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VOL. II.
JOHN C. 7AH STCXEL & CO,
Wholesale and Retail Dealers in
CROCKERY,
GLASSWARE,
House Furnishing Goods
Tin-3?late #
Stoves,
Hardware,
<fcc.. <fcc.
MANorAcrvuBs or
TINWARE.
No. 116 Third Street,
_______________MACON . Cl A. ____
CARHART & CURD,
mtAi.Ecs :«
Hardware, Iron & Steel,
WOO DEN WARE,
Carriage Material,
Cotton Cins,
Circular Haws,
SCALES,
si
PAIMTS, OILS, &.c.
Af icon. (la
IS .1 riAVAKT. j 8 w Ot>, Jl!
DAVANf & WOOD
GOMlISSIflS MERCHANTS
114 Bay Stroot.
Savannah, G eorgia
Special attention given te talc ol
COTTOM.RICE & SAYAL STORES
AliENTB WOti
DRAKFS COTTON TIES,
Cash alvanoes made on consignments.
W. B. MELL 8c CO. #
Wholesale a 1 d retail dealers in
SADDLES, BRIDLES, HARNESS,
Rubber and .Leather
BELTING AND PACKING,
Fronc!] and American Call Skins, Solo, Har¬
ness, Bridie and Patent Leather,
WHIPS AXT) SADDLERY WARE
TRUNKS, VALISES,
Market Square, Savannah, Ga
Orders by mail Dronrotlv attended to.
A. J. BRADDY & SON
WRIGIITSVILLE, Ga
BLACKSMITH SHOP.
A specialty of Plantation Work. Wagons,
Plows and Plow-Stocks of all kinds, and
every kind of Wood and Iron Woik done by
A. ,T.. BRADDY & SON,
Wrighi s vilie, Ga.
SID. A. PUGHSLEY, Jr.
ACrENT AND SALESMAN,
—WITH—
I. L. FALK & CO.,
CLOTHIERS,
425 and 427 Broome St., New York,
Cor. Congress and Whittaker Streets,
6AVANNAU. «A,
WRIGHTSVILLE, GA., SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 3, 1881.
A Summer Longing.
I must away to wooded hills and valos,
Where broad, slow streams flow cool and
silently,
And idle barges flap their listless sails;
For me the summer sunset glows and pales,
And green fields wait for me.
I long for shadowy forest, whore the birds
Twitter and chirp at noon from every tree.
I long for blossomed leaves and lowing herds;
And nature’s voices say, in mystic words,
“ Tho green fields wait for thee.”
I dream of uplands, where tho primrose shines
And waves her yelh>>' lamps above tho lea;
Of tangled copses swung with trailing vines;
Of open vistas, skirted with tall pines,
Where green fields wait for me.
I think of long, Bwect afternoons, when I
May lie and listen to the distant sea.
Or hear the breezes in tho reeds that sigh,
Or insect voices, chirping shrill and dry,
In fields that wait for me.
These dreams of summer come to bid me find
The forest's shade, the wild bird’s melody,
While summer’s rosy wreaths for me are twined,
While summer’s fragrance lingers on tho wind,
And green fields wait for me.
—George Arnold.
SLIGHTLY ELEVATED
I knew it was he tho first instant I
glanced at him, as he stepped into the
elevator, and then, seeing a la ly, took
off his hat and stood there with it in his
hand, while others filed in and seated
themselves. I wondered if he had seen
me. I hoped in heaven that he had
not. It was not very bright in the
place, and I cast down my eves with a
truly ostrich-like sagacity, forgetting I
could be seen if I did not see; forgetting
too the mirrors lining the box if one
happened to look in them. However,
at the second floor he" left, and I went
on, thankful I had not been obliged to
make the stir of moving out before he
lid.
I would not have gone down to dinner
hat day if I could have helped it, 1
arid to myself—not although mamma
had asked the Loverings to dine, and
my new garnet velvet had just come
home. But mamma would have made
mch a song of it that one thing would
ire as bad as the other.
I was hardly inside my room when I
locked the door, and fell on tho bed
so faint that I should have died if at
list I had not been able to civ—a good
long, refreshing cry that lasted till 1
grew so angry with myself it dried mj
tears. And then Amy came to the door,
but I told her she must go along into
mamma’s room; she couldn’t come in
there. And she went away declaring il
was fine time of day, and other things
of the sort, till I bethought me that it
was fine time of day if I fainted away,
and cried myself ill, and locked my
sister out of her room, all because I had
happened to meet Loring Richards in
the elevator five years after our boy and
girl engagement was broken.
