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ft iiBatfcinsiilk gidcaiue.
• A WF -EKLY paper,
Published Tuesdav,
—AT—
•Watkinsville, Oconee Co. Gecgia.
\v. Gr. STXIJL.rv.A.N,
EDITOR AUD PROPRIETOR
Hue TERMS:
year, in advance .....«i og
Six mouths. 60
.....
STAGE AND ROSTRUM.
Miss Kate Forsyth, John McCul¬
lough’s leading actress, is in Paris.
James Redpath, of lecture lyceum
fame, is to lecture himself next season.
Emma Abbott is writing her autobio¬
graphy, of which she will call “ The Story
a Great Singer. ”
Mr. Earl, Marble, a young journal¬
ist of Boston, has written the libretto of
a comic opera which Mr. Alfred Collier
is now setting to musie.
The birthday is of Richard Wagner, the
composer, celebrated in Germany with
as much regularity as if he were one of
the mythological heroes of antiquity.
The experiment of open-air theaters is
successful in Boston, where five of them
at the various beaches are now open,
with attractions ranging from Uncle
Tom's Cabin to The Pirates of Penzance.
The Emma Abbott Opera Company
will begin their season at a rather early
date and will make the opening engage¬
ment in the Par West, eventually appear¬
ing in the principal Southern and East¬
ern cities.
Says an English exchange; “Ameri¬
cans, when Bernhardt visits your shores,
an actress without a parallel greets
you.” Bah! when Soldeue comes, lots
of actresses without apparel ’ll greet us.
—Boston Post.
Lilian Spencer, daughter of Dr. G.
W. Spencer, of Pittsburg, Pa., has
signed a contract with Max Strakosch
for three years. She commences her
starring New tour at the Fifth Avenue Theater,
York, in a new play written expressly
for her by Emma Schiff, entitled Norah’s
Vow.
According to a Boston journal, 2,177
dramatic performances have been given
in that city during the past season. The
whole number of plays represented was
325, of which 13 were by Shakespeare.
It is also noteworthy that as many as 74
of these plays were represented for the
first time in Boston.
Mme. Nilsson is probably going to
America, but certainly not with Mr.
Mapleson. Mme. Trebelli is probably
going to America, but decidedly notwith
Mr. Mapleson. Mme. Marie Roze is
surely going to America, but most likely
not with Mr. Mapleson. Mme. Gerster
is the only one who seems inclined to do
so. The question is, what will the share¬
holders of the New York Academy of
Music say ?—London World.
The following actors are among the
stars who will appear on the American
stage next season: Mile. Sara Bernhardt,
Miss Fanny Davenport, Mme. Selina
Dolaro, Miss Ada Cavendish, Mrs.
Genevieve Ward, Miss Mary Anderson,
Mrs. Scott-Siddons, Miss Emily Soldene,
Miss Pomeroy, Dion Mr. Boucicault, John Miss Louise
A. Sothern, Mr. Joseph McCullough, Jefferson, Mr. E.
Lawrence Mr.
Janauschek Bafrett, and possibly Mme.
and Signor Salvini.
Bret Harte’s Two Men of Sandy Bar
1ms been published in England, probably
after careful revision by the author. The
Saturday Review, after referring to its
technical faults as an acting play, and to
one serious artistic blunder, states that
“the dialogue is written, for the most
part, in the author’s best manner, and
there are several striking situations.”
Has the Review compared the manner
of Lack of Roaring Camp with that of
Two Men of Sandy Bar.
The following days extraordinary letter was
a few ago sent to the London
Figaro, and published in that journal:
“ In the Figaro of Saturday you wish
one of your contributors to mention an
actor that has been hanged, in order to
correct the gushing paragraph of Mr.
Belton. If my memory serves me rightly,
1 think Edwin Booth, the actor who shot
President Lincoln in his box at the
theater by climbing up the side of a pil¬
lar and afterwards jumped on the stage
—breaking his leg by so doing, was con¬
cealed for several days, and when arrested
was put on board an American schooner,
taken out in the middle of the Atlantic,
aud hung, his body being afterwards
thrown overboard.”
The enacted Passion play June in Oberammergau
was der peculiar on difficulties. 27, (Sunday,) un¬
Five thousand
persons sat for hours in a drenching rain
and a cold mist in order to see 700 per¬
formers soaked go through their trying task
to the skin, and with their wet
garments which sticking close to them in a
manner made free or graceful ac¬
tion hopelessly impossible, ‘Pilate”
was in a dreadful state. Water flowed
from his diadem like rain from a roof.
He told a correspondent privately, after
the play could was over, that he felt as if he
never get half through blinded with his part,
his eyes lie were with the rain,
and was quite unable to manage his
scarlet drapery with the dignity for
which he is famous. In spite of the
weather, the theater was overcrowded,
and, as thousands could find no place
there was a Monday. proposal for a repetition of
the play on
Houndin'* S Niagara. Yinirarfl
A party of United States engineers
have below taken soundings falls. of the work Niagara
river the It was a of
great small difficulty boat. to approach the falls in a
Great jets of water were
thrown out from the falls far into the
stream, and the roar was so termble that
no one could be heard. The leadsman
cast the line, winch gave eighty-three
feet. This was near the shore. I urther
down the stream a second cast of the
lead told of 100 feet, deepening to 192
feet at the inclined railway. The aver
agt depth suddenly of the becomes Swift Drift, where the
river narrow, with a
velocity too great to lie measured was
153 feet. Immediately under the lower
bridge the whirlpool rapids set in.
