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Hurra! Directory
K" rI v(L OOVKRNMBNT
■ r Huicliina. .1 u.jge Slip- ~rt■ ^"
■^"• ri( sa uu ’
Sheriff.
k’' Hrown, IVoftsurer.
■^Jlmlaxl^ver.
H‘ N \vi’aft'U, Serve) or.
Wilson, Coroner.
Chairman m.l l I* rlt, »
■ ,1 K Cloud, d. li IIOI'KIIH . All
K board or EDUCATION.
H,r School Ooonu issionet .1
■ AT- I’utillo, AJ. Webb
Hooi I' K. Wien-
niNicirAi.-
;< C. Smith, Mayor.
eOUNCII.
■ : Brown,Houston. S.
A. J. Vaughan.
H [l( !. ,MD DKI-AKtl .11- or I’ KAI N
from Suwuiinee.
■L,.,. lor Suwttunw, 7 »• m
AinveH 12 .a, -iq.arl.
urn) ThuiKla
Stork, Depart i
H p in, Moudu) and I' irsday.
Arrives 10 a ai, de
Hi p ra.-llaily.
Uivkk. Arrives Id m„ do
t « oi., Welneaday ai I rialur.iay
VV. 11. H lit A r. V , i’.
churches
H>-> -Hr v .1 I. It Burrell, pastor
Ttrrv Child .Sunday.
H - „k the lit and dnd Sundays.
Seunm.. SJ Wimi, Supt
Suu.lu) at d p in
BjiißsrtßUN - Bev Samuel Sen
Services on 'dnd ml 4th Snndaye
mouth,
iiuui. - I It Powell. Snpt
■ nuuday at d.dtl a in -
HP KRATKRNAI..
H Mas,ini, LoDUR. d
W M., ,S A Hitgood, S W ‘
H II,u J tV. Meets on tint L’uesday
each mouth.
Chactkr, No 39, It A
Hll Spence, II P, A I Pul I din
■ Veen Fiiday uighl belore the
id each month.
Hem Superior Court - V I,
Judge. Conveuea »u u„
in March and September.
■ frank McDonald,
B ATTORNEY AT LAW.
B L.twieuceville, Ga.
■ill practice in llic unticn t'ojrts
■of O.iliuaiy, ami Superior
■ ; fclwiniiet,,, ami suri uiimliiiK
a specialty. Office
liutldiug, down stairs on
.tree!.
■f/ft/ii' M. Johnson
■TTOKNEY AT LAW.
■ OAINESVILLE, GA.
■l piaiiii'c in tins uikl adjoining
ami ilir Supreme < 'out t of llie
Business intrusted to his cure
prompt atleutiou.
■li
ft EB. V, BRIANT
■ ATTORNEY at law,
K. Logausville, Ga.
■ business entrusted to his
■ ‘‘l leeene pnuupi attention,
■itioua a specially,
■•H-ly
I NOTICE.
■lice is hereby given, hat I
■made a contract for 188(1,
Batman, a person of
■ ai "i ibat in violat ion of his
■■act, he has <j ll it iny service,
■" miusc. All persons tire
■I not to employ him, as 1
■ ; l, "'in l'esponsihlc for dam
r A. J. SIMS,
■'■nett County, Kelt It',, 188(1
■RFFCTIUN at LAfci'.
I FRALEY'S
"ill in <1 Frame
feMr u above a ) >l,a a ',' B
!,' 114 '“'l™ <>f cun
K:::“ Si”"
B at F.a"||>’
j| |„ yoi ;
B'" I,IU ‘ "<*"!> :i Oollan
!■ d 'J'‘ ll M ' t -‘ins a high price
B ' li-vv your whole sys-
B . ' , . ,i '!• !> l|i t itt-d, and
' "I “ h.tve been heard
■ n instances,
mL'r'rs™ th, -‘ t,,ss
Bjii-iih !'' d, V ll c belwec n
; | ' ! ,ut ' vlu i 1 it comes
B , T n " llc '' 11 ' lht ' tirave
I u l i, i v vurth r vi,, y.
