Newspaper Page Text
ghc iStaihinsuille giduante.
A WEEKLY PAPER,
published Wednesday,
—AT—
Watkinsville, Oconee Co., Georgia.
<>. SULLIVAN,
EDITOR AND !»ROPRirTOR
T ERMS:
One yea-, in advance .fi CO
Six months..., 60
WAIFS AM) WHIMS.
Domestics belong to the hire class of
society.
The mathematician who wished to
borrow, some cash, wrote: “I will % 2
ask for a j.”
A recent poet says: “As she sighed,
he by sighed.” it, might If they have were been sitting side
side, a great
sighed woise.
Mr. Smalltalk— “ Is that a Vir¬
ginia creeper behind you, Miss Violet?”
Miss Violet (wildly)—“Oh, where? Oh,
do take it off ?”
Said the Arkansas man: “I respect
religion, but can' you fairly expect me to
attend church when there is a circus in
town demanding support.
If you ever noticed it, the man with
a c :old Lives to talk just a little hoarser
than necessary. It is so pleasant to be
taken notice of, you know.
It was a little fellow who had to live
and learn who asked his mother if bees
had splinters in their tails when his
bare feet came down upon a yellow
hornet.
AVhen a man’s wife comes in and see
him razor in hand and with his face al
lather, and asks him, “Are you shaving?”
it’s a provoking thing in him to answer
“No, I’m blacking the stove.”
Tea-tasters in New York get as high
as $100 per month, but milk-tasters get
nothing but chalk and water. —Detroit
Free Press. You should see the free
lunch tasters.— N. Y. Commercial Ad¬
vertiser.
A bright little girl, who had success¬
fully spelled the word “ that,” was
asked by her teacher what would
remain after the “ t " had been taken
away. “The dirty cups and saucers,”
was the reoly.
“ Do you use many flowers on your
table?” asked Mrs. Murray Hill of a
Southern visitor. “Well, yes,” was the
reply; “we have wheat and rye bread
for breakfast, but the old man will
stick to corn dodgers.”
“What wou’d you do if mamma should
die!” slie pathetically asked her little
three-year-old know,’’replied daughter. “I don’t
the infant, with downcast
eyes and melancholy voice; “I thpose I
should have to thpank myself.”
Journalism is to be a branch of
study editor at Cornell University. A broken
down is wanted for the chair of
morning papers. First class in mental
scissors and practical paste will please
step forward.— New Orleans Picayune.
A Vermont woman hides her six-foot
son in the wood box and then says the
men folks are all gone out, and she
wishes they had hidden that $400 before
they left, and of course the tramp gets
his bacK broken when the son gets out
of the box.
A Chicago man has had a lost tooth
replaced by one transplanted from the
mouth of ayoung girl, and now, at a
party, when the rest of his mouth is
watering for salmon, salad, and quail on
toast, that tooth just aches for ice cream
and frcz-ii pudding.
A little girl went timidly into a
and s‘ore asked at Bellaire, the O., the other morning,
clerk how many shoe¬
strings she could get. for .five cents.
“How long do you want them?” he
askel. “1 want them to. keep,” was
the answer, in a tone of slight surprise.
“Are animals color blind, asks a
writer in the Scientific Magazine. Now
there is a man who has never wandered
through shirt a cow Come pasture with a red flannel
on. to think of it, we have
never wandered through that kind of a
cow pasture, either.— Burlington Hawk
eye.
Frederick the Great.
fShtrlock’s Letters.J
Plutarch and Shakespeare have shown
great men in their nightcap and slippers.
I cannot show you his Prussian Majesty
in his acquired nightcap, habit for he never wears one;
he a in youth of sleeping
bare-headed, in order to harden himself.
Nor has he any slippers, for assoon as he
leaves his bed he putson his boots. It is
known that he rises at 4, that he goes to
bed at 7, that he 1 procrastinates noth¬
ing, that he is fond of jesting, that he
eats a great deal of fruit, that he plays
one the flute every evening, that he
passes most of his time at Bans-Souci in
his old boots, and that he governs
Europe. Kings’s I asked the Swiss, “Which
was the chamber?” “This.” I
expected fine alcove a magnificent the. bed. of There was
it at end the room,
but no bed in it. “Where is the bed?”
“There.” Behind a little screen in a
corner was a small bed, very narrow,
with curtains of green silk; this was
his. The carpet on which he steps when
he gets out of bed is very coarse. And
there are three er four tables covered
with hooks and papers. Frederick was
told one day that some one had spoken
ill of him. He asked if that person had
100,000 men ? He was answered, “No.”
“Very nothing; well,” he said had the 100,000 King, “I I can do
if men could
declare war against him.”
How a Bog’s Life Was Saved.
