Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

TIIE INDEPENDENT. SATIRDAY, JASVIRY 3, t*?4. J. C. GALLAHES, Editor and Proprietor. Published Weekly at ** OO per Annum la Aden nee. Mingle Copies 5 eenta. GOD’S HE YPEUS. BY XUS. Pit. ADAMS. The harvest is ended—the season is o’er— And the reaper* one and all Are hasting in from the fields once more, To answer the Master’s t all: Each heart is hill of the work he leaves, As the solemn test draws near, ” Where hast thou wiped f and t chere are thy sheaves * The proojs qf thy toil this year ? n *‘l labored," spake one, “amid garden bowers; Myrrh, spices, and perfumes sweet; I have brought of the choiciCTd fruits and flowers, To lay at mv Master's feet.* “I have toiled," said one, “amid mansions grand, Whose coffers were full and free,' And 1 gathered in w ith an eager hand Earth’s treasures for Thee ami me.” 4 ‘l have fought." said one. “with the sons of men Who are giants hi mind ami might: And I vanquished the skeptic and scoffer then, With the sword and the spirit of light.” Another—“’tis little I bring my Lord, Bnt mine was an earnest will; Though my labor yield not a rich reward / trust—-and 1 tabor still !" One—’twas & noble form I trow, Though the furrows of grief ami care Had left their impress on cheek and brow, Vyt a wondrous pence was the re ! Ami his fcw r brief words were firm, though faint, For bis strength was well nigh gone; But his dauntless faith, cheeked nil complaint, And the fire of love burned on! •‘Master,” lie said, “mi untrodden ground, The field of my toil has been; I have worked my way to the utmost bound, Of this wilderness of sin. Few sheaves 1 gathered with anxious fears, For briers and thorns destroy; But where I have faithfully sowed in tears, Another may reap with joy I” A smile o'er the blessed Master's face, With heavenly sweetness came. And the tender tones of II is words of grace, Set the reaper's heart aflame. “Servant of Christ—w<-3 done! through life Thv Saviour this pathway trod: The harder the conflict, the pain, tin* strife, The sweeter thy rest with God. ’ • #*♦*#*# Oh ! reaper* of find, in the wide-spread field Where all must toil and share. Thy Maker shall be thy snn and shield, As you gather His harvests there, Fcnri tg the heat of the burdensome day, The storm, and the hitter blast. Eve r \oid hardships and losses say “.V>, jmw e • my rest at last /” Tbom.isyu.le. December fith, 1*73. WHY HE CHANGED HJS MIND. HV MACK. Saponr.ppons 8ton" wna a millionaire mu) a yatcliman. Jt was rt |>orti*tl of him that in early life lie bad been a pci ijutiiotii; initlicri r of the otaftirinoiiK refuse of kitrh < nM;tlmt in liis tvimtl <-rings lie always nir rietl with him a large tin vessel, and was eontinually singing a melody the refrain of which was “Snpe fate” whatever that may be. The veracious chroniclers who report the foregoing facts of ?.Tr further depose that as years pas ed by Mr. .Stone discarded the tin vessel and issued forth from his residence each day with a handcart, anil that in a short time he dis posed of that, anil might be seen dinmnllv urging onward with a stick an animate!) skeleton which was supposed to be a horse. Mhortly after this—so sav the worthy his torians before mentioned—Mr. Stone was missed from the scenes of his daily pere grinations, and for some years no trace of him could he found, until his name sud denly appeared on the front of ala go 1 rick building announcing him as a man ufacturer of soap and candles, and large trucks bearing the information painted on their sides might be seen loaded with box es traversing the streets at all hours of the day. At the termination of the war Mr. Stone retired from active business, bought a magnificent residence a short ways from the city and lived in the high style warran ted bv his enormous wealth. Only those who are wealthy oan afford to have a hobby, and Saponaceous being a millionaire, could have afforded to keep a whole stable full of hobbies if he wanted to, but as it was he had only one, and that was yachts. His great desire to forget his business and all connected with it may have been the cause of his affection for yachts, yachting, and the blue ocean, be cause his late business having been in grease, he pitched upon its exact opposite, for everybody knows the irreconcilability of gresse and water. Be that as it may. Mr. Stone, was almost crazy on the regat tas, yachts, sailors, and everything con nected with the water. He shivered his timbers instead of swearing, contracted a bronchial affection from wearing his shirt collar open in the neck, rolled around like a poorly spun top when he walked, and in short conducted himself in a most seanmn like and nautical manner. There were those among liis detractors who said he knew nothing about yachts, tides, or maritime affairs