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YOL. II.
JOHN C. m SYCKEL & GO *2
Wholesale and Retail Dealers in
CROCKERY,
GLASSWARE,
House Furnishing Goods
Tin-IPlate,
Stoves,
Hardware,
<fcc.. <fec.
MAsarruntTMES or
TINWARE.
No. 116 Third Street,
MAOQN. GA.
_
CAR HART & CURD.
DEALERS Ut
Hardware, Iron & Steel i
WOODENWARE,
Carriage Material,
Cotton Gins,
Circular 8aws
SOAlLES,
I.
PAINTS, OILS, &c.
Macon. Ga.
n. J DAT AMT. 3. •. TTcOD, JK,
D4VANT & WOOD,
114 Bay Street,
Savannah, Georgia
Special attention given to tale ol
COTTOPICE & RATAL STORES
AGISTS FOR
DRAKE'S COTTON TIES,
Cash advances made on consignments.
W. B. MELL & CO.,
Wholesale and retail dealers in
SADDLES, BRIDLES, HARNESS,
Rubber and .Leather
BELTING AND PACKING,
Fronoh and American Call Skins, Solo, Har¬
ness, Bridle and Patent Leather,
WHIPS and SADDLERY WARE
TRUNKS, VALISES,
ifarket Sanarc, Savannah, Ga
Orders b7 mail oromDtlv attended to.
A. J. BRADDY & SON
Wrig nTSViiAE, Ga.
BLACKSMITH SHOP.
A specialty ol Plantation Work. Wagons,
Buggies, 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 Streets,
C?A,
WRIGHTSVILLE, GA., SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 1881.
The Walk to Church.
We walked to church together,
That sweet, bright, summer day;
My heart was like a feather
The robin sheds in May.
“ Dear heart I” I whisper to her,
And then a silence fell.
I knew not how to woo her,
Or how my love to tell.
“ Dear heart, this happy morning
We start to climb the hill,
Wo sec or hear no warning,
Of weariness or ill.
Wo may not have all sunshine,
About this path of ours;
Tliore will be thorns and pitfalls
Hid under brightest flowers.
“ It will be lonesome climbing
Tor mo, if I must miss
The face whose .Time-time roBes
Are sweeter far than this.”
I gathered from tlio hedgerow
A rose, and gavo to her;
U lie fragrant little blossom
Was love’s interpreter.
“ You need not climb alone, John,"
She said; and then a bird
S oared upward, and in heaven
Ho told what he had hoard.
Tho echo of his musio
Kings in our heartstrings still,
As band in hand, my darling,
Wo climb the long, steep hill.
PRUDENCE GRAY.
That’s my name, for father said there
wasn’t a better barge on the river than
the Prudence, and if I was called the
same he was sure there would never be
a better girl.
I used to think our barge, which was
a very small billy-boy, if you know
what that is—if you don’t, 1 must tell
you that it’s a barge built with rounded
ends and low bulwarks, meant for car¬
rying loads up rivers—I used to think
onr barge, 1 say, a very, very large
ship, till I grew old enough to com¬
pare it with those that passed us going
up and down the river, and then it used
to seem to me that it would bo wonder¬
fully fine to go on board one of those
great ships and go sailing away, far
away across the ocean, instead of just
coasting along the Sheerness and up
tbe Nedway, as we used to go year after
year.
I can’t tell you how my child-life
slipped away, living with mother and
father on board the barge, in a little
bit of a cabin with a tiny stove; all 1
know is that I was happy, and, that I
never hardly went ashore, and when I
did, I was frightened and wanted to
get back; and at last I seemed to have
grown all at once into a great girl, and
father and I were alone.
Yes, quite alone, for mother had loft
us very suddenly, and we had been
ashore, father and I, and came back
from the funeral and were sitting on
the cabin hatch before I could believe
it was anything but a terrible dream,
and that I should not awake and find
that she was alive once more, as blithe
and cheery as ever, ready to take up the
tiller or pull at a rope when father
wanted any help.
Father was a changed man after that,
and as a couple of years slipped by, the
work on the barge fell more and more
into my hands, and I used to smile to
myself as I saw how big and strong
they had grown; for father grew quiet
and dull day by day, and used to have
a stone bottle filled whenever he went
ashore, and then sit with it in the cabin
till I called him to come and help me
with the sail. .
