Blackshear news. (Blackshear, GA.) 1878-18??, January 19, 1882, Image 1

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Blackshear news., January 19, 1882, Image 1

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Newspaper Page TextBLACKSHEAR NEWS. PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY E- Z. BYRD, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. blackshear, GA. SUBSCRIPTION, $1.00 PER YEAR. Special Rates to Advertisers on application. COUNTY DIRECTORY. Ordinabx.— A. J. Strickla nd. Cx.euk.-J. W. Strickland. Couxty j> Brantley. Tax Survkyob— Davis Thornton. Receiver. —John J. Smith. Tax Ooiaectob. —Allred Davis. COUP. T CALENDER. Clinch County.— First Mondays in March and October. Apflimj County.— Second Mondays in March and October. Wayne County.— Third Mondays in March and October. Pierce County.— Fourth Mondays in March and October. Novembti OCNTT ' _FirSt M ° nJaya iu April auJ Cowee County. —First Tuesday after second Monday " in April and November. Charlton County.— First Tuesday after third Monday iu April aud November. Camden County.— Fourth Mondays hnoUuil G ia'nn'cocnty. —Commencing on Monday in May aud December, aud to two weeks, or so long as the require. G. It. Mabry, SoUcitor-Gt neral, Brunswick, -■■j TOWN DIRECTORY. _ Mayor.—W m. It. Phillips. ALDEB 11 EN.-Dr. C. H. Smith, T. J. Fuller, J. M. Shaw and J. W. Strickland. SECRET SOCIETIES. BLACKSHEAR LODGE NO. 270, of E. & lodge A. M. Regular communications this will be held on the first and third Fri¬ day nights in each month. C. T. Latimer, W. M. A. J. Strickland, Secretary. aug-tf PROFESSIONA L CARDS. w. B. PHILLIPS, ATTORNEY AT LAW, aug4-tf Blackshear, Ga. A. E. COCHRAN, ATTORNEY AT LAW, Blackshear, Ga. Practico regularly in the counties composing the Brunswick Circuit and in the District and Circuit courts of tho United States at Savannah or the Southern District of Georgia. myl6-6m Q B. MABliY, ATTORNEY AT LAW, Brunswick, Ga. Practico regularly in the counties of Glynn, Ware, Wayne, Camden, Coffee, Appling ana Pierce, of tho Brunswick Circuit, and Telfair, of the Oconee Circuit. aug4-tf W. HITCH, O. ATTORNEY AT LAW, Blackshear, Ga. Practice regularly in the Brunswick Circuit. &ug4-tf A. B. EB FES, JR., ATTORNEY AT LAW, Blackshear, Pierce Co., Ga. Practice regularly in tho Brunswick Circuit. feb28-ly PHYSICIANS. * jQR. A. M. MOOBE, PRACTICING PHYSICIAN, Blackshear, Ga. Calli promptly attended tq dav or night. aug4-tf jyjEDICAL AND SURGICALNOTICE. DR. C. H. SMITH Offers his professional services to the citizens of Pierce and adjoining counties. Blackshear, Ga., March 1, 1880-tf. DENTIST. D R. WM. NOBLE, DENTIST, Blackshear, Ga. Office on Maine street, opposite Postoffice. jyas-tf ___ MARBLE WORKS JOHN B. MELL, MARBLE AND STONE WORKS. Monuments, Tombs, Headstones, etc. Esti¬ mates furnished on application for all kinds of Cemetery Work. 205 and 207 Broughton Street, jy25-6m Savannah, Ga. nOlnii. JESUP HOUSE, Proprietor, T. P. LITTLEFIELD, Jump, Ga. The attention of the traveling public them bj u directed to the inducements offered tbi« hovel. Rate*, per day................ $1.50 --.ugl -. Meals................ x By the 11 'litii................ #• 20.00 By tt,i< Week................. .... 7.0$ discount to families Blackshear News. E. Z. BYRD, Editor and Proprietor. VOL. IV. To-Day and To-Morrow. If there comes some joy to me, Would you have me stay, With that joy to sweeten life ? ies * Ht art - stay t0 ' day - H ell, then, if I have a dream Of Borne coming sorrow, Shall I wait to feel its fear.? “ That will do to-mor loving^oart . If unto some I’ve a debt to pav ? «< Ah ..., that . 13 . a o mi 8ut •,.. debt; ,.. * Pay it. Heart, to-day.” If i> m forced from bitter wrongs Cruel words to borrow ? * Then, dear Heart, there is no haste; Keep them till to-morrow. “ Duty, Kindness and Success Lose by slow double'right delay ; Duty hath a "hen it claims to-day; Kindness dies if it must wait; Success will not stay— comes 110 to-morrow lose to-day. ‘‘l^^^ET.ebt and Doubt and Anger, vas Sorrow, Better wait a day ; Keep them for to-morrow. And as every day’s to-day, You may patience borrow, Thus forever to put off Such a bad to-morrow.” The Miller’s Granddaughter. Tho summer afternoon waned at last; the flaming sun declined toward the horizon, and a cool, soft breeze, inex pressibly