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Che ftOJathinspille Jdranct
A WEKKLT PAPSS,
Publishes! Wednesday,
—AT—
Watkinsville, Oconee Co. Georgia.
w. G4. STJLLIVA.N.
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WAIFS AND WHIMS.
An unpleasant relation—a carb-uncle.
_ The favorite at the gardens ,
composer
—my beer.
Rye is tabooed in Gibraltar. Plenty
of rock, through.
A uai/f’s tongue is to be preferred
to a bee’s stung.
How to remove widow’s weeds: Say
“ wilt thou ” and they wilt.
A GAMESTER calls „ his fortune „ E
plunbw unurn because it is won of many.
When the world comes to an end,
what will be done with it? The end, we
mean.
The Vassar girl never says “jim
jams.” She euphonizes it into “ James
multitudes.”
Raising a structure is like used raising a
baby—great care should be in the
nndprnimiimr
A great many men who start out to
leaves themselves off
tor the last job.
Some one says a man must either be
an anvil or a hammer. But how many
are nothing but bellows?
Lady Lindsay thinks the violin _ _
“promises to become a favorite with
the sweeter sex.” Ob, fiddle!
Nevada is the place for cowslips,
One man has lost fourteen this year
which slipped over a precipice.
Some people put stockings on their
hens to keep them from scratching, bnt
a better plan is to “ shoo ” them.
They want a new name for the terri
torv that is to he cut off from the top
of Dakota. How wouldSittinbul do?
An Irishman says he can see no
earthly reason why women should not
be allowed to become medical men.
“ My lord,” said the foreman of an
Irish jury when giving in the verdict,
“ we find the man who stole the mare
not guiltv ”
Some colored i * will .i» dig t. all day t if r
men „
told there is a half dollar buried m a
certam spot, but they will no* dig a cel
lar for less than cue uollar and fifty
cents a (lay.
When yesterday I asked you, love,
One little word to say,
Your brother interrupted us;
So please say, yes-ter-day. —Korr is Herald.
ton'll
Tutor— “Come, now, Mr. B-, give
me a familiar example of Hogarth’s line
of grace. Can’t you think of it? It’s a
curved B-(desperately)—“A—a— article that you see every day.”
Mr. pret
zel.”
A country newspaper out west thus
heads its report of afire: “ Feast of the
Fire Fiend—The Forked-Tongued De¬
mon Licks with its Lurid Breath a
Lumber-Pile!—Are the Scenes of Bos¬
ton to be Repeated?—Loss 1,50 doll.”
Two Clearing Houses.
The following is taken from an___ edi
torial article in the Daily Commercial
Bulletin, entitled “ The Turn Great Clear
mgr Houses: ”
“ The returns of the London Bankers’
Clearing House, for the year ending
A pril 30, do not indicate such a degree
of commercial depression as might be
inferred during from the general period. tenor The of trade
re.orts the total
clearings for !he year amounted to
£5,265,976,000, an increase on the pre
vious year of £380,885,000, or at the
rate of 71 per cent.
“ A comparison of the transactions
ihe Clearing Houses of London and New
York—the two largest setting centres in
the world—presents London some points of in
terest. is the financial centre
for 30,000,000 of population and $3,150,
000.000 of foreign commerce; and New
York is the setting point for 40,000,000
of population and $1,250,000,000
foreign Clearing trade. Houses The transactions at the
of the two cities,
each of the last ten years, compare
follows—the London year ending April
30, and the New York year
her 30:
New York, London.
1879-80..... ......... 8 • Szb 330 non coo
1878-9 ..... .......... 24,553,000,000 2)-425.too mo
1877-8 ..... *......... 19,023 00 *,000 2o,38U,000,000
1876-7 ..... .......... 20,876,0 0,000 21 , 865 , 000,000
1875-6 ..... .......... 19.874 000,000 27,066,000,000
1874-5 ..... .......... 23,042,000 000 gffig&jg
1873-4 ..... .......... 20.850,000,000 sb’oielooolooo
1872 3 ..... .......... 33.972.000,000
1871-2 ..... .......... 32,637 000,000 SmmS’X 0 !! IX!
Ig70-1 ..... .......... 29,800,000,000 20,092,010,000
The clearings of the two cities, how¬
ever, proximate are now those beginning 1878-79 to closely ap¬
for showing
slight is balance probable, in favor of New York,
and it from the drift at the
two centers, that New York will hence
forth take the lead again. How far
these data measure the amount of busi¬
ness actually done at the two cities, it
would be impossible to determine, ex¬
cept through an analysis of the
methods of credit and of conducting
business in the two countries much too
extended for our columns. The facts,
however, do most strikingly illustrate
the great contraction Of business that
followed the reaction of 1873; and they
show r how much more severe the con
traction w r as in this country than in
England.
Milking Calls in Paris.
