Newspaper Page Text
I to Driqlitstnllf Itorter . I L ♦
VOL. II.
JOHN a m SYCKEL & CO,
Wholesale and Retail Dealers in
GBOCKERY,
GLASSWARE i
Bouse Furnishing Goods
Tin-Plate,
Stoves,
Hardware,
<fcc., &c.
_
TINWARE.
No. I 16 Third Street,
__________MACON . GA.
_
CARIIAET & OURD,
®*iisaa ih
Hardware, Iron & Steel
WOODENWARE,
Carriage Material,
Cotton Gins,
Circular Saws
SCALES,
'll IL
PAINTS, OILS, &c.
Macon. Ga
H. J DAVANT. J. 8 w on, JR
DAY ANT & WOOD,
114 Bay Street,
S;ivaimah, Georgia
Special attention given to tale of
COTTON,RICE mm STORES
▲GENTS FOB
DBAEETS COTTON TIES.
Cash advances made oo oomlgnmegts.
W. B. MELL & CO.,
Wholesale and retail dealers in
SADDLES, BRIDLES, HARNESS,
Rubber and .Leather
BELTING AND PACKINC.
French and American Calf Sidn», Sole, Har.
ness, Bridie and Patent Leather,
WHIPS and SADDLERY WARE,
TRUNKS, VALISES,
Market Sqmux*, Savannah, Ga
Orders bv mail nromotlv attended to.
A. J. BRADDY & SOW
Wrightsville, Ga.
BLACKSMITH SHOP.
A specialty ot Plantation Work. Wagon*,
Buggies, eto., made and repaired.
Plows and Plow-Stocks of all kind*, and
every kind of Wood and Iron Work done by
A. J. BRADDY & SON,
Wrightsville, Ga.
SID. A. PUGHSLEY, Jr.
AQENT AND SALESMAN,
—WITH—
I. L. FALK & CO •>
CLOTHIERS,
485 and 437 Broome St., New York,
Oar. Con grew and Whittaker Street:,
WAVANNAU. GA.
WRIGHTSVILLE, GA., SATURDAY, DECEMBER 17, 1881.
Happiness.
In the peace of June’s sweet weather
Up the hill two lovers start,
And two pathways blend together
In this summer of the heart.
Larks are nestling in the clover,
Blackbirds chatter loud and long,
And a robin flying over
Tells love’s secret in his song.
She is shy, and fitful blushes
Como and go upon her faco,
Like a brood of startled thrushes
When wo near their nesting-place.
Downcast are her eyos, and lower
Droop the fringes of each lid,
When he bends his head to show her
Where the sparrow’s nost is hid.
Where the noisy brooklet tinkles
Down the rocks, they stop to see
How the yellow sunshine orinkles
All the ripples goldenly.
“Wooing! wooing 1” sings tho water,
As it laughs and leads away,
And again his eyes have caught her
Blushing like a rose in May.
Then a silence comes about them
For a time, until it seems
Earth has gone its way without them,
Leaving them in land of dreams—
Happy laud, where lovers linger,
Where they find their dreams come true,
And love points with rosy finger
From the old world to the new.
A Fortunate Casualty.
A sweet voice comes lilting down the
stairs, light footsteps trip along the
hall to the sitting-room door, which
opens, while a face with mischievous
eyes, with floating cnrls falling all
about it in a lustrous shower, looks in,
to start back in amaze at the sight of
her mother in tears, and her sister doing
her best to soothe her—her own face not
wearing its usual calm expression.
All the sparkle dies out of the pretty
face as Pussy enters and goes to her
mother’s side.
“ What is it, mother dear ? Has any¬
thing happened ?”
But the old lady sobs on, and it is
Sarah who answers, holding a letter to
Pussy to read.
“ It is this that is the matter. Mr.
Elbermarle, through his agent, tells us
that we must pay up the full amount of
the mortgage within two weeks or leave
the house.”
Pussy’s eyes dilate; she knows the
slenderness of tho home exchequer, and
that to pay such a lar§e sum upon such
a short notice will be an utter impos¬
sibility.
“ Oh, dear, what shall wo do ? How
of that rich Mr. Elbermarle, to
turn us out of house and home when he
is rolling in wealth !’’
Sarah turns her eyes tenderly yet
anxiously upon tho pretty, indignant
face; she evidently has something to
say which does not come easily.
“ You are the one who can prevent
such a disaster, Pussy,” she says at
“One word from you and our
feeble mother will not have to leave the
home she loves so well.’'
“ I can help it—how?”
F Sarah evades the upturned, question¬
ing eyes.
“Mr. Law was here this morning,
Pussy, and—he wants to marry you.”
