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iSJathinsrille Jldt’antc.
A WEEKLT PAPER,
Published Wednesday,
—AT—
Watkinsville, Oconee Co., Georgia.
HIXON& SULLIVAN,
PROPRIETORS,
TE1UIS:
One year, : n advance.. ..«! DO
Six months............ 06
WAIFS AM) WHIMS.
“ My wedding trip,” said the
as he tripped his wife’s train. groom,
over
To annihilate the Indians, says the
of Chicago 15. Journal, send them the puzzle
Moke than thirty-tbree professional
base-ball players in Philadelphia are
without engagements. Call you this re
the turning prosperity? Oh, the irony 3 of
word!
ifcSSlil agreed to deed her the
whole farm
“WuAToivWriw . „ Ra ., ld ? , hard- ,
complin working Irishman !i at nl - P bt nivir
til Main ate •’*i. tbe da y, when a man
is tirpfl 6 * ,i Cal * 1 work aIl y at all, at
all’’
pur jjr ep si” * rom «',*w ’-he earth in V irginia
n; . 6 amount says: ‘ ‘At depth ol
a
” , our ' eet hot water is struck,
, - , a -, and salt flavor.”—
nas a pepper
Vonbury Neva.
Bliffers says he went the other day
to inquire after the health of *he young
damsel who lias charge of his neighbor’s
dairy and when he asked, “ How’s the
milk maid ?” they slammed the door in
his face and to.d him to go and ask the
cows, who manufactured the article.
Ay attempt to introduce one-cent
coins in San Francisco is strongly op.
posed by the small dealers. It is thought,
church however, that noi a person who attend:
once on the Sabbath is opposed
to it. The churches will have "to in
crea-e their pew rates.
A loving British wife's postscript to
a letter addressed to her husband in
New York: “ Dear William, I have pe
rused the rolice reiorts and morgue re
turns every dav, hoping to see vour 3
name.” " °
“ Well, Ethel, dear,” said uncle
his littie an
to five-year old niece, “if vou
like your new toy, come and put your
arms around my neck and give me a
kiss.” The little maiden complied, but
as she did so she remarked : “ Oh, uncle,
how I do spoil you’”
r tIe ^
“ he ” g H! rn0r ’ pater ’
overseer ere lm?!! “? re
civilized 5d mj We '< ,1 S
-the couuwles ,
behind thev sav “fattier-” ^ w , 7
the ’
age £
Beiaived t> but , unresponsive . fair one—
oo g ad to see you, Cousin Charley.
a ,?? 11 sit couple y° u of to drop in! Now
you a hours with grand
mamma, won t you. just to amuse her
garden. ' 11 , e ‘ r ^ And U j be f nf careful f lake to a stroll speak as in loud the
as you can, for she s very, very deaf,
poor dear
A Scotchman having hired himself
to a farmer, had a cheese set down be¬
fore him that he might help himself.
His master said to him, “ launders, you
take a long time to breakfast!” “In
troth, master,” answered he, “ a
cheese o’ this size is na so soon eaten as
ye may think.”
The enemies of the Czar of Russia
will attempt shooting him, blowing him
up aud stabbiDg him, and still he will
live until some day when he is fooling
with a revolver that isn’t loaded, lie’ll
get the whole top of his head blown oil.
— O l City Derrick.
“ W hat are ‘sealed proposals,’ Tom?”
Whose Archly asked a bright eved like miss,
luouth up-turned, a rose-bud sweel
Seemed asking fur a kiss.
“ Why, Fanny dear, I’ll illustrate:
’Tis plain as a be;
Give me your hand—you have my heart—
And now * !■ ’tis sealed-you see?”
A good Rochester —Philadelphia Ihir
proposed to lady pastor, a widower,
since, but a young a short time
had the second was rejected. His feeitogs
when severe test next day
a widow sent him the following
text to preach from: “You ask, and re¬
ceive not, beer use you ask a Miss.”
We saw a man on Main street this
he morning whose legs were so crooked that
couldn’t tell his right foot from his
left without following his legs down to
their terminus .—Bridgeport Standard.
Ob, dear! that’s bad enough, to be sure.
But there’s a man in Danbury who
can’t wear a cork sole in his shoe, be¬
cause his leg is so twisted, it draws the
cork right nut—Danbury Neu'a. Oh
mercy on us; that’s awful I But there is
a man in Whitehall whose mouth is so
crooked that every time he spits out of
the left side of his mouth it goes round
the back of his head into his right ear.—
Whit'hall Times.
A Bit of Romance.
correspondent Many years ago, writes the New York
of the Cincinnati Gazette,
I passed in my daily walk a store whose
proprietor’s name (Ira Perego) attracted
my attention by its sheer oddity. Ira
Perego made a fortune in the shirt and
collar business, and eventually his name
apiieared in the mortuary column, and
is now only recalled by a peculiar in¬
cident. Last year a German woman liv¬
jf.to ing take in Jersey City adopted removed"bv a little girl
the place of a child
J death. By advice of her pastor sb*e
chose one whose parents had died at
Memphis tle orphan of the pestilence, and the lit¬
thus obtained a kind home.