The I rench madame daily performs
these rites of society as devotedly as she
says her prayers. In her carriage are
placed calk. the She necessaries has bunch for a long round
of a of violets or
tea roses and near by the hand-glass, the
scent-bottle, the pin-cushion, the bon
bonniere filled with cough lozenges or
frairrant candy drop*, the card-case
and the small gold pencil ease, which
marks off each social duty when dis
charged. Now that the carriage is
ready ard at the door, madame comes
down and settles herself for a comfort
able time with a novei, which, accom*
panied by a silver powder box and puff,
is nearly always with her. The carriage
is as souikre in coloring chocolate as the costume
—olive erten, brown, navy
blue—in the simple fashionable English Paris. style now
becoming w> in No
cockade is to be se*u nn J*™ * hats,
As in England uf the those cockade holding is confined official
to tbe iintuifut-amt servants tin officer*
app to superior
of the JHiny, and * n >’ one who was to
dres> tti*Wr n>rv*r t« in this way would
pnly l* laughed at and ridiculed.
The Watkinsville Advance.
VOLUME I.
Drug Store Curiosities.
A man recently stepped into n drug
store and said to the clerk, with the con
fident air of one who knew exactly what
be wanted:
Got any roach powder?”
The Oh, yes,” was the bland reply r glass
apothecary threw open a
case, and immediately placed upon the
counter in front of his customer a bot¬
tle of “Sure Death to Cockroaches.”
Tell me how it works?”
Certainly! You take a pinch of the
D0W d er between thumb and finger, hold
It down near the crevice, and give it a
puff—so. It’ll be sure to kill ’em.”
“Kill ’em! Heavens 1 The powder’s
for my old woman, Kill ’em! Not
much!” and the old man shook his
head.
Inquiry developed the fact that it was
Rochelle, not roach powder, that had
been recommended for the “old wo
“a"'.’.’ f d thfi correct article was soon
8
hearing of this adventure,
aa k e d the druggigt lf many guch cases,
regu itj ng f r0 m ignorance or carelessness,
came under his notice?
“They occur almost only daily,” was but the
reply, “ and are not confusing,
superlatively ridiculous. What could
you say to this, for instance?” Here
were displayed a number of the order
that had been received from various
customers, among them the following:
“ Pleas giv the barer 5 sents worth of
onika!” (arnica). “ Send me to pounds
of Lickrich. >> *i I want a 1 3 lb. Grimi
tator” (cream of tartar). “Send me
gome maganisha for a fisig.” “ Ten cents
worth of hole Siniman.” “ Twenty-five
gents of heir dressing.” The spelling “ Pleas send of me
some said peter.” some
these has been somewhat improved
and the punctuation attended to. The
w ritera - enera ' ly 8ee m **>, think that
they L must carefully n state . the purposes
a writes Ppjy u for !K “ ^he leu articles cents* worth sent eclogue lor. One to
smell a trunk with: ” another for “two
^ hi ^ gtiekg G f candy.” „ j/ One changed wants
f } ’ avi
four h letter 0 £ tlie fir8t word from
„ c „ to Here is a horrible case:
“-end me a pickax for my little girl.”
Druggists formerly did a large busi¬
ness in decaicomanies, or transfer pic¬
tures. One asks: “ Give me fifty cats
and dogs, and ten tigers; ” another, “ I
want a little girl.” generally imitate the
Customers arti
c les they desire. There is called for:
“Hope and dell dock” (opodeldoc,)
“ pa intkiller, >i u titter rintment, J) U < r um
mare back,” ' and “ laddynum.”
A Slander on Woman.
[Graphic.]
An old style lady of half Louisville hour kept it up
in this for an at the
druggist’s and with the following re¬
sult:
Old Lady — “ How much is this
bottle ?”
Druggist . On6 dollar and thirty
cents, ma’am, if you take but one, or
twelve dollars a dozen.
“ Bow did you say I must side, keep it?
“ You must keep it on its ma am,
until you want to use it.”
' ^ e8 ;. Well, my daughter told me
to get this particular preparation. It’s
the right kind, isn’t it.
' Yes, ma am. We omy keep that
brand.”
“ How much did you say it was?’
One dollar and thirty cents a single
bottle; but if you take a dozen ”
“ 1 thought you said it was only $1 a
bottle.”
:■ If you tase a dozen—• ’
K Bid you say it must be kept on the
* ide until it’s used?”
“ Yes, ma’am; and if you uncork it,
must be a11 U8ed at once.”
“ You’re sure it’s the ngnt brand ?”
“ “ O, A dollar yes; we bottle?” keep no—
a
“If you take a dozen; but a $1.30 a
single.” . 1 thought said $1 bottle.”
“ you a
“ If you take a dozen.”
“ But I don’t want a dozen.”
“ Then a single bottle keep it will be $1.30.”
“And I must on its side
until * 1 used j at I t
“Yes, ma’am.”
“ Well, I’ve a great mind to take a
bottle. I think it’s what my daughter
wanted me to get. Do you sell less than
a bottle?”
“ No, ma’am.”
“ And a whole single bottle is $1.30?”