Our barge was well known all about
the month of the river and far up be¬
yond the bridge, and somehow—I don’t
know how it was—the men on the dif¬
ferent boats we passed had always a
kind hail or a wave of the hand for us
as we glided by.
Poor father seemed to grow more and
more broken and helpless every day,
and this frightened me, and made me
work to keep the barge clean and ship¬
shape lest the owners should come on
board and find fault with father and dis¬
miss him, and that I knew would break
his heart. So I worked on, and in a
dull heavy way father used to thank me;
and the time glided on till one day as
we were lying off Southland, with the
sea glassy and not wind enough to fill
the sails, I felt my cheeks begin to
burn as I leaned back against the tiller,
and would not turn my head because I
eould hear a boat being sculled along
toward ns, and I knew it was coming
from the great lee-board barge lying
astern.
“ He’s coming to see father,” I said
to myself at last; and as a hail came I
was obliged to turn, and there stoo#in
the little boat he was sculling, John
Grove, in his dark trousers, blu§ Jersey
and scarlet cap, and as I saw his sun¬
burnt face, I felt my heart beating fast,
and I knew he was not coming to see
father, but to see me.
We had hardly ever spoken; but I
had known John Grove for years now
and we had nodded and waved to one
another often as we passed up and down
the river.
“ Heave us a rope, lass," he said, and
I did it creamingly. He hitched i
around tin thwart of his boat, and was
up over the side before I could stir
and he stood looking down upon me,
while I felt sometimes hot and somi
times cold, and as if I could not speak.
“ Do you want to see father ?” I said
at last,
“ No, my lass‘” he said, quietly ; “ I
want to see you.”
“Me!” I faltered, with my voice
burning.
“Yes, you, my lass,” ho said, and his
handsome brown face lit up, and he
looked so manly as ho laid his hand on
my arm. “ Prudence, we’re both young
yet, but I thought it was timo I spoke
to you.”
“ Spoke to mo 1” I said, with my face
still burning.
“Yes, my lass, spoke to you; for we’ve
been courting now a matter of four
years.”
“Ob, John 1” I cried, bursting out
laughing, and feeling more at my ease;
“ why, we’ve hardly spoken to one an¬
other.”
“ That’s true, Prudence; but hew
could we; always taking our turns at the
tiller as we were ? But all the same,
my lass, I’ve been always a courting of
you, night and day, these four years,
and looking for tlio time when the Pru¬
dence would come in sight and I could
give you a hail, and got a wave of the
baud back.”
I could feel the color coming into my
cheeks again as I heard him speak and
knew how anxiously I had looked out
for his bargo coming up or down the
river.
“ Prudonce, my lass,” lie said, “ I’ve
saved ten pounds, all my own, and our
owner has just given me the command
of a new barge with as pretty a cabin in
it as you’d wish to see; and so, my lass,
1 thought I’d ask you if so bo as now
we’ve been courting for four years, you
wouldn’t come to me and be my wife ?”
“No,” I said, “no;” and shook my
head. “ I belong to father, and I cottld
ever leave him, never.”
. “ But you’ll have to some day, Pru¬
dence,” ho said, looking downhearted.
“No," I said, “I shall never loave
him; he needs mo more and more every
day.”
“Prudence,” he said, sharply, “you
ain’t playing with me, are you? ’
Playing with you V”
Yes; I mean you ain’t going to take
up with anyone else/* No, no,” he
cried, “I won’t be so mean as to ask
you that. But, Prudence, dear, some
day you may have to leave him, and
when you do will you please recollect
as John Grove loves you bettor than
aught else in the wild world, and is wait¬
ing for you to come.”
“ Yes, John,” I said, simply.
“You mean it, Prudence?” he cried
in delight.
“ Yes, John ; I don’t know anybody
else, and there’s no one as cares for
me.”
“Hundreds on the river," he said
sharply.
“ Then I don’t care for them, John,”
I said, simply; “ and if I ever do—leave
—oh, dear! what am I saying?”
I sat down on a fender and covered
my face with my hands, and began to
cry ; but he took my hands down, and
looked long and lovingly into my face
with honest brown eyes. At last he
gasped out:
“ Thankey, Prudence, thankey. I’m
going away now to wait, for you’ll come
to me some day, I know.”