A horrible tragedy was nearly enacted
the other day at Gibraltar, just when
the Himalaya was about to weigh anchor
off the new Mole. In the excitement of
the moment a pet dog fell into the water,
when a large octopus rose to the sur¬
face and gave chase, making greedy
grabs at.it with arms quite two feet long
from ena to end. When the enemy was
about to close on its victim a sailor fresh
Irom foreign and, parts appeared on the
scene, tattooed breast dragging rival from his much
of a pet in the shape
basket. a marmoset, sent it to the rescue in a
The little creature, half cat and half
monkey, must have been acquainted
alike with its Unties and the English
language, lor it did not seize the octo
pU safely / , i hauled hand* on the dog, was
and up, to the disgust of the
enemy joy of friends. play‘when Altogether
it was a pretty piece of by
tender hearts were sobbing adieu* to
brown hands wavinsr affectionately
from 40 lhe military
strains of A uld Lang Syne.”
ple of goodiumi.” P., give an an exam¬ exam
M. example . Mr. Mr. P P.—“ .—“ God God is is an an
of P uduM. ’ %he lhe Doctor— Doctor—
Please give a more familiar **ar,i.
pie.
The Watkinsville Advance.
VOLUME I.
Policewomen.
[New York Times.]
One Mrs. Blake has recently written
a letter to a partially esteemed contem¬
tematic porary calling attention to the sys¬
outrages on the sacredness of
womanhood which are constantly per¬
petrated by the police. When a drunken
woman is arrested, she is arrested by a
she man; is dragged confronted to a police station, where
also finally by a sergeant, who is
a man; and locked up in a
cell which is frequently in close prox¬
imity to other cells occupied by men.
From the moment that the policeman
lays his hand, except in kindness, on
the intoxicated woman to the moment
when a masculine jailer thrusts her into
a cell, the sacredness of her i oman
hood ful is outraged. of things, To Mrs. remedy Blake this pain¬
state proposes
that a number of policewomen should
be appointed, whose business it should
be to take charge of women who are ar¬
rested, and to see that the sacredness of
their womanhood is not outraged by
subjecting them to the gaze or handling
of policemen. This is a simple remedy,
and adopted. it will, of course, be immediately
Though Mrs. Blake contents herself
be with demauding that policewomen shall
employed at of police stations who in order
to take charge women have been
arrested, it is obvious that policewomen
should also have the exclusive power to
arrest offenders of their own sex. If
the sacredness of woman must not be
outraged outraged at a police in the station, it ought We not
to be street. must,
therefore, have a double and bisexua+
police force. The policemen will arrest
male offenders, and the policewomen
will arrest women, and the arrest of any
person be by an officer unlawful. of another sex must
declared If women are
protected from policemen, men must be
protected drunkard from policewomen;.therwise, will be liable
the male to have
the sacredness of his manhood violated
by having a shoulder. policewoman’s hand laid on
his modest
The adoption of this plan would re¬
quire patrols. the police Every authorities policeman, to double
the when
going bis on duty, would policewoman be required to
give arm to a and her. pa¬
trol his district in company with
Otherwise, there would be a difficulty in
making prompt drunken arrests. A policeman,
finding a respectfully woman disturbing
the peace, might request
her to wait while he called a policewo
man to arrest her, but in all probability
she would not wait, and after taunting
the officer with his inability to outrage
the sacredness of her womanhood by
laying his hands upon her, would retire
to]another precinct. If, however, the
folrceroan and policewomaHshwere to
hunt in couples they would H<Jt only be
able to arrest evil-doers with prompt¬
ness and propriety, excellent but influence they would ex¬
ercise an on each
other. The policeman would have his
masculine mture purified and refined
by association with the policewoman,
and she would gain strength and firm¬
ness of character from him. Just as
Mrs. Belva-Lockwood has purified the
atmosphere of the bar by becoming a
lay wer, woman, if admitted to the force,
would purify and ennoble it to that ex¬
tent that a policeman would exhibit the
modesty and sweetness of a young lady,
combined with the morality and manli¬
ness of St. Paul.
Joe Parsons’ Adveiture.
[Philadelphia Times.]
Joe Parsons was a Baltimore good-hearted boy, and
a little rough, hut withal a
fellow and a brave soldier. He got
badly wounded at Antietam, and thus
laconically described the occurrence,
and what followed to some people who
visited the hospital: name?”
“What is your
“Joe Parsons.”
“What is the matter?”
“Blind as a bat, sir; both eyes shot
out.”
“At what battle?”
“Antietam.”
“How did it happen?”
“I was hit and knocked dowD, and had
to lie all sight on the battle-field. The
fight was renewed next stand day, and I was
under fire. I could the pain, but
could not see. I wanted to see or get
out of the fire. I waited and listened,
and presently heard a man groan near
me.
“‘Hello!’says yourself,’ I. he. ’'•
II < Hello says
II l Who be you?’ says I.
“ ‘Who be you ?’ says he.
“‘A Yankee,’says Reb,’ I. .
“ ‘ Well, I’m a says he.
U < What’s the matter?” says L
U < My teg’s smashed,’ says he.
(( < Can you walk?” saysl.
“ ‘No,’ says he. ?’ I.
