Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

min p A' ]p iv Pt jl/ ♦ 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. ,