“ Ycb ma’am.”
“ Well, I think I’ll go home and talk
to my daughter about it. How much
did you say it was?”
They Met and Parted.
[Detroit Free PrefiB.]
“ Now then,” says tramp No. 1 to No.
2 as they turned into Montcalm street
from Woodward avenue the other day,
“ here is the game: you walk down the
street and lady ring the bell of some house,
When the answers, you tell her that
you haven’t had anything to eat for three
days. If she says she don’t care, tell her
that you are desperate If and ready to com
mit any crime. she starts to slam the
door on you, hold it open with your foot
and roll your eyes ana look savage. I’ll
arrive just about then, and I’ll take you
by the neck, slam you around and pitch
yo u out of the yard. I’m the lady’s
protector and the hero of the hour, you
see. I’ll be very modest and claw off,
bnt I’ll tell her I’m a stranger and need
a quarter to buy food. She ll hand it
over, and I’ll join you around the corner
aD d divide. See?”
“Magnificent!” replied No. 2. “You
ought to be in the United States Senate!
Well, here I go.”
He passed and down the the street and selected
a house, programme wa- care
f u n y followed out until he reached the
point where he said he was desperate,
At that instant the hall door was pnlied
wide open, and a six-foot husbanu shot
out with his right the hand lower and knocked
}fo. 2 clear off step. No. 1
wa , ja„t rushing might in, well and Hi six-footer
thought he as I two birds
with one stone, so he gave him one on
the jaw, and when tired of walking
around on their prostrate bodies he
flung them over the fence. The tramps
limned down to the corner, looked at
earn other forever, in deep disgust, and then
separated
WATKINSVILLE, GEORGIA, JUNE 30, 1880.
THE LAMES' I>ltEVS A RECEIPT.
[The following curious story is reprinted from a
rare copy of the Connecticut Gazette of June28, 1778,
printed in New London, for which, says the New
London Telegram, we are indebted to the courtesy
of an eminent bibliographer, who quaintly remarks
that he sends it to us, as it may answer equally well
for the present day. It certainly proves that the
fashions of a century gone were not considered a
wliit less extravagant than now, and that femiuino
apparel, no matter what form it takes, is always held
fair game for the wits of the times.]
Give Chloe a bushel ef horse hair and wool,
Of paste and pomatum a pound;
Ten yards of gay ribbon to deck her sweet skull,
And gauze to encompass it round.
Of all the bright colors the rainbow displays
Be these ribbons which hang ou her head;
Be her ilounees adapted to make the folas gaze,
And above the whole, work be they spread.
Let her flaps fly behind for a yard at the least,
Let her curls meet just unier her chin;
Let these curls be supported, to keep up the jest,
With one hundred, instead of one, pin.
Let her gown be tucked up to the hip on each side;
Shoes too high for to walk or to jump,
And to deck the sweet creature complete for a bride,
Lei the cork cutter make her a rump.
Thus finished in taste, while on L’hloe yoi a gaze,
You may take the dear charmer for life;
But never undress her—for, out of her stays
You’ll lind you have lost half your wife.
HIM HONOR %M> RIJ All
His Honor came in with stately tread.
And this to Bijah he straightway said:
“ Old man, how long is the list to-day,
Of men amt women you’ve locked away?”
And Bijah answered, with a look benign:
“ I’ve counted up and the count is thine.”
“ The world is wicked,” his Honor sighed,
“ And crime floats on with even tide.”
And Bijah lie heaved a bigger sigh,
And softly said he didn’t deny
That drunks and rows were getting to he
Every-day sights for folks to soe.
And family lights they did increase,
To help disturb the public jhislcg,
While robbers had become so bold
That day-light raids were nothing old.
If tilings kept ou he didn’t know
Where on earth tho world would go.
—Detroit Free Frets.
JIST WITH VOI IS HANDS
BY J. \V. KJLRY.
O t-uch me with' your hands
For pity’s sake!
My As brow throbs ever on with such an ache
only And your cool touch may take away,
so I pray
You, touch me with ;• "tmr hands!
Touch—touch me with your handt
Smooth back the hair
You once caressed and kissed and called so fair
I even dreamed its gold would wear alway,
And lo, to-day—
O touch me with your hands!
Just touch me with your hands,
Ami let them press
My weary eyelids till with the old caress,
And lull me I sleep—then go your way
That death may say:
“ He touched me with his hands:”
—Kokomo Triinme.
THE RIGHTFUL HEIR.
1.
For some weeks the engagement be¬
tween the Earl of Beauvray and Miss
Millicent Moyle had been chronicled in
the fashionable intelligence of newspa¬
pers, and the marriage was appoiuted to
take place in July. There were many
who considered Miss Moyle a lucky girl,
for Lord Beauvray was not only of an¬
cient family, young, immensely wealthy
and well looking, but he was popular
everywhere, and uprightness owing ot to character. his sunny*temper Lord
Beauvray had been merry without being
dissolute. He was the most irreproach¬
able of gentlemen, just as his betrothed,
Miss Moyle, was the fairest flower among
that bouquet of pretty girls who had
been presented at court in the same
season as herself. Millicent Moyle was
a rich heiress as well as a pretty g irl;
bnt this was about all that could be
said of her. Her father, Josiah Moyle,
a bill discounter of Lombard street was
a “new man” of the city plutocracy.