day, delightful after the heat of the began to blow. Since early dawn Lizzie Dupont had been toiling at her needle, but now she threw down her work, and leaving the old mill stood on the rude plauk that crossed the mill-race, and looked eager¬ ly over the fields. “Oh, where can Dossy be?” she cried. “ That dreadful interest which must be got ready by Saturday has made me forget her. I ought to Rave listened to grandpa. I am sure something has happened to her. She never was away so long before. I shall never forgive myself. What—what,” she cried, sud¬ denly clasping her hands, “ if she should be drowned ?” Lizzie Dupont had not .always been a resident at the old mill, dependent on her needle for support. She had once been, and that not so long ago, the petted daughter of a merchant prince in New York. But her father had failed and died soon after of a broken heart, and Lizzie would have starved if it had not been for her maternal grandfather. “ Come to me,” he had written; “I am old and poor, but we will share our crusts together. If you have grown up to look like your dear mother you will be the apple of my father’s eye.” So Lizzie, ignored by her rich relations, had found refuge in this secluded spot. Refuge and peace, but hardly happi¬ ness. In the days of her prosperity she had become acquainted with a young Englishman, the son of a titled family, and had plighted her troth to him. Just before her father’s failure Ross Devereaux had sailed for England, in¬ tending within six months to return and claim his bride. But from that day to this Lizzie had never heard a word about him. At first she thought her letters had been •miscarried, and in the faith and trust of her young heart had continued writing. But, at last, and after discov¬ ering the heartlessness of her father’s relatives, she began to believe that even Ross might be selfish also, “ I am poor now, and he deserts me,” she said. “God help me! But it is, I suppose, the way of the world.” her Lately a new trouble had come upon Her grandfather had been failing all winter, so that a man had to be hired to work the mill, and this had brought them into debt. Already there was a mortgage on the mill, for the grand¬ father had never been a prosperous man, and now the interest had fallen into arrears for nearly a twelve-month. The holder of the mortgage was a cruel, avaricious man. He had often threat¬ ened to turn out the little family, if his interest was not paid; and two weeks before he had served a written notice, that, if the arrears were not forthcom¬ ing by the next Saturday, he would be as good as his word. Every day since Lizzie had risen by candle light and worked till bedtime. “ If I can only get this embroidery done for Mrs. Wat¬ son,” she said, “ by that dreadful day, I may raise part of the money at least, and perhaps then he will wait for the rest.” But, this afternoon, a new and greater trouble had come. Dossy, her little pet Bister, had been missing all day. The child often spent the mornings playing woods, but invariably returned to the noon-time meal. On this occasion, however, she did not BLACKSHEAR, GA., JAN. 19, 1882. make her appearance. Lizzie was alarmed, and would have gone to seek her; bnt the grandfather took it more coolly. “She has stopped at some of the neighbors,” he said, “she will be home for supper; don’t fret, dear.” Lizzie, thinking of the coming Satur¬ day, had allowed herself to be persuaded tbat all was right, and had gone back to her work. But, as the afternoon woje on and no Dossy came, she grew serious¬ ly alarmed. At last, throwing down her needle, she came out, as we have seen. “Oh, Dossy, Dossy!” she cried, when she had scrutinized the landscape vain¬ ly in every direction, “where are you? If God will only spare you, dear—if he will give you back to us alive—I will never repine again at anything.” But where was Dossy ? Was she really lost? To explain this we must go back to the afternoon before, and look at Dossy, as she sat in the old-fashioned garden, swaying to and fro in. a grapevine swing, puzzling over tlft troubles of the family. She was watching a bobo¬ link that sang in the heart of a lilac bush, and talking to herself the while. “What a nasty, ngly old man that landlord is,” she said; “and he made poor Lizzie cry so the other day when he was here. He says he’ll drive us from our