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VOL. II.
/OH! C. m STOKEL & CO.,
Wholesale and Retail Dealers in
CROCKERY, x
• GLASSWARE,
liyUOU rlnilQP i P IWUldllltlY via MiuillilC flnnHt? Uw liw
W
Tiu-I?late,
Stoves,
Hardstvare,
&C\.
MAMTVMrrtniKKS or
TINWARE.
No. 116 Third Street,
____MACO N. G V.
~
CARHART & CURD,
DCAJ.EBS U
Hardware, Iron & Steel I
WOODENWARE,
Carriage Material,
Cotton Gins,
Circular Saws.
SCALES,
l
PAINTS, OILS, &c.
M 'vnriTt.
R. J DA V AMT. J. 8 W OI>, JK
DAVAfU & WOOD,
114 Ay Street,
Savannah, Georgia
Special attention given to m 1« ol
COTTON, RICE & NAVAL STORE
Aomrrs roa
DRAKE’S COTTON TIES.
Cash advances made on consignments.
W. B. MELL & CO. #
Wholesale and retail dealers in
SADDLES, BRIDLES, HARNESS,
Rubber and Leather
b^ltinc and packing.
French ,£ ne8»ML™ 2 {d American ,le ttnd Call t’atent Ski- g, Sri©, Bar
Leather,
WHIPS AMI) S.h^Dl.ERY WARE.
TRUNKS, VALlSeSy
Market Square, Savannah, Ha
Orders by mail oromptly attended t*.
A. J. BR&DDY & SOft
WKIOIITSVH.1 .E, Ga
Dl uLALllblill A Pl/ORJIITU S *1 CUnP oHUr.
A specialty ol Plantation Work. Wagons,
Plows and Plow-Stocks of ail kinds, and
every kind of Wood and Iron Wo;k done by
A. .T. BRADDY & SON, /
Wrightsvilie, tie.
SID. A. PUGHSLEY, Jr ’
A SENT AND SALESMAN,
—WITH—
I. L. FALK & CO. »
CLOTHIERS,
425 and 427 Broomo St., New York,
Cor. Congress and Whittaker Streets,
savannah, oa.
WRIGHTSVILLE, GA., SATURDAY. AUGUST 27. 1881.
I Vi hen the llrciim Memories.
i-pring creeps up through the golden
S |ade8 >
dead;
Will yon think of the spring when first wo met,
And of April suns that forever have sot?
When the world is red with the summer rose,
And sweet with the music of mellow June,
Will you miss some light when the sunset glows,
Till the song of the summer seems scarce in
tune;
Will you say how swiftly the June days went
In the fullness of last year’s sweet content ?
Win® tho ruopers vest in the ruddy gold
Of the ripening fields on the breezy down,
Will you think of the time when our tale was
told,
And our hopes were ripe for the reaping down,
When the fields of life that flowered of late
Were stripped and swept by the seytho of fate ?
When the world is awaiting the spring’s sweet
prime,
And the snow lies soft over forest ami Hold,
Will yon think how wo wept in tho winter time,
Ere tho pain of our parting was numbed and
healed;
When the “love of vonr lifetime” was jnst
new-born,
And you? “life-long sorrow ” was scarce out¬
worn ?
A iifolong sorrow! 1 mind me yet,
When wo stood in tho glow of tho golden
grain;
Twere hotter, you said, that I should forget,
“Kor the greater half of love is pain.”
Ah, true! Ho wlio loves midst, the must
enduros;
But tho “life-long sorrow” is mine—not yours!
—Harper’* Weekly.
WHICH KNEW BEST?
Dear old Grandma Wellington looked
up over her gtld-rimmed glasses at
lack, with a world of loving anxiety in
her blue eyes—sweet, tranquil, old eyes
hat were as bine as -when sbe was a
girl of sixteen.
“Are jon sure yon have considered
the matter well—thoroughly, ,
my boy?” I
Her voice was sweet and quiet, and
die herself was the daintiest imaginable
ideal of a nm.L.i
trim, always dressed in black silk and «
white Spanish lace half handkerchief in
winter time, and a queen’s-gray silk and
a dotted Swiss half-handkerchief in
summer, with puffs of gray liair, on
which lay a tiny cap, and a string o
solid gold beads around her neck.
And Jack, lounging on the gay cre¬
tonne-covered sofa at the opposite side
of the room, was her special pet and
idol of all her score of grandchildren—
handsome, happy Jack, who never failed
to make grandma do exactly what he
wished her to do.