of any kind, and that in fact Air. Stone, if lie but stepped aboard his yacht when she was fast moored to the dock, would be as much at sea as though land were out of sight; but the club to which he belonged and to which lie bad donated twenty thousand dollars for a club house, made him commodore, and we all know he could not be a commodore and be void of nautical knowledge—the thing is impossible. So Mr. Saponaceous Stone was celebra ted as a vaentman, and was happy. He mourned the fact that he had made all his money on shore, and more, that if he hail a dozen sons they should all have been sailors; but as Airs. Stone bail been depos ited in Greenwood some years before, leaving but one child, and tliat a daughter, Mr. S. was deterred from thus aiding the commerce of his country, though, as a setoff to the disappointment tliat the com mercial world felt at not having the mari time list increased by twelve Stones, he swore that nobody but a true sailor should wed his lovely daughter, and commanded her on pain of being disinherited and see ing all liis money cro to erect a sailors’ re treat, to bestow her affections on no one but a gallant son of Neptune. This that worthy young lady would un doubtedly have done if, unfortunately, her affections bad not already been be sfcowed on Reginald Ready, a poor but worthy clerk in the office of her father’s successors in the soap business. So all in vain did the fair Olive Stone beseech her father to relent and bless their union ns well ns leave them bis money. \; VOLUME I. ‘Never I” roared the old ■ gentleman, I “I’d sooner see von hung with u tiller rope than convoyed for life to an ink slinging lubber—’’ “But. father, I love him, and—and he loves me,” entreated the girl. “Avast there,” yelled the commodore. “Stow that lingo, my pretty clipper, and jibe jib—then go ou another tuck. Pick out another tar, nud make this old salt happy.” Of course nil such conversations ns these were only reported to the love strick en Reginald by his faithful Olive, and dire was the disappointment it wrought to those young hearts. “I am afraid," said Olive one day to her lover "that we will have to give each other up, for you kuow. Regie, we couldn't live on your salary of one thousand a year. ” “False oue 1” said Reginald, “you love another.” "Yon wrong me, Regie, indeed you do, You are cruel, too. Think of how I have coaxed and coaxed and worried and wor ried until I have almost made an enemy of my own father,” said the girl weeping. “Can you not coax once more?” asked the young man. “It would he useless,” replied the un happy Olive; “it would he useless.” “You decline to intercede further?” questioned Reginald. “I must, since I know it would be fu tile,” she answered. “Then I will do it!” cried the young clerk. “You !” "Yes, I,’’said the ink-slinging lubber. “You sav your father insists on your mar rying a sailor ?” “He does,” the girl replied. "Well, when he asks you to marry me will you do it *” “Will I ? O, Regie !” “Lnough. Ask me no questions; my mind is made up. 1 will make the old duffer recant. ” And with a kiss they sep arated. The next day, ns the commodore was sitting in liis sung study, which lie denom inated his cabin, ft servant came to hint, and sail! there was a “sailor lookin’ man as wanted to see him.” “Ah ! show him in, show him in,” said the commodore, delighted. The s rvant left and soon returned u h eriug in a rough looking fellow whose hands and face were tanned almost black by exposure to the elements. He was dream din n dark blue pea jacket, wore pants of the same color, and had a large black inckcrcl iei tied loosely under a low cut collar. He walked with I lint roll pe culiar to theatrical sailors, wore bis tar paulin hat very much on the back and one side of his head, and as he entered his jaws w ere w orking on un enormous quid of tobacco like a sausage machine. “What cheer sbipmet ?” lie te ked in a voice of thunder. “Sling us a hawser if you want me to come up alongside there, that’s hearty,” he added when the commodore had shaken hands with him. “My name is Ned Ratlin, eotm times called Rattlin' Nd. I'm rated on the ship's Isadoras so cond mate, and I'm as tough an old salt as ever chawed tobacco, or nibbled a ship’s biscuit. Now you know me,” he concluded, “tip ns vour tin.” “I’m glad to know you, Mr. Ratline,” said the commodore rather ill at ease; “hut,” said he, looking first at 1 is visitor and then at the velvet <■ rpot, “couldn’t von—a- a spit in the spittoon ?” “What !” yelled the sailor, jumping up and making a motion as though lie were going to catch the commodore by the throat. “I'm Ned Ratline, a tough old salt, and if any lubberly yucht-.sajlin’ son of a so \-cook dictates to me w hether I’ll spit on the deck or not I’ll tow him ashore on a grating.” “I beg your