deemed his sternness. Washington had seldom seemed so stern as in one incident of those try ing months. An officer of the American army had been taken in a skirmish, and the English had permitted a brutal com pany of loyalists, under one Captain Lippincott, to take him from his pris on in New York and wantonly hang him in broad daylight on the heights near Middletown. Washington at once notified the British commander that unless the murderers were delivered up to be punished, a British officer would be chosen by lot from among his pris oners to suffer in their stead; and, when reparation was withheld, pro ceeded without hesitation to carry his threat into "execution. The lot fell upon Captain Charles Asgill, an engaging youth of only nineteen, the heir of a great English family. Lady Asgill, the lad’s mother, did not stop short of moving the very French court itself to intervene to save her son, and at last the congress counseled his release, the English commander having disavowed the act of the murderers in whose place he was to suffer, and Washington him self having asked to be directed what he should do. “Captain Asgill has been released,” Washington wrote to Vergennes, in answer to the great minister’s inter cession. “I have no right to assume any particular merit from the lenient manner in which this disagreeable af fair has terminated. But I beg you to believe, sir, that I most sincerely rejoice, not only because your hu mane intentions are gratified? but be cause the event accords with the wishes of his most Christian ma jesty.” A Great Weight Lifted. It lifted a great weight from his heart to have the Innocent boy to go unhurt from his hands, and he wrote almost tenderly to him in ac nnainting him with his release; but it was of his simple nature to have sent the lad to the gallows, neverthe less, had things continued to stand as they were at first. He was inexorable to check perfidy and vindicate the just rules of war Men were reminded, while the affair pended, of the hanging of Andre, Ar nold’s British confederate in treason, and how pitiless the commander-in chief had seemed m sending the frank, accomplished, lovable gentleman to i his disgraceful death, like any com mon spy, granting him not even the favor to be shot, like a soldier. It seemed hard to learn the inflexible lines upon which that consistent mind worked, as if it had gone to school to Fate. Goodby to Hie Officers. But no one deemed him hard or stern, or so much as a thought more or less than human, when at last the British had withdrawn from New York, and he stood amidst his officers in Fraunce’s tavern to say goodby. He could hardly speak for emotion; he could only lift his glass and say: "With a heart full of love and grati tude, I now take my leave of you, most devoutly wishing that your lat ter days may be as prosperous and happy as your former ones have been glorious and honorable. . . I can not come to each of you and take my leave,” he said, "but shall be obliged if you will come and take me by the hand.” A Fervent Parting. When General Knox, who stood nearest, approached him, he drew him to him with a sudden impulse and kissed him, and not a soldier among them all went away without an em brace from this man who was deemed cold and distant. After the parting they followed him in silence to White hall Ferry, and saw him take boat for his journey. And then, standing before the con gress at Annapolis to resign his com mission, he added the crowning touch of simplicity to his just repute as a man beyond others noble and sincere. Resigns His Commission. “I have now the honor of offering my sincere congratulations to con gress," he said, as he stood amidst the august scene they had prepared for him, “and of presenting myself before them to surrender into their hands the trust committed’ to me, and to claim the indulgence of retiring from the service of my country.” “Happy in the confirmation of our independence and sovereignty, and pleased with the opportunity afford ed the United States of becoming a respectable nation, I resign with sat isfaction the appointment I accepted with diffidence —a diffidence in my abilities to accomplish so arduous a task, which, however, was superseded by a confidence in the rectitude of our cause, the support of the supreme power of the Union, and the patronage of Heaven. “The succesful termination of the war has verified the most sanguine ex pectations; and my gratitude for the Interposition of Providence and the as sistance I have received from my countrymen increases with every re view of the momentous contest. . . . I consider it my indispensable duty to close this last solemn act of my official life by commending the interests of our dearest country to the protection of Almighty God and those who have the superintendence of them to his holy keeping." It was as if spoken on the morrow of the day upon which he accepted his commission; the same diffidence, the same trust in a power greater and higher than his own. An Idol and a Hero. The plaudits that had but just now filled his ears at every stage of his long journey