home. Why, then,” with sudden consciousness, “we’ll have no place to live in, and I shall never hear you sing, birdie; nor havo my flowers, nor my kittens. Oh, me ! Oh, me 1" She sobbed a little, then Bhook off her April tears, and then fell to think¬ ing in earnest. If they only had some money. What if she could get some ? She puckered her brow into a frown. Just then some market carts rolled by, laden with produce, on their way to the neighboring little town. On the front seat of one sat an old woman, with a basket of flowers on her knees. A sud¬ den thought flashed on Dossy, and the puckered little brow cleared np. Why couldn’t she sell flowers ? Her garden was full of them, especially oi pansies, such pansies as were not often seen. She jumped from the swing so quickly that she landed headforemost into the grasses below. But, nothing daunted, she regained her feet and began picking off the golden-hearted pansies and English daisies by handfuls. She would do it; yes, indeod, she would, and make ever so much money, and they wouldn’t have to leave the mill, and grandpa and sissie wouldn’t cry any more. She fell to work arranging her bouquets for the morrow, her eyes fairly dancing with delight. She put them together quite tastefully, and by the time the summer moon stood over the pines she had a long row set up amid the evergreens, that the dew might keep them fresh. In the morn¬ ing, as soon as breakfast was over, she would set out. Dear, innocent Dossy! She had not the least doubt that she would succeed, and she slept but little that night in her excitement. Over and over she rose from her little bed and Btole on tiptoe to the window to look down on her treasures. The morrow dawned cloudlessly. Breakfast over, Dossy ran down into to the garden, crammed her posies Liz¬ zie’s market basket, and taking it on her chubby arm trudged away, fortu¬ nately unnoticed. On she sped, past the long, long line of fences, and down into the very heart of the town. Her cheeks were crimson, her breath came in gasps, she almost stumbled with fa¬ tigue. but at last she reached the mar¬ ket-place and stopped in a little corner where the shadows fell cool, and where an old blind woman vas selling laces. Here, feeling a sense of safety and companionship from the old blind crea¬ ture, she sat down and began with deft hands to arrange her posies in front of her. What a picture she made in her white frock, with its short, pnffed sleeves; her eyes ablaze, her amber ringlets blown about by the morning breeze, framed, as it were, by a border of yellow daisies and golden-hearted pansies. At the silvery call of her sweet bird-voice, piping: “ Who’ll buy my pansies Y' one and another pedes¬ trian looked back, a few smiled, and some stopped and purchased. Pres¬ ently a farmer, who had just such a lit¬ tle one at home, bought one of her nosegays, and paid for it with half a dollar. Dossy was in raptures. Then another gentleman came along, this time a comparatively yonng one, bnt tall and dark, and with a bronzed face. “ Won’t you buv a bunch of pansies, sir, please ?” said little Dossy. The stranger, who had not noticed her before, stopped and looked for the little piping voice. “ Please, sir,” said Dossy, holding np a posy, The “ only twenty-five Mints.” young man flashed a keen glance at Dossy, To and drew near, smiling. said, “ be sure I will,” be pleas¬ antly, “if only for the sake of your bright eyes. Twentv-five cents you »aiu, I think,” and he drew out his purse. Subscription, $1.00 per Year. NO. 39. “ Yes," t_said Dossy, apologetically, imagining he thought the price too high. “ You see I have to ask a good deal,” and she shook her curly head with a grave, important air, “ for Liz zie must have the money by Saturday, or wo shall be turne-l out of our pretty home.” As she finished she tendered to her auditor the pret tiest of her posies, which she bad just selected for him out of her store. The stranger, all this time, had been looking curiously at her. The color went and came on his face, his lips trembled, and he showed other signs of emotion. “ Tell me,” he cried, earnestly, “ my dear, what is your name?" He drew close to Dossv as he spoke, and seemed to be looking in’ her face, as if for some half-remembered, half fancied likeness. “Dossy,” she answered,"“ Dossy Du¬ pont.” His answer was to catch her in his arms and kiss her again and again, - bis voice trembling with excitement as he cried, “Dossy! my little pet Dossy, don’t you know who I am ?” But Dossy struggled from his em¬ brace, smoothed her curls, and answered haughtily : “ I asked you to buy my pansies, sir, and not to kiss me.” The stranger bro•<o into a joyous laugh. “ and I will buy them," he replied, “ every one of them. But don’t you really know me, Dossv ? 