“For the time may come, my lass,
when you’ll be alone in the world ; and
when it comes there’s the cabin of the
Betsy Ann a-waiting for you, just as her
master’s a-waiting.”
He went quietly over the side of the
boat, cast off the rope and was gone,
and I sat there in the calm afternoon
with a feeling of joy at my heart such
as I had never felt before.
It must have been about 10 o’clock
nt night when I was seeing to the light
hoisted up, when I heard father come
stumbling up to the cabin.
“Prue, Prae!" he cried.
“Yes, father,” I replied; and then I
uttered a wild shriek, and rushed
toward where the small boat hung
astern, hauled her up and climbed in,
fer no sooner had I answered him than
I heard a cry and a splash, and I knew
that my fasher had gone overboard. I
was in the boat in a moment, paddling
away in the direction that the cry h»<J
come from; but though I fancied in
those horrible minutes that I saw a
hand stretched out of the water, I
paddled and sculled about till I was far
from our barge and then sank down
worn out, to utter a moan of horror, and
sobbing: “ Oh, father, what shalll do?”
“ Is that you, Prudence,” said a
voice.
“Yes, John, yes,” I cried, looking
out through the darkness, out of which
a boat seemed to steal till it was along¬
side, when John stretched out his hand
and took mine.
“ Quick,” I gasped, “ save him, John
—father—gone overboard !”
“When yon shrieked out, Prue?”
“Yes, yes,” I wailed ; “oh save
him!”
“My poor lass,” he said, “that’s a
good quarter of an hour ago, and tho
tide’s running strong. I’ve been pad¬
dling about ever siuce, trying to find
you, for I wont up to the barge and
you were gone.”
“But father,” I wailed, “father—save
him I”
“My poor little lass,” lie said, ten¬
derly, “I’d jump into the water now if
you bid me ; but what can I do. you
know, Prudence, what can I do ?”
I did not answer, for I did know that
ho must have been swept far away be¬
fore then, and I was beginning to feel
that I was alone—quite alone in the
world.
It'was quite six months after that
dreadful night that one evening John
came ashore from his barge to the cot
tago whero I was staying with liis
mother, ever since ho had brought me
there, without seeing him, only to wave
my hand to him as he sailed by. That
evening he came and looked wistfully
at me, and said but little ; and at last
his lime was up, and he rose to go.
I walked down to the boat with him,
and on the way he told me he had got
loave to alter tho name of his barge,
and it was called tbe Prudence, too ;
and then, without a word, he was say¬
ing good-bye, when I put my hand in his
and said, quietly :
“John, dear, I haven’t forgot my
promise.” “
“ And you are alone, now, Prudence,
my lass,” ho cried.
“No, John, no,” I said, softly. “I
never shall be while you live.”
“ Never, my lass, never,” he cried.
“ And you will be my little wifo?”
“ Yes, John,” I said, and with one
long hand-pressure we parted, and I
went back to wait another month, and
then I was his happy little wife.
And there seemed no change, for I
was once more on the river or out at
sea, leaning upon the tiller and gazing
before me, with the gulls wailing as
they wheeled and dipped and skimmed
and settled upon tho water; while the
soft wind gently stirred the hood that
was tied over my wind ruffled hair.
Only a bargeman’s young wife, living
on the tide, but very happy, for John
often points to the great ships that pass
us, with their captains in gold-lace
caps, and whispers: “ Net with the
best among them, Prue, not with the
best; I wouldn’t change places with a
king.” _
Deep Sea Waves.
From the following facts concerning
ocean waves, published by the Journal
of Chemistry , it will be seen that waves
which “ run mountain high ” exist only
in the imagination. According to care¬
ful investigations the longest sea waves
observed appear to have been a little
more than two hundred yards in length,
with a period of about eleven seconds.
The highest regular sea-waves accu¬
rately observed appear to have had a
height of not more than forty feet. The
highest waves are generally very long;
but for that very reason they are not the
deepest. It is believed that tho great¬
est slope of the external surface of a
wave in the open sea never reaches
thirty degrees, and seldom exceeds fif¬
teen.