It was said that the peer’s relatives had
been much scandalized on .hearing of
His latrdship’s intention to marry the
daughter just of little a man misty. whose antecedents
were a
One sunny afternoon just a fortnight
before the date fixed for the marriage a
brougham with a coronet on the panels
clattered' up to Mr. Moyle’s business
house and Lord Beauvray alighted
ghastly pale. The hall porter was
startled by his appearance not less than
hv the broken voice in which he inquired
if Mr. himseif Moyle had strutted left. Just then Mr.
Moyle out, ail glorious
with perched a geranium acock in his coat his and a white
hat on pointed gray
head. “Ah! Beauvray!" cried he, with
cheerfui welcome, but perceiving the
look on the peer’s face he exclaimed:
“ Why, what’s the matter? Notill, J
hope!” No, ill, but I
“ not want to speak to
you “Shall in private,” said off Beauvray, in the hoarsely.
stammered we Mr. go Moyle, full phaeton?’’
of uneasi¬
ness.
“No, into your room; but let us be
himself quite alone,” led the repeated the Earl, and he
way to the office.
the Plumping writing-table, down Mr. into Moyle the arm-chair at
scared in
bewilderment while the peer sat down
opposite and produced a blue envelope
with several black seals. Laying this
on the table, looked Beauvray into pieced his hand
on it and the financier’s
eyes. Moyle,” said sadly,
“Mr. he >1 It I have
a painful communication about the to make, but
I will not beat bush. I find
that I have no legal right to the title
which I bear, or to the fortune which I
am “Eh! using.” what?” exclaimed Mr.
with Moyle,
a grasp.
“ I made the discovery this morning,
in rummaging through a box of deeds,”
continued Lord Beauvray, whose
voice grew steadier. “You know that
I inherited the title from uiH y uncle,
He was the eldest of three brothers.
My fattier, the youngest, died whilst I
, . second „ uncle died few
was a later, boy ; and my fancied he had a been
years we
i» bachelor, but it appears that he had
been clandestinely married, know, by and the left a
son—a lad whom you way,
for I have se-n him in your house. Hi*
name is Timburel.”
“Timburel?” echoed Mr. Movie with
a start. be “Young Timbtirel, who I used
to clerk in our firm, and whom
missed for presuming to make love to
our Millie! ”
“ I was not aware of those particu¬
lars,” said Lord Beauvray; “ but young
Timburcl is tha man; he bears his
mother’s name (she was an actress), and
we used to think he was the natural son
of my second uncle; but his parents
were “ And lawfully do married.”
you mean to say that Tim
bnrel—a vulgar, conceited upstart, who
is living on "his wits at this moment
with not a shilling in his pocket i’ll b ■
bound—do you mean to say he has be¬
come Earl of Beauvray ? ”
“ Not only that, but he becomes abso¬
lute owner of ali my estates and prop¬
erty. pittance. My poor When father I left me a mere
have put Timburel
in possession of his own, I shall have
nothing Guards and but my commission in the
about three hundred a
year.”
“ Come, come, don’t say such bosh,”
blurted out old Moyle, grasping his
nose again. It h&d just occurred to him
that Lord Beauvray was hoaxing.
“He wants to find out whether our
Millie loves himself or his title,” re¬
flected the moneyed man. But in a mo¬
ment this idea was dispelled by Lord
B auvray displaying the contents of
his envelope—a marriage certificate and
,a number of letters which substantiated
the story. Then he entered into ex¬
planations. It seems that his uncle, the
Hon. Col. deVray, being in garrison at
Malta, had privately married an Italian
actress named Timburelli. After a
year’s union this fickle person deserted
him, leaving her child to his care, and
soou afterward she died. Under the
circumstances the Colonel, though he
provided for the boy’s maintenance,
deemed it convenient to conceal his
marriage, and eventually he died sud¬
denly without having acknowledged it.
had Apparently, tormented however, him that bis conscience
so, while lack¬
ing tl.e moral courage to speak the
truth during his lifetime, he had left
evidence by which it might be known
after his death. Unfortunately the
envelope had lain containing mixed his marriage certifi¬
cate up with some other
documents in a box which Lord Beauv¬
ray (who inherited the deceased’s pa¬
pers) had never thought of examining
tilt that morning, when he had begun
to sort his family papers in view of his
marriage.
all Suddenly the bill-discounter crumbled
the papers in his hand with a fever¬
ish grasp, and looked at Lord Beauv¬
ray. There was an expression in his
dull eyes as of a light behind an un¬
cleansed pane of glass. “I say,” he
whispered, sides “have this you told anybody be¬
me of secret?”