B W ;l hottle of
B""-’ ‘ m *• 1 llat <)ne
B tjk^;' l v ,n,rv - A, » a »
, t ' n V ,,n view of
WWh in n I llui b r to invest
kl "'T ,mt ‘ serious
B y ' ari 'ii ‘"t '• f "’ indt -' atl, y
B L,tl( n vit. f, Javu n s
B‘cnm- , S t 1,4; hl'-'-d,
■ I|, „ ■ l a "' l r. 1,„n.1s
B'ft" BURnham^
l^^ocmn.Nr
■ “■“"'sißowU.P/v,
TYLER M. PEE PLES, Proprietor.
VOL. XVI
THE SWEET VOICE.
Dreary and chilly ; a dying year,
yet the windows of Mrs. Oxgate’s
old browu farmhouse hung out
their cherry signals behind the
fringed cotton curteins, and when
the kitchen door opened, von
could see the blazing loss, the fig
ures coming and going, like a i,.iu
attire magic lantern.
It was Dora Oxgate that opened
■, and came flitting out to tire
well, with a scarlet rhawl over her
head and an empty pail in her
hand. Asher light feet pattered
over the carpet of autum leave-, in
the pathway, she sang a snatch of
some good old fashioned hymn.
“My goodness alive I What’s
that 1”
For as the woids (ripped from
her tongue, a tall, dark figure had
liseu from the low bench nnd r
the apple tree, whose bough over
hung tlie well.
“Don't be alarmed,’ said a deep,
sweet contralto, with a bcoruful
intonation in its sound. ‘lt’s onlo
me. 1) *»•’
• Joanna Elfielil?’
‘•Yes, Joanna Elfield, What
the? Have 1 fallen so low that 1
Rtn no lot tret- worthy to sit be
neath the old apple tree? If so.
tell me at once, and I’ll quit.’
“You know I didn’t wear that
Joanna.’
“/t’s hard to tell what people
mean or don’t mean nowadays,’
said Joanna picking at the fringe
t f her frayed tag of a shawl. “I
vas tired. I wanted a drink o’
water. So I catne to the old well.'
‘v/oanna,’ said Doia, hssitating
ly, “are yon hnngaryf’
“Hungry ! No. There's a sort
of craving, the ugh in my s.omach
which is next to it, 1 suppose.’
•‘Would you like something to
eat?’
“I don’t beg.’
“Wait a minute, Joanna.’
Like an arrow Dora Ozgate sped
into the house, where her mother
was just setting tho teapot on the
table. Tresh baktd waffles steam
ed on one side, hot biscuit was
piled in drifts of snow on the oth
er. I’or Mrs. Deacon Peabody and
her daughter Comfort were come
lo tea, and Mrs. Oxgate wbs a
housekeeper to be excelled by
none.
“Gome, Dora, quick with time
water,’ said Mrs. Oxgate, “and
shut the door.’
“Mother,’ said Dora, speaking a
slightly embarrassed tone. “Joan
na Eltield is out by the'well. She
is cold and hungry and
Mrs. Oxgate’s face hardeued in
to linos of stone Miss Comfort
Peabody drew her skirts close
around her, with an iuvolunlary
movement and Mrs. Peabody look
ed hard into the bowl of her tea
cup
“Then let her stay cold and hun
gry Joanna Eltield is no asso
ciiite for either you or me, Dora.
She ran away from home and act
ed with common strolling play
actois —she has sting at 1 w con
certs, ins lad of keeping that tine
voice of hers for the temple of
the Lord, and people do say that
she has taken <o drnking. And
you expect me to opuu my doors
to such as she !’
“But, mamma,’ faltered Dora,
half affrighted by her own bold**
ness, ‘ don’t you lemember that
He came to call, not the righteous
but sinners, to repentance
“liotv dare jou quote the Scrip
tures to me ?’ cried Mrs.
her brow clouding darkly. “Bring
in tout water, aud let us have no
More discussion.’
