Newspaper Page Text
min p A' ]p iv Pt jl/
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VOL. II.
.ran c. m syckel & co.
Wholesale and Retail Dealers in
CROCKERY,
GLASSWARE
House Furnishing Goods
Tin-Plate,
Stoves,
Hardware,
&c.. &c.
MAmmonnums o»
TINWARE.
&o. I 16 Third Street,
____MAOON.G V
CAR HART & CURD,
»EAI.ERS IK
Hardware, Iron & Steel i
WOO I>EN WARE,
CarriageMaterial,
Cotton CIns,
Circular Saws,
SCALES,
PAINTS, OILS, &c.
Mnonr). (»;»
R. J DA V A NT. J a w oi>, ju
DAVAOT & WOOD,
1X4 ay Street,
"Savannah, Georgia
Special attention given to sale ot
COTTON,RICE & NATAL STORE!
laairrs fob
DRAKE'S COTTON TIES.
Cash alvanoe* made on eoniignmenls.
W. B. MBLL & CO. ;
Wholesale and retail dealers in
SADDLES, BRIDLES, HARNESS;
1 Rubber and Readier
BELTING AND PACKING,
French and American Call Skins, Side, Har¬
ness, Bridle and Patent Leather,
WHIPS and SADDLERY WARE,
TRUNKS, VALISES,
Market Square, Savannah, 6a
Orders by mail oromutly attended to.
ft. J. BRADDY & SON
Wrights viLLE, Ga
BLACKSMITH SHOP.
Buggies, A specialty of Plantation Work. Wagons,
etc., made and repaired.
Plows and Plow-Stocks of all kinds, and
every kind of Wood and iron Work done by
A. J. BRADDY & SON,
Wrightsvilie, Ga.
SID. A. PUGHSLEY, Jr.
AGENT AND SALESMAN,
— WITH-'
I. L. FALK & CO.,
CLOTHIERS,
425 and 427 Broome St., New York,
Cor. Congress and Whittaker Street*,
BATANNAII, GA,
WEIGHTSVILLE, GA., SATURDAY, AUGUST 13, 1881.
The Farmer's Seventy Years.
Ah. there he is, lad, at the plow;
He beats the boys for work,
And whatsoe’er the task might be
None over saw him shirk.
And ho can laugh, too, till his eyes
Bun o'er with mirthful tears,
And sing full many an old-time song
In spite of seventy years.
“ Good morning, friends! ’tie twelve
Time for a half hour’s rest.”
‘ And farmer John took out his lunch
. And ate it with zest.
a
“ A harder task, it is,” ho said,
“ Than following up these steers,
Or mending fences, far, for me
To feel my seventy years.
“ You ask me why I feel bo
young,
I’m sure, friends, I can’t tell,
But think it is my good wife’s fault
Who’s kept me up sowoll;
For women such as she arc scarce
In this poor vale of tears;
She’s given me love and hope and strength
For more than forty years.
“ And then my boys have all done well,
As far as they have gone,
And that thing warms an old man’s blood,
And helps him on and on.
My girls have never caused a pang,
Or raised up anxious fears.
Then wonder not that I feel young
And hale at seventy years.
“ Why don’t my good boys do work,
my
And let me sit and rest ?
Ah ! friends, that wouldn't do for me;
I like my own way best.
They have their duty; I have iniue,
And, till the end appears,
I mean to smell the soil, my friends,”
Said the man of seventy years.
A RASH ENGAGEMENT;
OK,
How a Male Trifler Was Served.
Now, Gerard, I shall count on you 1”
My dear aunt,” said Gerard Fay,
taking her hand and looking in her
sparkling face with intense gravity, “do
nothing of the sort. I protest against
it. You inveigled mo to your country
seat with perfumed billets and honeyed
flatteries. I yield ; for who but a mad¬
man could struggle against destiny in
such a shape ? But encroach no further.