The last words; came in a great hurry,
as though the speaker were glad to
have them over and done with.
With a gesture of dismay Pussy
shakes her long ringlets about her face
and sinks down in a little heap upon
the floor.
“ That old man wants me to marry
him, and I am only seventeen 1 Oh,
Sarah, could you honestly harbor such
an idea for a moment?” a world of re¬
proach is in the young voice.
Sarah’s hand falls gently on the
bowed head.
“ I know it is dreadful to even think
of. But, Pussy, what other way is
there? Think of mother — of
her feebleness, which has always
kept me tied to her side, pre¬
venting my even thinking of obtaining
any employment. If we have to leave
the old home it will surely be her death.
Look at her now.”
Pussy glances up. The invalid’s face
is covered with both her hands, while
through the thin fingers the bitter tears
are stealing.
“Pussy, come here.”
She rises and goes to her mother’s
side.
“ My .pet, do not heed what your sis¬
ter says. She means it for the best,
but she has thought only for me.
Surely you do not think your mother
would purchase comfort at the expense
of her child’s happiness.”
All at once Pussy’s resolve is taken,
though she says nothing then to
mother, only presses a silent kiss on
dear gray head.
But a short while later she appears
at the door bonneted and cloaked, with
a little basket on her arm, and beckons
Sarah out.
“You said you wanted sugar and
eggs from the village, Sarah, and I’m
going for them now. I wanted to tell
you that I’ve thought over what you
said about Mr. Law, and I’ve come to
tho conclusion that it wouldn’t be so
bad a lot after all to be a rich old man’s
darling.”
Compunctious tears spring to Sarah’s
eyes as she stoops and kisses the inno¬
cent young face, and watches as, out¬
wardly light-hearted and cheery, Pussy
starts out upon her long wintry walk.
Her brave Vords and manner have
not deceived her sister. “I ought to be
ashamed to think of allowing her to
sacrifice her young life,” she thinks, as
she turns back ; “but it is for the dear
mother’s sake, and what other way is
there?"
Pussy walks on, a pretty picture in
her dark suit with its scarlet pipings,
and the lovely face whose brilliance no
heart trouble can quite quench.
It is very cold ; overhead the sky is
gray, and the wind skurries the clouds
along at a rapid rate, and plays many a
prank with Pussy’s hair, now blowing it
forward into the rosy faco, and now
backward into disheveled, ourling,
bronze brown masses.
A steep incline is before her, and it is
one long dazzle of ice.
“ Oh, dear,” thinks Pussy, “I shall
certainly fall.”
The thought has scarcely passed
through her mind when, with an ex¬
clamation of dismay, her feet slip from
beneath her, and down she goes.
Some one sees and hastens to her
assistance ; but masculiuo boots cannot
always tread dangerous spotB in safety
any more than the tiniest of feminine
feet, such as Pussj’s—and there is ex¬
clamation number two, as, with a de¬
cided thud, her would-bo deliverer sits
down by Pussy’s side.
It is a frank and very handsome face
which meets hers, as his dark eyes look
into her blue ones with an irresistible,
mirthful laugh. In a moment the gen¬
tleman is on his feet and Pussy, with
bis help, soon stands beside him.
“ I hope you are not hurt,” the young
man says, as he lifts his hat, his voice
grave, though his eyes still brim over
with fun.
“Not at all,” Passy answers; “but I
am on my way to the village, and I am
afraid if I go on I shall fall again. I
think I will turn back.”
“ I am going to the village myself,
and if you will allow me, will accom¬
pany you as far as you go.”
“Oh, thank you,” Pussy says, “I
shall not bo at all afraid of slipping com¬
ing back, as it will be up hill.”
And so they walk off together, and be¬
fore long, with the bonhomie of youth,
they are chatting together as though
they had known each other weeks in
stead of moments. They part at the
postoffice, which likewise is the reposi¬
tory of all the needfuls of life, such as
sugar, teas, needles and pins, and such
like commodities.
“lam ever so much obliged to you,”
Pussy says, earnestly, raising her soft,
innocent eyes to the handsome face of
her escort.
“Thanks are needless,” he says,
politely. “I am only glad that you
were not hurt by your fall.”
A little mischievous light flashes into
Pussy's eyes, and she replies, demurely:
“ All the same, I do thank you, and I
am equally •glad that you escaped any
serious injury from your fall,” empha
iszing the “your” very palpably.
As the door closes upon the girl’s
slight figure a faint smile curves the
gentleman’s mouth.
“What a little darling I I am not by
any means sure that I have escaped a
serious injury after all,” he thinks to
himself.