“No; I came to you first, as in duty
bound.”
“ Then what prevents us from de¬
stroying the papers? I shan’t say any
thing about it. That young Timburel
is a skunk and a snob; it will be ridicu
ions to see him a lord, and he’ll ruin
himself, or become mad with conceit—
so foolish is he. I say, Beauvray, if I
throw this envelope into the fire, who
will know anything about it?”
“ I shall,” answered Lord Beauvray,
quietly, and he held out his hand for
the papers.
The shifty glance of the money man
quailed in the light of of unquenchable happened
be honesty nobleman in that in something one who to
a more than
the name.
If..
There was a pretty hubbub in society
when it bicame known that the Earl of
Beauvray—or George de Vray, as he
now simply called himself—was going to
abandon his titles and estates to a man
who had been a city clerk.
Of course George de Vray’s marriage
was tunes postponed. had thrown The much turn business in his for¬
so on
his hands that it was impossible he
could devote a month to honeymooning
until it was disposed of; besides which,
he felt bound to make Mr. Moyle the
offer of releasing his daughter from the
engagement. At first this proposal was
poobpoohed and equally Miss by Moyle the bill-dis¬ herself.
counter
Millie, who was not quite so sensible as
she was pretty, wept a good deal at not
becoming a Countess; of George’s then she wept at
the nobility action, which
everybody Now was praising.
there was staying in the house
of the Moyles a poor little cousin of
Millie’s, soft-eyed named Gertrude brunette Brown. She
was a of eighteen,
very quiet and lovely, who acted as a
companion much from the to whimsical Millie, and humors had to of bear this
spoiled child. Gertie had always re¬
ceived marked kindness from l<ord
Beauvray, who treated her as if she had
been his sister; and she looked upon him
with admiration as the most noble being
sne had ever seen. His renunciation of
rank and wealth had struck her as an
act of surprising heroism, and she could
not so much as allude to it without tears
gushing from her eyes. A shrewd,
merry Tittle thing, too, in her way, she
was ca existed pableof between discerning genuine the difference
that a man of
honor like lord Beauvray and a mere
man of money like her Uncle Moyle.
It was this enthusiasm of poor Gertie
Brown’s on poor George the de Vray’s be¬
half that began to make cup of Mr.
Moyle’s gentleman bitterness had overflow, taken That
that worthy there end to musing
was an now to hie
chances of sitting in Parliament, getting
a Baronetcy, and all that.
Poor Gertie held her wofuliy. tongue, although
her heart throbbed Bhe had
heard that the new Lord Beauvray, the
ex-Mr. Timburel, had been invited to
dinner on a certain evening; and she
began to suspect that her precious uncle
was former forming clerk a plan his for suitor making for Millie’s of this
of a
hand.
Her intuition was not at fault. Old
Moyle hastened to make peace with bis
easily discharged tickled. clerk, He whose becai became vanity regular was
, ________ ... a
visitor at the bill-discounter’s, taking
care never to come at times when be
displeased was likely to Gertie meet Brown, George. but His he easily visits
succeeded in winning the favor of the
discounter’s daughter, who correspond
ingly day lessened her liking for George and
one when she cast an as|M!r«k>',
upon him, she which screamed, Gertie could “If not help
resenting, you are ■ so
fond of Mr. de Vray, why don’t you
him to marry you? That would
beggars Naturally, together.” Gertie her
went to room
have a good cry, but from that day
ceased speaking about George and
came towards ver y him. circumspect When in her
he called to
noticed Millie, she left the room. George
these tactics, for his
with Mr. Moyle’s daughter were
ing of more and more irksome by
Millie’scoldness and irritability
the least thing she would snap and
sulk; and one afternoon, when George
innocently Miss made some inquiry lu
Brown, she fired up a
pet. “ You seem very anxious about
Miss Brown. I am not obliged to show
her off in the drawing room whenever
visitors come. Bhe is otly a pauper
cousin whom we have taken in
charity.”
“It’s queer charity, dear, if you talk
of it in that way,” laughed George.
“ 1 don’t consider proverty a disgrace,
either.”
“No, but it’s very inconvenient,”
said Millie, still querulously, “ and
reminds me; if we marry, I suppose
don’t mean to liveou my money.
says his banks might break, and all
of things. Bo 1 suppose you will
come.” something to get an independent
deeply. “ Yes,’’ answered George,
“ 1 have applied for an
change into the line, and think of
out to the war on the Indian
I shall have a Lieutenant
rank—so, Millie, if you wait for me two
i will return with a new
and, perhaps, an income before me.”
“ Oh, wait two years to become a
dier’s wife, and go out to ljve in
ing. Jndiau “I heat! ” exclaimed bargained for Millie, that! ”
never
Just at that minute Gertie Brown
came in. She had a message to
to Millie from Mr. Moyle, and blushed
as she crossed the room where the pair
of quarrelling lovers sat.