1 ‘Can you see says
“ ‘Yes,’ says he.
u l Well,’ says I, ‘you’re a rebel, but
I’ll do you a little favor.’
“‘What’s that,’ says he.
you’ll “ ‘My eyes are shot out,’ I’ll says I, ‘and if
show me the way, carry, you
out,’ “‘All saysl. rightl’ he.
‘Crawl says
“ over here,’ says I; and he
did,
“ ‘Now. old Butternut,’ says J, “get on
my back;’ and he did.
“ ‘Go ahead,’ says he.
(( t Pint the way,’ says I, ‘for I can’t
see a blessed thing.’ ahead,’ ” be.
“ ‘Straight halls flyin’ says all round,
“The were a
and I trotted off and was soon out of
range. ‘Bully for you,’ he, ‘but you’ve
“ says
shook my leg almost off.’ holding
“ ‘Take a drink,’ says he, up
his canteen, and I took a nip.
“ -Now, slowly,’ let us go on again,’ says and he,
•'kind o’ and I took him up,
he did the navigation and him 1 did nearly the
walkin’. After I had carried
a mile, and was nearly dead, he said:
‘Here we are; let me down.’ Just then
a voice said: ‘Hello, Billy; where did
you get that Yank?’
“ ‘Where are we?’ sayi I.
“ ‘In the rebel camp, of course,’ says
he; and d-n my buttons if that rebel
hadn’t ridden me a mile straight into
the rebel camp. Next day McClellan’s
army advanced and took us both in, and
then we shook hands ami made it up;
but it was * mean trick, don’t you
think w> ?’>
WATKINSVILLE, GEORGIA, MAY 19, 1880.
THEY WOULDVT EVAXIEUSE.
BY JIM N ASTIC,
“ Will I jine the Inviuliug Army, friend?
Well, I don’t care if I do;
I jest came off the construction train
After putting this railroad through—
The darud’st, toughest stuff'
That ever was din; with a spade:
Aud I’d sooner join a pirates’ crew
Than go to work on the grade.
So let us soak our whistles once
In a smather of bourbon rye;
No better recruits will fill your ranks
Thau “ Bummer Bill ” and I.
Eh, Bill —do I you twig?” boy!’*
** do, me
“ We have last month’s pay in our pocket, pard.
And this month’s is coining due, it’s
And we’ll jine your ranks as soon as spent
If you’il help to put us through.
There’s Cruiser Tom and Peter Stokes,
That’s thirsty after a tramp,
And Mike that shuffles the clog, you know—
That blinks in his larboard lamp—
And lots of the boys to help us out.
But They the look heaviest a’ awful dry, the jug took
By Bummer swig from is
“ Bill ” and I.
Eh, Bill—do “ I you do, twig?” boy!”
me
“ You think I mistake your jpositlon, paril,
That AlkI the why that you organize; of the
you tight with the sword spirit?
Ah, well, it is not our trade.
And an inch of a sermon is harder to us
Than to build a rod of the grade,
And no moral fellow could take a nip
Of lager when he feels dry.
’Twill take some cute logic to get that in
The “ Bummer Bill ” ami 1.
Eh, Bill—do I you twig!”
“ do, me hoy!”
“ And you think our case Is a hard one, paid,
And we are in an awful State,
Before And we’d it better change late; our position
That the gets harvest too is and the few?
Now don’t ripe reai»ers
The pile it on in so steep— Belmont, for they
harvest is short
Pasture the land to sheep—
Aud the awful State we now are in
We will leave for Illinoy.
Good bye, old pard, sluee you won’t diink,
Wi;h * Bummer Bill’ and 1,
EU, Bill—do you twig?”
I do. me bov!”
— Wheeling Leader.
A l OSMI.t IA> BALLAD.
I sing of the Kinkajou,
The carnivorous Kinkajou,
Who fell in love with the prodigal son
Of an antediluvian mastodon;
And when in love—so proud she grew—
The prehensile tail of Miss Kinkajou,
Curled round with an extra kink or two.
They The elegant danced the matachin,
matachin.
They’d When hardly plantigrade accomplished a step or two,
the heel of Miss Kinkajou
81ie Upset loved— the colossal form the of graceful the one
yea, even son
Of the ante diluvian mastodon.
A las! for t lie matachin,
For the stately matachin,
Uprose antediluvian the pachydermatous mastodon, son
Ot the
And bade her adieu, with never a tear
But munched an arachnis hypogtra,
Commenting on heels in a mapner severe.
Alas! for the Kinkajou,
The deserted Kinkajou,
She wept for the autoschediasticaVson
Of the antediluvian mastodon,
Then wiped her eyes, and wearily sighed,
Uncurled the tail v now shorn of its pride,
Turned up her plantigrade heels—and died.
—New York Graphic .
LITTLE BY LITTLE.
%7hen 1 he new years come and the old years go.
How, little by little, all things grow!
All things grow—and all decay—
Little by lit tie passing away.
Little by little, on fertile plain.