I consent to be ornamental—to adorn
your saloons—to occupy the fourth seat
in your barouche—to accompany you to
church and stare down the loungers
around the door, but I utterly and en¬
tirely refuse to be useful. I will not
fan plethoric dowagers ; I will not waltz
with boarding-school misses, nor sing
duets, nor bring shawls, nor clasp brace¬
lets, nor—by Jove! who’s that?”
Mrs L’Ay mar smiled mischievously.
“ Nellie Parker, the clergyman’s
daughter.' [Shall I introduce you ?”
“ By no means ! It’s a lovely, high¬
bred face, though — clearly cut as a
cameo, and those soft, unfathomable
eyes! Do you remember Dominie Che
no’s Sybil ?”
“ Welcome to Maplewood,” said a gay
voice behind him.
Gerard started and bit his lips.
“ Why did you not tell me Kate Ir
win was here 1” he said, in a vexed un
dertone to his aunt; but Mrs. L’Aymar
bad glided away, and Gerard had noth
ing for it but to seat himself resignedly
by the lady—a dashing brunette, becom
ingly arrayed in a muslin dress and
garden hat, who was watching Mr. Fay
with a somewhat amused smile.
“Again I say, welcome to Maple¬
wood,” site repeated. “It was vastly
kind of Mrs. L’Aymar to send for you.
The country is such a bore, and per¬
haps you can amuse me; yon did not
use to be quite so stupid as the rest in
town,”
"Cool, that I” thought Gerard. Then
aloud: “ I should be most happy to be
amusing to Miss Irwin had I not en¬
tered a solemn protest against anything
of the sort. I came here to be enter¬
tained. So, to commence, who’s here?”
“ Why do you ask, since the villa is
the inevitable rechauffee of the town
house. Mrs. Poplin is here with Des
demona, Araminta and Amanda. You
should see how they take to innocence,
white muslin and new-laid eggs. Des
demona, who was a young lady when I
was in short clotheB, sits on a low stool
and wears baby waists, and Amanda has
got a kitten and puts up her hair in
curl papers regularly. Then there’s
Ada Golbeik, the bine; and Cobham,
who waltzes so divinely; and that fasci¬
nating little Mrs. Temple Stowe; and
Captain Gresham, whom everybody is
crazy about, and your humble servant.
That’s all, I believe.”
“Who is that young lady?” asked
Gerard, pointing to Miss Parker, who
still sat at the window.
“I really don’t know,*' coldly an¬
swered Miss Irwin; “but she looks
stupid enough, however, to be the
daughter of some country magnate
whom your polite aunt conceives it her
i duty to propitiate. There’s the dress¬
ing-bell ! ”
“ Thank heaven! ” ejaculated Gerard,
aloud, as Miss Irwin swept from the
room. “ Now that the womankind are
i safe at least an hour, I may get a nap.
, What a bore this gallantry is, to be
sure! Why couldn’t I have said to that
j consummate coquette: * I’m confound
edly sleepy! If you’ll permit me, I’ll
! go and dream of your eyes. » tf All the
! while he was leisurely extending him
; self on a light settee that ho had drawn
| up before one and of then the deep making bow window^ saUy
every now a at
j an impertinent mosquito, who hummed
| and buzzed in his ear with irritating
! persistency. ■»
Through the waving curtains-bo could
i dimly sec the lovel, sloping lawn, the
trees motionless in the noon heat, the
cows standing in the pond beneath their
shade, the low splash of the water; the
shrill song of the grasshoppers grew
fainter and fainter on his ear, his eyes
closed—“ buz,” “ hum ’’—there was that
mosquito again!
“Confound the rascal! ” ho exclaimed,
jumping up in a rage, “ if he hasn’t bit
ton my nose! He is a greater torment
than a woman, and that’s—”
He stopped short in dismay, for from
the recess of the window issued a peal
of clear ringing laughter, and before
him stood the young lady who had
already attracted his notice.