Thus rebuffed, Theodora Ox
gate crept back again into the fros
ty twilight, dejected aud empty
handed,
“Ah,’ said Joanna Eliield, “I
thought how it would be. Every
body’s doors are shut against me.
“Is u true, Joan.ua ?’ whispered
Horn, coming close up to her.
“Is what true f,
“7’hat you drink?’
“Of conrse it’s true. You
would drink if you were driven as
I am 1 There are times when you
could sell yonr soul for a chance
(o forget! And that chance is
°nly to be found in drink!’
“Oh, Joanna, I am sorry for
you.’
“Sorry! Say that again, lass!
LAWRENCEVILLE, GA. Tusday June 15 1886.
People have mostlv left oft’ bein'*
O
sorry for me.’
“But listen, Joanna. Won’t
yon t*-j to do different ?’
“I'm not so bad as folks think
me except lor the craving for
drink. I have been nothing worse
than wild and willful. Only when
a girl once pels on the down hill,
every man or woman thinks it a
duty io give her a push,’
“Then you will try to retrieve
your old self?’
“How can I!—What is Ihete
left for me ?’
“Your &u] orb voice, Joanna.’
“You would have me sing my
self into respectability, eh ? And
in the meantime 1 should starve.’
“You need not starve, Joanna,
Here !’
Quick as lightning she* drew a
sniull gold chain, with a gold leek
«V, shaped like a heart dangling at
the end, from her neck.
Dear Jonnua take this. It is
worth money. Sell it ana use the
money for your needs.’
“Are you in earnest Dora.’
“Of course lam Hush ! Moth
er is calling mo. I must go.’
“God ble-s you for this,’ said
Joanna, huskily, “And, Dora, one
word more, >et mo kiss you, just
onco ’ •
By way of answer Theodora Ox
gate threw her arms around, the
all girl’s neck anil pressed her
soft, red lips close to /lie other’s
cold mouth And as s' e did so
bomethmg plashed on her cheek—
u hoi tear.
The next minute Joanna Eltield
bad disappeared into the world of
shadows that was hovering over
all tb9 autumn landscape. Aud a«
she went she murmured to her
self :
“Some one believes in me vet
7t’s a strango sensation, and yi t—
it gives one something to live for,
after all!’
“Doi a 1 Theodora 1 Why don't
you answer ? Dut no one thinks
it worth while to pay any atten
tion tome nowadays 1’ It was
Mrs. Oxgate’s shrill, piping voice,
as helpless from paralysis, she sat
in her cushioned chair by tire door
way.
“What is it, mamma V Dora
asked, tomiug ic the door-
The Oxgate farmhouse had drift
ed sadly to decay. Fences had
fallen ; gates hung creaking; sunny
pasture land* wer# neg/ected;
grass meadows had toppled over
with their own weight of harvest.
“The carsiages with them grand
people that lias bought the Green
wood place. A gentleman dressed
like the Prince of Wales, and a
laxly wLosa diamond dashed fit to
blind ohe. Lood ! tho carriage is
stopping! Sure’s 1 live, the lady’s
coming back, trailing her purple
silk dress in the dust like it was
domestic gingham ’
She gav.' her apron a twitch
and tried to settle Iter scant skirts
over her poor useless feel, as the
(all, stately figure swept to the
door,
door.
“This is iLe Oxgate place, is it
not ?' the lady asked in a deep,
sweet voice that betryed her at
once. Dora answered promptly i
This is the Oxgate place, and
you are Jo inna Elfiehi !'
‘ Not Joanna Elfield now, but Jo
anna Avenel,’ she replied smiling.
“Her, is mv husband. 3eorge,
tLis is my friend I told you about,
whore hand lifted me out of the
darkness aud set me in the right
path.’