It has lately, however, been discovered
that this child is an heiress, her mother
having been a daughter of the above
mentioned Ira Perego. She married a
Southerner, the little and their sudden death left
waif with no record of her
kindred. What a strange thing to all
concerned is the fact that this “ Carrie
Brown ’ (as she has been called) has a
claim on a large estate! The Surrogate
has just appointed a guardian to protect
her discussing interests, and Jersey City : is now
the romantic incident.
I - he druggists .. and , chemists of Amer
ica have asked Congress to levy a duty
ot ten per cent, on quinine. Never 1
Down with the duty on quinine. If
anybody wants to eat such nasty stuff,
in heaven’s name don’t charge them
any thing .—Burlington for it Give it to them fer
nothing Howkeye.
When Brutus ana Cassius were hr «
the girl* u-el to say that ,‘ref,^ Brutewassuch
a nice fellow, i.ut changed they h
The girls haven’t '
one bit
The Watkinsville Advance.
VOLUME I.
A STRANGE FACT.
WlK-re I aiitcui»o 1* I.ikhIc <1 , |, P Brain.
0ne of tbe most suggestive results of
r tions ? cent researches, concerning the func
of the brain, has been to show
tha t t h e faculty of intelligent language,
as distinguished , . i . from simply articulate
?P ee ? b > 18 situated in that portion of the
“ e “i 9 P h « r f which is called the third
left frontal convolution, audits imme¬
diate neighborhood.
I sSSpSusS s appIied part of the
Key or rabbit, the animal , opens its
mouth, and alternately protrudes and
retracts the tongue. But far more con
vincing proofs have been furnished by
numerous cases of disease in which there
iM
part just named was discovered.
A boy, aged five, who was a great
ebatter-box, fell out of the window and
injured the left frontal bone, which was
found de;>resfe j. There was no paraly
sis, but the boy had entirely lost his
language. The wound healed in twenty
five days; but the child, although in
telligent, remained dumb. A year
afterwards he was accidently drowned,
aud at the autopsy it was found that
the third left frontal convolution had
been destroyed by the injury he htd re¬
eeived.
A man fell with his horse, but got up,
to °h hold of the reins, and was going to
jump into the saddle, when a doctor who
Happened to accompany him expressed
the wish to make an examination. It
' vas tbeu found he could not speak, but
had to make himself understood by pan
f °mime. A small wound in the left side
of tbe forehead was found, with depris
"ion of bone; but there was no paralysis,
Inflammation set in, the patient died,
? nd at thejwirt mortem examination it was
tound » fra g m ? pt b «>" e ‘'a*
peDet * at < : d int( ! tbe th ‘ rd left f {r °ntal
con ™ !uUon i . wh ich , had become saft
tn £, d j,.
i habitually’done T alkl ?,S> , truing ... by the drawing, , left hemisphere etc., are
Pianists educate them both equally,
h wbile violinists h and «*-»»* violoncello-p'lavers
*” “ i™ * »>
is probably the reason why it requires
T re practice ’ and ia “ ore difficult, to
olay the piano. well on string instruments than on
A man who has, by disease or injury,
lost the faculty of talking, is generally
also unable to write; and it is only in
exceptional cases that one of these func
tions persist while the other is in abey
ance. Cases of this latter kind show,
however, that there are really two sep
-irate centers for the two faculties
which are lying very close together,
and therefore generally sutler at the
same time. If the disease affecting
them be still more extensive, the fac¬
ticulation ulty of intelligent pantomime or ges¬
is likewise abolished. Per¬
sons who have entirely lost their
language backgammon, may still be able to play chess,
and whist and they have
been observed to cheat at cards with
some ingenuity. in business They may also be
sharp matters—facts tend¬
ing to show (hat speech and intellect do
not run in identical grooves.
How “Tom Jones” Was Fold.
[From (Jalagn&ni. j
J ones,” We are that told when of the Fielding’s work “ Tom
was com¬
pleted, hard the author “ being at the time
second-rate pressed publisher, for money, took it to a
with the view of
selling it for He what it would fetch at the
moment. left it with the bookseller,
and called upon him next day for his
decision. The publisher hesitated, and
and requested parting another Fielding day for consideration,
at offered him the
manuscript Fielding for Thomson, £25. On the his way home
met poet, whom
he told of the negotiation for the sale of
the manuscript; when Thomson, know¬
ing the high merit of the work, conjured
him to be off the bargain, and offered to
find a better purchaser. Next morning,
Fielding with hastened to his appointment
as much apprehension lest the
bookseller should keep to his bargain as
he had felt the day before lest he should
altogether decline it. To the author’s
great joy, the ignorant trafficker in
literature declined and returned the
manuscript He to Fielding.
next set off with a light heart to
his friend Thomson; and the novelist
and the poet then went to Andrew Mil¬
lar, the great publisher of that day.