And jnst at the present moment the
highest object of his ambition was to
reconcile Grandma Wellington to bis
engagement with Viva Morris, and, in
return for his lover-like enthusiasm on
the subject, grandma had laid down the
blue silk sack she was knitting for
little Florie, the latest grand-baby, and
looked over her glasses and put the
question:
“Are you sure you have considered
the matter well—thoroughly, my boy ?”
Jack laughed. •’*
“I have never considered it at all
when it comes to that,” he said. “I
have a firm conviction that such things
are settled by a destiny too high for
poor mortality to consider.”
“ Rut * poor mortality ’ is expected to
suffer if experience proves ‘destiny’
made a mistake,” she said, with a little,
laughing twinkle in her eyes.
Then a grave, troubled look spread
rtlT On>r her face. .410 shook her head,
“ It would Dirfpji n«. y heart, Jack, if
yon didn’t marry M wife every way
worthy of yon." mea^T jr
“ And yon y 0U think my little
Viva is nnwojftbv. What do you call
a ‘ goo< * w 3“ e >’ grandma? I mean one
good enough for me, yon know—a first
class’, A 1, no mistake.”
feia splendid blonde head lay lazily
Ojb his folded arms, and he looked with
a mischievous glance at the old lady,
who resumed her knitting serenely.
“I mean a sweet, pretty, happy
natured, good-tempered girl, who will
be content in her husband’s love, when
there is no prospect of a new dress or a
sealskin sack, and who can settle down
rest fully to a quiet country life, and not
pine herself away, and torment her
band for the follies of city' dissipation;
a girl who is sensible, economical, not
ashamed to do her own work, if needs
b e —who will save what you earn, and
think herself a queen among women
because she is crowned with your love
and honored with your name.”
« And yon do not belie*. Viva pos¬
sesses those qualifications?”
“How could she, unless you take ex¬
ception to the first essentials ? She is
sweet and pretty; but wbat’s that by
itself? She is her mother’s own child,
and Grace Moore, the girl, and Grace
A—i
her husbaud financially, and I solemnly
[ 'death. believe drove him to drink and his
Like parent like child, if they
look alike and act alike as much as
Viva and her mother. If yon must get
married why don’t you marry Betta?
She’s the stay and support of the Mor¬
rises, and as good as gold.”
Jack could not restrain a little nod
'
i of disgust.
“Marry Betta Storms ? Not if she wero
an angel! I don’t like her for a cent,
grandma—only I know yon detest slang.
No, ma’am ; love goes where it is sent
and it’s little black-eyed Viva or nobody
—and I don’t think it’ll be nobody.”
Grandma laid her knitting down
again, and looked, anxiously, thought¬
fully, out of the window at the gor¬
geous clusters of snow-white wisteria
blooms twining around the piazza treliis.
“ I am sorry, Jack—sorry—even if the
Morrises are your poor, dear grandpa’s
relatives.”
“ I am afraid you are prejudiced,”
Jack said, gently, in his irresistible,
pleading way. “Viva is as industrious as
a little bee, grandma. She gives music
lessons and teaches in the night schools
and does fancy work for the stores at
odd moments."
“ And spends every cent sbo earns on
dress, and makes poor Retta sweat over
the ironing table to laundry her Swiss
suits and lawn wrappers. I’ve no pa¬
tience with her 1”
“ You are prejudiced, grandma,” he
reiterated, convincingly. “I know Viva
wears out all the old garments there
are, and because sbo is tasty and stylish
you accuse her of extravagance. She’d
wear anything repectable to save a dol¬
lar, and I honor her for it. And it’s
more than Betta would do ; she’d stay
at liomo forever first.”
Grandma smiled—a blight, sudden
smile.
■-Yiiurve put a oiiiniinc idea in rnv
old head, Jack. I shall mako it m>
business to prove the assertion yon havi
made. You say Viva would do one
thing. I say she wouldn’t. You say
Betta would do one thing ; I am sura
to the contrary. I’ll send them each u
dross—respectable, sensible dresses,old
fahioned and pretty—that I wore fifty
years ago. They can be remade, and,
although not in tlio fashion of to-day
no girl of good sense would refuse to
wear eiilier of them to the lawn party
at the rectory next Tuesday week, to
which Viva and Retta are invited. You’ll
sec who is right - Jack or his old grand¬
mother.”
She nodded her pretty head sagely,
and Jack laughed, his face flushing
warmly.
“ I’ll stake my life on Viva. I’ll go
further, grandma. I’ll concede all you
have said, in case I am not right,” he
declared, positively.
“ Well, we’ll see,” Grandma Welling¬
ton said, wisely.