“Dorn,’ she added, “that night
was the turning point in my life.
See 1 have your little gold chain
with the heart yet, I knew that
one human creature had faith in
me still, and it renewed t/te foun
tain of life within me. Dora, you
were tny guardian angel. God
bless you for it.’
People wondered much that
those rich Aveuels had the Ox*
gates so much with them, to say
nothing of the liresome, proing
old bore, her rnotlvr. But Mrs:
Avenel was a great lady, and
oould of course be excuse! far
having her whims— one of which
was to wear always a thread of
gold around htr neck, with a heart
shaped locket hanging from if
And Dora Oxgate, although sh e
Our Own Section—He Labor For Its A (lea nee meat.
had settled into a solitary, hard
working old maid, know that her
life hud not been *n vain.
OLDMAN INMAN AM) THE
BEAR.
Some eighty years «go there liv
ed in a small log bouse ai ‘Pelto
ma point,' in Pittsfield, a man
named Inman,- My grandfather,
when I was a small boy, showed
me the silo of the old house, and
'old me the following stoiy as
'rue:
‘luiuan was too lazy to hunt
much, but would bang around all
dav for a drink of rum and tell
bear siorios. At that time bears
were quite plenty in this region
and they often trouoled our sheep
and corn.
‘One fall a nerve us, quic-K stran
ger, came to Col. Lacy’s tavern
from Boston, to kill a few bears.
He stepped up the bar aud called
tor a drug—this, be it remem
bered, was way back in toward
the ‘good old colony times when
we were uuder the king,’aud good
houost rum was sold openly for
3 ceuts a glass; but now, alas! you
have to go through some crooked
snbteranean passages, with the
fear of Neal Dow and the A/ai.ne
law before you get a glass of ‘rot
gui,' at 15c. a glass—and inquired,
‘whore he could go to shoot tt
boar. ’
‘This brought Inman to the
front. Beils? He knew! Tne
very matt the stranger wanted.’
‘Will you take a diink?’
Yes, he would. After he had
taken several drinks, aud had also
told some of his wondrous feats m
slaughtering bears, the strauger
said;
‘Mr. Irman, how large a bear
did you ever see?’
‘Up to this lime iheir admira
lion had beau mutual; the stranger
had furnished the rum and dinner
where Inman liad provided the
bears.
‘Well, sir, the biggest bear 1
ev u r been I killed in 1801. You
see, I had a tine pieco of corn on
the side of the Loiseback, aud
when it got full in the unit a bear
begin to break it down. 1 watch
ed three nights to suoot him, but
he kept away—l guess he kuew
me. Well, be that it may, t took
my ax aud started out to make a
bear trap, for when I dou’t fetch
’em oue way J try another—and
there was Mr. Dear breaking
down my corn at a great rate. 1
started for him aud he run dowu
the hill between (wo rows of corn
and gamed on me at every jump
’til he come to the fence, whicu
was seven feel high, and jumpped
e.ear over it into a great snow
drift, aud went into it all out of
sigut, ami when he puked his head
out of the snow 1 knocked him
over with my ax.’
‘Mr. Inman, that is a queer
couu/ry where you live—corn in
the milk on out side of the feuce
nnd a great snowdrift on (he
other.
‘Old inman stopped and scratch
ed his head with a puzzled 100 k
and said very slowly:
‘Warn, mister. I guess I got holt
of a part of two stories.’
The stranger simply said, turn
ing to his host:
‘Colonel, get my horso 1 don’t,
want to be caught in this town
over night. llt try Neport,’
WEEZY’S MOUSE.
Baby Hynes was so little ihat
be couldn’t drink very well. One
morning he spilled I.is mug of
milk all over his bib.
‘He must have a clean bio,’ said
Mamma Hynes. ‘Will you bring
me one, Weezy, from my bureau?’
‘Yes'm,’ said Weezy, running
away in high glee. She was als
ways proud to bo sent on errands.