“Don’t bo alarmed, sir,” she said,
still laughing. “ It is only the last of
the ‘ womankind,’ whom you accident¬
ally made a prisoner, and who promised
not to betray all the treason you have
uttered against her sex, it you will per¬
mit her to retire.”
“ Not till I liaro convinced you that
in no way could my remarks apply to
you,” answered Gerard, “since I was
not talking of the angels.”
“Spareyour compliments,” returned
Nelly, with a curling lip, “or reserve
them for Miss Irwin or the Misses Pop¬
lin. I am a simple conntry girl, incap¬
able of appreciating them.”
“Ah 1 I see you are revengeful.”
“ On the contrary, I forgive you.”
“ Proof is-”
“How?”
‘ 1 By permitting mo to act as your es¬
cort to dinner.”
Nelly seemed in danger of another fit
of laughter. She, who could have set
the table, cooked the dinner and eaten
u good share of it afterward, escorted
to the table like cnc of those languish¬
ing city ladies, who screamed at the
sight of a cow, and didn’t know corn
from asparagus, except when it was
cooked! What would father, and
mother, and Bob say to that? Con¬
trolling her mirth as well as she was
able, sho signified her assent; and
when Miss Irwin sailed into the dining¬
room it was to find the elegant, fas¬
tidious Gerard playing assiduous court
to the little country girl, who received
^ as a matter course. Still, that was
no \ ^ 10 provoking part of the
a ^ iur '
Pooi ' Gobham, whose evil genius had
decreed that on that dav he should act
as cavalier servante to the angry belle,
Kate’s angry glances chilled his very
marrow, aud scared all the small talk
out of him.
Mrs. L’Aymar looked on in silent con¬
sternation.
Miss Irwin was not only a belle, but
eligible to the extent of $100,000; and
who knows what schemes had been run¬
ning in*the little lady’s politic head
when she invited Kate to spend the
summer with her.
“ At any rate,” as she observed to her
husband afterward, “ I couldn’t sit
there, you know, and seo Gerard mak¬
ing himself ridiculous, and the Poplins
and Mrs. Temple Stowe looking on—
who, of course, would tell of it all over
town.”
So, after a side glance at the bronze
timepiece, Mrs. L’Aymar said, in her
softest tones:
“ My dear little Nelly, I am sorry to
lose you, but I promised your father
that you should return the moment tbe
clock struck ‘ three,’ and you know how
exact he is 1”
Nellie flushed to her very temples,
for she had been invited to spend the
day, and well understood the reason
of the sudden changes in Mrs. L’Ay¬
mar.
“John shall drive yon home,” said
the lady, fearing, perhaps, she had gone
too far, “and I shall try to persuade
your father-”
“To be a little less exact,” broke
in Gerard, with scornful emphasis;
“but John need not take the trouble
to harness his horses, for mine, if my
orders have been obeyed, are already at
the- door, and I shall be only too happy
to drive Miss Parker home.”
And he did take her home, spite of
the ill-concealed wrath of Mrs. L’Aymar
and the fascinating Miss Irwin; and
when he reached the old farmhouse,
invited himself to go in (Nellie would
never have had the courage), and
claimed acquaintance with her father
on tho strength of a boxed ear once re¬
ceived from the dominie when a hoy
and at home during the vacation, and
complimented brother Bob on Ins farm¬
wifery, ing aud and Mrs. Parker on her house¬
stayed Theology, to tea., and talked
politics and and everything
but love, for wliich lie contented him¬
self with lookiug at Miss Nellie.
Day after day saw liis stylish turn¬
out dashing down the green, shady lane
that led to the dominie’s; and it was a
standing joke of his groom that “ Mas’r
was going for the consolations of re¬
ligion." Tho very dogs round the
place came to know him, while no
damask rose ever glowed as did Nellie’s
cheek when sho heard the music of his
horses’ hoofs galloping on the road.
