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VOL. II.
IOHS C. m SYCSEL t CO,
Wholesale arc! Retail Dealers in
CROCKERY,
GLASSWARE,
House Furnishing Goods
Xin-lPlate,
Stoves,
Hardware,
<fcc., t&e.
MANCriOmtltRS OF
TINWARE.
No. I 16 Third Street,
__________M AGON. \ _
OARHART & CURD,
UKAJ.ERS IN
Hardware, Iron & Steel,
WOO I>E N W A R E,
Carriage Material,
Cotton Gins,
Circular Saws,
SCALES,
era
PAINTS, OILS, &c.
Macon. <1 a.
It .1 HAVANT. J. 8- W: Oil Jit
D AY ANT & WOOD.
V
u
114 Bay Street.
Savannah, Goorjria
Special attention green to «rO,o o!
UTT01.ua tliYU, 8S0 E5
rou
DRAKE’S COTTON TIES,
Cash advance* unde on oon*ifnment«.
W. R. MELL & CO.,
Wholesale and retail dealers in
SADDLES, BRIDLES, HARNESS,
Rubber anti -Leather
BELTING AMD PACKING,
French and American Goff Skins, S lo, Har¬
ness, Bridie and Patent I.eather,
WHIPS and SADDLERY WARE
TRUNKS, VALISES,
Market Square, Savannah, Ga
Orders bv mail promotly attended to.
A. J. BRADDY & SON
Wrightsvillk, Ga
BLACKSMITH SHOP.
Baggies, A specialty o! Plantation Work. Wagons,
etc., made and repaired.
Plows end Plow-Stocks of all kinds, and
svery kind of Wood and iron Work done by
A. J. BRADDY & SON,
Wrightsvilie, Ga.
SID. A. PUGHSLEY, Jr.
AGENT AND SALESMAN,
-wj ra¬
i. l. falk & co„
CLOTHIERS,
425 and 427 Broome St., New York,
Cor. Congress and Whittaker Streets,
SAVANNAH, GA.
WRIGHTSVILLE. GA., SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 1881.
The Lost Kiss.
I put by the half-written poem,
While the pen, idly trailed in my hand,
Writes on: “Had I words to complotc it,
Who’d l ead it, or who’d understand ?”
But the little bare feet on the stairway,
And the faint, smothered laugh in the hall,
And the eerie-low lisp on the silence,
Cry up to me over it all.
So I gather it up—whore was broken
The tear-faded thread of my throne,
Telling how, as one night I sat writing,
A fairy broke in on my dream,
A little inquisitive fairy—
My own little girl, with the gold
Of the sun in hSr hair, and the dewy
Blue eyes of the fairies of old.
’Twas the dear little girl that I scolded—
“ For was it a moment like this,”
I said, “when she know I was busy.
To come romping in for a kiss!
Come rowdying up from her mother,
And clamoring there at my knee
For ‘One ’ittle kiss for dolly,
And one ’ittle uzzer for mol’ ”
God pity tho heart that repelled her
And the cold hand that tnmod her awayl
And take from the lips that denied her
This ahswerless prayer of to-day!
Take, Lord, from mem’ry forever
Tlrnt pitiful soh Of despair,
And the patter and trip of the little bare feet,
And the one piercing cry on the stair I
I put by tho half-written poem,
While the pen, idly trailed in my hand,
IVrites on : “ Had I words to complete it,
Who’d read it, or who’d understand ? ”
But the little bare feet on the stairway,
And the faint, smothered laugh in tho hall,
And the eerie-low lisp on the silence,
Cry up to mo over it all.
— W. Riley, in Indianapolis Journal.
BARBARA'S GUEST.
“ Company for dinner I” cried little
Barbara, in despair. “Oh, Lisette,
what shall we do ?”
It was a sunshiny day in early July,
with (lie great clusters of tiger-lilies all
in blossom in the garden, the cherries
beginning to turn crimson on tho trees,
and the roses flinging their subtle, fra
granee on tlm air, as if they fancied
themselves blooming, in sojne Persian
vale. The thermometer stood at eighty
in the shade. Squire Dulcimer's hay¬
makers were dotting the sides of the
distant upland, and all the windows of
the little cottage were wide open, to
admit whatever stray whiffs of cool
wind might bo roaming athwart the
blue air. Aud little Barbara had
ripped her muslin dress apart, and was
sitting, Turk-fashion, on the floor, con
sideringliow best she might combine
the breadths into something more mod
era, when Lisette, her sister came fly
mg tumultuously upstairs, like the wild
little sprite ’ that she was.