“ Miss Brown,” said George rising
shake hands with her, “ I wish you
good-bye, Mies for 1 have just been telling
in India--•” Moyle that I am going to the war
“ You are going to the war! Ob, Mr.
de you! Vray—if ” exclaimed anything should happen to
started Gertie, and the tears
to her eyes.
“ Thank you for those tears,” said
George, gratefully, “ I shall know that
one person here, at least, will feel in¬
terest. Now give me as a keepsake that
red book-marker you are holding in
your with hand, I wil[ bring back the ribbon
“The something Victoria hanging to it.”
tered Millie, rather Cross, perhaps,” ti
declare that’s quite uncomfortably. poetical. Well, “ I
good-bye, friends, Mr. de Vray; we part as
don’t we ? ”
“Excellent friends,” answered George,
as he lifted both her hands to his lips,
and kissed them playfully.
III.
One year passed. There had been a
and triumph of the of British arms in India,
the name Colonel de Vray was
associated with it. His name was in
everybody’s and mouth. other He had received
promotion honors, and was
returning to England after the termina¬
tion of tne campaign as Major General
Sir As George de Vray.
for Millie Moyle, she was betrothed
to the Earl of Beauvray, and when Sir
George arrived in London one of the
first things he read in the paper was
that the marriage between this young
lady and his cousin was to take place in
a week.
He no longer cared now. He went to
Mr. Moyle’s house on the very day of
his return in the afternoon, and was
ushered into the dining-room, where
luncheon was taking place, He was re
eeived like a hero, for Mr. Moy’e liked
to he on good terms with successful
men, and Millie was anxious to obtain
something ing. Bhe received like forgiveness fully for and her freely, jilt¬
it
so far as could be judged from the
young General’s manner, for he was
frank and jdeasant, but after the first
greetings were over he addressed him¬
self principally to poor little Gertie
Brown, who sat radiant and trembling.
At last, when a toast hail been drunk
to ness—honest George’s honor Mr. and Millie’s happi¬
maker—the General Moyle drew acting as toast- from
his pocket and a parcel
extracted from it Gertie’s
book-marker. There were hanging from
it the Cross of the Bath; a Victoria
cross ring and something else—a wedding
“ Will you take ail three, Gertie?”
said George, approaching Millie’s little
cousin.
“ Bravo, Bir George,” cxclamed Mil¬
lie, ciappinjr little her hands, though she
turned a pale, “ I always said that
Gertie and you were intended for each
other.”
“ Bo did I,” said tbe worthy Mr.
Mople; There “ had Hut been 1 say, loud hullo, knock what’s that?” at the
a
door, and a footman entered with a tele¬
gram missive, on a tray. uttered Mr. Moyle exclamation opened the
and an
of horror and dismay. “Great heavens,
mv Ix»rd. read this!” he faltered.
The telegram announced that the new
Lord Beauvray had been killed in a
railway his accident. Ho tbe Indian hero
got title and estate again.
Old Moyle had sunk in a chair, help¬
less. His face was a thing to see.
A clekoyman was recently prosecuted
in England for stealing an umbrella,
which he had taken from a shop in a
shower. He was released, the judge
doubtless charging the jury “Let him
who is without sin among you sling the
first umbrella .”—Buffalo Courier.
A little boy who accompanied his
father to the theater to see the play
called “Drink," asked his parent if it was
thus called because so many young men
went out between the acts .—Eorrulown
Herald.
_
A man was asked tbe other day
how many children he had, and be re¬
plied, sisters.” "Five boys, and each boy has
two
_
Drink (L'Asnommoir) is being per¬
formed in the Dutch language at an
Amsterdam theater.
NUMBER 17.
A Piece of Arkansas Romance.
[Little Hock U&zutte.]
A very singular termination to a love
affair has just occurred near this city.
Some time ago a young man, whom it
would no doubt be well to call James,
not because it is his real name, and
not because there is anything so striking
in this ancient cognomen, but because,
well because—fell in love, or thought
he did, with a young lady whom, for
about the same reasons as given above,
it would be well to call Susan. Practical
names, both of them. The fondness of
Jamei was returned. James told Susan
that he loved her, and Susan told James
that she loved him. Janies asked Susan
to marry him, and Susan said that she
would. The young man hail spent
sleepless prize he nights in contemplating but the
when he found was attempting that pole to win,
the of his at¬
tractions had knreked the “persimmon”
of Susan’s affections, he ceased tossing
the cover at night and slept soundly.
Finally he mused: “I don’t love that
girl. I wish that I had not acted so
rashly in engaging myself to her. It
would almost break her heart if I were
to tell her of my mistake. She is so
affectionate. What a fool a man is!”
Susan did not pass all this time without
musing: thought. “Women are bo imjiulsive,”
she 1 am engaged to that man
and 1 declare that I do not love him.