“ See here, Gray,” he says aloud to
a gentleman who is just passing, “I
have a question to ask you. You have
lived around here long enough to know
something of the poople. Can you tell
me who the young lady is you saw mo
with just now ?”
“ Of course I can, though I am not
acquainted. Why she’s the daughter
of-”
Turning, the two gentlemen move on,
while the crisp wind carries away what
they are saying. A couple of hours
later sees Pussy home once more. No
one is in the sitting-room, and as she
runs np the stairs she sees that the par¬
lor door is open and hears voices.
Pussy’s face blanches and then flushes
again,
“ I am sureitis Mr. Law,” she thinks,
turning to flee, but she is not quick
enough, her light steps have been
heard; and at Sarah’s call, the girl goes
with a fierce, resentful feeling as of
some hapless animal caught in a trap,
to face, as she thinks, the detested
suitor she has determined to accept for
the sake of her mother—to prevent her
being turned in her old ago from her
home.
But when she is once within the room,
Pussy pauses in amazement, for there,
seated on the sofa, in easy conversation
with her mother, she sees the gentle¬
man who had so kindly come to her as¬
sistance a few hours before.
“Pussy, this is Mr. Elbermarle,”
Sarah says, “and he has been so very
kind as to offer to let ns keep the home¬
stead at a very low rent. Please, sister,
join with me in telling him what a load
he has lifted from our minds.”
The gentleman rises, and as Pussy
lays her dimpled hand in his, he says:
“How cruel you must have deemed
me, Miss Goldthwaite. I must confess
it—though it is to my shame—I leave
my business affairs much too entirely
in my lawyer’s (Mr. Gray’s) hands. He
acted quite on his own responsibility in
this mattor. I have learned a lesson;
henceforth I will be my own agent. Can
you forgive me for causing you all so
much distress ?”
There is a thrill of earnestness in his
tones more than thejoccasion seems to
require, and something within Pussy’s
breast responds to it, though uncon
sciously. Otherwise, why does her
lovely face color so charmingly?
Mr. Elbermarle leaves the occupants
of tlie Goldthwaite home with far
brighter hearts than ho found them.
And when, a day later, Mr. Law—the
rich old man who has coveted his
neighbor’s lamb—comes for his answer,
ho goes away with more of rueful¬
ness (lain his demeanor usually pos¬
sesses.
Three months of education does not
make a scholar; nor yet would the same
number of months of toil for the “ root
of all evil ” briDg the desired wealth;
but three months of love-making can
ho made to count for a good deal, and
so finds Roger Elbermarle.
The winter is over and spring is here;
the month when the birds choose their
mates and build their tiny homes, and
men’s minds turn instinctively to
thoughts of love; and one afternoon,
just as tho suu is setting behind great
cloudy bars of crimson and purple,
Roger draws up in his phaeton before
the little gate of tho Goldthwaites’ cot¬
tage.
“ I will take the best of care of her,”
lie says to Sarah, as he lifts Pussy’s
slight figure into tho carriage and jumps
lightly in beside her. Sarah’s face
softens as she looks after them.
“The darling! it’s easy to see what
is coming. Oh, how could I ever have
thought to let her sacrifice herself—and
yet, when it was for mother t Well, she
deserves everything of the best.”
The two young people drive along
with but few words for a little while,
drinking in the beauty of the scene
about them; the low-lying valleys are
bathed in a golden haze; the “ green
things growing” have already begun to
clothe the roadside with verdure, and
over all the sky throws its gorgeou
mantle. In a short time the sun will
have set, the twilight fallen, and all
will be quiet and gray; but just now
the earth seems like a new and glorified
sphere.
Suddenly Roger turns and looks into
his companion’s sweet face.
“Do you remember this spot?” he
asks.
A smile chases away the gravity which
Pussy’s face has worn for the past few
moments.
“ Yes,” she replies, “it is the scene of
our casualty.”
“ That fortunate casualty! I see you
do not mean me to forget that I lost my
equilibrium as well as you. But, Pussy,
pardon me, I always call yon so in my
thoughts, you are only right in saying
‘our,’ for my heart received an injury
that day from which it has not yet re¬
covered, dflnd never will unless yon say
ono little word to what I am going to
ask you. Pussy, sweetest Pussy, I love
you—can I hope that you care for me
in return ?”
Pussy’s face is turned away, but the
small hand he has daringly taken pos¬
session of trembles visibly.
“Pussy, answer me—will you he my
little wife ?”
That Pussy says “yes” may be in¬
ferred, for one month later she stands a
blushing, beautiful bride by her hus¬
band’s side in the little parlor of the
homestead, which, the paper Roger
presses into his mother-in-law’s hand
later in the day, states is henceforth
hers and her heirs, forever.