T , ai >ara was sma „
am ar , wi n
blue-black braids of hair, large, solemn
eyes a crimson dot of a mouth and the
pret lest of round dimpled chins.
msette was tall and slender—a sort of
human lily, violet-eyed and transparent
skinneil, with shining yellow curls,
gathered into a net, and a sweet, bird
like voice, not unlike that of a. linnet.
And these two girls, with their little
brother Benny, were all that the old
doctor had
He had married late in life, this odd,
eccentric disciple of Galen, and lost his
wife when Benny was a baby; and ever
smee theyoung ,, things ., . had , , grown up
by themselves, like the wild roses on
,, , 0 .
“ii^p “Dol repeated le . W 1 °T. Lisette. 8 *.. “We must
go down and set the table, that’s what
We Jv.Z ,°'
“But there’s + 1 « nothingm the house , for ,
dinner! cried Barbara,
clasping her hands, as she rose out of
the whirlpool of pink muslin on the
floor. “ Oh, dear! oh, dear! Why
don’t people stay at home when they
aren’t war ted? Who is it, Lisette,
anyhow ?”
“ I’m sure I don’t know,” answered
Lisette. “ Some traveling book agent,
I suppose, or some shabby genteel medi
cal man, from nobody knows where,
who , thinks ... , he . entitled to here ,
is come
just because papa is an M. D. I only
caught sight of the back of his coat,
but it had a dreadfully seedy look.”
“ I do think papa is too bad,” sighed
Barbara. “I was going to have the
whole day for dressmaking, so as to look
decent , , at , church , , next , „ Sunday, for , Mr.
„ Dulcimer , . and ,. his siBter , • , back, .
are coming
and one doesn’t want to look like a na
the Patagonian. And I was going to
care what he eats. But he s so particu
lar about his guests. And I sent the
last dozen of eggs to the store to ex
chan & e for three s I’ ools of sewin « silk
anu a paper of needles,,aud told Benny
to carry the pot of chicken soup to poor
old Mrs. Gumbo, who is sick and poor,
and all alone in the world!”
“ Charity begins at home,” dolorously
quoted Lisette. “Couldn't wo catch a
fowl?”
“ As well try to catch a savage zebra
of the wilderness,” said Barbara. “One
would think they were every one of ’em
trained racers, by the way they ran.”
“ A meat-pie ?” suggested Lisette.
“There is no meat to make it of,”
said Barbara, brusquely.
“ There’s the remains of day before
yesterday’s steak,” said Lisette. “ We
might mince it up fine, and—”
“Oh, Lisette—dear Lisette 1” cried
Barbara. “ I’m so sorry, but I gave the
steak to a tramp, yesterday, between
two slices of bread and butter. He
looked so hungry, and he said he had
had-nothing but raw turnips to eat for
two days. And when I was looking for
white roses, this morning, I saw the two
slices, with only one mouthful bitten
out of oaeli, flung into the bushes. And,
oh, Lisette, there was a black bottle be¬
side them. And I’m afraid ho wasn’t a
nice, honest tramp I”
“ Then that settles the meat-pie busi
ness,” sai{1 poor Lisette. “ Couldn’t, we
mako the white pigeons into a f, icas .
see ?"
“ My white doves into a fricassee?”
almost shrieked Barbara. “Oh, you
cruel, ornt-1, heartless, marble-souled
thing! Why dou’t you talk of making
me into a fricassee, and done with it?”
“Barbara, don’t speak so loud !” said
Lisette, energetically. “ We’ll send to
Widow Millett’s and borrow her din¬
ner!”
“What?” said Barbara, fairly as¬
tounded by the magnitude and orig¬
inality of her young sister’s idea.
“Send Benny,” said Lisette “Tell
her we’ll return it next week. Write a
note, and say that papa has invited a
gentleman to dinner, and that we haven’t
a mouthful fit to eat in the house, ex¬
cept bread and cheese. Mrs. Millett is
an excellent cook; she always has some¬
thing nice. And yon will see that this
will help us out of our dilemma.”
“YesI” sighed Barbara; “but.there’s
my muslin dress. Why couldn’t the
man stay away until I had modeled it
over, like the plate in the fashion maga¬
zine?”
“Never mind tho fashion magazine,”
said Lisette; “ but ran and set the table
as fast as you can. And bo sure that
you put on the very best cups, and re¬
member to turn the cloth so that the
darned spot will come under tho tea
tray?”