Millar, light reading, as was his practice with works of
handed the manuscript to
his wife, who, having read it, advised
him by no means to let it slip through
his fingers. Millar now invited the two
friends to meet him at a coffee-house in
the bookseller, Strand, with wheie, after dinner, the
Fielding £200 for great the manuscript. caution, offered The
novelist was amazed at the largeness of
the offer. “Then, my good sir,” said
expected be, recovering himself from this un¬
stroke of good fortune, “give
me your hand—the book is yours; and
waiter,” continued he, “ bring a couple
bottles of your best port.” Before Mil¬
lar died he had cleared £18,000 by
“Tom Jones,” out of which he generously
made Fielding various presents to the
amount of £2,000; and when he died he
bequeathed Fielding’s a handsome legacy to each
of sons.
Lesson in Geology.
Wise old gentleman—“ me* Now can anv
little boy or girl tell who makes
’be-se irreat rocks?”
IJUle hov-“ God ”
Wise oM gentleman-” Verv trood ’ ■
and what doe- He make them of ?”'
Second little boy—Makes 7 ’em outer
little ones”
Wise old gentleman—“Verv rttleonlf' well • b but t
! where does he uet ^ the
Ixing pause.
Little girl—“ K Pounds un the * bie b 8 ones 0
»ir ” ’
. Wise old gentleman perspires ” p
_ _ _
Seli inf kisses to -well ,h I,1 i • ? b k
itef hi 1Imu • K. uraU,d J h
uVkete are issuL^edire™ ™ 4 U T * f favor menta [ y
’
1 P . lan ’
WATKINSVILLE, (iEORGIA, APRIL 7, 1880.
v warning to lonn jinx.
NiLinie. Neat one ol Boston's wealthy voting men.
nos been mulcted $3,004 in a breach of promise suit
and subjected besides to the reading in the court of
bis love letters, which were addressed like this: '*My
own and only precious little sweetheart,” •• My own
dearly “Sweet, beloved precious one.” darling,' “My 1 only Mr. beloved Longfellow one/’ and
aflected by the fate of this was so
gentleman that he at once
composed the following beautiful and intensely prac¬
tical verses, which should be pasted in the hat of
every young man in the country:
In the twilight’s solemn gloaming
Stood a maiden young and fair,
Watching W ho anxiously certainly lor some one
was not there.
Long W hile she her peered into the darkness
mind was fraught with fears,
And her heavy hanging eyelids
^Showed the marks of recent tears.
Oh, the woe that woman suffers;
Only Oh, the heart aches and the pangs;
i*y partially atohed for
her bangles and her bangs.
Faithless man, come (o the maiden
Who is waiting there for you.
Clasp Tell her gently to y our bosom —
her she is life to you.
Let her roost upon your kneecap,
Wlnle Sitting in the old armchair,
the end of your coat collar
Tangles gently in her hair.
Piny Tell it fine, misguided creature;
the mnulyn on your knee
That to you a guardian angel
Will her love forever be.
Then he sure to get your letters
iOn this }>oiiit depends your fate),
For in case you shake the maiden
She may choose toTitigate.
Never let a heartless Jury
See those notelets where you say
That the girl’s your tootsey pootaey,
For it gives you deud away.
When you have those precious missives
Burn them, ere the sun has set,
Then steer clear of guileless maidens,
And you may be happy yet.
THE LOW: FISHEKJf Aft.
BY A. C. DODUK.
He was a lone fisherman out in his boat
Waiting for nibbles and watching his float.
He had “ fisherman’s luck,” yet his patience was
meek:
He was good for a day but his boat sprung a leak.
And the leak whidk it sprung made hfs boat soon a
And the wreck,
water rose over that fishermau’s neck.
lie could swim not a stroke—there was no one to
save—
And his fate—so it teemed—was a watery grave.
He went under once and he rose to the top—
He went under twice—the next time he would stop.
Happy thought—he was saved—the last time he
arose
He snuffed as much air as he could in his nose.
Ihen let himself sink to the bottom—no more—
And walked on that bottom right out to the shore.
— Oil City Derrick.
“O, I AM TIRED!”
BY RILEY.
‘ 0, T am tired!” she sighed, as her billowy
Hair she unloosed in a torrent of gold
That rippled and fell o’er a figure as willowy,
Graceful and fair as a goddess-of old;
Over her jewels she flung herself drearily,
Crumbled the laces that snowed on her breast,
Crushed with her lingers the lily that wearily
Clung in her hair like a dove in its nest.
—And naught hut that shadowy form in the minor
To kneel in dumb agony down and weep near herl
“ Tired?”—of what? Could we fathom the mys
Lift tery the ?— lashes weighed
up down by her tears,
And wash with their dews one while face from lur
Set like history,
a gem in the red rust of years.
Nothing will rest her—unless he who died of her
Strayed from his grave, and in place of the groom
Tipping Drained her the lace, kneeling there by the side of her,
old kiss to the dregs of his doom.
- And naught but that shadowy form in the mirror
To kneel in dumb agony ‘town and weep near her!
A FAILURE OF JUSTICE.