I call it a boy and girl engagement;
but it had been life of my life,.and it
had almost torn my heart out in coming
to an end. And what had he cared—
the great, dark, handsome creature,
standing there without a line upon his
face that told of any trouble it had been
to him, who had left me to suffer all I
had had to suffer alone ? Not go down
to dinner? I would go if I went up in
a chariot of fire directly afterward. I
sprang up and bathed my face, and pow¬
dered it till it was cool, and unlocked
the door and called Amy, and sat bent
over a novel, and thoroughly absorbed
in it, my hair streaming round my face
and shoulders, till she was dressed, hav¬
ing to hurry a little for some caller in
our parlor. Then I blew off my pow¬
der, took a hot bath, called Davis, and
had her brush my hair till it tingled,
and put on the garnet velvet with its
creamy duchesse lace and the yellow
pearls—everybody dresses so at that
hotel. I only came near breaking down
when, Davis not being able to find a
jewel I wanted, I tumbled over the
things myself, and a little old minia
ture that nobody knew I had kept tum¬
bled from its hiding-place, and showed
me for half an instant that proud, grave
face. But I recovered presently, and I
looked in the glass, and defied him to
tell that I cared a straw, even if he saw
me in that vast caravansary of the splen¬
did hotel dining-room, with its chande¬
liers, its mirrors, its frescoes and its
throngs. And anybody would have
been justified in making such remarks
as were convenient concerning my vanity
wlio could have known the second
thought that flashed through me as I
looked in that glass, and saw the olive
oval with its rich flush, the dark -and
glowing eye, the dewy lip, the clear
soft outlines. If I thought il was a pic¬
ture Loring Richards or another might
bo glad to see, how could I help the
thought ?
The Loverings were waiting when I
went into the parlor, mamir a and Amy,
who had become used to my caprices in
live years, talking as if they were not
half worried to death for fear I was not
going to dine at all—mamma’s soul
being deeply concerned in doing the
Loverings honor; for she meant the
Amy should marry the doctor, if
obliged to give up hope of my accepting
Mr. Lovering’s bonds and stocks w th
himself. Poor mamma had com<v f '
make a fetich to herself of bonds au4
stocks. And it was a condescension,
in a manner, for them to dine with ns,
anyway, at a hotel—the aristocrats of
the avenue in general despising the
cuisine and the herd of the vulgar who
get their two or three days’ yearly
splendor at an inn, and these being
aristocrats in particular, and cruelly
conservative in practice and principle.
So we went down. And mamma
sailed in with Mr. Loveting, and Amy
with the doctor, and I followed with
Julia Lovering, whose little soul curled
all up at contact with the crowd, like a
sea-anemone when you touch it; and
just at the door my train caught on a
carpet-liook and a couple of servants
made haste to loosen it, but not before
a gentleman had stooped and sst it
free, and bowed without looking up,
and passed on; and it was Loring Rich¬
ards, and he had not known me again.
So ^near me, and had not known mo!
Once, the air my garment brushed
would have thrilled him through and
through ! And you can imagine if I
knew whether I were eating gumbo
.soup or Blue Point oysters, or what not,
after that! What was Loring Richards
doing there? Who was that lady he
joined in the hall ? Had he married ?
Was he here, possibly, on his wedding
journey. Had He then forgotten me ?
Forgotten me! Well, why should I
be tho only one to remember ? Let me
forget. Alas ! had I not been trying to
forget for five years? But I leaned
over my plate to ask Mr. Lovering a
question, the length of whose reply 1
knew would be like spool silk, war¬
ranted three hundred yards ; and I was
hanging on his words, when my eyes
caught sight of a person that had just
come in, and was seated a few tables
distant, had taken out a newspaper, and
was never glancing up from the column.
A chair was turned down near him, and
it remained vacant for some time. For
ins bride ? No; a man does not come
down to dinner and leave his bride to
follow alcne. For his wife of longer
date ? When I had tho opportunity of
another look, a dazzling creature sat
there, a gold-headed darling, radiant as
if a star had turned a rose. Was I not
ashamed of myself to wish to look that
way ? What did I care for Loring
Richards, cr his wife either, if he had
one ? Not in that direction again did I
turn my head. I was gay and all alive
myself, and Mr. Lovering was all devo¬
tion. I knew by some other senses
when those two left the room, but not
by my eyes or ears.
“ Who is that going out?” asked Mr.