from New’ York seemed utterly forgotten; he seemed not to know how his fellow countrymen had made of him an idol and a hero; his simplicity was once again his authen tic badge of genuineness. He knew, it would seem, no other way in which to act. A little child remembered after wards how he had prayed at her father’s house upon the eve of battle; how’ he had taken scripture out of Joshua, and had cried. "The Lord God of gods, the Lord God of gods, he knoweth, and Israel he shall know; if it be in rebellion, or if in transgres sion against the Lord (save us not this day).” There was here the same note of solemnity and of self-forgetful devo tion as if duty and honor were alike inevitable. On Christmas eve, 1783, Washington was once more at Mount Vernon, to resume the life he loved more than victory and power. He had a zest for the means and the labor of succeeding, but not for the mere content of success. He put the revolution behind him as he would have laid aside a book that was read: turned from it as quietly as he had turned from receiving the surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown —interested in victory, not as a pageant and field of glory, but only as a means to an end. He looked to find very sweet satis faction in the peace which war had earned, as sufficient a scope for his powers at home as in the field. Once more he would be a Virginian, and join his strength to his neigh bors' in all the tasks of good citi zenship. He had seen nothing of the old familiar places since that far-away spring in the year 1775, when he had left his farming and bis fox-hunting, amidst rumors of war, to attend tiie congress which was to send him to Cambridge. He had halted at Fred- pricksburg, Indeed, with the Count de Rochambeau, two years ago, ere he followed his army from York to its posts upon the Hudson. Mrs. Lewis, his sister, had returned one day from visiting a neighbor in the quiet town to look in astonishment upon an officer’* horses and attend ants, at her door, and had entered to find her beloved brother stretched upon her own bed within, sound asleep in his clothes, like a boy returned from hunting. Takes His Mother to a Ball. There had been a formal ball given, too. in celebration of the victory, be fore the French officers and the com mander-in-chief left Fredericksburg to go northward again, and Washington had had the joy of entering the room in the face of the gay company with his aged mother on his arm, not a whit bent for all her seventy-four years, and as quiet as a queen at receiving the homage of her son’s comrades in arms. He had got his imperious spirit of command from her. A servant had told her that “Mars George” had put up at the tavern. “Go and tell George to come here in stantly,” she had commanded, and he had come, masterful man though he was. He had felt every old affection and every old allegiance renew Itself as he saw former neighbors crowd around him; and that little glimpse of Vir ginia had refreshed him like a tonic — deeply, and as if it renewed his very nature, aS only a silent man can be re freshed. But a few days in Fredericks burg and at Mount Vernon then had been only an incident of campaigning, only a grateful pause on a march. Back to Private Life. Now at last he had come back to keep his home and be a neighbor again, as he had not been these nine years. It was not the same Virginia, nor even the same home and. neighborhood he had gone from, that Washington came back to when the war was done. He had left Mount Vernon in the care of Lund Washington, his nephew, while the war lasted, and had not for gotten amidst all his letter writing to send seasonable directions and main tain a constant oversight upon the management of his estate. Rebukes His Nephew. It was part of his genius to find time for everything, and Mount Vernon had suffered something less than the or dinary hazards and neglects of war. It had suffered less upon one occa sion, indeed, than its proud owner could have found it in his heart to wish. In the spring of 1781 several British vessels had come pillaging within the Potomac, and the anxious Lund had regaled their officers with refresh ments from Mount Vernon to buy them off from mischief. “It would have been a less painful circumstance to me,” his uncompromising uncle had written him, "to have heard that, in consequence of your non-compliance with their request, they had burnt my house and laid the plantation in ruin. You ought to have considered yourself as my representative." Kept though it was from harm, however, the place had suffered many things for lack of his personal care. There was some part of the task to be over again that had confronted him when he came to take possession of the old plantation with his bride after the neglects of the French war. Finds Virginia a State. But Virginia was more changed than Mount Vernon. He had left it a col ony, at odds with a royal governor; he returned to find it a state, with Benjamin Harrison, that stout gentle man and good planter, for governor, by the free suffrage of his fellow Vir ginians. There had been no radical