A Tull- of «N>w EnieltuKl maflatuile Who
Wan Very Fmli Indeed.
I have always, I hope, entertained a
due respect for the powers that be, but
I never fully appreciated the position
of those powers till I became one of
them myself, by being “ made a Magis¬
trate ” for Middlesex. Such was the
common less phrase described by which the thought¬
that throng dignity, but I my accession to
need Scarcely say
that the correct description of it is
that I was put in the Commission of the
Peace. It is only men of war that are
“ put into commission” on the water,
but on land it is different. In ancient
old boroughs English and other places where fine
customs still survive, per
sons who are thus exalted even have a
sword girt on them by the corporation
or other important body, kneeling, but
no such ceremony now ordinarily takes
place. the Lord According Lieutenant to modern of the practice
(after much mature thought, and county
haps prayer) selects the per
most honorable
and then fitting appoints persons them for this post and
simplicity there is by letter. In this,
nificance—for those perhaps as much sig
who can see below
the surface—as in the more ancient
forms of investiture.
To all outward appearance I was the
same man as I was the day before my
elevation, “but ah! the difference to
me!” In my inmost heart I felt myself
a custoe rotubrum, which is nc-t a thing
to be met with every day, let me tell you
—nor every other day. I did not quite
know what it meant myeelf, but—lib c a
prolessor prepared of metaphygics—I was quite
to let other people know.
I caused cockades to be attached to
the hats nf my men-servants, so large
that, in the case of the page, some said
it looked as if the page was attached to
the cockade, he which, sentimentally speak
ing, plained certainly was not, since he com
to my wife of its making him an
object study and of ridicule. I sent tor him to my
harangued him—as if from
the bench—m a very satisfactory and
telling three-quarters manner, dismissing him after
of an hour “ without a
ata ' n U I )0 ' 1 j 118 "mtSf character,” but in floods
one one. l'flatter I flatter myself), / 'Thh I do " not seek,
unhappy lad, to add to the poignancy of
y fit^wlHo/mv ° T Ur P 081110 "’ exceedingly efficacious,
“L. 'iZSl'Vr" im ,5 K : rtan t duties, !° to
r ? ad Burns > Justice from title
page to
i ? c f , om wtuch P? ! lne: resulted alter in six slumber attempts—five and the
last one so deep and stertorous that it
resembled an apoplectic seizure—Igave
that U P and f(!, ‘ bw:k u P° n the police re
ports, where, after al!, one geta the es
sentials. I found it good practice, so
a “ de P° rt ment was concerned, to ad
drM1 u > or K* n grinders in the
»treet, beginning, “ Dx,k here, my man,
1 am ut,on & Magi*trate,” fe* tb and ending with a
j < J u '’ « fou rtb w*>on of the
1 lath act of Victoria. Before , I had done
they white generally packed up their traps,
mice and all, and muttering
something is about insensate —which, I sup¬
pose, the Italian mode of expressing
penitence—mover’ I off pretty quickly.
am very far, 1 hope—notwithstand¬
ing what certain envious people (who
have no more chance of becoming Jus¬
tices of the Peace than Members of
Parliament) may chance to say—from
being rather a desired busybody, but I confess that I
pensing justice, an not" opportunity collectively, of dis¬
as it
were, upon the bench (where the indi¬
vidual is merged into the majority, or,
what is almost as bad, in the minority),
but in my own proper person, and at last
that opportunity came. It happened,
too, in the company of my nephew
John from Eton, which was ail the more
agreeable to me, as the boy was inclined
to be frivolous and needed perhaps to
have and impressed upon him a due rever¬
ence respect tor the high office into
which I had been inducted.
We had been dining out at Christmas
time with another uncle of his in the
Northeastern district of London, and
had been detained by the various
amusemenfs connected with that festive
season—charades, and gin snap-dragon, forfeits,
bitterly punch—till a late hour. It was
a cold and snowy night. There
was no cab-stand near the bouse and we
had started home on foot, with the in¬
tention of picking up the first four
wheeler—my “ growler,” nephew called it a
scribed though it is nowheie so de¬
in the Act—we could meet with
At 12:10 we found one standing at the
door of a public house, * which at that
hour ought, of course, to have been
closed, and to have harbored neither
cabman nor any other customer. With
the cunning peculiar to those who
habitually had defy lights the law, the landlord
with put the out the in the house, but
crime, he had short-sightedness peculiar to
of forgotten that the pres¬
ence the empty cab outside betrayed
his transgression. “ Here, John” said I,
“ is a clear case of a breach of Cap. 7,
section 8, and you shall see how a mag¬
istrate deals with it.” Perhaps it was
not actuating only the sense I of duty which was
me. was cold and tired and
quite resolved upon getting that cab to
go home in.
“All right, uncle,” replied John, duti¬
fully which enough, sounded but he added something
like “ Here’s larks,” for
which I saw no appropriateness save of
the vaguest kina, in connection with
the inclemency of the weather.
I pulled out the front-door bell to its
fullest extent, and stepped back into
the frosty street to mark the effect.