Mrs. L’Avmr’s indignation knew no
bounds.
“ The way Gerard goes on with that
gil l is ridiculous,” she said to Kate Ir¬
win, “and I consider it my duty to in¬
terfere.”
“ Then lie will assuredly marry her,”
responded the lady, coolly. “ Can you
not seo ho is only amusing himself?
Oppose him and he is capable of any
folly. Leave him alono and lie will
scon tire of his new-found toy,”
Reasoning on widely different prin¬
ciple!, Mrs. Parker had arrived at the
same conclusion, aud sadly and anx¬
iously she watched the gradual change
in Nelly’s demeanor.
“ Old Martha tells me you never visit
her lately,” sho said to her daughter
one afternoon.
A bright flush crimsoned Nelly’s
cheek.
“ So sho has been complaining, lias
she? Tiresome old woman 1”
“ And Miss Goodwin has mentioned
to me,” continued her mother, without
appearing to notice Nelly’s tone, “ that
you are seldom or never at tho Thurs¬
day piayer-meetings.”
“ I don't believe,” returned Nelly,
“that we ought to be always singing and
praying and visiting old women. I am
young, and I want to enjoy life.”
“ Who gave you life ?” answered Mrs.
Parker, “and how long is it since you
found it wearisome to praise and serve
God? Ah! Nelly, Nelly, since Mr.
Fay-”
“There it is again," interrupted
Nelly; “always Mr. Fay ! Everything is
his fault. What has he done, I should
iiko to know, that you all bate him so ?”
“Hate him! Ah! Nelly, liow blind
you are! You love that man !”
“Well, I do,” retorted Nelly, “did
you never love ? Am I the first one in
the family who has been in love?”
“ Nolly, has Mr. Fay over asked yon
to marry him ?”
Nelly was silent.
“Has ho ever even told yon that he
loved you?”
“I don’t care if he hasn’t,” answered
Nelly, sobbing. “ I know ho does, and
I don’t see why you want to make me
so miserable; and I wish I was dead—I
do.”
At this interesting juncture arrived
Mr. Gerard Fay. Mrs. Parker, not feel¬
ing desirous to meet him, vanished
through a side door, and Nellie, unablo
to regain her composure, or dissimulate
without intending to do so, allowed
Gerard to guess the secret of her dis¬
tress; and he, feeling unusually mag¬
nanimous after an extra bottle of cham¬
pagne, and moved by the sight of beauty
in tears, forthwith offered himself, and
was accepted.
“There, I told you so,” said Mrs.
L’Aymar, furiously, to Kate.
“Keep cool,” was the rejoinder, “and
let us go and call on the bride-elect.
Frank Bashleigh will be down next
week, and then we shall see what we
shall see.”
And Mrs. L’Aymar, having no small
confidence in her cool-headed friend,
waited patiently until Mr. Rashleigh,
Gerard’s intimate friend, should arrive.
When that important personage made
his appearance, it is to be presumed that
the ladies enlisted him at onoe—as
shortly after his arrival he took occasion
to remark to Gerard:
“ That’s rather a pretty girl (pointing
to Nelly). Pity she’s such a dowdy
figuie, and dresses in such a Sandwich
island style.”
Gerard said nothing—being abso¬
lutely dumb with astonishment. Nelly
dowdy, and badly dressed ? Was that
the judgment of Frank Rashleigh, who
was a well-known connoisseur in female
beauty—on his pearl—his lily of
maidens, as he had fondly termed her?
Was he indeed so blind ?
Bashleigh saw the shot had taken
effect, and wisely forbore further com¬
ments at that time. He then turned his
attention to Miss Irwin, whom he pro¬
nounced "a perfectly elegant woman,
and faultlessly beautiful.”
“ Maybe so,” dryly answered Gerard,
but I prefer the half-opened rosebud
to the tulip.”