break with the aristocratic traditions of the past. Mr. Harrison's handsome seat at Lower Brandon lay where the long reaches of the James marked the old est regions of Virginia's life upon broad, half-feudal estates; where there were good wine and plate upon the table, and gentlemen kept old customs bright and honored in the observance. (TO BE CONTINUED.) Reindeer Venison From Alaska. At different times in the last twenty years the government imported rein deer into Alaska —about 1,200 in all in hopes to provide food for the na tives in the future. The plan caused some amusement, and some criticism at the time. Subsequent develop ments, however, have justified the at tempt. The herds have now increas ed to about 35,000 or 40,000 animals, and are rapidly increasing. The na tives own about two-thirds of the num ber. Shipments of meat have been made to the Pacific coast cities. Last year's sales of venison and skins amounted to $25,000. It is claimed the vast tundra or treeless, frozen plains of Alaska will support at least 10.000,- 000 animals. The federal authorities in charge are so optimistic of the fu ture outlook that the prediction is made that "within 25 years the United States can draw a considerable part of its meat supply from Alaska.” Ap parentl^ 1 all we have to do is to live long enough, and we will see dear meat made cheaper by deer meat from Alaska. —Wall Street Journal. Go Thou to Canarsle. New idea about sleeping comes from a Swiss sawbones, who says the amount should be regulated by the al titude of the place where you live, in low lying districts, like Carnarsie. he thinks, seven hours are- enough, but if you live in Washington Heights or Edgewater you would better get eight or you’ll be feeling rocky by the time you reach the office after bucking the line tn the subway.— New York Press, IK!/ Selected Pickles Nature’s finest, put up like the , home-made kind and all your trouble /’saved. This extra quality is true of all Libby’s Pickles and Condiments and there is real economy in their use. Spanish Olives Every one from Seville, long famed as the home of the world’s best olives. Only the pick of the crop is offered to you under the Libby label. Either the Queen or Manz cygigs smilla variety Rg uffflcSf or pimento iilßjl SBI m fen stuffed. a ggi E® Insist on j Mv ImmD Libby, V McNeill * ffIQSF ~ Libby MHBL Chicago Sold Under * a Binding . Guarantee’^-Jv 1 k Money Back Y\~*/ * K If it Fails Th Far Man ar Beal HANFORD’S Balsam of Myrrh For Cots, Burns, Bruises, Sprains, Strains, Stiff Neck, Chilblains, Lame Back, Old Sores, Open Wounds, ^8 and all External Injuries. v Mada Since 1846. Price 25c, 50c and SI.OO All Dealers No, Cordelia, dignity and the swell head are not the same. The man who stammers is apt to break his word when telling the truth. If wishes were automobiles the sup ply of gasoline would soon be ex hausted. The average man would rather help out with the anvil chorus than play second violin. Not for the exercise, either. A Kansas Judge has decided that a man is the owner of his wife's clothes. If her new bonnet costs too much to suit him he can wear it himself. Here's a bit of wisdom Solomon for got to mention: You must be in busi ness with a man or in love with a wo man in order to know that you don’t know them. Its Term. “When a comet comes back —” “Yes, dear?” “Could you properly call it a star revival?” Few Do. “Why Is that man so much in de mand at public gatherings?” "He knows the words of ‘The Star Spangled Banner.’ ” It's Quality. “I-noticed in the department store this morning there was a big crowd about the perfumery bargains.” "Naturally, the perfumery would be the scenter of attraction.” BANISHED Coffee Finally Had to Go. The way some persons cling to cof fee, even after they know it is doing them harm, is a puzzler. But it is an easy matter to give it up for good, when Postum is properly made and used instead. A girl writes: "Mother had been suffering with nervous headaches for seven weary years, but kept on drinking coffee. “One day I asked her why she did not give up coffee, as a cousin of mine had done who had taken to Postum. But Mother was such a slave to coffee she thought it would be terrible to give it up, “Finally, one day, she made the change to Postum, and quickly her headaches disappeared. One morning while she was drinking Postum so freely and with such relish, I asked for a taste. “That started me on Postum and I now drink it more freely than I did coffee, which never comes into our house now.” Name given by Postum Co., Battle Creek, Mich. Write for booklet, "The Road to Wellvllle.” Postum comes in two forms. Regular Postum (must be boiled.) Instant Postum doesn’t require boil ing. but is prepared instantly by stir ring a level teaspoonful in an ordinary cup of hot water, which makes it right for most persons. A big cup requires more and some people who like strong things put in a heaping spoonful and temper it with a large supply of cream. Experiment until you know the amount that pleases your palate and have it served that way in the future. “There’s a Reason” for Postum.