There was no sign whatever of move¬
ment in the house; so I rang again: still
nothing “ happened. man’s “ John,” said I,
as sure as this name is William
Wilkin he shall lose his license. He
has concealed the cabman on his
premi es, and is him probably at this mo¬
ment travention supplying of the law. with Ilis liquor in con¬
dently persuade object evi¬
is to me that he and
his family have gone to rest: but he
does not know your uncle.” Again I
the pealed the with bell and knocked smartly at
door the handle of my umbrella.
A window oh the upper floor was now
opened: “ Well, what's the matter?”
inquired a gruff and sleepy voice, or
rather a gruff voice that simulated
sleepiness.
“The matter is,” I said, in the an austere
tone, “ that you have got cabman
belonging to he this is, vehicle I under your
roof, where have no doubt,
drinking.” “
You’re a liar,” interrupted the voice
with great distinctness.
Before I could express my indignation
John burst into such a fit of laughter as
I should have thought no Eton boy
could hate indulged in; a very loud,
coarse, vulgar laugh, indeed, I am sorry
to say.
“ Now, cried vou had better trot off—you
two,” the voice at the window.
“ It’s carry.” plain you’ve had as much as you
can
“*Sir,” cried J, -authoritatively,” Jet
me tell you I ain a Middlesex Magis¬
trate.”
audacious “Oh, yes; a likely story!” was his
Barn written reply. “ You’ve got ’fghbury
have. Go upon your blazes!” countenance,
y° u to And lie
slammed down the window,
I regret to say that my humiliation of
mind, which was extreme, was greatly
increased by the misconduct of my
nephew, either who, far from expressing
sympathy majesty of the law for myself or with the
which had been thus
outraged in my person, indulged in the
night most unseemly hideous,” merriment. I He “ made
served (borrowing as the subesquently phrase from ob
alit
tie book of quotations which I sometimes
refer to and find very handy on the
bench) with his uproarious laughter,
“Come away,” I said sternly; “this
innkeerier is evidently drunk. It is
more than even necessary to sift this in
famous case to the very bottom. We
must now find a policeman.”
I did not care for the cab now. I was
bent on—no, not vengeance—on redress
and on the administrations of justice. I
would teach this contumacious publican,
at whatever personal ineovenience (and
it was snowing like mad) that a Magis
trate for Middlesex was not to be set at
defiance. I believe that the British
schoolbody his is allowed to.have [than less rever
eoce in constitution any Zulu
Kaffir, yet it will hardly be credited
that, officer throughout of the that law, painful John search for
the was half in
hysterics, offensive and perpetually quoting that
most observation of the inn
k ' !e l* rV ^ wfaic h 1 p ' ,U ' d ^
no sort written oihumor), . “You’vegot ’Ighburv r
Barn upon your countenance
you have.”
U “f ™^ ™* pity th ata Ma *'" tral '‘
cannot commit a person f for contempt of
court unless he catches him in court,
for a little discipline would have done
John good. However, I do not wish to
1 dwell upon any personal matter. At
j the 6nd of the next street we found a
; policeman. And John
here again being was nearly the
cause of my discredited, for no
sooner did I observe to the man, by way
j of introduction, that I was a Magistrate
tor Middlesex than the boy broke out
into a fresh burst of laughter, which
I caused the policeman to remark: “Had
you not better get home, both of you r’
in a very incredulous manner. How
ever, 1 produced my card and that very
soou brought him to his senses. He ac¬
(which companied us back to the “Seven Stars”
was the name of the public
house) and there stood the cab in front
of it and the inn in darkness, just as
before.
“ This must be a very old offender,” I
said, “ lie policeman.”
But did not seem to know whether
he was or not, for he only shook his
head. Our united exertions at the door
—and I will say that John hammered
away at it with praiseworthy vehemence
—once the window. more brought the laudlord to
“ Oh, there you are again, are you,”
he said, “and in custody? ThatVwhat
generally I comes of ’fghbury Barn.”
that was I so obliged speechless with indignation
was to get the policeman
to speak for me. As for John, he was sit
ting vulsions, on the pavement in apparent con¬
with his gloves in his mouth.
“ This here gentleman, landlord, is a
Middlesex Magistrate: there’s no bloom¬
ing He error about it; I’ve seen his card.
says as you’ve got a cabman on your
premises “ He’s drinking liar, after hours.”
a as I told him before,”
was the impudent rejoinder.
John here grew worse than, ever,
muttering plaintively, “Oh, dear, I
shall die.”
“No, no,” said the and" policeman, “the
gentleman isO. K , you had better
give license.” him no sauce, or you’ll lose your
“He shall lose it,” I murmured to
myself, “as sure as his name is William
Wilkins.”
landlord, “ Well, all I can say is,” returned the
with mitigated gruftness, “ I
turned that there cabman out of my
hou-e before 12 o’clock.”
“ But here’s his cab,” I exclaimed, in¬
credulously. “ Why, l/>r’ bless the man’s in¬
side of it!” me,
cried the policeman sud¬
denly—and there, indeed, he was, as
fast asleep as a church.