It is possible that in a storm there
may be short portions of wave-surface
exceptionally steep, as the result of su¬
perimposed waves, and these may be
very dangerous to boats; but they do
not occur at all in simple swells, nor do
they determine the slope of the large
underlying wave from which a ship re¬
ceives its motion.
Moreover, the vessel’s own depth car¬
ries it below the surface wave, and the
mean effective wave acting upon the
ship is alwajs less steep, especially in
the case of short waves than in the sur¬
face wave.
Even poverty is better- than avarice,
for while poverty wants rpany things,
av&rioe everything
MORAL AND RELIGIOUS.
Tho Poor Sheep.
Some time ago a very earnest and
successful Baptist minister in Virginia
was telling Yis some of his early expe¬
riences—among others, this, which is
quite too good, we think, to be lost.
He was accustomed to labor not a litle
n protracted meetings, and his method
always was to begin by belaboring the
members of the church. In this, per¬
haps, he was not peculiar, as such is the
habit of professional evangelists.
Our brother had just concluded a
very searching and scorching discourse,
addressed with great vehemence to pro¬
fessors of religion, when, coming down
from the pulpit, he was accosted by a
venerable, but mild-mannered disciple,
who told him that ho had a text from
which if some timo he would be good
enough to preach the aforesaid disciple
would be very thankful.
The pastor, while diffident of his
ability to preach with freedom from the
text selected for him by somtjbody else,
declared his willingness to do the best
he could, and curiously inquired what
the text might bo. The old brother
could not quite remember just the chap¬
ter and verse, but said that it related to
words spoken by our Lord to Peter,
after his resurrection, when he asked
the apostle if he loved him ; and upon
Peter’s replying, “Lord, thou knowest
all things, thou knowest that I love
thee,” he said unto Peter, “Beat my
sheep.” “No! nol” said the pastor;
“you are mistaken, my brother. He
said, ‘Feed my sheep, » It “Ah, he
did?” said the old man, with a scorch¬
ing look into the pastor’s face; “I
thought maybo you read it ‘ Beat my
sheep. » »»
The pastor thought he saw a light—a
light that twinkled in tho old man’s
eyes, and a new light on the Word of
God.
He threw away his cudgel, and filled
up his crib .—Baptist Teacher.
UuligioiiM News ami Nol oh.
No opium smoker, it is said, is ad¬
mitted to church membership by any
Christian mission working in China.
The Germany and Switzerland Metho¬
dist Episcopal conference has 9,717
members, showing an increase during
the year of 273, “ notwithstanding 181
deaths and many removals to America.”
The Congregational church at Bam
stead, N. H, has had only two pastors
in seventy-six years. The former pastor
preached for fifty-six years and the
present one has been settled for twenty
years.
An edict has been published by the
Chinese government extending to Prot
setant Christians the exemption from
assessments for the benefit of heather,
ceremonies which was accorded to
Roman Catholics in 1862.
At tho late session of tho Episcopal
convention in Danville, Va., it was
voted that the clergy should recognize
the fact that the negroes within their
parochial bounds are an integral part of
their parochial work, and that such work
cannot be ignored or neglected.
The Lutheran Visitor calls for a Lu¬
theran Ecumenical council. It believes
that such a body would be perhaps one
of the greatest meetings ever held, and
asserts that instead of “ a few millions
of Calvinists or Armenians or Dissent¬
ers,” it would represent fifty millions of
Lutherans from all quarters of the globe.
The latest statistics of missions in
Japan record the work of sixteen church,
es and societies, which are represented
by 384 missionaries, thirty-eight woman
missionaries, twenty-eight native or¬
dained preachers, ninety organizep
churches, and 3,792 members. Two
hundred and twenty-one rooms arc used
for worship. The largest number of
members has been gathered by the
American Presbyterian, the next largest
by the Congregational, and the third
largest by the Methodist Episcopal mis¬
sions.
The summary of the Presbyterian
board of homo missions for the past
year shows that 1,217 men have been in
commission in 39 States and Territories.
Kansas takes the lead, having 124 mis¬
sionaries, and Iowa comiDg next with
103. Of the whole number, 940 are in
the Western States and Territories.
The missionaries report 4,979 additions
on confession and 4,715 on certificate,
and a total membership of 65,666, with
90,018 in the congregations. There are
1,147 church edifices, and $115,865 of
church debts was paid the past year.