Ripen Waving the harvests flashing of golden grain,
and in the sun,
When the summer at last is done
Little by little they ripen so
As the new years come aud the old yeaaa go.
Low on the ground an acorn lies,
Shadow Little by and little shelter it mounts to the skies, herds,
for wandering
Home for a hundred singing birds. 1 ‘
Little by little the great rock h vrow,
Long, long ago when the world was new;
Cities Hlowly of aud coial silently, stately and free,
under the sea
Little by little are btiilded—while so—
The new years come and the old years go.
LESLEY AND IRENE.
BY MARY REED CROWELL.
Such a look as was on Irene Iredell’s
face—such a piteous, hunted look in the
intensely beautiful gray ey es—such
visible, desperate attempt at self-control,
lest Paine Alliger should understand
how deeply his words had cut home.
But Paine Alliger saw the white
pitiful face, and the anguished lips eyes,
and the proud, compressed that were
paler than he ever had seen them—
sweet, luscious lips he had kissed again
and again—and rather enjoyed the
knowledge of his influence over her.
She had been so proud at the first, so
reserved and unapproachable, that Al¬
liger had been immediately thrown
upon entirely new rescources in order
to form an acquaintance with her.
Then very gradually, as an icicle
slowly of melts spring-like beneath the suddenly warm
rays she had a into something winter-day sun,
grown more than
an until acquaintance, degrees it yet less than a friend,
by had grown to this—
that Paine Alliger had come to be all
the world to her.
He had been an ardent, persistent
wooer. He had been just the one man
whoever c< uld have hoped to touch
Irene Iredell’s heart—the first, the last,
the only one—and once won, her icy
hauteur was banished forever towards
him, and she unhesitatingly gave him
all the great love and adoration of which
only There such natures as hers are capable.
had been one little, little month
of blessedness, in which it seemed to her
so much of perfect content was com¬
pressed that it was hardly less than
dangerous to her after-peace to accept it.
flash And of then, lightning suddenly, sharply, sky just like a
from a apparently
free of storm, because the dark, rolling
clouds only happen to be a little beyond
one’s and range of did vision—just it to so her—Paine startlingly
unawares come
Alliger’s defection.
For he had come, he had seen, he had
sworn to be conqueror, and he had con¬
quered, vedly and thoroughly, then the wholly, unreser¬
; sweets palled on his
taste.
He was a handsome thoroughly selfish man, and
perhaps which as conditions a man as ever was,
two so often go to
gether. and He was mercilessly thoroughly refined,
too, so cruel in his
aesthetic tastes. He was masterful—
none other than a touched prince among his
fellows could have Irene Ire
dell's heart— and he had keen eager
and devoted in bis chare after this girl's
heart, more than was his wont.
But now he was tired of ft, Once
won, his prize lost its value, and tins
haughty, jewel, perfect the po**e*»U>n •womarf—a of the pure treat
worthy
in the land—was very quieUy, in a very
gentlemanly It way, discarded that
was characteristic of the man
he went to her and told her what a
thousand other men would have shrunk
from doing personally. But Paine Alli¬
ger wanted to see how she would look,
how she would act, hear what she would
say, wheu he told her, in his caressing, bis
pitying, nad ruled penitent his head, way, how her how sweet¬ heart
rare
ness and charming influence had made
him forget his duty, his honor; how,
anguishful ing he as it felt was it to him, how agoniz¬
to her, duty was none the less
his clear to go away from her for¬
ever, and return to the one who had a
prior claim upon him—the fair woman
who, although she would take his name,
could never touch his heart as she had
done.
It was in some such strain as this that
he spoke to her, watching every shade
of change on her beautiful face, seeing
the almost awful control she forced upon
herself, and, rather than otherwise, en¬
joying Then, it. when he finished,
had she
looked up to him with a steady, anguish¬
ful look—with a piteous, heart-broken
look in her eyes, a white despair in her
face—such a look as one might bestow
upon a dear, dead face,* over which the
casket-lid is to be forever closed the’
next relentless moment.
brokenly—Irene “It must be as you say,” she said,
Iredell, the haughtiest
woman he ever had seen in ail his varied
experience. “It and has always been as you
said with me, if it is my fate to be
left like this—”
Then, as if her old pride rebelled
against the outcry of her woman’s
scorned love, she sharply hesitated,
compressing her lips till it seemed to
Alliger, as he stood watching every ex¬
pression, every gesture, every shade of
ominous paling color, change as a physician dying man’s watches the
on a coun¬
tenance, that she never could part them
again. pride struggled
But that old out in
one swift, brief protest, and the com¬
pressed “Perhaps lips opened in be obedience. grateful know
1 should to
this now. When you go back to the
other woman, I wish you joy of her.”
and But despairing the sweet than face was mere voice dismayed
the was sar¬
castic, Then or the manner haughty. with
ing adieux, he went when away, Irene would gentle, far rather pity¬
he had been even rough and cruel, so
that she might have retained some
memory of him that hurt her.