Here the depth was computed to 1e- 210
feet.
A Turkish journal, commenting on
the elevation of Mr. Gladstone to the
Premiership, 6is asserts that he was a Bui
ganan. “ father was a pig dealer
ra the valley chronicler, of Kustendje,” says the ve
radons “ and young Glad
atone ran away at the age of 16 to Her
via, and was London then, with another pig
dealer, sent to to sell pig*. He
stole Trogadeir the proceeds, Gladstone, changed his name
from to and be
came a British subject. Fortune fa
cored him until h* liecame Prune Min
Uter. Gladstone ha* no virtue* ”
The Watkinsville Advance.
VOLUME I.
MEMORY DREAMS.
DT DR. ROBERT P. DOIT.
Low down upon my couch I fell,
Fatigued by traveling far;
I dreamed, in one sweet magic spell,
A dream of things which, are.
Low in the western sky of blue
I saw the sun sink down.
And throw a tinge of reddish hue
Upon the country town.
I saw the herds upon the lea
Their Walking as in unrest,
soft eyes looking up to me,
Denoting love—the best.
I saw below the aged mil!,
Which for many years had run,
The waters from the little rill
Commingle into one.
I saw the weary traveler wait
Along his thorny way; did
He of his many woes talk,
And for good times did pray
I saw the sun its rays reflect
Upon the great church spire,
And saw philosophy inspect
Its truths which never tire.
I gaw the races here below
Walk In their earthly sphere;
Some were dark, and some as snow,
And some were young—some sere,
I saw the poets’ faces fair
All round a table great,
And one did say, “ Beware, beware
Of woman who will prate!”
I saw the cataract, that old and bird its flow,
As swift as
Which took off Ganymede in woe,
To that of the unheard.
Of aU this I did dream that night,
When the sun had sunk to rest,
Did give to me a grander sight
Than the beauties of the West.
Of the beauties of the North and South,
And the beauties of the East*
Of Ah rivers the from beauties source to mouth,
l never ceased.
This I did dream in one #weet dream,
As the hours sped along.
Ah 1 memory dreams, they do seem
As Nature’s grandest song.
And pensive from my ooucli I stand,
As foolish as a down;
The woods with one welkin rang
Around the country town.
SAVED BY L0YE.
Reader, I have a story to tell. Per¬
haps I but have not the art to tell it grace¬
fully, will be he listened that speaks from the heart
ever to attentively, andi
will find a ready response in every sym¬
pathetic bosom.
I was left an orphan at an early age,
and had to struggle hard to support
myself who called and sister—a dainty little tiling,
out all the love and chivalry
of my nature. I found but little time
to attend school, but that little was so
improved that in looking baek over my
school-days I find nothing to regret save
their brevity.
Before she had completed her 16th
year, my sister died. I stood beside
her, and saw her sweet young life go
out quietly as gently sleep. as It if she had but fallen
fore I could to realize that was a she long time dead. be¬
was
But when, at last, the truth forced itself
upon her side, my unwilling her heart, I sat down by
took white, cold hand in
mine, but did not weep. My grief was
too deep for tears. I thought of the
many times she had wound her arms
lovingly kisses about had showered my neck ; of the many
she upon my lips,
cheeks and brow; and, oh! how I
longed to feel the pressure of those arms
once more, to taste again the sweetness
of those loving lips.
But why dwell upon the sweetlv-sor
rowful theme? We buried her in the
village churchyard, by the side of the
dear ones who had gone before. When
summer came, sweet flowers bloomed
upon her grave, but none so sweet as
once had been the flower that lay be¬
neath.
It was long ere I sufficiently recovered
from the shock to again take an interest
in pay work; but, as time wore on, I
forgot something of my grief, though
there was ever present m my heart an
eager longing for longing love.
At last that was satisfied. In
the village there lived a lovely girl, the
daughter of and a merchant. Wo had been
playmates hood, and friendship companions had from child¬
our increased
with increasing years. One evening I
breathed in her ear a tale of love, and
asked her to be my wife. Her answer
flooded my heart with a peaceful happi¬
ness to which it had long been a
stranger. approached her
I father upon the
subject of our marriage, and gained his
consent, with the proviso that I should
be absent one year, to test the strength
of my love for his daughter. To this
we both objected most earnestly, but he
was inexorable, and we submitted.
held A few dear days in life, later and I bade started adieu forth to all I
to
try mv fortune at the West. At Chey¬
enne I halted, and, taking advantage of
the first offer that was made, I was soon
installed a “cow-boy” on one of the
largest strict attention stock ranges to business, in the Territory. and By
a care¬
ful regard for the interests ef my em
ployer, forema I ’ soon rose to the dignity of
oreman, with a salary of $100 per
month.