1 am Ross Devereaux. Why, you have sat on my knee many and many a time.” Dossy at this stared at him curiously. Then she uttered a gleeful little shout and sprang into his arms. “ Oh, I know I” she cried. “ I re¬ member you. Won’t Lizzie be glad ? Won’t she stop crying now?” Ross Devereaux’s swart cheek crim¬ soned. “ Take mo to your home,” he said, “ to your sister. Is she here ?” “ No,” answered Dossy,“ we live at grandpa's, at the old mill out of town, you know.” “ Let us go at once theu. No need to sell pansies any longer,” cried Ross Devereaux, eagerly setting the child on her feet. Lizzie Dupont stood as we have said, gazing across tlie meadows, heart¬ broken about Dossy s prolonged absence. Suddenly two figures appeared, emerg¬ ing from tho woods beyond in the direction of the town. She gave a great cry of joy. for one was certainly Dossy. But who was tho other ? Who was the tall, handsome man who held Dossy by the hand ? Could it be—no, it was impossible—not yet — At this moment, while she was still uncertain; while her heart leaped into her throat, and then stopped heating, while she felt dizzy, and about to fall, and had to clutch at the railing, Dossy’s companion, darted dropping the child’s hand, forward, for he had recognized Lizzie, and came hurrying over the meadow, waving bis hat. lie reached the stile, was over it in a bound, and the next moment was at Lizzie’s side. “Thank God I have found you at last 1” he cried, clasping her sinking form. “ Poor, timid darling ! Did you think I had deserted you ?” What Lizzie would have replied, if anything, wo do not know; but he gave her no chance; hurriedly, as if life and death depended on it, he went on to tell his story. “Notone of your Jotters ever came to hand,” he said. “ They were inter¬ cepted, as I discovered at last. I wouldn’t mention how, under other cir¬ cumstances, but you. at, least, ought to know the whole truth. Tho fact is, dar¬ ling, that while my parents were eager to welcome yon as u daughter, 1 had a cousin, an ambitious girl, who had al¬ ways lived with us, and who, it seems, wished to marry me, not, of course,” he said quickly, “ that she loved me, but merely to secure the title and position. Well, to make a long story short, she bribed the postmistress at the village to give her your letters, so that I never heard a word from you, or about you, till, at last, in despair, l came over, be¬ fore I intended, to solve the mystery “Came over?” said Lizzie, faintly, and guiltily, conscious how she had misjudged him. “To be sure,” repeated Ross Dever¬ eaux, frankly. “ Ah 1 little skeptic, you doubted me, did yoa ?' “Indeed, indeed—” began Lizzie. But he stopped her with a kiss. “Then it was,” he went on, “ that I heard for the first time of your father’s death. But no one could give me any information of your whereabouts, I did not know your relations in New York, but I found out their names, though it was some time, and one was at New port and another at Saratoga, and a third at Virginia Springs. Before I conld do anything came the news of my father’s sudden death, and a summons home, for I am, you know, his heir as to both the titles and estates. When I bad been at Deiereanx hall for a week or so the postmistress came up,.tremb- THE BLACESEEAR NEWS. KATK8 OF ADVKRTISIKO i SQUAB KB. 1 time I MO. 3 MO. 6 MO. I .TUB On*. SoD^-COIOt- $2 50 $ 3 35 $800 •ira Two 00 4 00 13 00 88882 Three.. 