pardon, Mr. Ratline,” in terrupted the commodore; “I merely meant to say that if you did spit on deck it might be more—a —a—pleasant if you expectorated somewhat, less than a quart and perhaps you would not object to throw away your tobacco and take a glass of g r ‘g ; ” “Now, cap’ll, you talk; I’m a rough old Jack Tar, but- when you treat, me square I’m square myself,” said* the tough old salt, setting down again, “and to show you I’m above board, J beg your pardon and the decks, and if you’ll pass the word for swabs we’ll make all taut and ship shape. And now here goes to unload;” with that the rough old Jack Tar removed a half pound or so of “navy” from his mouth and slung it up against the wall, where it stuck and decorated the satin paper with drippings of a handsome dark brown color. “Ry Heaven, sir, what do you think I am ?” yelled the commodore, gazing at the ruin done to his wall paper. “Take it easy, cap’ll; don’t get excited,” said Mr. Ratline. “Take in a reef,” lie added, helping himself to brandy. “Now, enp'n,” lie continued, after drinking two or three glasses, “1 hoard about you a long way from here, an* I says to myself ‘as soon as I reach port I’ll crowd nil sail for the commodore,’ very well, here I am. Now pass the word for your daughter.” “What. V” roared the commodore. “Pass the word for your daughter. I heerd yon wanted her to be spliced to a sailor. I’m a tough old salt, a rough old Jack Tar, audits good a sailor as ever trod a plank. Pass the word first for the young ’mi and then for the parson, and I’ll marry her right here.” “You will, will you ?” sneered the com modore. “Yes, cap’n; that’s what I came here for,” answered Mr. Ratline. “Well, now, go away again. Get out of this house sir. Get out. of this home!” yelled the commodore, thoroughly angry. “Keep her close to the wind, cap, and don’t rile me, ’cause when I’m riled I’m a hurricane.” And Mr. Ned Ratline again helping himself to brandy said: “Be lively cap’n, I want to see the gal I’m going to hitch alongside.” “Who said you could marry her?” de manded the commodore, trying to restrain his anger. “I said so,” answered the sailor “Aral I’m going to do it or call me a lubber. I’in Ned Ratline.” “I don’t care if yr u’re Ratline,or catline, or dogline, or cowline or clothes-line, I say you won’t marry my daughter,” interrupt ed the irate old gentleman. “I say you lie, I will,” said Mr. Rat line. “Don’t tell me a lie.” “Yes, I will.” “You will V” “Yes, you lie.” “There !” yelled the commodore, aiming a blow at the sailor, who parried it with the brandy bottle, and, without much exer tion. knocked the old man down. QUITMAN, GA„ SATURDAY, JANUARY J, 1874. "Get out of my house, you villain 1” cried the commodore,jumping up. "Leave that brandy alone, you scoundrel, leave it alone—do yon hear?” and the excited old man seized the goblet from Mr. Rat line’s hands, and threw it. on the door, with force enough to break it in a hundred pieces. ”(), that's your game, is it ?" said Mr. Ratline, and with that lie tired the bottle at the mirror, breaking both; followed up by shying the inkstand through the w in dow, and the paper weight at the decan ters on the sideboard, and then, picking up a heavy chair, he began to hammer the chandelier, while, through the crash and noise, the commodore’s voice might be heard veiling “Help ! John, l’ctcr, Wil liam ! Help ! Murder !? This brought the servants on the scene. "Put that man out !” ordered the com modore. The servants rushed to sieze Mr. Rat line. "Sheer off, messmates—sheer off,” said that gentleman; I can dear without a pi lot;” and so saving lie walked juit and through the garden. There, in a summer-, house, was seated the beimtious Olive, a prey to melancholy. Seeing her, Mr. Ratline walked in, seized her by the arm, and whispered a few words to her. She said bless von dear Regie," and ( lie sailor, first embracing her, walked away. That evening the commodore came into the parlor where his daughter was seated reading, mid said to her “Mv dear, do you love that young Ready ?” “Yes, father, dearly." “And you think you would be happy with him ?” "Oh, so happy, father." “Well, my dear, I've changed my mind somewhat about sailors, and—a —a—you can order your wedding trousseau as soon as you please." —-—.... [From (lie Uoselnirg (Oregon) Pluindealer.] The Best Bear Story of the Season. A eorrospupilent, writing from Uanyon ville, send* us the following interesting incident, which occurred near that place: About ten <lnvs since Henry Blunu and his wife, of Canyomilh* Precinct, went out into the mountains to look after their sheep. When about three miles from home his two dogs got after a hear, and after a severe chase, succeeded in com pelling tin- bear to climb a tree*. About the time that Air. bland and his wife rendu and the foot