And down8tairs 8ped lifctlo Barbara,
^ cl)eeks as red as cherri aljd
black braida breaking loose from their
• • confusion , ■ of .... shining ict
in a ;
wk ile the guest, sitting composedv out
upon lll0 porch> Uad had full time and
opportunity to comprehend the entire
situati(m<
,, I r seem to . have , arrxvednt . , , an lnoppoy
, ^e season said he to himself “i
am sorry now that I accepted good old
^- Kooms cordially-proffered hos
p,tallty ' But 1am rather too substan
laI to ™ ni8 J int ° 3 flDd
b0 ° rcai to float U P m a puff of vapor,
^ tbe f 1 nii j n ™ ‘^ children’s here and story- abide
UDtl the “ d °/ lL B “* f3 ad J ey
aren’t . going to make . little Miss Bar
bara . s pigeon8 lnto fric assee.”
m Three minutes • , afterward, a , when , little
Ben, the youngest of the family, rushed
whistlillg out with a covered basket, he
was deft . ly intereepted-by the stranger.
“ Where are you going, young man ?”
questioncd be> in a , ow voice .
“Tothe Widow Millett’s,’’said Benny;
« w j tb a ncd;e ,”
“ Don’t go there,” said the stranger,
“ Go across the woods to the hall, in¬
stead—it is but a few steps further—
and give this card to the old house¬
keeper there. And hark ye, Tommy—”
“Benny, sir, please," explained the
lad.
“ Benny, then—don’t let your young
ladies know that you haven’t obeyed
their orders. I’ll make it all right
with them, and here’s a silver dollar for
you.”
Benny darted away, with his face all
smiles; and just then up came the old
j doctor himself, apologizing for having
been so long in finding tho dusty old
volume , which , . , , he carried . , under , his , :
arm.
“ But I always lose track of time
when I get among my books,” said he.
cream 00 i ore d rose to the heavy black
braids of her hair, when she found
\ sette in the little dining-room.
“ Barbara,” cried Lisette, “ just look
here! Is it enchantment that has been
at work ?”
For upon the table was spread a col
: lalion of cold boiled ham, sardines glisst-
ening with their fragrant oil, chicken
salad, iced sponge cake, white grapes
and strawberries as large as lady apples.
And a slender roll of French bread was
cut in slices on a napkin in the center
of the board, while half a dozen pates
do foie gras, in their little metallic cans,
stood opposite.
Benny’s big eyes, watching them from
behind the lilac bush that shaded the
window, grew preternaturally bright as
he noted their amazement; and at the
same moment the doctor shuffled in,
all unconscious of his carpet slippers
and carelessly buttoned dressing gown,
and ushered his guest into the presence
of his daughters.
“ Here’s Mr. Dulcimer, Lisette,” said
he. “ Barbara, little girl, here’s our
neighbor, the young squire. Dulcimer,
let me present you to my eirls—Blonde
and Brunette, as we sometimes call ’em,
ha, ha, ha!”
And in the midst of their consterna'
(ion and perplexity, Lisette and Bar¬
bara were obliged to assume the part of
gracious and undisturbed young host¬
esses.
They all enjoyed their impromptu
lunch in spite of the mystery that sur¬
rounded it; and when Mr. Dulcimer re¬
turned to the hall, they all w’alked half¬
way through the woods with him.
“ Do you know, Mr. Dulcimer,” said
Barbara, with sparkling eyes, “ I fan¬
cied you a haughty aristocrat, who
wouldn’t notice his humble neighbors
at all I”
“I hope you are disabused of the idea
now,” said the young squire, smiling.
7 , Oh, entirely !” said Lisette.
z And, believe mo,” said Mr. Dulci¬
mer, holding Barbara’s slim, brown band
in liis a second or so longer than was
absolutely necessary, “ I should never
have forgiven myself, if, through any
law of stern necessity. I had eaten up
your white doves in tho shape of a fric¬
assee.”
And he disappeared into the woods,
leaving Barbara and Lisette looking
with amazement into one another’s eyes.
'icf <1 Lisette!” cried Barbara, breath¬
lessly, “is it possible that he could have
heard what we said ?”
“ lie certainly has,” Lisette made an¬
swer, with a comic gesture of despair.
And then Benny was called into the
witness box, and made to own up that,
the elegant luncheon came direst from
Dulcimer Hall, and things seemed worse
than ever.
“ We are rightly punished," said Aar
bara, bursting into tears, “for our in
hospitality. And I never—never shall
forgive either myself or Mr. Dulcimer!”
But she did. She forgave both the
criminals before the young moon, now
hanging over tho hills like a thread of
silver, had widened into its full shield
of luminous pearl.
“We are friends,” she smilingly ac¬
knowledged, to Mr. Dulcimer.