Lovering. “If his looks were a burn¬
ing-glass, you would be in flames.”
“One of the waiters?” I asked
“There is a French count among them,
you know, and a Polish refugee.”
“ Margaret 1” exclaimed mamma, “ how
should you know anything about such
people ?”
“Oh, mamma, I am interested in them;
and since I joined the internationals,
and the nihilists, and the marianne, and
the rest, I know all about such people.”
I saw Mr. Lovering’s hair slowly begin
to rise on end. “ That old rag-picker,”
I added, “ told me yesterday that—”
But Mr. Lovering’s head looked more
and more like an electric hair-brush,
and mamma cried, “ Margaret 1”
“ Why, mamma, we are all human be¬
ings together.”
“ I really must insist—” began mam¬
ma ; and then Amy giggled, and mam¬
ma looked as if she thought I had gone
out of my head, and Amy was hysteri¬
cally sympathetic.
“ Your daughter’s advanced opinions,”
said Mr. Lovering, stiffly, “are a sur¬
prise to me.”
“ You silly little mother,” Amy
laughed. “It is our boating club at
home, th§ internationals, our charity
school, the nihilists, our sewing club,
our book club, our—”
“I really thought you meant secret
societies,” gasped that old goose of an
elderly lover.
“ And what if I had ?” said I, my na¬
tive vigor returning. “What if I were
own cousin to Vera Sassa itch,?”
“ Do have her name right,” said the
doctor. “ I was afraid that our young
ladie3 would be following Ifetalushka’s
fashions as soon as Mr. Black made her
so charming.”
“Charming?” said his father. “A
girl with such ideas charming ?”
“ I am rejoiced to hear you express
yourself so,” said mamma,
“And I,” said I, “because they are
my ideas.”
“ Which are your ideas ?” he asked,
“mine, or those of that joung Russian
girl and her like?”
“ Hers, certainly,” I said. “ The
ideas of humanity and brotherhood.’
And my heart began to beat like an en¬
gine one hears in the night, with a wild
sort of exultation that now, no matter
what had happened to Loring Richards,
I had made it impossible that I should
ever marry Mr. Lovering’s stocks and
bonds, for the temptation was out of
the way; he would never ask me.
But it had all been a little too much
for me. And I saw that mamma was
comprehending tho situation, and grow¬
ing angrier and angrier. Oh, how
angry the dear soul was! “ You look
very pale, Margaret,” she said. “ Are
you not well ? I see by your conversa¬
tion that you are not quite yourself.
You had better go to your room. Our
friends will excuse you, I am sure.’
And I bowed to them all, and caught
the doctor’s twinkling eye—the doctor
Who wanted no young mother-in-law—
and rose and slipped from the room be¬
fore either he or his father could offer
me an arm. I could not have held out
through another live minutes.
The elevator was just coming up
from tho lower hall. I stepped in. A
gentleman in it took off his hat as usual.
I seated myself, the boy closed^the door
and we softly slid upward. We as¬
cended half way to the next floor, when
we paused with a slight jar. The boy
look up at tho bell signals; pulled one
string, and then another; pushed open
the door against the blank wall, and
then, beforo ho had shut it, there came
a sudden sense of l rcathlessness, and
we had shot up toward the roof liko a
catapult; the boy had flung himself out
as wo passed one of the open spaces of
the flying floors; and all at once we
stopped again with a shock, suspended
by some unknown agency between the
two upper floors, with some seventy feet
of empty space under us, and nothing
i hat we knew of between us and de¬
struction.
The light in the elevator had gone
out, and only a dim glimmer from the
jets in the upper hall made darkness
visible. For a moment I closed my
eyes and leaned back, half lifeless. “ It
is horrible,” I gasped. For I thought
of tho fierce shock, tho crashing of
body and bone that was to follow at
any moment, if we fell to the lower
pavement, if we were driven up into
the timbers of the roof. Then came
the thought that it was but for a mo¬
ment after all, and with it would end
all that was so unbearable. Loring
Richards’ wife and Loring Richards him
self would be nothing then to me. No
more torture, no more heart-break, no
more tears — just peace. And there
came with that a certain gladness over
all tho immediate horror. “Are you
afraid?” I said, turning to the other oc¬
cupant of the cage, at whom I had not
glanced.
“Afraid, Margaret? Here?—alone
with you ?” came the answer.
“ Loring! Oh, how dreadful! And
—and your wife—”
“My wife! There is only one wife
possible for me, Margaret, and you have
kept me away from her for five years.”