But it was part of his consummate
plan that she should only remember
him as he desired to he remembered;
and when he got himself out of the
house, on the road to the depot, on his
way back to Lesley May, somehow—
somehow he did not enioy his triumph
for which he had neglected all other
things; echo in somehow his there he thought was a sarcastic
ear as of it—
“ the other woman; I wish you joy of
her!”
* # * #
bonny Lesley and May—“ the blue-bell, other woman with ”—
fair as a her
ders pale gold hair Grecian flowing down fillet her shoul¬ pallid
from the of
blueribban she always wore—her pansy
blue eyes shining, her rosebud mouth
waiting greeting, for and Paine Paine Alliger’s Alliger watching kisses of
her, as the and carriage thinking drove hew up remarkably to the cot¬
tage gate, was—how daintily
pretty and girlish she
fr< sh and charming.
A sea-breeze was blustering, blue stirring lawn
her shining hair, swaying her
skirt, and bringing a faint carnation Alliger to
her cheeks, - that deepened as
sprang down from the carriage and
went up to her—the first time in six
months she had seen him.
“I did so want you, Paine,” she said,
half eagerly, half in tender reproof,
after they had gone into the parlor—
large, lace drapery, high-ceiled, floating matting-floored, in the breeze. with
“And how do you suppose it has been
with me, my sweet, all these weary,
stupid weeks, with only your dear let¬
ters to relieve the monotony of dry-as
dust business ?”
Her head was nestled contentedly on
bis shoulders, bis arm close around her
waist.
“And is it all done, Paine—all over
with this horrid business that has kept
you buried in a wretched little town so
long?” thrilled
A curious sensation him at
her question.
“All done with, my darling —forever
done 1 Are you glad ?”
And, between her wrapturous answer
and his question, Irene Iredell’s pale,
splendid ical face, glided with its passionate, trop¬
eyes, like an accusing ghost.
After that—well, Paine AUinger won¬
dered what had come over him. All
the bright, ardent summer-time he
lingered at the seaside bright, in Lesley’s witch¬ com¬
ing pany. She was bonny,
as ever, and devoted to him; but—
It fretted him, angered him at first,
to find that he could not get rid of Irene
Iredell’s face. It haunted him as a
dream will haunt a dreamer. He
seemed to have no power over his will
and imagination to thrust the remem¬
brance of her from him.
Gradually he grew to comparing her
queenly Gradually-fae ways with Lesley's kittenish
ones. came to an appre¬
ciation of the exquisite reli“h there had
been in winning such perfect treasures
of heart. passion as were deep hidden in her
And, in contradistinction, Lesley's
ever-ready, ever-demonstrative affec¬
tion, that, curious enough, seemed
somehow While, to pall upon him. before,
three months he had
told himself that, Irene Iredell's love,
safely her delicious won, largely of bestowed reserve, also even palled with
way
upon him.
bad Alligqr played was with thoroughly thinking unhappy. bore He
the fire, he
charm that would prevent the
scorching; ing and Irene was certainly be
flash revenged; of speech while had that made—“That one powder
a she
-Other woman; I wish you joy of her!”
ranked deep and hurtful,
had Joy first of her! Jresley May, whom he
Mooing wooed he with capable just such ardent whom
had as was so of,
he utterly thrown over in his mind,
and heart, and faith, while
eold Irene, for whom he had in turn
cruelly hack her, thrown Irene over, then gone
to
It was like a return to plainer, frugal
fare of milk and porridge, after (he
epicure has dined on rarest dishes, most
toothsome dainties, spiciest relishes, in¬
toxicating before wines—and palled as nothing had
ever had fallen flat upon and him, as nothing him,
ever stale to
this return to his first faith, his pledged
word, harassed him.
So much that, in a desperation new to
him, he declared to Lesley he must be
oft from the lotus-eating life at the sea¬
shore and back to business—at least,
and partially. And then she had pouted,
tain scolded, him, and cried all in vain to de¬
she let him go with kisses,
and urgent beseechings for return.
While he promised yes, and went as
directly to Irene Iredell’s house, as
train, and boat, and carriage could take
him.
To find her not at home—gone for the
season—here,, there, anywhere that the
Sales, her friends, chose to loiter.
Paine Alliger had never been so
angrily selfish life disappointed in all his luxurious,
before, ard he went away,
almost hating the thought of Lesley
May, and her clinging arms, always
held. clinging her sweet Kisses never with¬
Two weeks he traveled aimlessly, here
and there, always hoping to come across
the Kale party; and the first letter he
received from Lesley, that reached him
on the top of Mount Washington, one
gossip, August day, told him among the
of a delightful acquisition to
their party—Mrs. and the Misses Fale
and a Miss Iredell, who had arrived at
the hotel the evening he left.
He crushed the letter is his pocket,
and took the first train back, to find his
heart a-tlrriil, his pulses stirring, as he
knew now only Irene had power to thrill
and stir him, and to come face to face
with her on the sands alone, an hour
after his hurried arrival—a half hour
after Lesley's rapturous greetings.