# f * * * *
“Only think of it! Was there ever
sueli luck, mamma—Retta? Actually a
dress apiece for ns from papa’s people I
Isn’t it superb ? And in time lor the
lawn party, too ! ”
Viva Morris certainly was sweet and
pretty enough to have won Jack Well¬
ington’s heart, or any other masculine’s.
She was petite, with lovely dark eyes,
and luxurious brown hair, and a rare,
pal© complexion, like a roscleaf, with
no hint of color on its putc paiiui, »ui
a little, passionful month, as red and
luscious as ripe strawberries, back of
which the white teeth flashed enchant
inglj
Mrs. Morris, in tho easiest chair the
little cottage afforded, laid her novel
down and looked at Viva, interestedly.
“A new dress apiece?”
Retta Storms, tall, aristocratic-look¬
ing, arranging her fair, massive braids
more to her notion before the sitting
room glass, turned languidly around.
“ Don’t make such a sensation over
an express parcel, Viva. Undo it, and
we will see the contents.”
Viva hastily brought the scissors and
snipped the thick string, while Retta
read the letter accompanying it aloud:
“My dear greut-grandnieoes,” it said,
“ I take the liberty and pleasure ol
sending yon each a dress for the rectory
lawn party, hoping you will be pleased
with them and wear them.”
It was signed in full, “ Mary Augusta
Wellington.”
Just as Viva reached the inner tissue
paper—
“Ob, I do hope mine’s"a summer
silk—changeable blue and gold!” Retta
j said, enthusiastically.
“ If mine only is a delicious gray !”
-Viva said.
And then the inner paper was re
moved, and* Mrs. Morris gave a shriek
of honor that would have done justice
to the occasion if the parcel had con¬
tained human bones.
“Her old, worn-out dresses!” she
feasped, hysterically.
“Second-hand, horrid old things, that
a beggar wouldn’t wear!” Betta cried,
in vexation.
While Viva, keen disappointment on
her pretty face, lif ed up the quaint
^arfdi iits, so full and voluminous, nnd
shook them out.
“ They are as old-fashioned as the
hills, but they’re pretty, anyhow,” she
said, the dismay in her voice almost
concealed by her brave determination
to make the best of it. “Eeally, if
there was to be a masquerade now, this
funny plaid silk, markeed Eetla Sto ms
wouldn’t be so bad.”
“ But there is to be no masquerade,
and old Mrs. Wellington needn’t think
I’d make a guy of myself by wearing
her cast-off clothes. I’d rather do up
your suits all the week, at the sevontv
flve cents apiece you pay me, than be
disgraced by sucb a toilet as that would
make.”
Retta was bitterly indignant, and Mrs.
Morris scarcely less so.
“It’s old Grandmother Wellington
over again,” she said, with what she
supposed was fine contempt. "Rich
and stingy! I wouldn’t marry into that
family again—no, not for all they’re
worth! And you’ll be sorry for it some
day, when Jack develops the family
meanness.”
“ I’ll risk all Jack’s meanness,” Viva
said, coolly; “and in the meantime I
think I see a very pretty dress for my¬
self in this lovely pink and silver
threaded barege. It’s so awfully old
fashioned, I shall mako believe it’s
now—just out. I'll rip it up and make
it, over, and put some pink satin bows
i pon it, and trim my rustic straw gypsy
with a wreath of wild-brier to match in
elevated her nose haughtily.
“And be an old-fashioned thing, alter
til. Mrs. Judge Mivart and old Miss
Spenser are sure to be at the lawn
party, and they’ll recognize the dross,
tor the old lady Wellington and then
wfro girls together. Fancy Algernon
\livart hearing his grandmother say 1
was iti one of her cast-oil dresses! l'ii
sell the horrid old dud to the second
liand woman and buy enough lace
bunting for a new polonaise.”
Viva held her little dusky head to one
side, like a reflective bird, and scanned
the objectionable silk.
“ I wouldn’t, if 1 were you, Retta.
Tlio plaid is very small and unobtrusive
— almost a check; and your most becom
ing shades—lemon and blue. Let me
tix it up for you, when I do mine. A
little of the lovely old lace on mamma’s
black silk, and a new blue sash—”
“Don’t talk such nonsense. I tell
you I wouldn’t have A1 Mivart know it
for all the world.”