00 6 60 18 00 Four... 7 60 38 00 Eight.. Six 19 00 43 00 toon • • • • 36 00 80 00 Transient advertisements $1.00 per Aral im 8ertion; 60 cents for each subsequent one. Special notices 10 cents each insertion Bills due immediately after first insertion. ling and penitent, for I was now Sir Ross, and she had discovered bv this time that my cousin was not to be Lady Devereaux. Then the vila plot was revealed. Darlinr, ever since I have boon wild to discover you. I hnrried np my business and left England at once. But for a long time 1 was foiled, Your city cousins, on whom I had re lied, could not. tell mo where you had gone. All they knew, and they told it with evident confusion, was that your mother’s father had sent for you, and that he lived in this 8tate, and in this part of it. So I have visited every square mile of this and four other coun¬ ties, and only lighted on Dossy by accident, to-day. I didn’t even know your grandfather’s name." There was much more to tell, details with winch we will not tire the reader, eager Lizzie questions and as eager replies. could hardly ciedit her happiness. Dossy danced around, shouting in glee. If you ever visit England, and should ever go iu the neighborhood of Dever¬ eaux hall, you will hear everybody talking of the beautiful Lady Dever¬ eaux whom Sir Ross brought home from Amoricu. Should you see her you will recognize, as wo did, in the gracious matron the Miller’s grand¬ daughter. A fictish Tower. Not far Croat Leaven wick is the is¬ land of Monsa, celebrated tor containing the most perfect known specimen of a Pictish tower. The island was formerly peopled, but is now uninhabited except by a few native sheep, taken over for gruzing puiposes; but iu tlio eyeB of antiquaries the little islet, only about a mile in length, is of national import¬ ance, on account of the ancient “burgh” erected thereon. The tower is cireular in form, and fifty feet in diameter, and was dice box—wider formerly, no doubt, shaped like a on top and button than in the middle. Less than fifty feet in height is now standing. The stones are laid together without cement, but fitted together with a skill which has well enabled the edifice to resist the ravages of time. The tower consists or two concentric walls, each five feet thick, with about the same space be¬ tween them. This space was all the barrack-room allowed the hardy war¬ riors of old, the inner circle evidently forming the courtyard. Between the two walls of the tower winds a cork¬ screw staircase, communicating on its way up witii a series of small chambers, placed one above the other and venti¬ lated from the interior courtyard by narrow slits. An inteiesting legend hangs around the venerable castle of Mousa. About tho year 1320, by the rights of Udah succession, Harold and Erl end were joint earls of the Orftndy and Lhetlands. The widowed mother of Harold, the dame Marga retta, a woman of great beauty, after many adventures, attracted the notice of an honorable suitor—Harold’s part¬ ner, Erland—but Harold from some cau e was adverse to his mother’s nup¬ tials, so the pair fled together to Mousa. Harold pursued them with all fury, and to quoto tho old chronicler: Anon fled the Dame Margaretta and Erlend into the fort, within the dark recesses of which they nestled like two pigeons in a dovpcote.” . The “burgh” was beset with troops, but so impregnable was the construc¬ tion in those ante-gunpowder days, that the besiegers could not reduce them to submission except by catting oh the supplies of food. Tnis he did, and awaited the result of a tedious siege. But Harold had powerful foes to contend with elsewhere, and finally listened to the advice of others, who persuaded him that, lie had better retain Erlend’s friendship than piovoke his enmity. So, as Torfoms goes on to say, “a conciliation took place, and then with great joy returned the parties to their several pursuits, well satisfied with each other.” The friends of the Davenport (Iowa) Academy of Sciences claim that that institution possesses the only evidence that has yet been discovered that the mysterious mound builders had a writ¬ ten language. It has in its museum two inscribed tablets which were found in some of the mounds, and which have attracted attention from Amerioan and European archaeologists. Mr. Prett, late president of the academy, believes that the evidence of the genuineness of the inscriptions is sufficient, bnt the fact must be regarded as still very much in question. Herr Holtz has concluded, from the comparison of the statistics of thunder storms and the damage occasioned by i them in Germany, Austria and Switzer land, from 1854 to 1880, that while the increase of thunder-storms tu been small, the risk from lightning has been that very largely augmented. He bclivea the change is partly due to thermo of irdb iu boose-building.