The ***" months u.wu.m» rolled ,uucu on, uu, and auu nothing uounug
transpired transpired to to give give me me a a moment’s moment’s un¬ un
easiness easiness in in regard regard to to the the constancy constancy of of
my my betrothed. betrothed. Long, Long, loving loving letters letters
came came in in the the regularly regularlv lonely lonely and and often—bright often—bright spots spots
desert desert of of my my life. life.
At At last last my my year year was was up, up, and and I I prepared prepared
to to hasten hasten home home and and claim claim my my bride. bride. On On
the the day day before before I I was was to to start, start, I I called called at at
the office for my mail. A A tiny, tiny, white white
envelope was handed to to me, me, and and one one
glance at the superscription tion told told me me it it
wa8 from she who was all the the world world to to
me.
Stepping apart from the crowd, I
tore open the envelope and read these
words :
Jobs : Do not write to m* »ny more. I »m
uwM. Oh, John! I know I h»ve <k>n.
"Tong. Osn you ever formve mer bnx.
0n ' tbe WW of that moment! As
I stood there storing vacantly at the
cruel life note, had it seemed that the light Ah, of
my gone out for ever.
reader, it realize those only the inexpressible who have experienced grief that
can
sweeps across the heart at such a time !
The death of a loved one cuts not half
so keenly. dearer, perhaps, Here we mourn life the loss of
one than ; there to
the consciousness of our loss is added
the conviction <4 guilt on the part of
one we had believed so pure, so true |
Here our grief is mitigated by the
thought that we may there meet such again gleam It lift
to lots for ever— no <4
hope eouee to lessen the darkness >4 ths
WATKINSVILLE, GEORGIA. AUGUST 24, 1880.
hour. Our dream of love is over—for
life, for all eternity !
the I know not how long became I stood conscious there in
office, but I at last
of being observed. So. putting the note
in my pocket, I -walked to the door.
Without, a blinding snow-storm raged.
The few who had business on the streets
hurried to and fro, eager to reach some
shelter from the storm. I got to my
room, I scarcely know how ; and, sink¬
ing hours, into a seat, I remained thinking! there for
thinking, only
When night closed in I took my hat
and wandered forth into the storm. The
wind tore through the streets, seemingly
with the conscious power of a fiend. But
a fiercer tempest within my breast made
me despise the warring elements, and I
wandered on and on, careless of even
life itself.
In the days of untold anguish that
followed, what wonder if I forgot my
manhood, what wonder if I fell! Spare
me the pain of repeating the story of
the ensuing year. Let it suffice when
I tell you that all my hard-earned money
was gone ere the year was out; thilt I
was a mere wreck of my former self. I
do not pretend to justify my conduct.
Call me weak if you will. I only know my
suffering was greater painfully than I could bear.
At times I was conscious of
my errors, and struggled hard to break
the bonds that held me fast. But not
until my last dollar was gone did I fully
realize the necessity folly of my conduct. Then,
indeed, compelled me to
pause and consider what was to be
done. It took not long to decide. I
would go to work and earn money suffi¬
cient to bear my expenses to South
America. Once out of my native coun¬
try, I would never again set foot in a
land where I had known only sorrow
and disappointment.
I found no the difficulty vice intemperance in obtaining
work. But of
had so strong a hold on me that nearly
half my wages were squandered in
drink. Thus another year passed before
I had saved money enough to take me
out of the country.
At last, however, I was again prepared
to leave Cheyenne. As I stepped on
board the train that was to hear me
from the spot where I had suffered so
much, a heavy load seemed lifted from
my heart. I had not thought of visit¬
felt ing my boyhood’s home. But now I
that I could not go away forever
without once more looking upon the
graves of my loved ones, without one
final view of the scenes I had loved so
well. The village which I yet called
home was situated near my line of travel.
As desire I approached increased. the home And station my
to stop so. when
the train halted at the well-remembered
depot, I stepped from the car, took toe
stage, and in two hours was again in my
native town. I was greeted cordially,
and yet I felt there was a change. Many
of the friends of my youth had moved
away: others had died ; and those who
were left had wives and families who
claimed all their love. My widowed
aunt alone gave me a welcome that was
heartfelt and warm. Yes, there was one
other, I my cousin, a beautiful girl whom
had not seen since she was a little
child. In her I found a friend, such as
I never knew before. She was con¬
versant with all the circumstances of
my life, and sympathized with me as
none other had ever done. Uncon¬
sciously few my heart went out to her. and the
days I had purposed staying length¬
ened into weeks, and still I lingered, un¬
willing to tear myself away.
I knew my cousin felt a sincere friend¬
ship dared for me, but further than that I
beautiful, not hope. She was so young, so
so pure, it seemed to me im¬
possible she could ever look upon a
coarse, more favorable rough man light. like Believing myself in this, any I
kept the true state of my feelings a se¬
cret from her, and tried liard to smother
the affection that would not be put
down.
At last I determined to go—to forget
her if I could. So, at breakfast one
morning, I startled them by announcing
my intention of leaving them the follow¬
ing listened week. My aunt protested but I
in vain for any word of remon¬
strance from the one who alone might
induce me to remain.