The total receipts of the board were
$345,911, the largest since the reunion.
The number of professional burglars
in America is estimated at 3,000,
NO. 25.
A Song of the Country.
Away from the roar ana tne rattle,
The dust and din of the town,
Whore to livo is to brawl and to battle,
Till the strong treads the weak man down.
Away to the bonnio green hills,
Where the sunshine sleeps on the brae,
And the heart of the greenwood thrills
To the hymn of the bird on tho spray.
Away from the smoko and the smother,
The vale of the dun and the brown,
Tho push and the plash and the pother,
The wear and waste of the town!
Away wliero the sky shines clear,
And tho light breeze wanders at will,
And the dark pine wood nods near
To the light plumed birch on the hill.
Away from the whirling and wheeling,
And steaming above and below,
Whore tho heart lias no leisure for feeling,
And the thought has no quiet to grow.
Away whero tho clear brook purls,
And tho hyacinth droops in the shade,
And tho plume of the fern uncurls
Its grace in tho depth of tlio glado.
Away to tho cottage, so swoetly
Embowered ’neath tho fringe of tho wood,
Where tho wifo of my bosom shall meet mo
With thoughts over kindly and good.
Moro dear than tho worth of tho world
Fond mother with baimies three,
And tho plninp-armod babe that has curled
Its lips sweetly pouting for mo.
—J. Stuart Blackie.
PUNGENT PARAGRAPHS.
■ Never trust to appearance; it is tbe
prosperous dentist who looks most
down in the mouth.
“Lives of all great men all remind us”
Life is not an empty dream,
Except at times, when thoBO behind ns
Tass us by and “take tho cream.”
It’s a mean man who will fool Hies by
having tho wax figure of a bald-headed
man in his room to attract them from
him.
It is officially announced that um¬
brellas attract lightning. They also
attract tho chance passer-by when re¬
clining tranquilly in tho vestibule of a
church.
Barber, to customer in his hands—
“You’re very bald, sir. Have you tried
our tonic lotion?” Customer— 1 “Oh,
yes, but that is not what made all my
hair fall off.”
A reporter of a Galitornia free fight
says: “ Colonel Bagges was shot once
in the left .side, once in tho right
shoulder, and once in the drinking
saloon adjacent.”
The only jokes women like to road
are tlioso that reflect ridicule on the
men. Hence, when a woman picks up
a paper, the first thing she looks for it
the marriage column.
Always help those who are able to
help themselves. Lightning can reach
the earth without any assistance, and yet
men put up lightning rods for light¬
ning to slide down on.
A baby in every house is said to be a
well-spring of pleasure. This may be
true, but for genuine felicity most of
the young men prefer a buxom young
lady of about sixteen summers.
“What do yon think of my kero¬
sene?” asked the grocer, suavely.
“Why,” says the customer, “there’s
nothing like it in town. When I go
into a house where they use it, I can
tell it in an instant.” Grocer (delighted):
“ Such a beautiful white light?” Cus¬
tomer: “Not that, exactly. It makes
no difference whether the lamps are
lighted or not. I recognize it by the
smell. It beats all tbe smells I ever
smelt. I guess I shan’t want any more
of it, thank yon." Customer retires,
and grocer begins to sling language into
thecircumbient air, to the terror of the
shop boy and the edification of the barrel
head fraternity.
Playing With Fire.
They have discovered a kind of il¬
luminator in Franco which gives light
but which does not consume. It is a
mineral essence, which when put in a
lamp gives light when ignited through
a wick. M. Cordig, the inventor, after
filling and igniting a lamp, dashed if
against the ceiling of the laboratory.
The blazing fluid was scattered over the
floor, and on the persons of tho lookers
on, but strange to say, no one was
burned or scorched. A pocket hand¬
kerchief was then soaked in the fluid
and set on fire. A fierce flame resulted,
but the pocket handkerchief was unin¬
jured. The fluid was then set on fire in
a pail, and the bystanders plunged
their hands into the burning flame. A
prickly sensation followed, but no
scorching or burning. In short, the
discovery has been made of light with¬
out heat, of an artificial fluid in which
there is no danger of combustion. The
occupation of Insurance companies will
bo gonei wh® n this fluid is in general
use