of the tree another fe rocious bear suddenly put in an appearance and sitvagfly attacked the dogs in the immediate presence of Mr. and Mrs. Bland. The fight now became unlimited and furious, dogs and bertr rolling over each other in the death struggle down a steep mountain into the canyon below. Bland was armed with a Henry rifle, but dared not shoot for four of killing his dogs. Now came the question how to rescue the dogs; only two cartridges were in the rifle and these bid to be u c l to the b \st advan tage. Mrs. Bland urged her husband to goto the assistance of the dogs, while* she, alor.t- and unarmed, undertook to keep the ferocious monster up the tree. Tie started down into the canyon to where the conflict was raging, guided bv the growls and yelps of the dogs and bear. Hi* arrived not a moment too soon fur Bruin was evidently getting the best of it. and would only bo pacified by the last shot, from the now empty rifle. It was dark when Bland returned to his wife at the foot of the tree. The situation was anything but flattering. The empty rifle was of little use, and upon the resolu tion of Mrs. Bland to sit. up with the bear, I he started for home for more ammunition. The lady being reinforced by the bleeding dogs, now felt that she was mistress of the situation. With no fire, far from home, in the midst of craggy mountains, this indomitable lady dared to hold at bay one :of the most ferocious monsters of the forest. The bear, not liking liis new home, determined to descend the tree, hut our heroine, with a stick and the bark ing of the dogs, compelled Bruin to take • a sober second thought, and, taking up his position on a lower limb, with eyeballs of fire he stared at the scene below. But our huntress was not dismayed by the | presence of her horrible companion, but stood guard until about ten o’clock, when j her husband and another man came to her j assistance. Bhe then started for home through the deep canyons and gorges of the mountains, entirely alone, and it was midnight when she sorely arrived at her own dwelling. The next morning, as soon an it was sufficiently light, the hear was shot. He 1 proved to be one of the largest of those known us the cinnamon variety. [From the Helena (Montana) Gnzott .] Legend of A Bad Indian. A long, long time ago, according to the traditions of the Flathead Indians, they went once a year to hunt Buffalo, just as they now do, and their trials were the same up the Hell Gate and Little Black foot and down Ten Mile. The present site of Helena was a favorite camping place. “In those days,” according to one of the chiefs of said tribe well versed in its legi ncl ary love, “there was one of the Flathead braves who was a bad Indian; lie had no respect for the virtue of the ; beautiful Indian maidens; he wus a reg ular horso jockey- made races for ponies and buffalo robes, all on the square, and then ‘doped* his opponent’s fleet bron cho; he played that ancient and respected game of “old sledge” in such a dexterous manner as to vanquish all his adversaries, who never could account for the maimer in which lie “turned jack;” he had away of “boldin’ cm” at draw poker that made liis red brethren swear in the most ap proved Flathead jargon; in short, he was a “very bad Indian.” Once upon a time, when they wore camped on the little stream where Helena is now situated, on their way to hunt buffalo, the devil “call ed” for the wicked brave, and told him his time had come, and that he must accom pany him to the unhappy hunting grounds of had Indians. The Indian told the wicked Spirit that he had some business matters to arrange with other braves of the tribe, such as a few collections to make etc., and tliat if his Satanic majesty would i go out to the present site of Wusswciller’s hot springs, he would come as soon as the wind quit blowing. The devil agre ed to the terms, and departed to await the lull ing of the wind and the coming of the | brave. As the wind has never quit blow ing, his victim has never appeared, and the Indians say the devil is still camped, there, and tliat the hot water oftliesprings jis taken from tlie waters of Ten Mile for fuse in his camp, from whence it emerges i in its present heated state, THE DOCTOR'S LAST SHOT. I!Y MRS. A. W. CURTIS. Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Drown worn having a very comfortable afternoon together. Mrs. Smith, who was an invalid, or thought herself one, which is just ns hud, was .re clining in an oiwy-oliair, and Mrs. Brown, wlio had run in with her knitting work just to see how she was, hud been persuad ed to spend the rest, of (lie day with her friend. "Ve, Mrs. Brown, I consider it provi dential. That poor niece of mine Wits left an orphan on the cold charities of (lie world, and 1 was the only friend she lmd, she came right here, of course. Well, here I am in such delicate health, needing constant attention, and I couldn’t expect my own girls, poor dears, to ho fussing around tlicir sick mother all the time. I want them to enjoy themselves while they ean. This poor thing needed a home, and I gave it to her at once. I said, ‘of eortrse, child, come right Here and live with us. You run make yourself useful, no doubt, land it'll all be right. ’ She's been here six , months now, and Inis been a wonderful ’ help to ini', 1 keep her busy from day light until dark to keep her mind off her I troubles, you know, and nights when 1 can't sleep it’s dreadful handy to have her where she can rub my back, souk my feet, ! bathe my head, and read me to sleep.” "Do you pay lu r wages V” “Bless me, no ! She said something about it one day as if shn expected to be paid for her w ork, but 1 (old her we I couldn't think of hiring our own blood le litions to work for lis. I told her to just I be easy about that, w henever she needed anything we’d see about it. She gave me. a kind of a queer smile that 1 didn't un derstand or like; but, on (he whole, she is wonderful quiet and gentle like, and 1 cou j sider il areal l’rovidemo.” I “Where is she now ? i I sent her down to the hack pasture to get some blackberries for mv tea. 1 | thought maybe I’d relish them if they were I fresh.” Down in the back pasture she was, the poor niece,Meta Lnngdon, lmt not picking blackberries. She was sitting on a mossy log among the bushes crying as if her heart would break. It did her good; it cook'd the fierce fever in her heart, and she finally grew quiet and slipped softly I down upon her knees and prayed long ami ! earnestly for patience and wisdom and help from her Heavenly Father. Then she caught up her pail and rose to commence her task. But it so happened that Doctor I Chester, who was spending a few weeks in that delightful country place, was out i hunting that day. A fine, plump part ; ridge flew up from the bushes just at that I moment, and the Doctor fired. To his as ! touishnient the bird escaped, but a shrill (.scream and a heavy fall beyond tie* busli -les made him throw down liis gun and i bag and rush furiously through the sharp briars, never heeding the rents they made in his line hunting suit or the cruel scratch - ; es upon his fact' and hands. There lay the game he had brought ■ down, in the > hope of a young girl who was ! in a dead faint or killed for aught lie i knew. lie quickly loosened her dn ss and dashed water in her fact' from U full can teen which lie* happened to have, and final ly forced a few drops of brandy betwe en her ips. At length she opened her eyes, to his great relief, and tried to rise, lmt a sharp cry of pain showed there was some thing more serious than a mere fright. “What is it, where are you hurl V” “My arm,” she exclaimed. He tore the hided calico sleeve open to tin* shoulder, and sun* enough, the soft, white arm was covered with blood and seemed to be riddled with shot. “Dear, dear, what have I done!” he ex claimed, hastily tying his own and her handkerchiefs tightly around it. “There’s no time for apologies or explanations. 1 thought 1 was shooting a partridge, and in some unaccountable way I have shot you Now toll me where you live so 1 can get you home as soon as possible. lam a physician, aiul we’ll soon have the poor min all right again.” “My home is just over the hill; I can walk if you will help me a little.” With a set, resolute face, aiul lips tightly closed t> keep back the moans of pain, Meta walked hastily towards home leaning upon h s arm. But just as they reached the gate she fainted again, and taking her in his arms he bore*, her rapidly to the house, and without any ceremony pushed open the parlor door and laid her upon a sofa. Mrs. Smith screamed murder at the top of her voice, and went into violent hyster ics. The doctor frowned scornfully at her, and said to Mrs. Brown: “There’s no time for nonsense; bring me some cold water ami bandages at once, and send j somebody to tbe hotel for Dr. (Tester's | small case of surgical instruments.” Mrs. Smith, left to herself, soon recov ered, and insisted on an explanation of the affair. “It’s nothing serious, I hope, I have ac cidentally sent a charge of shot into this young lady’s arm. Are you her mother ?” “No, inde.ai, she is a poor dependent creature that we’ve taken in for charity’s sake; a niece of mine, and what I am to do with her now I can’t tell. I can’t take care of her, and indeed, sir, it’s mighty inconvenient to have her laid tip just at this time. She is very necessary to my comfort. I need a sight of care and wailin’ on, night and day.” “Well, madam, slie’ll need a sight of care and waitin’ on herself now for a while, and must have it.” By this time the girl revived again un der