I glanced across the table to where
my cousin sat. Her eyes met mine for
an that instant—only brief time they an instant—and yet in
told me more than
I had evfer dared to hope. A few min¬
utes later I arose and followed her into
the sitting-room, scarcely less agitated
than she. Leading her to a sofa, I sat
down beside her, and, still holding her
hand in mine, I said :
“ Does not my little cousin wish me
to remain ?"
don’t “ Oh, John, you know I do. Please
go 1”
“And will you let me love you if 1
stay?”
“Yes.”
So gently came her answer, and so
bloomed the roses on her cheeks, that I
knew she understood me, and, with a
wild, rapturous thrill of jov, I clasped
her to my heart, and pressed kiss after
kiss upon her unresisting f of eh cad.
ling My darling, my own precious dar
! and will you indeed lie .mine ?” I
asked.
Then she gently disengaged herself
from my arms, and her beautiful brown
eyes filled with tears, as she replied :
fore “John, I gave you all my heart be
you asked it, and yet I am afraid
to marry you. I would be miserable if
my husband should become a drunkard,
Your habit of drinking is no secret, and,
And when I asked you to stop, you refused!
now—"
«And now, Maud,” I broke in “I
win stop. You asked me for my own
^ U) abatain i’i a ,„l J refused. For
L' lr “**’. k 1 t wi
Wlt “ me wto libmrr 7r and “ nd 1 "' lJ1 n
, , * oa J«**
'
’ 1 r ku/w 14 “ ,v * ,r
WI i ,r ." '
1 . . led the and , wrote , follows .
way, as 10,1S76. :
( bsrsby plede or4 ot honor July
sUuin from *11 « into* my to w< sting drink*, from to totally this
day forever. And I solemnly premise to
k**p Uds ple^stnvtoiate. v ' whether ttoheto* wujtos"" of
^
" Will vou wnto your name lieueath
mine? J asked,
Him took Urn pen and wrote ;
Ms op ItiYsas
'' And now, my pet, «rUi you trust m* ?
Will you give yourself to me without
reserve, and trust your happiness for
life to my keeping ? ’’
For a moment her eyes looked searcli
ingly into mine—our and I lips met in a lin¬
gering Reader, kiss, was answered.
my story is finished. Three
years ago we were married. Not a cloud
lias dimmed the bright heaven of our
happiness, and, believo if what ever a man might
venture to he feels to be
true, then may I believo that no possi¬
ble crisis can ever tempt me to violate
the pledge that won my wife.
I liad it framed, and it now hangs in
my library, a continual reminder of the
power lovo of love, for by love I fell, and by
I was saved again.
Trouble at the North Pole.
There is trouble at the North Pole.
Tho pole itself is in a state of embarrass¬
ment tegration. amounting has to always a rebellion and disin¬
It carried on its
business in an old-fashioned manner,
and has long been set in its ways. It
rau as far as it could run at all, in a rut
so difficult deeply worn by ancient usage as to be
to get out of. It froze all its ice
for a season’s business in one gigantic
field. As from time to time it found it
had ice to spare, it shopped off little bits
and sent them floating away in any
direction in which wind and waves might
take them. But lately, instead of
splitting ice off from the edge of the great
fields a few little bits and telling
them to keep in the higher latitudes and
behave themselves like gentlemen, it has
split them. out hundreds and thousands of
In the most unbecoming manner
those frigid and frightful things have
Boated farther south of their accustomed
tracks, and have given indications that
they may float still further. Where one
or two icelrargs usually prowl around in
the vicinity of Newfoundland, there are
this year dozens, if not hundreds. Steam¬
ers which usually sec less than half a
dozen on the whole passage have this
season met them by the dozen or score.
One vessel passed through a wide avenue,
furnished on either side with what
seemed to be a city of those impedi¬
ments to navigation. Other vessels
knocked their bowsprits and booms into
them. How many vessels have sailed
against them aud gone down we know
not as yet. The latest erratic feat of an
iceberg is to float down toward Sandy
Hook and threaten to eflect au entrance
into New York harbor. For years it has
been the threat of our New York neigh¬
bors to answer the vexations tales of the
ice dealers who are suffering from short
crops by telling about how the anti
monopoly meant to catch an iceberg,
tow it into the harbor, chop it iu,pieces,
and supply customers with it at reasona¬
ble prices. Already teeth the ice men are
trembling, and their are beginning
to chatter. H that iceberg is caught and
towed in the price of ice will he less than
oue-half its present figures. Our own
ice men, too, are quaking in their boots.
If the exjiected berg is four or five hun¬
dred feet high and two or three miles in
circumference, we shall have all the ice
cream we want this year and next. The
hardy mariners who are going to entrap
the iceberg and tow it hi will have a
heavy undertaking on hand; yet they
need not be discouraged, for a nation
which brings obelisks from Egypt and is
some day going to float the Pyramid of
Cheops over, will not stop at icebergs.
The risk is that when it strikes the Gulf
Stream that current may prove too much
for it, and either melt it or send it spin¬
ning to its native pole .—Philadelphia
Times.
Nearly Three Million of Soldiers.
A statement has been issued by the
War Department giving the number of
men furnished in the Union army by
each State and Territory and the Dis¬
trict of Columbia from April 16, 1861, to
the close of the rebellion.