Spite of which, ere long, he virtually
transferred himself and his attentions
to Mies Irwin, wlio concealed her de¬
light under an affectation of cold dig¬
nity.
Sometimes Nelly’s paling cheeks
after an unusually protracted absence
smote him with a keen sense of self
reproach—“ but sho ought to have un¬
derstood me from tbe first,” be argued.
“Reason should have shown her our
entire incompatibility.” >
Singularly enough reason had en- j j
tirely failed to perf mm her duty in the
first stage of Nelly’s love; but she had , !
stepped in now, and suggested that a !
man who had behaved like Gerard Fay !
must be alike devoid of principle, char- ;
acter or common good feeling, and could
not, therefore, be considered a very se- j
rious loss by any sensible girl.
"Whereupon Nelly took heart, grew
prettier and moro blooming than ever.
One day as she was walking leisurely
along the little patli that wound through
the beautiful woods from whence the
village derived its name, she suddenly
found herself face to face with Gerard
Fay.
Her first impulse was to turn back.
Her second, to bow stiflly. Her third, to
speak in tho most cordial manner im¬
aginable, wliich she accordingly did.
Gerard’s salutation was by no means
so unembarrassed, but instead of pass¬
ing on, as lio might havo easily done,
he continued to walk by her side, dis¬
coursing of tho weather, the scenery,
tho last new novel, and growing more
and more desperate at Nelly’s unmis¬
takable indifference—till, at last, he
frankly told Nelly tbe story of his short
comings with regard to her, taking care
to color it slightly, and practicing a
iittlo arithmetic on it, in tho wav of ad¬
ditions and snbstractions, winding up
by asking Nelly to take him this time
for better or worse.
Whereupon Nelly, who listened lo
the whole with a perfect immobile
countenance, quietly asked: “Have
you finished, Mr. Fay ?”
“Yes,” replied the gentleman, some¬
what doubtfully.
“ Very well, sir. I have only to say
that I cannot marry a man I do not love
—could not marry a man I did not re¬
spect, and could not respect the man who
had not tbe principle to refrain from
entering into rash engagements, the
honor to keep them, the sense to refrain
from the attempt to patch them up when
broken. Good-morning, Mr. Fay.”
And so ended Gerard’s campaining
for 1880.
Filial Love.
There is not on earth a more lovely
sight than the unwearied care aud at¬
tention of children to their parents.
Where filial love is found in the heart
we will answer for all the other virtues.
No young man or woman will turn out
basely, we sincerely believe, who has
parents respected and beloved. A
child, affectionate and dutiful, will
never bring the gray hairs of its parents
to the grave. Tho wretch who breaks
forth from wholesome restraint, and
disregards the laws of his country, must
have first disobeyed his parents, show¬
ing neither love nor respect for them
It is seldom the case that a dutiful son
is found in the ranks of vice among the
wretched and degraded. Filial love will
keep men from sin and crime. There
never will come a time while your
parents live when you will not be under
obligations to them. Tho older they
grow the more need will there be for
your assiduous care and attention to
their wants, The venerable brow and
frosty hair speak loudly to the love and
compassion of the child. If sickness
and infirmity mako them at times fret¬
ful, bear with them patiently, not for
getting that time ere long may bring
you to need the same attention. Filial
love will never go unrewarded.— Ame¬
thyst.
When I was a young man I was always
in a hurry to hold the big end of the
log and do all the lifting; now 1 am
older, and seize hold of the small end
and do all the gruntiner.— Josh Billings
The average ot. human lifq is about,
thirty-three years.
NO. 13.
Judge Not.
How do wo know what hearts havo vilest siu V
How do wo know ?
Many, like sepulchres, aro foul withiD,
Whose outward garb is spotless as the snow,
And many may be puro wo think not so.
How near to God the souls of such havo been,
What mercy secret penitonco may win—
How do we know ?
How can we tell who sinned moro than wo!