“ Don’t pass me by this way, Irene,”
he said, impetuously, for she gave him
the iciest of bows, and detained her by
laying She his hand on her arm.
looked up at him, haughty,
angry, yet he could not fail to see the
pale, set lookon her beautiful face.
“This is unwarrantable, Mr. Alliger.
Bemove your hand.”
The same exquisi’e voice, whose con¬
tralto tones set every nerve in rebellion
against his fate.
‘‘Can you not understand ? You shall
understand, Irene, that I have regretted
that I ever allowed anything, any one,
to come between us. 1 loved you when
I gave you up. I have loved you every
moment since. I have been to your
home, wherever I thought you might be.
I am come to you now, Irene, Irene! to
tell you no other woman can, or shall
come, between usl Irene 1”
He smiled faintly.
“ You are woman,” he said faintly.
“ No, she does not know,” he went on,
{tBMHlon but she creeping will to his voice ag
“ know. I dare say I de
serve to be thrown over by you, but
Lesley May shall never be my wife, not
even if you persist in your cruelty to us
both; for you love me—you do love me
—and your heart bears me witnessof it.
f will not marry Lesley May, because I
do not love her. You will not listen to
me, and you do love me.”
A little shiver ran over her. His
words were so masterful, as of old, and
his influence over her had always been
and powerful. bowed But she only smiled coldly,
and passed, and left Alliger
as no woman had ever succeeded in
making him feel before.
And, five minutes after he had taken
himself away from the spot where Irene
had left him, Lesley May crept slowly
up from beside the huge upturned surt
boat, where she had been sitting, think¬
dreams, ing, reading until and dreaming sound sweet
the sudden of her
lover’s voice had startled her, and—
“ Typhoid—malignant Merselis said, gravely typhoid,” Doc¬ Mrs.
tor very to
Kales. “ No doubt caused by impure
water, need strictest imperfect care—strictest drainage. Khe wall
care; and
even then—”
Irene lifted her calm, lovely face to
his.
“ Is there danger that Miss May will
die?”
dear “ Typhoids Miss Iredell, are always uncertain, my
and in a measure in¬
fectious ; but I think, with proper pre¬
caution, you need not be personally
alarmed—”
.She silenced him with one of her im¬
perious looks.
“ I am not afraid, sir. I intend to
offer my services as Miss May’s nurse, if
she is really in danger, and needs intelli¬
gent care. I am used to sickness.” .
Nor had persuasions nor reproofs any
effect upon her. Bhe quietly went her
way, arid took up her post at Lesley
May’s bedside; ana then, and only then,
in the girl’s ravings, did she learn the
woe, the anguish, that was at the bot
tom of the terrible illness.
And as Paine Alliger had almost
hung killed, in her the once, balance so now his account. another life
on
Wliile he, in such dismay and despair
as be never dreamed he could suffer,
his passed his wretched days and nights, all
where thoughts the centered on who that loved sick-room, him
two women
were face to face with Azrael.
And then, one day, the news went
forth that Miss Iredell hail taken the
fever; and then—
* * * *
One little month later, when Paine
knew Alliger stood alone would on the bonny sands, Lesley's and
never again around
soft arms twine his neck, he
wondered how it could be he ever had
dreamed he did love her.
And again, as he tried in vain to real¬
ize that Irene had laid down her beau¬
tiful life to save her sister woman’s, it
seemed to him that no such punishment
bad ever come to mortal man before;
and he conscience-stricken, went his way, gloomy, and disheart¬
ened, unutter¬
ably lonely, bearing a burden he could
never in his life lay aside ; while they
two were peacefully at rest, after their
brief dream of bliss and hitter awaken
ing. And who sfiall say theirs was not
the happier fate
A man mav smile ami smile and con
linue to smile, and be a temperance
NUMBER 11.
Aaron Barr’s Adopted Daughter.
Orleans Democrat, j
We have vivid recollections of a fine
o’d house with an air of ancient respect¬
ability tinted about it, where all wiib sober
and graceful without being gaudy,
and simple in the extreme. A conserva¬
tory of rare and beautiful exotics often
attracted our attention, for, its glass
doors ajar, a delicate perfume pervaded
the whole apartments, and after passing
through tomed several of these we were accus¬
toenter the boundoir of an invalid
—a silken lady reclining on a couch, with
and coverlet, snow pillows lace covered,
The a net lady tastefully advanced looped. life,
was in but
her dark eyes were bright, intelligent,
and varying correspondent to every ex¬
pression beautiful, she uttered. Her face was
after a high type of loveliness
which time cannot ol iterate. Dark hair,
plainly drawn back, revealed a brow
which spoke intellect, and every leature
harmonized, pression conveying a general im¬
of refinement, intelligence and
goodness in rare combination. This was
Natalie Sumter, daughter of Bear
Admiral Delsgo, of the French navy,
adopted Mrs. sister of Aaron Burr’s daughter,
Alston, and daughter-in-law of
General Sumter, one of our bravest
Revolutionary valor and heroism commanders, about whose
since his is written it isexpletive in to speak,
name the history
of his country along with those of
Washington, which Marion, Greene and others
posterity will not let die.
