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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*.