the vigorous treatment she received, and the instruments were brought to him. “Now, madam, will you tell where to take this young lady, for she must he put to bed at once. ” “Well, she sleeps in a little closet off my room ” “That will never do. Show me the largest, best room you have in the house. Taking Meta gently in his arms, the doc tor followed Mrs. Smith up stairs to a large pleasant chamber. She groaned in spirit as she turned down the white coun terpane, and assisted the doctor in getting Meta undressed and into bed; but he was not to be trifled with at such a time. “Now, uiadanie, I will excuse you, but let Mrs. Brown bring me plenty of warm water and soft, old linen, and remain to assist me. And l want a servant close at hand to get whatever else J may require while dressing the arm.” It was a terrible hour to Mela while he probed each wound and removed the shot that were deeply imbedded in the tender flesh. Fortunately no bone was broken, and at last it was neatly bandaged with soft linen and wet with a healing lotion, and sho fell asleep. Mrs. Brown proved nil efficient helper; and ns they passed quietly out of the room tho doctor said; | “My patient must have the best of care ; and attention, ('mild you stay and nurse I her for a while ?" “Yes, l might." “Very well; I will pity you well if you w ill do it, for everything w ill depend upon 1 keeping her quiet now.” | lie met Mrs. Smith in tho hull. “Madam, this woman has consented to i stay and take euro of your niece, and 1 will sec that she is paid for it. But mind what I say: you must not see her, nor must any one else see her but Mrs. Brown and myself for a week at least, for she will have a serious time of it at the best. | 1 regret it exceedingly, more than I can tell yon, that 1 have been the cause of all this suffering, and will do my best to have I her about again as soon as possible," So saying, (he doctor wished them good-day, j ami (toon disappeared from their view. "Well, now, if that, isn't cool I And | what am 1 to do all this time ?” groaned Mrs. Smith, rocking herself vigorously in i her great arm-chair. “And my best spare I room, too. Say, did ho muss everything ' up dressing that arm ?” “<> no I ho was very careful about, that.” “Well, that's a comfort any way. To ! think I should have such trouble with that girl just when I needed her most I” 1 think it is a very mysterious dispensation of Providence. ” The next morning tlio doctor found Meta in a high fever, moaning with pain j and delirious. The arm was badly swol len and inflamed, and altogether her case laid assumed a very alarming aspect, lie did not go hunting nr fishing that day, hut .stayed by her ladside administering medi cine with his own hand, and doing every thing in Ids power for her relief. He was j greatly distressed over the accident, mid : inwardly vowed he would never fire ofi another gun ns long as lie lived. Hut wimt a revolution of toil, hardship, and cruel wrong the unconscious Meta made in her delirium. She fancied the doctor, us lie bathed her hot head and hands and soothed her ass Tie would a child, was her mother, and she drew his head close to his lips and whispered: “O mother ! I’m so glad von have come for me! I am tired to death. Auntie has no mercy or feeling for me ! She lias kept me at work over her night and day, and I've gone hungry many and many a : time because I couldn’t bear to cat the | food so grudgingly given. Olam so glad you have conic I” Now Meta was not a beautiful girl, 1 t hough she had a sweet, pure, womanly ! face, aud great wistful eyes, and an nbtiu i dance of dark silky hair. But her small hands were brown and hardened with toil; ! she was poor, dependent, alone in the world, except for this selfish, unnatural aunt, and the cousins who scarcely deigned to notictrher. Doctor Chester was a rich old bachelor, not so very old either, only thirty-six. Why he had never married no one could toll, but true it is be lmd remained heart whole all these years in spite of the many beautiful women wlip bad smiled mo t graciously upon him. But somehow this poor suffering orphan won his heart com pletely during that woelir of unconscious ness. He was charmed with her sweet prattle about her childhood; and her in nocence and helplessness, together with the suffering he lmd so unwittingly caused, appealed strongly to liis sympathy, and he fully resolved to win her love and make her his wife if possible. Never had a patient ft more assiduous doctor and nurse than did poor Meta. Mrs. Smith fumed and fretted over all the fuss that they made about.