The strange vicissitudes of Mrs. Sum¬
ter’s life are romantic in the extreme.
Being the daughter of a French lady,
maid of honor to Marie Antoinette, she
the was separated from her mother during
revolution which dethroned the king
and caused royalists to fly precipitately.
Mme. Delago, her mother, only escaped
with her life, and her infant daughter,
Mrs. Sumptei, was conveyed by a faith¬
ful nurse to New York. About the
child’s person was a small chain of gold
and a monogram; these, together with
her infant wardrobe and the known
fidelity identity. of her nurse, established her
Aaron Burr becomimr cognizant of
the facts, adopted Natalie, and educated
her along with his accomplished but ill
fated daughter, Mrs. Alston, Natalie
grew up a most beautiful and accom¬
plished girl, when Mine. Delago claimed
her child, and she was put on board a
vessel bound for a French port. Colonel
Thomas Sumter, only child of the old
“Game Cock,” General Sumter, chanced
to be a fellow passenger with the young
lady, and seeing her there became her
devoted admirer. He followed her to
Baris, obtained the consent of Mine. Del¬
ago to, their union, married her and
brought where her to her home in the South,
she lived aud died, beloved and
honored.
A Dog Story.
There was a great deal of fun in one
of the churches in the town of Pbomix
ville—which is a little ways up the
Schuylkill—last Sunday. While the
which preacher belonged was reading his sermon a dog,
to the preacher, run up
and aisle sniffing the air and wagging
his tail. At first the dog did not at¬
tract much attention, hut after a while
he hopped up into the pulpit and began
to gape. This amused the congregation,
for they saw in the dog’s antics a hint
to the preacher that his sermon was a
dull and sleepy sort of a sermon. By
and by the dog-saw one of the vestry¬
men start around with his collection
plate. Now, this vestryman was a great
enemy down with in the loud dog’s harts, eves he and, rushing
seized the
janitor vestryman by the pantaloons. dog The
ran In to take the off, and for
a time there was considerable excite¬
chief-maker ment. Finally into the janitor led the mis¬
the street, and
the end of this story.
An Amusing Incident.
The Galveston News relates the fol¬
lowing incident as having literally oc¬
curred during General Grant’s late
visit to that town: General Grant was
walking with the on Mayor Tremont street in company
rushed of the city, when and an old
negro ing woman at him, hold¬
out her hand, exclaimed with a
fervor that testified to the sincerity of
her heart: “Lor’ bless yer, Massa
Grant, yer needn’t pay a cent for
washin«aH the best long as you is in town. island; I is I
wash woman on de
uses de best soap an has got a bran new
wash hoard. Howdy do, General
Grant; whar is yer stoppin’ at?” A
cast-iron smile crept over the features
of Grant, but he reached out his hand
and she—maybe she didn’t shake!
A City Built or Shells.
Perhaps you do not know that the
City of Paris is built mostly of millions shells,
the cast-off' houses of uncounted
of little sea creatures. Each shell is
not so big as a millet seed, and the little
creatures lived in them ages ago. There
were so many of them in the sea that
they settled into real mountains, became
cemented together, and now the moun¬
tains of shells form the quarties where
most of the Paris building stone is pro¬
cured.. The shells are shaped like that
of a snail, and are so plentiful in the
Paris stone that one inch (cubic inch) is
said to contain fifty-eight thousand of
them. Besides this, they are found ail
over the world, not ocly in stone, but in
the studs on the shore.
“ I ordered a dozen oysters,” said the
blonde young man with the helmet
hat, “and here are only eleven. Will
you please elucidate?” “I will,” re¬
plied the obliging restauranteur.
“There is a certain superstition preva¬
lent in good society against thirteen at
table: and so-vou-see—eh?”
When the farmer puts a porcelain egg
under the hen, is be setting a good egg
sample?
The order of the garter—“buckle me
tight and above the knee.”
This Do not be astonished at .Anything.
is a freak country.
Madam, never bang a door, if you do
adore a bang.
ihc Matftin still* gulraiue.
A WSEKLY PAPER, PCBUSBKD AT
Watkinsville, Oconee Co., Georgia.
RATES OF ADVERTISING :
Oqp square, first inaeriioo... 91 fO
Kacb subsequent insertion... M
One equate, one uio tb.....„ 2 SO
One square ti i$e months,... 6 CO
One 8(|uare, s.x months....... 7 m
One squaie, one year.......................... 10 00
One-fourth column ore month........... 5 00
One-fourih column, three months....... * 00
One-fourth column, a.x months.......... 16 00
One-fourth column one year............. 20 00
Half column, one niontu..... a m
Half column three montts 12 CO
HMf cotumu six months 20 00
Ifa (’column, one year... W 00
L1BKR1L TKRtll FOR .UOBB N PACK
THOUGHTS FOR SUNDAY. „
Manners are the shadows of virtues.