“Do you say you are not married to
that lovely creature at the table—”
“Married? To my cousin Rose?
And you ask me that, Margaret ?—you ?’’
I raised my eyes to look at him. He
was standing directly before me in the
half-Bhadow. “Oh, Loring,” I said,
“ we are in the face of death. Can you
forgive me— now, when there is nothing
left for us but to die?”
He bent and caught me to his heart.
“At any rate,” he said, “ to die together.
There is no greater bliss than that.”
“Oh yes,” I cried—“to live together.
Ah, will nobody save us ? Oh, when
we have just found each other after all
these bitter years ! Were they bitter to
you, Loring ?”
And just then the ropes began to slide
softly over the pulleys again, and we
went easily slipping down, and gently
alighted at the lower hall as if nothing
had been the matter. Talk of the total
depravity of inanimate things! It is
sacrilege. I believe that elevator knew
just what it was doing, But you ought
to have seen dear mamma’s faco when
Loring told her that he should not let
me out of his sight again till hediad a
legal claim upon me, and he would be
glad of her company and Amy’s in the
Church of the Heavenly Haven in ex¬
actly one-half hour’s time!— Harper'
Bazar .
Making Things Over.
“Maria,” said Mr. Jones upon one
of his worrying days, “ it seems to me
you might be more economical; now
there’s my old clothes, why can’t you
make them over for the children instead
of giving them away ?”
“ Because they’re worn but when
you’re done with them,” answered Mrs.
•Tones. “It’s no use making over things
for tho children that w. n’t hold to¬
gether ; you could not do it yourself,
smart as you are.”
“ Well,” grumbled Jones, “I wouldn’t
have closets full of things mildewing for
want of wear, if I was a woman, that’s
all. A penny saved i3 a penny earned.”
That was in April. One warm day in
May Mr. Jones went prancing through
the closets looking for something he
couldn’t find and turning things gener¬
ally inside out.
“ Maria 1” he screamed, “ where’s my
gray alpaca duster ?"
“Made it over for Johnny.”
“ Ahem! Well, there’s the brown
linen one I bought last summer ?”
“Clothes-bag!” mumbled Mrs Jones,
who seemed to have a difficulty in her
speech at that moment. “ Just made it
into a nice one.”
“Where are my lavender pants?"
yelled Jones.
“ Cut them over for Willie.”
“ Heavens !” groaned her husband ;
then in a voice of thunder “Where
have my blue suspenders got to ?”
“Hung the baby-jumper with them.”
“Maria!” asked the astonished man
in a subdued voice, “would you mind
telling me what you have done with my
silk hat; you haven’t made that over
for the baby, have you?”
“Oh! no, dear,” answered his wife
cheerfully, “ I’ve used that for a hang
ng basket. It is full of plants and
looks lovely.” Mr. Jones never men¬
tions the word economy or suggests
making over—he has had enough of it.
Detroit Post.
Why She Stole.
Instead of the silk dress with a shirred
front and bead embroidery which Evu
Hirsch, alias Eva Jacobs, alias Clara
Morris, the pretty young woman, wore
w hen sneak thieving in New York and
Brooklyn, she wore in Raymond street
jail a calico wrapper which the matron
had furnished her, but she had it fastened
at the neck with a gold fan and tied a!
the waist with a velvet hand. She said
to a reporter that she was ready to plead
guilty to two of the robberies, hut she
denied that she had stolen $3,000 worth of
property,and said that the amount would
probably not exceed $300 worth. “I was
at different times in tho public schools,’
she said. “My mother died when I was
young, but I kept house for my father
until three years ago. I found it dull,
though, to be at home so much, and 1
ran away and got employment in a laci
factory. I was led away by bad asso.
eiates. I needed to dress well to keep
the friends I had made, and I took up
that plan to get dresses, because I could
not earn money enough at my employ¬
ment. I wished the floor would open
and swallow mo when I was in court,
because I saw there iu one corner of the
room my old employer. I never expected,
when I worked for him, to be in this
place.”
A Setter Dog Upset by a Parrot.