It shows that the total number of
volunteers was 2,678,967, divided ae fol¬
lows: Maine, 72,114; New Hampshire,
36,629; Vermont, 85,262; Massachusetts,
152,048; ticut, Rhode Island, 28,699; Connec¬
57,370; New York, 467,047; New
Jersey, Delaware, 81,010; Pennsylvania, Maryland, 366,107;
18,070; 60,816;
West Virginia, 32,068; District of Col¬
umbia, 16,872; Ohio, 319,649; Indiana,
197,147; Illinois, 259,147; Michigan,
89,372; Wisconsin, 96,424; Minnesota,
25,052; Iowa, 76,309; Missouri, 109,111;
Kentucky, 81,692; 79,025; Arkansas, Kansas, 20,161; 8,280; North Ten¬
nessee, Carolina,
Nevada, 8,165; California, 1,810; Washing¬ 14,725;
1,080; Oregon,
ton Territory, 964; Nebraska Territory,
3,147; kota Colorado Territory, 4,903; Terri¬ Da¬
Territory, Alabama, 206; New Mexico Florida,
tory, 6,561; Louisiana, Mississippi, 2,576;
1,290; 8,224; 545;
Texas, 1,965, and the Indian Nation,
85,030. The troops furnished by the
Southern States were, with tbe excep¬
tion of those of Louisiana, nearly all
white. Florida furnished two regi¬
ments of Mississippi cavalry, Alabama one white
regiment, one battalion and
North Carolina two regiment* of cav¬
alry .—Now York Sun.
What English Soldiers Eat.
It will be interesting to our army men
to learn the details, British just published, of
the rations, of the soldier in the
field. A pound of bread, a pound of
fresh meat, lialf a pound of fresh vegeta¬
bles, three-quarters discretion of a thecommanding pound of flour,
and, at the of
officer and medical staff, a pint of porter
or half a gill of spirits, form practicable the daily
ration. As it is not always
to obtain bread, fresh meat, or fresh
biscuit, vegetables, three-quarters of a pound be of
sidered flour, or rice, are to ration con¬
bread; equivalent pound of salt to the three- of
a meat or
quarters of a jiouiid of preserved meat
may lie substituted for the fresh-meat
ration, tables, and two ounces compressed preserved vege¬
one ounce vegeta¬
bles, or a quarter of a pound of onions
or leeks may take the place ef fresh
vegetables.
Her Ounplalnf.
A Yankee physician was lecturing on
the ignorance of people of their own
complaints, a*ked and him said that a young lady
once what his next lecture
would be upon, and, being told “the eir
relation of the blood,” replied that she
slionkl certainly attend, for she had been
troubled with tins complaint for a long
hm*
A Gown With a History.
A modiste in Fourteenth street has ou
exhibition au elaborate satin gown,
whose history can be traced without a
break, it is claimed, to its original owner
and wearer, Queen Marie Antoinette. It
is of pale yellow, or rather it was, for age
has mellowed it to an old gold hue; it is
richly embroidered in clusters of flowers
of natural color, which still retain their
first brilliauey. The unfortunate queen’s
fondness for flowers is well known, and
the models of the pansies and roses and
carnations on this gown might have been
chosen by her from the gardens of her
favorite Petit Trianon Its asserted
genuineness is thus made out:
During the spring following the execu¬
tion of Louis XVI., January 21, 1793,
the revolutionary tribunal decreed that
the furniture and entire contents <4 the
Tuilenes should be disposed of. The
sale continued six mouths, and would
have continued much longer hail it not
been legally stopped. Pierre de la Re
biere. minister of foreign affairs, then
vougnt three gowns belonging to Mario
Antoinette, which passed to his son, who
went to San Domingo, and fled, during
the last insurrection on the island, to
Philadelphia. his The gowns descended to
Charleston, daughter, Mme. Rernic Mignot, of
H. C., (granddaughter of
Pierre do la Reviere), who was afterward
married to M. Ruties, of that city.
Through into her the pido yellow satiu came
possession of her eldest daughter, now
Mrs. Churchill, and from her the modiste
purchased it some months ago. It has
been very carefully vamped and newly
put the together, so that it preserves, under
circumstances, an astonishing fresh¬
ness. As may he supposed, it is the ob¬
ject of the deepest interest to many
women, not on account of its associations,
hut of its having belonged to a sovereign
famous for her elegant toilets. Tf his¬
tory could he studied by and through
clothes, liow many enthusiastic students
there would be among the other sox, and
how wonderfully proficient they would
become. (>ne of the two remaining gowns,
a blue one, was given to another daugh¬
ter of Mine. Mignot, who, after marriage,
removed to Holland, and it was used as a
covering for some handsome piece of
furniture now in possession of her hus¬
hoven, band, living at the little town of Eiu
North Brabant. The third, a
purple gown, having been owned by a
sister of Mme. Miguot, returned to
madame after her sister’s death, and was
trained during the great fire at Charles¬
ton in 1861. The authenticity of the sole
surviving well historic established gown appears to be
pretty .—New York
Times.
A Woman’s Brave Deed.