I would break the engagement but he
might kill himself. I don’t know what
to do.” The parties continued to lie af¬
fectionate toward one another, and the
same grave troubles affected alike the
mind of each. Several nights ago the
affectionate liarties sat beside each
ther.
think “Susan,” remarked should Janies, “do you
a man marry a woman*
when he doesn’t love her, merely to
preserve his honor.”
“ “ No, I do you think ?”
don’t that he should. By
the way, Sue, I think that it would be
better for us not to get married. 1 have
been mistaken; I don’t love you. I
hope 1 that you will forgive me. Have
“Glorious man,” said the girl. “You
have lilted a heavy weight from my
heart. 1 do not love you, and the fear
of fatal results has ever kept me from
breaking “ Is that our so?” engagement.” asked
I truthfully. James, astonished.
“ speak
that “Well, I wili he dog-goned. I thought
you cared for me. I’ll be blis¬
tered if this affair hasn’t got away with
me. Yes.” Say, Sue?”
“
tle “Now, let’s look at this business a lit¬
closer. We are both very frank.
I think that frank people make the best
husbands and wives. We understand
each other first rate. Tell me, don’t
you—that is, don’t you entertain some¬
thing of an affection for me?”
“ Y—yes. Don’t you for me?”
“ Yes. Suppose, as we understand
each other so well, that we get married.”
“All right,” and the ceremony was
performed Sunday. in a country church last
Cruelty to Women.
|Provld«nco Journal.j
The conservative London Lancet has
taken up one phase of the modern civ¬
ilization, in a protest against that
in “cruelty the large to retail women” which is exercised
ially in establishments, Young espec¬
London. women who
come up from the country in robust
health are rapidly consigned to a life
of continuous suffering in consequence
of tbe rule which obliges them to stand
upon their feet, whether occupied with
customers or not. The Lance! has de¬
because layed comment until compelled to do so
In this of the importance witnessing of the ease. the
employment country we are
more and more yearly, of
women in the store and at the desk.
Like causes produce like effects. The
reply of the merchant is simply that
constant attention is necessary to the
success of of the business. homes is termed The discipline “ fatuous” in
some
by the iMncet, but there are two ques¬
tions involved: First, is the require¬
ment of the trader, ujioii purely busi¬
ness principles, unjust? and, secondly, the
is it possible for women to meet
proper demands of the retail employer?
This is only one, but it is a very impor¬
tant aspect of the woman question.
There is a sense in which there is and
should be no friendship nor feeling in
trade. Of the correctness of the diag¬
nosis of the Lancet there can be no
question. Would the right to sit >n the
store interfere with the proper dischiirge
of duty? So far there has been little
attention paid to this subject here, yet
in some of our larger cities it has at¬
tracted attention. Are our girls taking
a mistaken view of their capacity and
their interests?
Don’t Write Poetry to Order.
A young School, lady, in the Oliver Reading ended , l*»,
High jioetical wrote to contribution W
Homes for a to the
school literary association, and received
the “My following answer: lady: If
dear young you knew
how many letters 1 have to write every
day, you would say: ‘ Poor, dear man,
how tired he must be 1 ’ We that make
rhymes turn are expected to through turn them faucet on as
you on water a
whenever it is wanted. But writing
poetry is like shooting ducks or geese—
you watch may all load the morning, up and paddle and off, and
never see
duck or goose except yourself as re¬
flected in the water. So, my dear youn
lady, I will only say that I should lik
very much to please friends—and you and a great old
many other young
ones—by writing all sorts of odes, ele¬
gies, epies, epigrams, etc., but 1 have
and to content them myself by disappointing of you
with a little scrap a note
like this, sweetened with good-will and
good wishes, and nothing else wasted in the
world to pay for postage stamps
on me."
A new mining country, said to far
surpass the Black Hills, is ojieuing up
way north of the Hills on the late Lte
territory. Now young man, a chance
fora fortune opens to you. Strike while
the iron is hot and leave your room
here for the sluggards Yrnkmi who are Qamttt, willing
tp keep your places.—
©he Matltinsrilfe
* W1KXLT rAP*S, FDBLISHID iT
Watkinsville, Oconee Co., Georgia.
FATES OF ADVERTISING:
Un« *q u » r „, fi r8t insertion., 11 SSSSSS88SSSSS8
haeh subsequent inoertion
Oil i iquaro, one ? 30 :itb......
One iqunre, ti ree months.
One square, six months....
One squats, one year. WmKHt
One-fottrtH column, one month..................... ................... 5
One-fourth column, three months.................. 8
One-fourth column, six months..................... Sou»“;
One-fourth column, one year.........................
Half column, one month ....................
Ha f column, three months..................
Half column, six months...............................
Ha f column, one year...................................
■.inrau terms roa more spack
TIlOUlHITS FOR SUNDAY.
Pure and sincere affection is beyond
smothering On the by the showers of misfor¬
tune. contrary it is strengthened
and invigorated, as are the flowers by
the rain.
Excessive prudence becomes impru¬
dence; therefore let your conduct of
action be so just and charitable as to be
guarded atall points from theattacksof
petty jealousies or envy.