Every natural longing has its natural
satisfaction.
There is in every human countenance
either a history or a prophecy.
The rays of happiness, like those of
light, are colorless when unbroken.
Speech is noble only when, like an
honest money, it represents the goid of
thought. A is
man never so much a master of
himself as when he has given himself
up.
Ev ery man th rows on to h is surrou nd
ings the sunshine or the shadow thatex
ists in his own soul.
He is not only idle who does nothing,
but he is idle who might be better em¬
ployed. Hasty
words rankle a wound, soft
ones dress. Forgiveness cures it, and
forgetfulness noble removes the scar. It is
more to avoid an injury by silence
than to overcome it by argument.
If you want the milk of human kind¬
ness thickened into the cream of benev¬
olence, or the cream of benevolence
transferred into the butter of beatitude,
all you have to do is to fly around and
do good.
The gentle mind is like a calm and
peaceful ject in its stream just proportion. that reflects The every violent ob¬
spirit, hack like troubled waters, renders
broken. images of things distorted and
It is very tare to find ground which
produces with nothing; if it is not covered
it produces flowers, briers with fruit trees and greens,
and pines. It is the
same with man—if lie is not virtuous he
becomes vicious.
What sculpture is to a block of mar¬
ble, education is to a human soul. The
philosopher, wise, the saint arid the hero—the
the good and the great man, very
often lie hid and concealed in a plebian
which a proper education might have
disinterred and brought to light.
If you hope for what is reasonable,
and then work, you will probably get
it. But if you expect the impossible,
like the man who wanted to buy a pair
of spectacles with which to get a bird’s
eye view of the city, you are hound to
be disappointed.
WHAT is friendship good for tnat only
b ossoms in sunshine, and shuts up at
night friendship, and in stormy days? What is a
good for or a love, or a faithfulness
that stands in stead when you
do not want or need it? Then, when a
man would be ribbed up in strength, is
the time when friendship will show it¬
self.
Wk cannot tell how much we love by
how much we feel. The matter of feel¬
ing is purely a matter of a little more
or a little less nerve put into the fiber
—a little more or a little less sensibili¬
ty. There is no moral quality in the
basic element which constitutes a test.
The strength, and depth, and purity of
love is a heroic test. How much will
you bear? How much will you suffer?
How much will you sacrifice? How
much of yourself will you give?—that
measures love; not impetuous, not pro¬
fession certainly, not easy service, not
the interchange of a thousand pleas¬
ures, hut how much will you endure for
the sake of one whom you love?
A (Irent Paper.
[I.Hilt’ Rock GftZfttte.l
How many of the Kentucky editors
that copy the excellent matter from the
Little Rock Gazette know that the
thor is the same determined individual
who a few years ago, edited the Bcotts
viile Argus— a paper that looked as if it
were set up in shingle-nails and printed
on The a cheese-press. Bcottsville -—Franklin ( Ky.) Local.
brings Argus! The name
bellows. up How a sigh that suggestive of a spit
enced how the boyH paper the was rever¬
; on street per¬
sisted in calling it Hutville Scargus. It
was a of powerful sheet, and it required a
pair powerful eyes read to the read proof, it. for It
was unnecessary to
ncone could ever discover a typographi¬
cal error. One day the individual re¬
ferred to in the above cli ipping went
into the office aud found Warner, the
proprietor, in great distress. “What’s
the matter:
“We can’t get out a paper this week.”
“Why?”
“I lost atyoe just now.”
“Which one?”
“An m, I’relieve.”
Then he took the office out of the
oyster can, ran over the alphabet, and
remarked:
“Yes, we’ve lost an m.”
“What shall we do?”
“Don’t know’ unless I go the black¬
smith shop arid get a horse-shoe nail.”
This was an excellent idea, and he
secured the nail. Next day, four other
types nails. were missing, The day and Warner got
more body stole the office and following threw some¬
the can
into the street. Warner got enough
nails to set the paper up, and after it
was issued, the leading man in the place
around (he worked and at a livery stable) came the
improved •ompiimenled of us journal. upon
appearance our
What the Monroe Boetrine Means.
|Bur!‘ngtou Ilawkeye.l .
The Monroe doctrine simply and
explicitly declares that no foreig n nation
shall come over here and slide down our
cellar door; that England and France
shall not hang on our front gate to do
their courting; that they can’t bring
over their own syrup-pots and elder
sprouts and make sugar in Austria our maple can’t
grove; that Germany and
spot no bear tree in our woods; that
Italy can’t cut her fire-wood out of our
Wedge rows; that Russia can’t spank her
neighbor’s children without butter pad¬
dle. The Monroe doctrine simply means
that we are the bull of the woods be¬
tween the two oceans, and that the man
who joins farms with us on either side
had bettei riot move the boundary fence
until he talks to us about it, and that
unyhody he can’t until sublet a patch satisfied of his that farm the to
we are
new tenant will make a good neighbor it.
for us. That’s about all there foot
Second thoughts are best. It is not
the same with mortgages.