A common sewer, of great length , hail
been opened at Noyou for purposes of re¬
pair, and was carelessly left unprotected
during the night; Four men passing
that way in the dark fell in, and it was
midnight before their perilous situation
became known. Among all who crowded
to the opening, not one was found cour¬
ageous enough to descend to the unfortu¬
nate wretches, who appeared already in
a state of suffocation from the poisonous
The vapor wives they were and children compelled to breathe.
of the men in
vain besought the bystanders for aid,
until Catherine Vosstmr, the daughter of
a French peasant, and at that time only
seventeen years <4 age, appeared on the
scene. Moved by toLerself, sympathy, and care¬
less of tho danger she insisted
on having lieing lowered into the sewer, and,
taken a rope with her for the pur¬
pose, she succeeded in fastening it around
two of tho men, and, assisted by those
above, she had the happiness of restor¬
ing them to their wives aud families.
Again she descended, and now her breath
began to fail her. She succeeded, how¬
ever, in fastening the rope round tho
body of a third man, and, in a fainting
condition, had sufficient presence of mind
to knot up the end with her own luxur¬
iant tresses. We may imagine the as¬
tonishment of the dastardly fellowswhen
they drew the man to the surface, and
found that ull but the inanimate body of
Catherine the swinging by her hair to the
end of rope. Fresh air and stimu¬
lants soon restored tho brave girl, and
the third man lived also; the fourth per¬
ished. So great was tbe admiration ex¬
cited by Catherine Vassenr’s devotion,
when the news spread through Noyou,
that a solemn Te Deurn was ordered by
the bishop, and the members of the Cor¬
poration marched in procession to the
Church. Nor was this all. The Duke
of magistrates, Orleans, the tendered Bishop of her Noyou, the and public the
thanks of the town, and she was pre¬
sented with a civil crown, and un em¬
blematic medal commemorative of her
heroism and self-devotion. — Paris
Paper.
Jack.
“Jack” would at first sight of api rear to
be a familiar abbreviation John, and
to lie applied in that sense. It occurs in
jack-tar, roasting-jack, hook-jack, jack
of-all-trades, jack-boots, machinery jockey (giro;
jack, part, of the of a lock and
of a piano-forte; jack, jack-knife, an engine for raising
heavy weights; jack-towel,
black-jack. In some instances where the
word occurs, such as jackass, jackdaw,
jjiok-an-api-s, jack-a-lent, jack-pudding, Jack,
it is manifestly derived from the
familiar name for John; but in the exam¬
ples above cited the true Gaelic etymology deagh is (d to
found in the Celtic, or
in fore the vowels e and i Cymric ir pronounced da j;,
Di-ach (or jeagli), the signi¬
fies good, fit, appropriate, excellent, well,
A jack-tor is a good sailor; a roasting
,»:k is an instrument of tit, roasting. appropriate, A jaek- or
good for the purpose fit to turn his hand to
of-all-trades is one
anything useful; a jack-knife boot-jack is a good,
useful and large knife; u is good
to pull off hints. Jockey, also a slang word
for English gin, means strong ale,
anil among ehildrnn a species of sweet¬
meat, and is in all these cases synony
mo ua with something bon-bon, good, as the French
call a sweetmeat a or as the
Hootch call them goodies, bottle black-jack is
an old name fora large of black
leather, go'nl to hold beer and other liq
With lh anmont and Fletcher have pro
served the words; “There is it 1 lead Hue
<4 drink in the eeilar, in which gisMily
vessels lie wrecked, and in the middle of
this deluge appear tit" tops of flagons
and black jacks, like ehnreiit* drowned
In ths tnsrshns ' All the Year Hound,
NUMBER y5.
“JOE’S” DASH AT POKER.
How a Beautiful Expert at the Saae Lott
Ilia Nei'VB.
lAlbany Tim«a.|
The most accomplished-looking colored
gentleman is in the hotel-porter line in this
state Joe, who officiates in that capacity
in the Delavan House. Unfortunately
Joe has au idea that he is an expert lit
poker. of He is very often anxious that
some the distinguished poker experis
who stop at the Delavan should try him
on those points, but, though Joe iiiukes
about. 8100 a week at the Delavan, he
doesn’t usually have money to engage in
any of the games of these experts, be¬
cause he “bucks” the faro banks too
often.
to Recently show his a skill. good chance Senator was Woodlin given Joe
was
playing a simple game against Senator
McCarthy, lodged aud both in the of them are when acknow
happened experts the game, Senator MeCarty
m room.
at once said: “Here's my man! Joe,
will you take my hand for a few mo¬
ments? There are several people down
stairs who want to see me."
Joe jumped at said, the chance. “Why,
course, sab,” ho “if Mr. Woodin is
agreeable. ”
Mr. Woodin was agreeable, aud Mr.
McCarthy Joe play left, his first best, giving and instructions
to to bet up to
any amount, the table depositing in front $10,000 of him. in crisp
notes on
for “Now,” said he, “I do. am responsible
to anything views you may and I’ll baek Bet according
With your own that he went you.”
out.
Joe dealt, and received a couple of
queens. Mr. Woodin immediately bet
$1,000. Joe’s short hair stood on end.