A gentleman had a fine English set¬
ter of which ho made use in the hunt¬
ing expeditions of which he was very
fond, finding the dog always alert, re¬
liable and well trained. One day, how¬
ever, the family received au addition
in the shape of a parrot, brought over
the seas by the sailor son of the house¬
keeper. When first the setter came
into the housekeeper’s room, he stopped
at the dooway and pointed at the gay
bird perched on the outside of its cage
at the other end of the loom. The par¬
rot, not at all daunted by tho dog’s
professional attitude, left its place and
came mincing across the room “ with
many a flirt and flutter,” and squared
itself in front of the setter. The two
confronted each other for a second, and
then the bird remarked impressively:
“You’re a blamed rascal!” The dog
was a second transfixed with horror at
the unprecedented phenomenon of a
speaking bird; then his tail sunk be¬
tween his legs, and he slunk away. But
from that day a valuable dog was
spoiled, for the setter would never point
again. ■
_
Scientists assert that an angleworm on
a fish-hook suffers no pain. We now
understand why they squirm so—they
merely want to take a little exercise.
NO. 16.
Paying 1 Toll.
Ah ! sweet were tlio days when wo wandered
In dear Hummer time long ago,
Through lanes that were pleasant and shady,
With our youthful hearts all aglow.
The bridge o’er the brook I remember,
For oft to the spot we would stroll;
How your checks would blush like roses
Whenever I asked you for toll.
How gently you tried to prevent me
To take from your lips my just due;
But somehow I always succeeded
In getting prompt payment from you.
How you would pretend to be angry,
With smiles that were dear to my soul;
I think that you somewhat enjoyed it.
And rather liked paying tho toll.
PUNGENT PARAGRAPHS.
A heated term—“I’ll make it warm
for you.”
“How does this strike you?” asked
tho lightning of the barn.
A young lady at a reception called her
beau an Indian, because he was on her
trail all the time.
It is an extraordinary fact that those
who get to high words generally use
very low language.
Children should be warned not to
take what doesn’t belong to them,
especially the measles and smallpox.
, Modesty, liko honesty, pays. In the
lists of victims of casualties you never
see the name of a modest advertising
agent.
The czar has succeeded in maintain¬
ing absolute monarchy. But he is
afraid to come out and see how it is get¬
ting along.
Mr. Barnum writes from England
that he has secured the novelty he has
long been after. It is a screw-driver
that wont slip.
The scientists have taught that in¬
sects have their affections, and now
‘ onie one knows a mosquito that was
mashed on a young lady.
There is going to be another comet— .
hold on, don’t dodge yet; it’s the comet
of 1744, and it is only expected around
once every 122,683 years.
One hundred head of cattle is the
amount involved on the result of a re¬
cent Texas horse-race. This is the
largest beefsteak on record.
“The oldest inhabitant” is not a
natural liar. He simply lets his imagi¬
nation play in tho open lot formerly
occupied by memory and reason.
A little pair of gloves that yot »
Itotain a smell of clover,
And just a tinge of mignonette;
1 turn them vaguely over,
And marvel how the gil l I kissed,
That night hIio promised to he true,
Could jam a number seven fist
Into a paltry number two.
“ I can’t think that all sinners will be
lost,” said Mrs. Nimbletung. “ There’s
my husband, now. He’s a bad man, a
very bad man, but I trust he will be
saved at last. I believe he has suffered
his due share in this life.” “Amen!”
shouted Nimbletung from the back seat.
Mrs. N. gave him such a look, but said
nothing.
CLIPPINGS FOR THE CURIOUS.
It rains twice as often in Western as
in Eastern Europe.
Geese have been known to live to the
age of eighty years.
The word lent comes from a Saxon
word, meaning spring.
There are 1,500 square miles of ice in
the Alps from eighty to 600 feet thick.
The greatest mortality of mankind is
between three and six in the morning.
In 1584 “cages and stocks” for the
punishment of offenders were ordered
to be set up in every ward of the city of
London.
Shells six feet in length and weighing
500 pounds, the covering cf a clam
which weighed sixty pounds, are among
the curiosities in tho Smithsonian in¬
stitute.
Ink used in England was formerly
more lasting than at the present day.
A deed of the reign of Richard II. is
preserved in which the ink is as black
and brilliant as though of last year.
There are a couple of Shoshone In¬
dians in Tuscarora who have heavy
beards, something which is seldom seen
upon the face of the red man. They
are both old bucks, and their whiskers
are nearly white, giving them quite a
venerable and patriarchal appearance.
Very few of those who have used the
expression, “ He’s a brick,” know that
it comes from Plutarch. An ambassador
from Epirus was shown by King Ago
silaus, of Sparta, over his capital, and
expressed surprise at the absence of
walls and fortifications. “Come to¬
morrow,” quoth the king, “and I will
show you our walls.” On the morrow
he showed him an array of 10,000 men,
remarking: “Each one is a brick.”