Of course John had a fresh convul¬
sion. Mr. Wilkins inquired from the
window whether I was quite sure now
that I had made fuss enough about
nothing, other or whether there was any
householder practical joke upon an honest
Magistrate, which, should as a Middlesex plify.
I like to
change Finally, he inquired, with a rapid
from irony to earnest, what I
aration was going to stand in the way of rep¬
?
I felt myself so in considerably'—I will
not say in the wrong, but a victim to
misapprehension—that kins I gave Mr. Wil¬
lings a sovereign. judicious I thought live shil¬
was a investment in the
case of the policeman, which I gave him
to understand was a fee for forgetting
that he had ever set on my card. And
I tipped my nephew handsomely, be¬
cause, as 1 explained to him, it was
Christmas time, when no boy who hoped
to be a gentleman ever told tales out of
school about anybody, and far less
about those connected with him by the
sacred ties of blood.
I drove home in silence (save for some
occasional gasps and gurgles from my
failure young companion) meditating upon the
of good intentions and on the
place miscarriages in of justice that had taken
the history of the world.
Onr Fashion of Mourning.
Visitors to this country are greatly
surprised at the long period during
which poonie wear mourning and re¬
main in seclusion. The custom must be
purely American, for it does not ob'ain
elsewhere. In England a widow or
widower may, with perfect propriety,
divest themselves of mourning attire at
the end of twelve months, although, in
degree, most cases, while they retain it, in some
a longer. for Mourning is
worn (or parents one year, but
changed to lighter mourning after six
months, and the same as regards the
mourning in of parents for children. Ex¬
cept the case of widows and widowers,
it is not deemed at all obligatory to
abstain from society for more than six
months, who have although lost children in the case of parents
it would be
unusual to go to large entertainments
before the expiration of a year. Where
a parent has died well stricken in years
and quite in the ordinary course of
nature it would excite no remark were
the children to go to quiet dinner parties
after three months. A two-years'
mourning and seclusion would, in such
case, be deemed affectation. Mourning
is here carried to such lengths that some
people lives really pass a large part of their,
in weeping and seclusion, the death
of a father, mother and sisteror brother
making is an aggregate of five years. It
a question thing whether we are not carry¬
ing tne too far. Life was surely
not made to be spent in permanent
seclusion on account of bereavement,
ordinary more especially for those who, in the
course of nature, must prede¬
cease us. Thousands of persons would
gladly the cut short their mourning but for
tyranny of fashion, which arbi¬
trarily sides. rules in this as in so much be¬
“J believe in a personal devil ?” said
Mr. Moody, at a revival meeting held
in . remote Western city. “ That’s
trae, that’s true—you’re right there,
stra ger,” said an old farmer, rising in
his seat in his earnestness. Whereupon
a calm-facerl, placid-looking woman rose
from the other end of the pew, took him
by the ear, and led him slowly out, and
the assembly knew then, for the first
time, with domestic that the old thoughts man's mind was filled
instead of the
hereafter,
THEKansasCity Jferabl picturesquely
observes that “energy is the ramrod
with which a successful man drivesnome
the bullet of each enterprise in the rifle
of his plans.”
“ Bbainb to the front! ” calls tne
„ Kansas‘City Time*. Well, here we are 1 .
^ < ;r'T* b,>W Ul< y0Ur fr0Bt aea k— White
Ml Times.
Gm Hung is the name of a Chinese
student at Harvard who is preparing
himself for the bar.
“Gdllivke’h Travels" have been
dramatised.
NUMBER 5.
j How to Shine In European Society,
[Salt Francisco Chronicle. 1
* * * I am speaking now concern¬
ing lightful the experiences of a number of de¬
Once gentleman, Saturday nights at Lady H’s.
I a American, on became ascertaining for that
was an a time
much interested in me. Because I
au American he seemed to take it for
granted that that I had been under lire, and
Because my body I was a lead mine of bullets.
was there alive he also assumed
that I must have killed some other man
who had tried to kill me.
“ You have seen some rough tiirrs in
California? ” said he.
“ Yes, I had.”
“ Good many fights?’’
“ Yes, some.”
“Ever see a man killed in a fight?”
“ Yes, once.”
“Hah! Well, now, my deali fellah,
hope but you won’t consider me inquisitive,
really I’ve a great desire to know
more of the details of these personal
encounters, pardon you know, and 1 hope you’ll
me now for asking such a ques¬
tion, but—did you ever kill a man?”
Idiot that I was I said “ No.” He
dropped far down me almost immediately. I fell
in his estimation. I was to
him no longer an object of interest.