“ So far so good,” said the young
squire. “ But may I not hope that one
day we may be something more V”
And Barbara blushed celestial red,
and said “she did not know.”
So Mr. Dulcimer leaves the solution
of that problem to time. But it is more
than probable that the question will be
settled to suit him.
Picking Up Fortunes.
Three men in a single day, up on tho
ledge near Downieville, Col., pounded
out twenty-nine pounds of gold.
L. W. Smith, of the Eureka, Silver
Cliff', Col., recently cut the apex of an
unworked vein of chloride ore, which
yields ninety-two ounces of silver per
ton at the surface.
Frank Winkler, of Canton, O., a coal
miner, has fallen heir to one-seventh of
$55,000,000, property accumulated by
his brother in the South African dia¬
mond fields.
A wonderful discovery was made re¬
cently by John Ilober and Eli Worth¬
ington at Downieville, Col. They un¬
covered a 3 1-2 foot vein of rich
mineral, six feet from the surface, which
contains by assay forty-five ounces of
silver and sixty per cent, of lead. Tho
region was wild with excitement over
the discovery.
Three brothers named Berreyessa
took in one week from a recent purchase
i n Sinaloa $30,000 worth of silver. This
vein was discovered by a vaquero who
peared unusually rich in metal Unon
f tld . xamina tion it proved to contain several
l to^kTLkdin l n s th f T It
HermosiUo and
* * ° r u war qqq
*
—~
Thirty-one pounds of iron have been
made into wire 111 inches in length.
TOPICS OP THE DAY.
The fortune of the late John Burnside
of New Orleans, tho rich old bachelor,
has grown by examination to $8,000
000, instead of $5,000,000, as at first
estimated. But the crop of claimants
grows faster than the fortune. He had
no relatives at all when lie died a short
time ago, but now there are scores of
them, and they are still popping up like
toadstools. Philadelphia has furnished
three and there are several of the
largest wards to heaT from. A town
which cannot furnish a Burnside now
deserves to be cut off from tho least in¬
terest in the large floating estates of
this country and of Europe.
Christian families in Constantinople
are prohibited from hiring Mussulman
women as domestic servants, but recently
the mother of Sir Alfred Sandison, the
chief interpreter of the English mission
there, hired a Turkish girl as cook.
Feeling ran high against the girl and it
was not many days before she died under
suspicious circumstances. Sir Alfred
notified the police of Pera, who dis
covered, or said that they discovered
that the cook had been insane and had
probably committed suicide. She was
then buried, although the Christians of
the town of Yenekeui, where the inter¬
ment took place, strongly protested
against a burial without examination.
Tho minister of police heard of this,
caused the body to be exhumed and
entered upon an inquest at which it was
found that the girl had met her death
by violence. It was impossible to prove
that she had been murdered by her
aggrieved co-religionists, though this is
strongly suspected. At all events the
affair has caused great excitement, and
every endeavor is to be made to get at
the bottom of the mystery.
Of late years there lias been much
discussion as to whether vaccination is
really a safeguard against smallpox,
aud the following statistics which have
been published by Dr. Buchanan, the
medical officer of the London local
government board during the present
epidemic of the disease in the English
metropolis, will be found to be valua¬
ble data from which tho question
may be argued intelligently on both
sides. During the past year 1,532 per¬
sons of all ages died in London of
smallpox, and of these 325 were certi¬
fied to have been vaccinated and (537
not to have been vaccinated, while the
facts about vaccination are not stated in
570 of the cases. Estimates made by
the Metropolitan Asylums board in
1872 give tho London vaccinated as
nineteen times more numorous than the
unvaccinated. According to this, out of
3,810,000 inhabitants given in the unre¬
vised census of 1881, 3,(520,000 have
been vaccinated, and the nnvaccinated
class numbers 100,000. Applying the
mortality from smallpox at all ages to
these classes, it is found that the rate
of smallpox mortality for the twelve
month among the vaccinated is but
ninety per million, while among the
unvaccinated it reaches the enormous
figure of 3,350 per million.
Hitting Bull has surrendered at last
and one of the most troublesome Indian
chiefs of the present generation is harm¬
less for the present at least. The tele¬
graph announces that he arrived re¬
cently at Fort Buford with 150 followers
aud lias been received and placed under
close guard by the commandant of the
fort. Bull and his band were nearly
Starved, and the pangs of hunger more
than any immediate danger of capture
were doubtless tho compelling motive
to surrender. Sitting Bull has been
called the Sioux Napoleon, from the
bold leadership he lias shown, but bis
ability and bravery have undoubtedly
been overrated. His vindictive ferocity,
however, it is hardly necessary to say,
has never been exaggerated. Since
1860 he has been the pest of the Mon¬
tana border land, and during that time
bas been en 8 a 8 e ^ ‘ n numerous raids
upon the white settlers, his band being
the most powerful and dangerous on
the plains. The most famous of the
deeds of the band are the long though
untimately unsuccessful siege of Fort
Pease in 1875 and the Custer massacre
llved T metl y and safel ? for a tlme -
But his ban<1 haB beeu weakenecl b y de '
ser “ 0DS > until now, with a few adherents
and reduced b y P overt y and starvation,
he is but the wreck of his former self.