Next moment, she came Hying
back mouth and eyes wide open.
‘O mamma, mamma,’ cried die,
.there's a rnonsie in the drawer!
there s a mousie in the drawer !
A mouse?’ said mamma, quietly.
‘Well wouidu'i he let my littegirl
have baby’s bib?’
‘O mamma, mamma! I’m just
a* scared!’ cried Weezy, still hop
ping up an! down.
‘Afraid of a pretty little mouse?
What a silly Weezy!’ said mamma.
‘Didn’t he scamper away as fast as
he could?’
‘No. no mamma! I shut him up
tight!’
‘lou did? Oh, then, I think
papa must catch the poor little
feiJ&w,’ said mate mu.
She put the baby in the cradle
and went to call Papa Hyues.
Papa seized the tongs, and
walk up stairs. Behind him fol
lowed mamma, with Weezy cling
ing to tier dress. Bob.mi Weezy
tiptoed Phepe the nurse-girl.
Phepa wanted to do something to
help, so she brough the mouse
trap. Last of all cams Bridget,
swinging the rollingspin.
•Upon the drawer genily,’ said
papa to mamma, ‘i ll try to catch
the mouse when he jumps.’
Mamma pulled out the drawer
a lit tie. Papa stood close by with
the mugs, hut the mouse didn’t
jump.
Then mamma pulled out the
drawer a little father.
•See! see! papa. Tuere’s the
mouse!’ cried Weezy, pointing her
little finger toward i corner of the
drawer.
Papa llirust the tongs and
drew out—Well, whit do you sup
pose? Why, a wea gray tassel!
Mamma must have dropped it off
her sleeve in taking baby’s clean
frock from the bureau.
‘Dear, dear!’ laughed pupa.
What poor eyes our ff'eezy must
have? I’ve a great mind to buy
her a pair of spectacles.’
Ater that, they all went down
stairs, —papa with /he tongs, mam
ma wilh tfeezy, Bridget with the
rolling-pin, and Phepe with the
mousentrap. And this teas llie
end of VVeezy’s freight about the
mouse.—Penn Shirly.
MUCH AFFECTED BA THE
SURPRISE.
A voiy large man, a desperate
fellow who had of(en boasted that
he cculd uot oe whipped, became
involved in a quarrel with a small
man. Well, after the tight was
over, a friend of the desperate
man said:
‘Wuy. Abe, he tore you all to
pieces.’
‘Yaas.’
‘Mopped up tue township with
you.’
‘That’s wlmt.’
‘Bit ofi'oue us your cars.'
‘/hat’s whut he done.’
‘Ruined your clothes.’
‘Yas.’
‘Pulled one of your eyes out ’•
‘BTeve he did.’
‘Knocked out a couple cf your
teeth.’
‘Reckon you’re right.’
‘He don’t weigh 100 pounds
either.’
‘Don’t b’l’eve he does.’
‘I suppose you hale to be whip
ped.’
‘Oh, no, Bill don’t mind Imin’
whipped, ken stand to louse mv
years an’ teeth, but (liar’s on®
thing about the affair that makes
me mad.’
‘What’s that, Abe?’
‘\V’y the surprise o’ the thing-
I reckon 1 hate astonishment wus
than any man in the world. W y
I thought 1 could whale that feller
with one hand, but I was never
more astonished in my life. W’y,
tne way that fool fbller lit shocked
me— stouished me, 1 tell you. Oh,
uo, I don’t mind the whuppin’,
but, Billy, why didn’t he do it
gracefully so I wouldn’t uv be6n
so s’sprised? I don’i tike that
feller.’—Arkuusaw Traveler.
A SUPERFLUOUS FEMAE.
The suiplusageof females in
the pop ilal.ioD of MaHsachusetis
is constantly the cause for snnoy
ance. It was at a juvenile party
the other day that a mother no
ticed her five-year-old daughter
bad not joined the march to the
refreshment loom.