He thought that was a pretty savage
sort of a be egiuning. He d like to wait
until Mr. McCarthy would Comeback.
Mr. Woodin said that ho could not sit
two or three hours over a small bet like
that, and Joe must either see it ov pass.
Joe lost heart, and laid down his hand,
advertently showing two tjueens. Mr. Woodin in
laid down his hand as he
pulled in tho wager, aud Bliowed a lone
some pair of deuces.
“For tho lands sake, Mr. Woodin,
said Joe, in terror, “you didn’t never
bet all that money on them two little
oijob?”
“There's the hand. If you can find
an ivtliii^r Joe sighed. else in it, maybe I didn’t. ”
“Well,” said he, “ if . you do that often
with mo, you’ll be a poor man 'fore Mr.
McCarthy gets bock.
Mr. Woodin dealt, and Joe received a
pair of aces. Hebet$2fc0. Mr. Woodin
promptly raised him $1,000. Joe heaved
a dreadful sigh.
“Ain’t there no limit to this game?”
he asked, helplessly.
marked “No, Mr. we never Woodin, play sharply. with a limit,” re¬
Joe “You looked at that him a long time.
tried on me a little while
ago,” said he, “and I believe you’re
bluffing. cards.” I see you, and I want three
He put up his money and drew his
oards. Mr. Woodin saw his countenance
fall. Mr. Woodin drew one curd. Joe's
anguish showed itself in the heavy heads
on his corrugated brow.
"Land’s idlve!” he muttered.
calmly. ‘ ‘ Well, it’s your bet, ” said Mr. Woodin,
Joe had only his two aces.
“I reckon Ull pass,” be said.
“Well, what sort of lrahiuess do you
call such a slow performance us this?”
said Mr. Woodin, impatiently, “I’ll bet
$3,000 more.”
Joe glared like a fallen angel and his
hands trembled until the cards rattled.
“Mr. Woodin,” he said, piteously,
“jest dome other a favor. man’s I don’t want to
play no money, and Ill
never do it again. Jest draw all dene
beta and let me betting; quit. Mr. McCarthy
can do his own I won't, at dem
Woodin said “Certainly;” divided
up his tho pot again, He and then laid down
hand. had just exactly rushel that
same pair of donees! Joe from
the room.
An Object In View.
The celebrated Dr. Svdendam l had a
patient .... whom . he , had , k f long presenbed ...
for. At laat Bydenham acknowledged
that liis skill was exhausted—that he
could not pretend to advise him any fur
ther. “But,” said he, “there i« Dr. Bob
inson, who lives at Inverness (in the
south of Scotland), who is much more
skilled in complaints of tin’s kind than I
am; you hail better consnlt him. I will
provide you with a letter will <4 introduc- much
tion, and I hope you return
better.”
The patient was a man of fortune, and
soon took the road; undertaking but traveling was a
very different then to what
it is now, and a journey from London to
Inverness was not a trifling one. Hear
rived, however, at the place of destina
tion, but no Dr. Itobinson was to tie
found, nor had any one of that name
been in the town. This, of course, en
raged the the gentleman back very much, and he
took road to London, raging
and vowing vengeance on the doctor. On
hiB arrival he vented all hie rage on the
latter, and abnaed him for sending him
aiourney of so many miles for nothing,
When hni fury was a little abated, Hyden
Well, now, after .. all, is your ... health
anybetter?”
"Better! said he; “yes, sir, ... it is
better. I am, sir, as well as I ever was
in my life; but no thanks te you for
“Well,” said Sydenham, "you have
reason to thank Dr. Robinson. I wanted
to send you on an errand with an object
in view. 1 knew it would do you good;
in going you had Dr. Robinson in con¬
templation, and in returning of' you were
equally busy in thinking sookling
me
William Dutoheb, at Mohawk, N. Y.,
blacksmith, would waa so furious that his wife
not let him into the house the
other night when he wanted to brain liis
family with an ax, that he thrust his
aud arm bled through a window, cut au artery,
to death.
Hxxitr Ward Burnt**’* hobby is
Th» floor* of hi* house '
rug*. are
adorned with rug* <4 *v*ry nation, hue
and textux*.
®he HatfttMmlle gutott
* WEEKLY PAPER, PUBLISHED AT
Wab'nsviiie. Oconee Co., Georgia.
.
1 A TES OF ADVERTISING :
Ka« • ttrat insertion.......................... t5 8SS28S3SSSSS3$
i» Mib equeiit liiserlicJi.........................
<>u tie, > tin mo tb............................ oOiOQDOniOtCNO-iinto
One • «i are, t. ree months.........................
O.t'* pquare, six monies............................
O c ^^| ta e o-ie year.
.... ..........................
Oim-fwiinh column, one month..................
° 14 *f‘*rr h 1 do run, three mor.t'ui..............
l) 14 urCt co umn, s x months..................
Our-fourth e lumn, o-.t • y. ear.
Hall oolrjuifr, one month
.
!la f co umn, iluee months.
Half ivlmun, Bix mouths......
lla i eolumn, one year.........
I.IHKK VI, TI K IIS FOB MOKE SPADE
THIS AND THAT.
The great American dessert—Pie.
A dime novel is of course in-ten-oeut*
Ration.