For the present he will be kept a close
prisoner until a determination in his
case is reached.
NO. 18.
l’roud Mothers.
If all the mothers of all tho birds
Should happen to meet some day—
In Bhade or glen,
Or where or when,
No matter—and one should say:
“Which are tho brightest and best of birdsV”
What would be each proud mother’s wind*-—
Robin or skylark, wron or crow ?
“Mine are the swoetest birds I know!”
If all tho mothers of all the girls
And boys were to meet some day—
From countries grand
, - Or far Lapland,
No matter—and one should say:
“ WIioho aro the sweetest girls and boys,
Spite of their roguish tricks and noise ? ”
I know a mother would whisper true,
‘ Mine aro tho d arlings I ’’—meaning you.
ess
PUNGENT PARAGRAPHS.
Tho name Silence appears in the new
Boston directory. It must belong to
one of the masculine gender.
A firm advertises “Bathing Suits/
We knew that loDg ago. It suits the
majority, especially in summer.
What does a woman care who wrote
the declaration that made us free, so
long as she can get a bustle for fifty
cents.
A Buffalo paper has an article on
“Giants Thirty Feet High.” That last
rain seems to have done a heap of good.
— Pecfr’n Sun.
A man who had tried nearly every¬
thing and failed became a shoemaker
and prospered. Ho said he was bound
to be successful at tho last.
It was a funny little boy who, when
he saw a dairyman feeding his cows salt,
said he thought they didn't salt the
butter till after it was churned.
An exchange thinks that the fnnuiest
thing concerning a picnic is thinking
about it before yon start. The next
funniest thing is congratulating yourseli
when it is over.
“ Hi! where did you get them trou¬
sers?” asked an Irishman of a man who
happened to be passing with a remark¬
ably short pair of trousers. “I got
them where they grow,” was the indig¬
nant reply. “ Then, by my conscience,”
said Pat, “you’ve pulled them a year
too soon!”
She was dashing and flirty, and when
she said her father was a broker and
was connected with one of the leading
railroads in the country, all the men at
the watering-place were after her.
They didn’t discover until the end of
tLi season that her paternal relative
broke the trains.
How a Girl Saved a Train.
Alato issue of the Ogden (la.) Jin
porter says: On last Wednesday night,
when O’Neil, Donai.ue and Olmstead
went down to death, a noble girl, but
fifteen years of age, was watching for
the safety of those whose duty called
them out over the railroad in the fear¬
ful storm. Kate Shelly, whose father
was killed on the railroad some years
ago, lives with her mother just on the
east side of the river, and nearly oppo¬
site where the engine made the fearful
plunge and Donahue and Olmstead lost
their lives. Miss Shelly and her mother
heard one crash, and, realizing what
had happened, Kate took a lantern and
started for the wreck. Her light soon
went out, but she feit her way through
the woods and fallen timbers to the
edge of tho dashing waters that cov’
ered the drowned men. She could hear
above the roar of the storm the voice
of Wood, the engineer, who had caught
in a tree top. She knew that tho ex¬
press, with its load of passengers, was
nearly due. She, a young girl, was the
only living being who could prevent an
awful catastrophe. The telegraph office
at Moingona or Boone was the only
place where she could notify the officers.
To Boone was five miles over hills aud
through the woods, and before she
could get there the express would have
passed. To Moingona was only a mile
but between here and Moingona was the
Des Moines river, ten or fifteen feet
above its natural height, and to cress
this she must pass over the railroad
bridge,fiftvfeet above the swollen waters.
She must cross this bridge, 400 feet
long, with nothing but the ties and rails,
the wind blowing a gale. Not one man
in a thousand but would have shrank
from such a task. But this brave giil
gathered about her her flowing skirts
and on hands and knees crawled over
the long bridge from tie to tie. With
the blood from her lacerated knees
staining her dress she reached the
shore, and ran the remaining half-mile
to the telegraph office. Breathless, aud
in broken accents, she told her story
and fainted in the arms of the bystand¬
ers. The wires were set at work and a
more horrible disaster was averted.