‘Why did you net go in with
the other children, my dear?’
‘Because I could not iiud any
litt'e boy to ho don to,' was the
wail of the ingenious unfortunate
—Lowell Citizen,
“If de wedder grows much
worse and do work harder all do
time,’ said an /Bahama colored
mau, “dis here Digger will have a
call for to preach.’
LIFELESS AND NOT YET
DEAD
Waiting for death!
On a pillow in a little back pars
lor at No. 792 Lafayette ave.,
Brooklyn, rests the intellectual
head of Dr. Charles F. Reed, fifty
six years old, who has not been
able to move hand or foot or turn
iu his bed since he was thirty four.
He lives only in his head, for every
joint is fast bound aud his body
aud limbs are wasted to the bone.
H is eyes are sightless, his neck
stiff - , his jaws set so closo as to
prevent him from taking any food
unless it be in verv soft or liquid
form; and shoulder joints, elbows,
wrists, linger joints, hips, knees
and toes are immovable. The
knees are drawn up, /he left knee
joir tis almost thrown from its
socket, the right foot is turned so
far outward as almost to turn
backward. A while mustuche
and beard that Rip Van Winkle
would have envied cover the low
er part of a face strong in outline
and ful/ of character. Around
this surfftrer’sbed, where so heavy
a cross has been laid gather aimost
daily people who come to get con
solation iu trouble. Doctor lised
is a philosopher, aud his cheerful
disposition iu spite of the extreme
hardness of his lot as made him
the wonder of everybody who
kuows him. Those who have list
friends call there to learn r les
son in fortitude, aud all who meet
the doctor say /hey go away wi/h
new ideas of life and its purposes
He is well-read iu every branch of
literature. Dr. Heed's helpless
condition was brought on by rlien
mutism. The disease seized him
Septemper lit.h 1864 and he he
has not moved since,—New York
World.
IT WONT BE A MUTCH.
A mau whose hair and whiskers
were plentifully sprinkled with
gray was in the city yesterday to
see about buyiug a large quauity
of lead pipe. VV hen he asked how
much a mile and a half of a certain
size would cost, the dealer stood
off and looked at him in atunze
ment.
“Oh / I ain’t loony,’ replied the
man.
“But what can you want of a
mile anu a half of iLiu pipe , cost
ing you many hundrnd dollars?’
“See here,’ replied the other, as
he took a chair and bscouie confix
dental, “I’m a widower.’
“Yes.’
“I’m thinking of taking a secord
wife She dotes on a front yard.
I’m got the yard. She dots on
lawn ornaments. I’ve been around
pricing 8(ono d-.igp, cast iron deer
and terra-cotta rabits tillyou can’t
rest. She dotes on fountain.
That’s why I want the pipe.’
‘Duf why so much of it V
‘Because I’ve got to run the
pipe to a spring on a hill a mile
ami a half away’
When he Uad explained how
much full he had the dealer told
him that he couldn’t get fountain
enough to dampen a sunflower.
‘Won't be uo squill to it, eh?’
‘No.’
‘Won’t squirt a foot high ?’
‘No, sir, uot au inch.’
‘Well, no fountain, no marriage.
She’s sot on that. I’ll go back
aud offer to fill the yard with de
coy ducks aud conch shells, and
pui staiued glass windows in the
horse-barn, but 1 reckon the match
is off’. I’ve offered *o get a force
pump and hire a coot by the year
to work, but she says it wouldn’t
be picturesque. MigUt build a
cistern on legs and let the water
play through a fountain but she
is (oo romantic. I can’t do no
more, aud if she insists on a foun
tain with a squirt to it l’U look
aruuudtor someone else—some
body who don’t (Jorinldiau
columns uader the corn-crib anh
a Grecian facade to the pig-pen.
DIRECTIOS FOIt INTELLI
GENT LYiNG.
1. Never tell an unnecessary
2. Never tell a lio at all unless
requited by honor or the exigen
cies of society.