What he wanted was a red-handed
American murderer. He had thought
me one. lie had prospected me, an
found no corpse on the ledge. I was
mere bank of peaceful, bloodless, barren
iler clay. 1 panned out neither crime, mur
nor blood I could feel, too, what
ho thought of me. His face said:
“ This man has lived in California half
a life time and never killed a man or got
killed himself." I managed afterwards
to regain a little of my lost standing in
tfiis gentleman’s estimation. 1 told him
that I was once in California on a jury
which tried Texas Jack for murder,
and I voted for his acquittal. But this
was lustre a mere resulting rushlight from compared to the
myself. Young killing before the man
Europe, and man, going to
ciety,” he there that encountering have killed “ so¬
sure you your
man. Kill something; kill a tramp or
an editor if you can do no better; carry
then your knife and pistol to London;
chambers; keep them prominently hung up in your
dinners; lay them on the table at club
talk pistol; feel absently unit
hurriedly know at times about your hips, asif
to amid the rockets’ red glure,
bombs bursting in air, your Smith and
Wes-on isstill there. It pays. My friend,
Ranchero Arizona Vacquero, whose
maiden name in Amerea is Jones, did
it and gained n valuable reputation for
a desperado smitten with" occasional
spasms ol remorse for the seven men
whom he vaguely hinted he had shot
through the head.
Stephen Gregory’s Air Ship.
[Albany Kxj>r<*«».)
Mr. Gregory is a tall, red wliirkcred
man of about fifty. His face is rather
cadaverous, his features are nromineut,
and bis eyes are so large and nright that
they seem to constitute the most impor¬
tant part of his anatomy. He is a man
of apparent intelligence, and while he
walked by the writer’s side from North
Pearl street to Broadway and. Clinton
avenue he told his story with earnest¬
ness, but without any great play of en¬
thusiasm.
“ My is built idea of an air ship is feasible,
and upon common sense princi¬
ples. The utility of every part of it,
except the rudder, has been practically
demonstrated, question and there can be no
of its entire success. Just as
soon as I can build a ship, the cost of
which will be about $6,000, 1 shall go to
reach Europe and will reach Europe and will
London in four days, for I can
easily make forty miles an hour, even
against “There reasonably adverse winds. * *
it is!” * * *
It is a unique combination. The ves¬
sel proper is about the size of a canal
boat, although sharp at both ends, and
with a propelling screw and rudder at
both ends. Above the boat ; and attached
to it by brass arms, are built on either
side of the vessel long cylinders, which
are to hold gas. They are lashed to the
ship shrouds. not only These by the brass arms, but b v
of course, are to supply
the buoyancy and to keep the vessel in
the air. The boat is to be propelled by
means of a screw, and the resisting
force is from the air which forms a
vacuum in the stern of the ship. The
power is supplied by rarified air from
an ful engine fed by kerosene. By a skil¬
contrivance there is a leverage on
the flanges of the propeller, anti the
rudder is worked by means quite dis¬
similar to those used on a water ship.
There is also an invention for making
the vessel rise and descend at the will
of the navigator, and altogether the
affair as explained by Mr. Gregory ap¬
pears very beautiful in theory, however
faulty “Have it may prove in practice. it?” the
writer asked. many persons seen
“ A great many. Fully three thou¬
sand pacsons have been to see this
model. They nave come from Maine
and Massachusetts, from the far West,
and from Philadelphia and other cities
south of us. Out of all this number all
spoke well of it—at! admire its feasibil¬
ity save one, and he is an Albanian,
who says it ‘ won’t work’ and when I
asked him why, he answered, dog
naturedly, ‘ cause it won’t?’ ”
A Record of Births.
An honest farmer of Caithness, re¬
cording bible, the births of his children in the
family wrote: “Betty was born
on the day that John Cahill lost his gray
mare in the moss. Jimmy was born the
day they began mending the roof o’ the
kird. Handy was born the night my
mother Kitty gaed broke her leg, and the day after
away with the sodgers. The
twins, Willie and Marget, was born the
day barn, alter and Sanny Bremnerbigget his new
o-’ Waterloo. the very day after the Battle
the Kirsty fecht was born the Keedsmas the night
great Peter Donaldson on and
atween a south
country drover. For bye, the factor.
raised the rent the same year, Amiy
was born the night the kiln gsed on (ire,
six years syne. David was born the
night o’ the great speat, and three days
afore Jamie Miller had a lift free the
fairies.”
§ftc Mafhinsrillc Juhrattce.
A WEEKLY PAPER, PUBLISHED AT
Watkinsville, Oconee Co., Georgia.
HATES OF ADVERTISING :
OrtA-quare, Fach first insertion................ .. $1 (0
One subsequent ii.sertion................ M
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square, ti ree months................. 5 f.0
one square, six months.................... 7 fO
One square one year........................ JO 00
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One-fourth column, six months. 15 00
One-fourth column, one year...., 20 00
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I.f UK It 41a TKRJW FOR MORE SPACI.
STAGE AM) ROSTRUM.
John Brougham will, on the 7th of
have May, be seventy years old, and he will
completed his fiftieth year on the
.ptage.
W. 8. Gilbert and Arthur Hullivan
have returned to England. They went
Pirates to superintend the production of the
Comique, of Penzance at the Opera
London.
Talking about acting Juliet! When
you the Capulet see Mary Anderson coming out on
chewing balcony, day her piece of
gum on the railing and reach
for Romeo, you see acting ’ real enough
to craze a Harvard student.