Nor would she be persuaded. The
very same day she sent for the one “old
clothes” woman in the place and drove
the sharpest bargain possible, receiving
enough to buy a cheap, sliowy, cream
lace bunting; while Viva set to work,
ripping and sponging and pressing the
old-fashioned pink berege, with the
lustrous silver thread criss-crossing all
through its soft fabric; and at length,
the afternoon of the famous lawn party
in the rectory grounds, outshone Retta
and every one else in the pure, sweet,
giiiioi. ....a Devouring loven
ness of her toilet, that brought out to
its highest perfection the rich, creamy
tint of her skin, and the dusky shadows
in her eyes and hair.
“How do yon like my new dress?”
she asked Jack, after Jie had escaped
duty to Grandma Wellington, the aris
tocvatic guest of the occasion.
“ I like it better than anything else
in the world! ” he said, looking straight
in her eyes with a look that made her
heart thrill with delight.
While Grandma Wellington, and
stately old Mrs. Judge Mivart and Miss
Spenser, sitting in state in the red-and
blue striped marquee, near the fountain,
talked the little matter of Mrs. Welling
ton’s scheme gravely over—Mr. Alger
non Mivart an accidental listener.
“I admit I was altogether wrong, and
I shall leave Jack and Viva a quarter of
a million, just because that pretty little
brown-syed girl has displayed such
good sense.”
“ I really quit* envy Jack his good
luck, especially on little Miss Viva’s
account,” Mr. Mivart drawled, languidly.
“ I nev»r took much stock in the other
one—don’t like the style—too washed
out, y<n know.”
“And I’ve heard on good authority that
Miss Storms actually charges Miss Morris
for ironing for her—and that, too, when
Miss Morris supports the family almost
entirely. But, dear me, what a set of
old gossips we are! Gobring us ices,
Algie—-a lemon, and an orange, and a
pine-apple! ”
PEARLS OF THOUGHT
Experience is the name men give to
their follies or their sorrows.
Wo W o to devine others, but we
not like to be di-ined ourselves.
To select well among other things is
almost equal to inventing new ones.
Truth is violated by falsehood and it
may be equally outraged by silence.
If the end of one mercy were not the
beginning of another, we were undone.
A moment’s work on clay tells more
t’- an an hour’s labor on brick. So work
should be done on the children’s hearts
before they hardeD.
It is beautiful to gather about tlio
domestic fire-side, but the fire ought to
be on the hearth-stone and not in the
tempers of those who live there.
A fastidious man is one who is pecu¬
liarly shocked at vulgarity in others, but
who exercises great forbearance toward
himself when ho doe.s the same things.
Disaster is a necessary part of human
experience. Even the year when it
rushes through the summer, has its fall;
but it gets up again and goes on as
though nothing had happened.
From the remembrance of our faults
we draw tho most efficacious counsels
and find the secret of that language
which make them understood by others
There are ways enough of advanta¬
geously helping our fellow-men, pro¬
vided wo keoi>in view the grand leading
principle not to paralyze or deaden their
facilities by withdrawing the stimulus to
action, but to improve and develop them
by every effort wo mako in their behalf
Physical exercise in some systematic
manner is a duty we owe net merely f<
our bodies, but to our whole nature. It
will vitalize tlia blood, quicken tho en¬
ergies, give firmness to the nerves, and
lay a foundation upon which we may
build a wholesome and successful life.
Ike White Water of the Arabian Sea.
With reference to the phenomenon of
what is known as the “white water” ol
die Arabian sea a correspondent writes
113 follows: If the call of duty oi
pleasure should at any time induce any
your readers to undertake the over¬
journey to India they must nol
fllil to instructions to be call c
from bed should the nocturnal phe
nomenon of the “white water” occur.
^ i 3 ihore frequently seen in tlie
months of July and August, and is prin
cipally confined to a narrow belt to the
astward of the island of Socotra, known
in the charts of that sea as the Line of
the Strongest Monsoon, and wherein
the rain-clouds on quitting Central
Africa on their passage eastward are ap
parently confined. Should tho moon
be above the horizon an undisturbed
night’s rest may be anticipated, as the
writer has never known the phenomenon
to occur in the presence of that orb.
To give the reader some idea of this
remarkable and striking appearance,
we will suppose ourselves in a steamer,
about 250 miles to tho eastward of
Socotra, in the position named, and in
the latter end' of July; time, 1 a. m.