,
How can wo tell ?
We think our brother walked guiltily.
Judging him in self-righteousness. Ah,
well!
Perhaps had we been driven through the hel
Of his untold temptations, we might be
Less upright n pur daily tell walk than he—
How can we t
Daro wo condemn the ills that others do 1
Dare we condemn ?
Their strength is small, the trials not a few;
Tho tide of wrong is difficult to stem.
And if to ns more dearly than to thorn •'
Is given knowledge of the good and true,, t
Moro do they need our help, and pity, too—
Daro wc to condemn ?
God help us all, and load us day by day.
God help us all l
We cam iot walk alone the perfect way,
Evil aUurea us > tem P ts uf *> and we fall 1
Wo aro but human, and our power is small;
Not one of ns may boast, and not a day
Ilolls o’er our heads but each hath ndfcd to say
God bless us all 1
PUNGENT PARAGRAPHS.
The only thing the bat will leave to
the hairs is a crown.
An old salt christened his anchor Sigh
because it was heaved so often.
No man rends a paper that be could
not improve .—Stillwater Lumberman.
Sho cooed ; he wooed ; tbe old man
said they could if they would. No cards
For thinking, ono; for converse, two, no more
Three for an argument; for walking, four; '
For social pleasure, five; for fun, a score.
An editor without a backbone don’t
amount to much. It's his principle
column, you know.— Statesman.
Now lovers taking walks aro (toen;
Khe on his arm doth heavy loan—
The young man and the grass aro green.
—Salem Sunbeam
European tours will soon become un¬
fashionable. Tbe horrible discovery
has been made that it is cheaper to sum¬
mer in Europe titan at an American
watering-place.
A New York editor has given §85,000
for tbe promotion of a German school
system. Out this way it fakes all an
editor can mnko to promote bis own
system .—Modern Argo.
A French engineer, after a series of
experiments with a loaf of bread baked
by a Vassal- college girl, now announces
that tbe project of tunneling Mount
Blanc is entirely practicable.
The census office states that the peo¬
ple in tbe United States pay annually
$20,250,100 for their daily newspapers.
Leaving in the neighborhood of $999,-
111,999,111 that they don’t pay.—
Yonkers Statesman.
The Prevention of Sunstroke.
The following hints for the preven¬
tion of sunstroke are given by Dr.
Edwin O. Mann, of New York city, in
an article upon this subject in one cf
tho medical journals : To avoid sun¬
stroke, exercise, in excessively hot
weather should be very moderate; the
clothing should bo tliin and loose, and
an abundance of cold water should be
drank. Workmen and soldiers should
understand that as soon as they eeate
to perspire, while working or marching
in tho hot sun, they are in danger of
sunstroke, and they should immediately
drink water freely and copiously to
afford matter for cutaneous transpira¬
tion, and also keep tho skin and clott¬
ing wet with water. Impending sun
stroko may often he warded off by these
simplo measures. ^Besides tbe cessa¬
tion of perspiration, the pupils are apt
to be contracted, and there is a fre¬
quency of mictuiitiou. If there is marked
exhaustion, with a weak pulse, resulting
from the cold water application, we
should administer stimulants. The
free use of water, however, both ex¬
ternally and internally, by those ex¬
posed to the direct rays of the sun, is
the best prophylactic against sunstroke,
and laborers or soldiers, and olliers
who adopt this measure, washing their
hands and laces, as well as drinking
copiously of water every time they come
within reach of it, will generally enjoy
perfect immunity from sunstroke.
Straw hats should bo worn, ventiliated
at the top, and the crown of the hat
tilled with green leaves or wet sponge.
It is better to wear thin flannel shirts
in order not to check perspiration. We
may expose ourselves for a long time in
the hot sun and work or sleep in a
heated, room. an,d. cnjqy perfeot jm- ^
munity from sunstroke if we keep qni
skin and clothing wet with water. ,