“tliat girl,” until the doctor frightened her into silence by telling her that he knew how she had treated the poor child, and if she didn’t keep quiet and have everything done that was need ful for her comfort he would have her ar rested and tried for inhuman cruelty. Under liis watchful earn the danger was soon over, and Meta was pronounced convalescent.. The doctor took her out to ride as soon as slie was able, in the easiest of all carriages. Rare delicacies were sent every day from the hotel to tempt, her returning appetite. The sweet est, and most fragrant flowers that could be found adorned her room. Meta re monstrated with him for all this lavish kindness, hut lie would silence her by say ing )u* was the cause of all her suffering and she must ullow him to atone for it in every way he could. Ilow eagerly he watched the faint color that crept into her cheeks at liis approach. How tenderly and delicately he ministered to her com fort, and pleasure day by day, until at last he ventured to tell her of his love and liis great desire to have her for lifs own. He had become very dear to her during all those weeks of suffering, and she ac knowledged it and promised to he liis wife. He hastened to inform Mrs. Smith of their betrothal, and asked her forbear mice for another week when, he assured her, lie would relieve her from all further care and responsibility of her niece. Imagine if you can her ust nishment. She was completely “dumbfounded I” and had not a word to say; though doubtless in her heart sin* thought it another most “mysterious dispensation. ” The next day* a notable dressmaker from the city arrived with various won derful and costly fabrics, which she had orders to make up for Miss Lnngdon in the latest style. Such a time as there was then of cutting arid busting, of trying on and trimming! Two other seamstresses kept their sewing-machines running at the highest rate of speed, until at the close of the week there was enough of a wedding trousseau to till a huge Saratoga trunk. The doctor made daily pilgrimages be tween that chamber and the city, until at last he could not devise another tiling w hich his darling could possibly need for dress or ornament during the trip to Kii rope which he had planned. Never was there a happier bride and groom than those who were made one in Mrs. Smith’s parlor that bright September looming. They went immediately to liis beautiful borne on the Hudson, w here liis mother received the new daughter with open arms, and soon after went to Europe, where they spent a year. Meta made good use of the time by putting herself under the care of the best private teachers, and when on their return the happy doctor presented his wife to liis friends, there was not among them one more highly accomplished or more elegant and refined. The doctor was very proud of her, and never tired of telling ids intimate friends how lie found liis wife, or the result of liis last shot. — Hearth and Home. + To curb a fast young man Bridal him. [Oakland (Oregon) (lorrospnmleut of the Chicago ! Intur-Orenn.] The “Madatone" A Real Cure. In a recent issue of your paper I saw mi article headed “The Mad Stone A Yen j table Care of Hydrophobia Cured. ” It in terested me, and for the benefit of those ! who are inclined to doubt the existence and efficacy of such stones permit mo to tell you of a ease which came under my personal observation. Several years ago I lived in Northwest Missouri, and at that time had a sou aged about six years, who was bitten by a rabid dog. The wound was an ugly one upon the nrm, between tho elbow and tho shoul der. \Y e were greatly frightened, as you may imagine, and were at a loss what an tidote to apply. YVe lmd heard of two mad stones in the possession of a Mrs. Hardin, a lady living at Council llluff, lowa. Asa forlorn hope my husband started after these stones. Ho rode on horseback night and day, and returned from his mission with the mudstones on the fifth day after the bite. We had hut little confidence in such remedies. The wound nearly healed, and wo were directed to shave or scrape the surface about it slightly, so that the [mis would ooze out, hut not so that the blood would fiuw. YYo applied one of tin stones, and, strange to relate, it would seem to fasten itself to the wound. For the first few days it would remain upon the wound, absorbing all the pus, or matter, which Unwed out, for a short time, and would then detach itself and drop off. Af ter a time it. took longer for the pores to fill, and consequently, tlm stone would stick for a correspond.ugly greater pi - rioil. The last application was on the thir- j teeuth day after the bite, nud then the | stone stuck for forty-eight hours, and j would adhere no longer. After each up- : plication we washed and thoroughly clean ed the stone iu warm water. MradimHy, as tin- stone seemed to draw the poison out of the [ins, it made for itself a cavity ! in the arm, sinking deeper at each appli- j cation. At last it had quite tinned itself, and a putrid sore formed, which