3. When you tell one, remem
ber it and stick to it.
4 Tell it with perfect polite
ness and an air of conviction.
4. If yonr statement is ques
tioued. say, as to those part- of it
when are true, that you may be
mistaken (you can prove them];
pledge your word to the rest if it
s a question of honor,—Society
Monual.
Ten thousand of (he greates 1
faults in our neighbors are of less !
consequence to us thon one of the I
smallest in our selvae.
JOHN T. WILSON, Jit., Publisher
A T ALE OE LOVE.
Ono quiet day in leafy June,
when bees aud birds were all in
/uue, two levers walked beneath
the moon. The night was fair, so
was the maid; they walked aud
talked beneath the shade with
uone t ) harm or make afraid.
Her mime was Sal, ami his was
Jim, and he was fat anil she slim,
he took to het, and she look to
him.
Says Jim lo Sal, ‘By all the
snakes that squirm among the
brush amt brakes 1 love you bet
ter'n buck-wheat cakes.
Says she to Jim, ‘Since you’ve
begun it, I love you next to a uew
bonnet.’ ,
Says Jim to Sal, ‘My heart
you’ve busted, but I have always
gals mistrusted.’
Says Sal to him, ‘i will he trus,
if you love me as I love yon, no
knife can cut ovr love in two.
Savs Jim to Sal, 'Through thick
aud thin, for your true lover couut
mu in, I’ll coutt no other gal
Again.
Jim leaned to Sal, Sal leaned to
Jim, his nose jutt touched above
her chin; four lips met—went--
ahem—ahem! And then—and
then—and then. O gals? beware
o! men in 7une, and underneuth
the silvery moon, when frogs and
Junebngs are in tuue, lest yon
get yonr names iu the paper soon.
AN ANECDOTE OF WEBSTER
IFebstor liked a good story even
if he was the hero of it. He xle
lightexl to relate that while going
in a stage from Coucoitl, N. H„ to
his home on a cerium occasion ho
had for a traveling companion u
very .Id man. The old gentle
min lived at Salisbury, and as
Captain Webster—Daniel’s father
—had been quite popular tnerea
bouts Daniel asked if he Lad ever
known him. ‘lndeed I aid,’ said
the antiquarian, ‘aud the Captain
was a good and biave man, and
grandly did he tight at Beuning
ton wild General Stark,’ continued
the old gentleman.
‘Did tie leave any children? 1
asked the great statesman.
‘Oh, yes; there was Ezekiel and,
l think, Daniel,’ was the simple
reply.
‘Whut has 1 ecome of them?’
Daniel inquired.
‘Why, Ezekiel—and he was a
powtriul man, sir, —-I’ve heard
hmi plead in court muuy a time—
fell dead while Bpeecbifyiug at
Coucortl.’
‘Well,’ persisted Webster,.‘what
became of Dan i si*’
‘Daniel—Daniel,’ repeated the
o’d man, slowly—‘why, Daniel, 1
believe, is a lawyer about Boston
somow here.’ It is perhaps un
necessary to eay that Daniel fail
to reveal his indeniity.—Cleveland
Leader.
PEARLS OF THOUGHT.
‘As you love me, let not your
tongue give way to slang.’
dir and light are among rhe
best medicines known to man,
A sneer is often the weak sub
terfugo of imprudence ignorance.
The silent eye is often a more
powerful conqnerer than the noisy
tongue.
In your home study refinement
and comfort, but study economy
also.
If a married couple avoid the
first quarrel they will never have a
second.
No success in life can be so de
sirable that man can afford to sell
his integri'y for it.
The yoke a mat creates for him
self by wrong-doing will bleed
hate in the kiudlieet nut me.
/Vothiug more clearly indicates
the true gent.euan than a desire
evinced to obliug or accommo
date.
There are three things in speech
that ought to be considered be
fore they are spoken—the manner,
the place and the time.