The monsoon is blowing strongly and
steadily—the night, starlight and clear
—a Ugnt neeoy scud occasionally pass¬
ing rapidly to the eastward, and the
good vessel bowling along at the rate
of fourteen or fifteen knots an hour,
Suddenly we discover a light hue in
the water, which in a short while as
sumes a snow-white aspect, and in the
course of a quarter of an hour extends
to the horizon in all directions. The
transformation of the water is perfect,
the usually green color of tho sea bav¬
ing been replaced by an appearance of
whiteness like that of milk. And yet,
if yen draw a bucket of the water for
inspection and analysis, you will find
hat it is beautifully clear, not a vestige
of anything white being visible; nor
can tho microscope discover anything
over and above the ordinary quantity of
minute life always present in sea water
within the tropics.
The deception seems to me to ad
mit of easy explanation, it being the
result simply of reflection of color.
Tho vessel is passing through a light
misty atmosphere, inappreciable to the
eye while within its influence; and the
white watery vesicles held in suspen¬
sion are, in some favorable condition of
air and water, reflected on the surface
of tho latter.— Ohamhorn' Jotjmctl.
NO. 15.
LADIES’ DEPARTMENT.
A Feminine Trick*
A feminine trick, very common among
foreigners at Borne, Italy, is described
as fo’lovs : A lady goes to a milliner’s
and looks over her stock of bonnets.
She selects thoso which she thinks will
. suit her, and begs the milliner to send
them to her the following morning that
she may try them on at home and select
the one which suits her. The poor
milliner-consents. At 9 o’clock she
Will the Ul ° “young bonnet *’ woman ^o My call is again not up. a
little later? The “young woman” con¬
sents to leave the bonnets until 3
o’clock. What does my lady do then ?
She takes the bonnet she likes best to a
little working milliner in a back shop
of a back street, and bids her make one
exactly like the model she leaves with
her until half-past 2 o’clock, when
she takes it back to the grand milliner,
saying that she is very sorry, but none
of them “ suit her.”
A Woman's Age.
A case has jnst been decided before
the appeal court at Metz which shows
how a lady’s ago is a matter entirely
within her own control. Fraulein Cath¬
erine Mali! was engaged to a desirable
partner to whom sli© t’"' 1 1 1 .. .1 . -tlj
declare a ner age at six years less than
it really was. As soon as the moment
arrived for producing the certificate of
birth, she was aware that her little de¬
ception would be discovered, and sbo
feared that the match would be broken
off. She, therefore, took the liberty of
altering tho official document so as to
mako it correspond with the statement
already made, The ceremony took
place, and the husband was duly united
to a lady whom lie believed to be quite
a jeune ingenue. Unfortunately tho
certificate, in passing through some of¬
fice, happened to bo minutely examined
by one of the clerks. The bride was
charged with the offense of falsifying a
public document, and condemned to
■ip.-nl, if not her honeymoon, at least
’.hree of tho first months of her married
life in prison. She had the courage to
ippeal from the sentence, and cause the
case to be ai’gned out before the court of
Metz, which reversed tho decision of
the inferior tribunal, and acquitted the .
lady ou the ground that she did not in •
tend to commit an illegal act, but had
been actuat.ed only by “ female vanity."
FiikIiIou N«lc>».
Jerseys are revived.
The long basque is moribund.
Tailor-made dresses grow in favor.
Traveling costumes are made very
-liort.
Tall women should not wear high
oiffures.
Heliotrope is revived as a summer
color in Baris.
Very little jewelry should be worn
with summer toilets.
White dresses of soft, crushable silk
are worn more than ever.
Navy blue flannel is on the list ot
popular materials for traveling suits.
The wide belt and suspended pocket
are indispensable for a traveling outfit.
Beige, kersey, clievoit, flannels and
lady cloths are all used for tra velin
costumes.
Pretty breakfast caps are composed
of small squares of mull, edged with
lace rutiles.
A novelty for bonnet strings is tubular
ribbon, woven donble without auy visi
blo penm.
The most fashionable low coiffure is
broad, describing a figure 8 horizontally
in tho nape of the neck.
Long lace mittens in black, white,
cream, or the colors of the costume are
worn with sleeves of short or medium
length.
Black velvet bracelets, fastened by
tiny buckles of old French naste, are
again fashionably worn with delicate
evening dresses.
Spanish jewelry showing large leaves
and flowers tinted in colors of pale pink
and emerald green and studded with
fine sparkling gems is just no win great
demand.
The small old-fashioned shawls of
white china crape embroidered with
heavy silk floss in each corner, and
edged with white nettled silk fringe,
are again in vogue.
Little Johnny had been caught by his
aunt teasing a fly. “Johnny,” said
she, “supposing some great beast a
thousand times bigger than yourself
should tease yon, and perhaps eat yon
all up?” “I hope,” said Johnny, “he’d
feel as bad as I do when I swallow a