had a very offensive smell, hut which finally healed. During the whole operation the patient w as quite sick, and grew very pule and weak, his whole nervous system seem ing shattered. Jle fully recovered at last and never afterward manifested any signs of the malady refilling from the bite. But you limy enquire how we know that the dog was mud. 1 myself saw it mani fest all tin symptoms of hydrophobia. It was seen to bite two hogs, and both of them became mad, one of them in two weeks and tho other iu three w eeks. Wo let them rave for a few days, aud then shot them. The stone that we used was about an inch and a half long, half an inch iu di ameter aud of n light gray color. It was porous, resembling in many respects pieces of coal that I have seen. Where it was found I do not know, nor can I give its theological classification. Certain it is it cured our boy, as my husband and many others can testify. Mrs. N. Bice. The Postmaster at Oakland endorses the above communication by saying: “1 know that the lady is truthful, as my acquain tance with her for fourteen years justi fies.” —— - •♦- “A New York paper nays that fa Bald-: headed man will many three times to any j other man’s once, all things Doing even.'* The gentleman who runs the bald-headed department of this concern requests us to ! declare that he can whip the Now York j paper that says it, no matter which it is. Courier-Journal. BUSINESS (WEBS. JAS.H. HUNTER, ATTOII \E Y A T LA\V , ITMAN, BROOKS COUNTY, O' BORGIA. M Will practice in the Counties of the Southern Circuit, Echols and Clinch of the Brunswick, and Mitchell of the Albany. 4<rOfticu at the Court House.'6* ’ jum-28-tf W. B. BENNETT. S. T. KINOHBEKKY BENNETT & KINGSBERRY, Attorneys at Law q UIT M A N, Brooks Comity, - Georgia. jtine2B-tf EDWARD R. HARDEN, Attorney at Law, qUIT3I A N , BROOKS COUNTY, ■ - GEORGIA. O Late an Associate Justice Supreme Court U. S. for Utah and Nebraska Territories; nowJudg County Court, Brooks County, Ga. mav24~l2mo J. a N. SNOW, JIKXTIWT, Quitman, ----- Georgia, Office Up Stairs, Finch's Corner. nug2- 4 Mm DR. E. A. JELKS, PIMCTISING PHYSICIAN, < £ nitirui 11. (i a. OFFICE- Brick building adjoining the store ot ■ Messrs. Briggs, Jilts A Cos., Screven street. xnaylGtf CL OTHING, c. 31. BROWN, of Florida, -WITH— WEI LEER & BRO., 274 W. Baltimore St., Baltimore, Md, aug2ff-4m BEDELL & CO., L i 11 <> i* Dealers; AND TOBACCO AGENTS, 140 BROAD STREET, COLUMBUS, GA. no v‘29-if NUMBER 35. MISt ELLAXEOL'S Alt VEK TISEMEXTS. CITY HOTEL, QUITMAN, GEORGIA. The Proprietor Oilers vo Visitors V NSI K PASSEI) INDUCEMENTfV ROOMS LARGE, WELL FURNISHED, AHD - THOROUGHLY VENTILATED. TABLE SUrrUKD WITH s THE BEST THE MARKET AFFORDS. Polite and Obliging Servants. If USE SITUATED CONVENIENT TO THE Depot and the Business Portion of the Town. I). U. JIcNKAL, Proprietor. mnvl7 *f T. EPSON HOWELL New Carriage Manufactory. mHE UNDERSIGNED TAKES PLEASURE 1 in announcing to tho public that ho has opened a CARRIAGE, BUGGY and WAGON MA A I FACT< >lf V IN QUITMAN, GEORGIA, (Near the Market) And in now prepared to do all work in that line as neat a* it cun bo done in the South. REPAIRING AND JOB WORK WILL BE DONE AT SHORT NOTICE Painting and Trimming CANNOT BE EXCELLED IN GEOR GIA. My principal wood workman ia Mr. 11l HAM FRETVVELL, an old and experienced "workman. All work will bo clone promptly and on reasona ble terms, and warranted. Please give me a call before you give your work to others. sepu-lm T. EPSON HOWELL. Mc€A LL & GBOOVEB, QUIT MA N, G A., Dealers in DRUGS, MEDICINES, CHEMICALS, Fine Toilet Soap, Fancy Hair and Tooth Brushes, Perfumery and Fancy Toilet Articles, Trusses mill Shoulder Bruces, FRESH GARDEN SEEDS. Paints, Oils, Varnishes & Dye-Stuffs. Letter Paper, Pins, Ink, Envelopes, WINDOW GLASS , of all sizes , Putty, Carbon Oil, Lamps and Chimneys. Physicians Prescriptions Accurately Compounded. Shot, Powdiji, Pebcdbsiox Cats, Tobacco^ Jy 12-1 V Snuff and Cigars. HENRY & JOHN PAREt Wholesale CLOTHING HOUSE, 376 & 378 Broadway, Corner White St., TV eav \ < >i*lc , Constantly Keep on Hand a Large and Well Se lected Stock of MEN’S, YOUTH’S AXP HOY’S CLOTHING. TIU House 1m represented by JOHN 11. WHITE, of Griffin, Ga., who will visit the Merchants of Georgia, Alabama and Florida. jtl2l-tf NEW STOCK. riNHE UNDERSIGNED HAVING PURCHASED I in pernon in the Eastern Cities, a large on l well assorted stock of GENERAL MERCHANDISE, is now prepared to offer peculiar inducements to his many customers and the public generally. His stock embraces a complete variety at Dry Goods. Ready Made Clothing, Hats, Cans, Boots and Shoes, Hardware, T in ware. Crockery and Glass war#*. All kinds of Wood ware auff A COMPLETE ASSORTMENT OF F A ill IL Y (IROCBH'IB^ all of which he offers ou the most reasonuM^ 1 terms. D. It. CREECH. Jr