A young man wants to know
wbat’s best to be done wheu a pej.
son sits down on a custard pie at
a picnic. We advise him to Bit
•till until the rest have gone home.
G fVLY.YGTT HEII/ILD
: —t
A Wine AWAKE COUNTY NEWS-PAPER
■ 1 ■ —!
JOB PRINTING
A SPECIAL FEATURE!
Book work, legal blanks, letter
heads, note heads, bill heads, post
or s, cards, envelops—everything
r. job printing line done in ueut
and tasty btyle and on short no-,
lice. Prices low aud work guar
anteed: Call ou us.
Thu lluuald is the best Adver
tising medium iu North-east Geor
gia, ou account of its extensive
circulation.
NO 23
WHEN OUGHT GIRLS TO
MARRY?
Louisa M: Alcott replied “frocp
23 to 25.
Helen Campbell be ieves no man
fit to marry before 30 and no wo
man before 25
Lucs Stone does not believe in
ea*-ly marriage, si. she puts the
suitable ugu at from 25 to 30 years.
Mary L. Booth avoids figures,
but regards immature marriages as
a fruitful source of unhappiness.
Eunice White Beecher believes
that there are rnauy reasons why
marriage of girls from 18 to 21
would seem to promise the happi
est result.
Re jecca Harding Davie wrote
that sue thought the time for a
gii Ito marry is when site meets a
man who heartily loves her aud
wjoui she heartily loves.
Louis Chandler Moulton thinks
that more girls are capable of a
wise choiee at 25 than at 20, and
that nine-teuths of our girls
would be huppter should they wait
until the mataerer perion
Madeline Viutou Dhlgren thinks
that a voang woman of 20 must
have seen enough of (he social at
mosphere in which she lives to be
able to discriminate wisely ir. the
chiuee of a husband,
Lucy Larcorn says the old adage
“Mary iu haste and repent ot leas
ura,' reseryes its keenest barbs
for many of thase who have em
barked early ami thoughtlessly
upon the voyage matrimonial.
vVORDS OF WISDOM.
The praise of others may be of
use in teaching us, not wbat we
are but what we ought to be.
Every time your pulse beats a
soul departs lo the great elsewhere
aud when your pulse don’t beat
your s goes.
In all your gifts show a cheerful
countenance, and dedicate your
tithes with gladness.
Be no( excessive toward any,
and without discretion do noth
ing.
He that regards a dream is like
him that catches a shadow, and
follows after the wind.
Mercy is seasonable in tb« time
of affliction, vs clou.is of ram in
the time of Iroutb.
The beauty of a woman cheers
the countenance, and a man loves
nothing belter,
Forget not yonr friend in your
mind, and be not unmindful of
him in your riches.
A flieud and companion never
meet a misr ; but above both is a
wife with her husbands.
He that takes away his neigh
bor’s living slays him, and he tbat
defrauds the laborer of his hire is
a blood-ishe.lxier.
There is no xlisease so danger
ous as the wrafli of common sense.
At the time when von finish
your life, distribute yoaa inheri -
*ance.
Dreams have deceived many,
and they have failed that put tbeir
trust in them*
If there be kindness, meekness
ard comfort in a woman’s tongue,
(hen is not her husband like other
men.
Let reason go before Avery enter
prise, and counsel before every ac
tion.
HUMEKOUS,
“When I hear stories of odd
prayers,’ said a certain colonel, “I
always think of one I heaod offer
ered by an old darkey down on
Ship Island, daring the war. He
prayed: “Oh, Lord, ransack the
wori’ all ober on a white horse
and gio us all charity like bound
ing brass and a simple tingle!’
“If yon grosp o rattlesnake rtrnr
ly about tbe neck, he cannoi hurt
you,’ says a Western paper Keep
ing a block ahead of tbe snake is
also a good scheme.
What is the difference between
a railroad brakeman and a dancing
master? One couples traiaa and
the other trains couples.
Ladies are called dears, because
it cost so much to keep them.