Messrs. Sullivan and Gilbert are
acredited in the London papers with
dividing, Avenue Theatre as their share of the Fifth
of f5,000 receipts, the pleasant
sum a week.
George Eliot, it is declared, has
of given permission for the dramatization
one of her novels. She U about to
travel for the benefit of her health.
Mu. D. H. Harkins has been very
successful at Cork. In fact, he may be
said to have drawn it, as we read that
“a crowd of 10,000 people e corted him
by torchlight, to his hotel.”
Mr. Boucicault appears at the
Adelphia The Theater, London, April 5, in
Fay-a-lleallac, Shaughraun. His new Iijsli drama,
will be produced signifying Ckir the Way,
not till September.
A celebrated primadonna was asked,
the other day, what three things she
liked best in the world. “ First of all,”
she replied, “ good notices; better still,
beautiful dresses; and most of all, tripe
and bottled stout!”
Miss Minnie Haijk is described as
lookingextremely when she dashes pretty and picturesque
upon faming the stage in the
hist act of the of the Shrew.
Pulling off her cloak of black silk, lined
with dress pink, she appears in a magnificent
of :apphire blue velvet, looped
over a skirt of pale blue brocade, into
which are woven tiny red and pink
flowers. Her hat is a Rembrandt of
gray felt hound with gold and trimmed
with pink and white ostrich feathers.
The latest, and possibly the last, work
of the great composer, Richard Wagner,
libretto—a is Parsijal festival (Percivale.) Only the
drama in three acts
—has been printed so far, while the
music is to appear during the course of
next Mummer, unless Wagner’s untimely
death may prevent the execution of hfs
plan. The material from which the
drama is taken is the well known legend
of the Grail. In choosing this subject
dilections Wagner has for relumed the to his former pre¬
realn\ of the purely
romantic; and indeed no sage is so well
adapted fancy for the the free play of a poet’s
as story of the Holy Grail,
since it is devoid of all National charac¬
teristics. Thus there is a marked dis¬
tinction between this latest work of
tendency Wagner and the Ring of (he Nibetung, the
of the latter being in spite
and partly even on account ofitf super¬
natural Teutonic characters, truly National, yet
more than merely German.
“Never Heed Worse-Looking Villains.”
J !>»:ailwCK«l Nhwh.)
The members of the press in this city,
though beauty, not Ofipresaed with personal
will certainly average as well as
far as honosi countenances go as any in
the country. Two' gentlemen, Hank
of Wright of the Times, and Capt. Brand
the Pioneer, whose rectitude of con¬
duct and unimpeachable integrity are
known throughout the entire commu¬
nity, amuse themselves during a portion
of the day in reporting trials at Judge
Moody’s court. Behind a table near his
honor, and facing the jury, attorneys
and cord, the with public heads in general, bowed thesescribes down, the evi¬ re¬
dences in the various cases, occasionally
looking up to rest their tired orbs, then
immediately A gentleman resuming their labors.
from the rural districts
observing them feilerB them, being inquired: tried for?” “What are
“What fellers?” asked a by-stander. ,
“Them hard looking cusses behind
that table.”
“for “Oh,” replied horses,” a wag who saw the joke,
“I stealing thought replied
so,” the ruralist;
“pretty they’re mean bad lookin’, ain’t they? You
bet men. 1 never seed
two more villainous lookin’ counten¬
ances.”
“ That’s the way they always look,”
replied the joker.
“Of course, they can’t look no other
way. 8ee how they hold their heads
down; can’t look an honest man in the
face. I’ll bet one of them was the thief
that stole my boss.”
Jonathan ifnrrell’s JJveljr Career.
Jonathan Burrell, of Newton, N. J.,
has Jail just for been brutal consigned to the County
Abraham, a graduate fight with his son
a recent of the State
Reform School. It appears that the
Henior Burrell ordered his son to steal
a bag of coal, which was too small game
for him, and he went to -the coal yard
and bought it instead. The father, en¬
with raged at this conduct, attacked the Burrefl bov
armed a large knife. Young
himself with a huge pair of
shears, defended himself, and a des¬
perate ing encounter took place. The gather¬
crowd seperated the men before any
mortal injury was done to either. They
are both suffering from their battle.
Jonathan is a noteworthy man. He
wears a wooden leg, having left the
original in Virginia during the war.
has Notwithstanding been enabled this misfortune, he
to contract matrimony
with at leant three living women. When
tired of the first, he exchanged wives
with another man, giving #2 to boot.
After several years he was honored with
the heart and hand of a six foot amazon,
who compelled 4 him to dismiss her pred¬
ecessor. Kacn wile has contributed a
brood of children to the general stock.
Home of the children are quite preco¬
cious, and nearly alt ragamuffins. The
third wife is complete ruler of the domi¬
cile, and when Jonathan gets on a de¬
bauch she pitches him and all his
household goods into the street.
flats Laundry lie sharp.— girls are too muck among
to Waterloo Observer.
This is sad irony.