Forced politeness—Bowing to neces
sity.
’Tis very easy to re-cover an old um¬
brella.
Sweating for one’s daily bread is »
pore way of getting it.
Lies go by telegraph; the truth comes
in by mail three hours late,
In 300 years fivo Sundays in February
can only occur nine times.
Motherly wisdom—Stick to your
flannels until they stick to you.
A , wag says of „ toper: His „. nose , has
a
! )awi ' , ‘ “ie rubicund,
How long does a widower mourn for
his wife ? For a second.
Can any one improve his condition by
whining? If not, wliino not.
The person who retires with the sun
must have a warm bedfellow.
Why should the letter “ g ” bo greatly
prized by farmers ? Because it changes
rnin into grain.
A printer’s girl fell exhausted into
his arms at a ball. It was a feint to
work in an em brace,
What need i« thero to worry and fret.
And vainly try more trouble to borrow,
When we know that after the huh haw set
To-day will bo yesterday to-morrow.
The New Orleans. Picayune says;
“Never marry a woman without sense,
unless yon are u fool yourself.”
hhk may droHH In Rlllc, or rtrcaa In satin,
I liny May know know ths line lfillguitioa, art, may love Greta anil ami aljjli— Latin,
lint alio ain’t no good if Bho i sn't, make pis.
“ What do you most like next to your
self?” asks an exchange. A gauze-Bilk
undershirt, if tho weather is very hot.
“SMILES may end iu tears,” says a
solemn-looking in person. smiles. Of course, and
tears may end
The small „ , bov , w digestivo apparatus
is undoubtedly the nearest approach to
perpetual motion that tho world lias yet
known.
Danbury News: “Every year tho
winter grows milder. The time will
come when sleighs will be fitted with
mosquito-nets.”
“I don't mean to reflect on you,” said
ouo man to another. “ No,” was the ro
W', , “.you , re not polished enough to .
reflect upon anybody.
The puzzle blocks originated in Phik
adclphia, where tlurhloeks of houses are
no much alike that a man is puzzled to
know when ho gets homo.
A Dakota girl has married a China¬
man. He had sorno difficulty in explain¬
ing the state of his heart, but she finally
got bin cue.
We arc told that “ Gen. 8—- was al¬
ways coolest when on tho point of at
too k. ” Most people are hottest when on
tho point of n taclc.
“The family man,” says Mrs. Quilp,
“ resembles an oyster on tho half-shell.
The shell is shown at home—the soft
side abroad.”
“Whom can wo trust?” is the black
type inquiry of an exchange. Whom It is of
no consequence. “ can we in
duee to trust tie?” is the soul agonizer.
Mr. Frank Buokland, tho naturalist all
recommends a goat being it it will will face face! kept in and
lartre large stables, stables, liecause liecause fire
horses will follow its lead.
“ Tennyson spends the hours on does a single
line.” And so, Aud by tho way, line of the lat
washerwomen. the
ter is tho longest.— Norristown Herald.
^ . H of Philade, u mttl ! P^* fVvtuT’l™” U J”
Wh.-u a man is given u " l^tlio PI. la
Never he afraid of a man who chal*
lenges you to fight a duel. Ho wili feel
all that you can feel, and with more too. spade The is
man who rushes ut you a
if! tlie ch to look out for .
There are things that will moke a
man mad, hut one is enough when his
wife tells him he can’t have any dinner
because she couldn’t get the wash-boiler
off the stove in time,
A young lawyer in Kentucky, against when him,
th( . lTu(1 „ ( , a case
u , ttle w , llrt . « Well, now, I shall
ukt , t)l(! ,. UBe to another is.” Judge, and let
him guess wliat tho law
New York Graphic: When old. Mr.
Lamb, the confectioner, found , his
daughter Jeruslm sampling his sweeti
meats, lie exclaimed in anguish : “O,
Jerusna Lamb, Jerusha Lamb, thou that
killest the profits.”
A Voudoo “Charm.”
other \ gentleman brought to our office the
day a “charm,” so called, that was
drawn out of the well of a colored man
living on liis place, which i# supposed to
have lieen placed there by one of his of
fended colored neighbors, who claims to
be a conjurer. The “charm” consisted of
a portion of a black bug, a bent pin, a
small particle of cotton, thread-like root
of some kind about two incites long, and
a pine), of hair from a negro’s head, all
Q f which was wrapped cloth, that up in a small piece
Q f ,ij r ty cotton hail been sat
urated in some kind of grease or oil. II
is quite tho common colored to find these coujurers
among able by the people, “charms” who claim of to
be means of one
kind snakes, and and another the like to iu put certain frogs, portions lizards,
of a person’s body. their This is done, they
claim, by placing “charms” under
the steps them of their in their victim’s wells houses, or by
placing sewing them in certain or springs, or
by clothing. up The great portions of
their mass of the
colored people the conjurers are credulous enough to
believe possess all the
ful jsiw er they provoke ehuni, and offotul are generally them.'—rtn- care- »
not to or
demon (A. Intelligencer.
We hear of a umn who ha* made a
fortune by attending to his own husi
uaos! This is authentic. But then hs
had law oowpcUtor*.