No power excels that of character.
Upon it we look as the fountain from
which flows respect, influence, success
and all the other attributes of happiness
and satisfaction.— Mullen.
In ’ducatiug youth it is noedful that
they tributes should be tutored in all that con¬
and strifes to preparing that manhood them for the toils
must pass
through ere old age is reached.
A person’s veracity portrays pre¬
cisely the extent to which he possesses
most other virtues; therefore weigh well
your words before uttering them that a
proper estimate will be placed upon
you for reliability and character.
Be firm in the control of yourself.
For if you can conquer yourself and he
able lo say no, emphatically,at the right
time, to every appetite of your nature,
you have then accomplished a great
viitory.
“ Twixt children’s taughtcr and agea tpirs
Lius manhood’H Hummer of sweat and pain,
Thu dawn of youth and tho night of years
Arc cleft by tho struggles of hoart and brain.
Oe all attainments none arc uoblei
than fame itself. It can only be gained
The by following the strict law of duty.
exercise of charity, and close ap¬
plication nobles, but to all that elevates and en¬
time while once body attained, it lives for all
the has sunk into dust.
How seldom is a true friend found;
one that remains firm regardless of the
opinions there of others as to his action. For
are cases where the poison of the
slanderer’s tongue temporarily as¬
sumes few huge proportions, and but for the
true ami tried friends would
seriously damage one’s standing.
In our every-day life we meet with
those so careless in wards and action, so
indifferent to the feelings and rights and
privileges look of others, that we shudder as
we upon or listen to them. Avoid
them for they can no more change their
course than cau the leopard change his
Be not unmindful of the respect de¬
manded by the dignity of old age. for
“The hom y head in a crown of glory.”
There is no friendship more beneficial
than that existing between age and
youth! The former needs to be tolerated
with youthful impetuosity and enthusi¬
asm, while the latter must be equally as
patient Mullen. with the infirmities of ripe old
age.—
The “I told you so’s” constitute quite
a numerous class in every community.
With what a lofty air of profound
wisdom they shrug the shoulder or nod
the head, and with what a knowing
wink they endeavor to impress you with
tho idea that they knew precisely what
pened. was coming, But no matter what has hap¬
what a ludicrous spectacle
they present when their pantomimic
actions are set at naught by a substan¬
tial anri emphatic refutation of what¬
ever the report of or their charge exhibition may have beer
source of supe¬
rior knowledge or information; ’tisthen
that Mullen. they appear in their true light.—
The Gardner Gun.
[Tioy Timeit.J
A gun which can fire 5,000 shots in
thirteen minutes was recently tested in
Washington. like The Gardner is a machine
gun, the Gatling. It has two bar¬
rels made of slee.I, encased in brass.
This is an auxiliary to small arms, and
is simply designer, a aim which, by the ingenuity
of the is calculated to do the
work of a number of muskets, and do
it more rapidly and effectively. Jtean
not, musket, probably, but shoot as accurately as a
if properly handled must
be fearfully destructive, especially
when directed against a line or an ad¬
of vancing inch, column. Its caliber is 45-100
an and the same cartridges are
used as in ordinary rifle practice. The
charge and is seventy weighs'405 grains of powder,
the ball grains It is
mounted on a small field carriage, and
.2 light The enough whole to length be carried of the by two
men. gun is
only four feet. It can be fired five hun¬
dred times in a minute, its capacity in
this direction being only limited by tbe
rapidity could by which apply it the can motive be fed. lf *
steam power,
and it could lie led fast enough there
is no telling The how rapidly it could be
fired. firing is done by turning a
crank in the rear of the gun, and it is
fed which through cartridges a flat-shaped I mix, into
the are placed in
blocks holding twenty each. They fit
down neatly into this box, which holds
about crank fifty is cartridges, and as fast as tbe
turned they drop down intoa
channel and are carried forward for
discharge turned and the empty beneath. cartridges Five re¬
and dropped thirteen minutes,
thousand were fired in
three men relieving eacli other at the
crank.
In Rome.
Home is by far the'most English city
on the Continent of Europe, and for¬
eigners visiting the place or frequenting
Roman society often wonder how it is
that there is scarcely do a speak Roman English lady or
gentlemac nerfection. who One ot not the why this to
reasons
language is so much grandmothers in vogue is of that the
mothers and many
children born in Rome are or were of
British extraction. If you happen to
find yourself hunting far away from the
capital with a field of some thirty
Romans, you hardly The hear a word of
Italian spoken. huntsman and the
whip are English of or American, and
never dream speaking Italian to thone
who follow the hounds. The Roman
aristocracy la by far the most conserva¬
tive in ltaly { and the imitate ambition English of all
young patricians largely to the
aristocracy the formation has of contributed conservative to
a great
party. Men dress in the English fashion:
ladles give tea a l'Anulaite; people read
English novels aud English papers as if
they lived m Belgravia or Mayfair,