It is not often that such a thing can
be affirmed, but for once a casualty can
unmistakably be called fortunate.
Bushels of Confederate Money.
A Griffin (Ga.) correspondent of the
Atlanta Constitution writes as follows
concerning Mr. J. W. Corbin, a citizen
of Griffin: Some years ago he took a
peculiar notion that Confederate money
and bonds would some day be worth
something; so he went to work and
bought them up in large quantities, pay¬
ing cash for a considerable amount and
bartering meal from his mill for the bal¬
ance. He gave a bushel of meal for a
thousand dollars, and many a wagon¬
load of that food has been hauled away
from his door. Many people, of course,
regarded the notion as rather cranky,
but to those Mr. Corbin gave no heed,
going right along and buying every dol¬
lar he could rake and scrape. There is
really no telling how much Confederate
money he has. Those who know, or
seem to know, say he has bet ween seven
and eight millions, beside several hun¬
dred thousand dollars in bonds. When
asked at a bank how much his bonds
were worth he replied: “ Well, I have
$125,000 in one box, and that isn’t all,
by a lot.” And so he has gone right on
this way for years. He has had letters
from all over the country, and ho has
bought the stuff right and left, from far
and near. As already stated, no one
knows just how far exactly his freak has
extended, and he may have $50,000,000
for all I know. Mr. Corbin is consid¬
erably stirred up by the recent demand
in London, and seems satisfied ho is on
the right track to an immense fortune.
He is not considered at all shaky in the
upper story by his friends, though they
jannot, cf course, understand his strange
fascination about Confederate money.
Ho has always been considered a solid
citizen, and is in good circumstances
now, but will be the wealthiest mas in
tho South, if his dream is ever realized.
The Place Where Cats Can’t Live.
Jim Townsend, of Lundy, has been
making some experiments with an
ordinary domestic cat. It has been
repeatedly stated that a cat could not
live at an altitude of 13,000 feet above
the sea. Mr. Townsend has demon¬
strated that such is the fact. Ou Mon¬
day last he and another gentleman made
the ascent of Castle Peak, which is a
little over 13,000 feet high. They took
with them a eat—Thomas—that was a
year old, and had lived at an altitude
of 0,000 feet with no symptoms of dis¬
ease. Mr. Townsend had the cat in a
box, and as they went up he took ob¬
servations and noted very carefully its
every movement. When the summit
was reached they pitched their tent.
This was about 2 o’clock in the after¬
noon. The cat partook of some food,
and, after playing an hour or so, fell
asleep and did not wake up until near
midnight. When it did recover con¬
sciousness it set up a howling and ap¬
peared much distressed. Townsend
pitied it and endeavored to make it
feel at home, but of no use. It kept
up its constant moanings and displayed
symptoms of having fits. When morn¬
ing came the cat was offered food, but
it refused to eat and acted even more
strangely than during the night. Town¬
send says it would open its month as if
gasping for breath; would jump about,
and then go to sleep and wake up with
a start. All this while close watch
was kept and every movement noted.
At 5 o’clock in the afternoon tho cat
died of exhaustion.
Tin Cans.
Who can assign bounds to the demand
for tinned or canned oysters from Bal¬
timore, lobsters from Maine, salmon
from Alaska, peaches from Florida and
Maryland? One petroleum firm in the
city of New York is said to cut np 600
boxes (thirty tons) of tin plate daily.
No less than 1,600,000 boxes are already
absorbed yearly by the United States,
more than three-fold the consumption
of tho continent of Europe, of which
quantity a full tenth goes to pack sar¬
dines at Nantes. Australian meat craves
an ever-increasing supply; while British
biscuits, mustard and gunpowder range
in bright canisters all over the world.
The home consumption is variously esti¬
mated at between 500,000 and 750,000
boxes per annum; but the returns to the
government have not been ample and
unreserved enough for any accurate fig¬
ures to bo laid down.— Saturday Review.
Infants while very young do not shed
tears.
NO. 31.
The Lights o’ London.
The way waB long ami weary,
But gallantly they strode,
A country lad and lassie,
Along the heavy road.
The night was dark and stormy,
But blithe of heart were they,
For shining in the distance
The lights of London lay!
Oh gteamiug lamps of London, that gem tta
city’s crown.
What fortunes lie within you, oh lights of
London town.
With faces worn and weary,
That told of sorrow’s load,
One day a man and woman
Crept down a country road,
They Bought their native village,
Heart-broken from the fray |
Yet shining still beyond them
Tho lights of London lay.
Oh cruel lamps of London, if tears your light
could drown.
Your victim’s eyos would weep then, oh lights
of London town.
—George JR, Sima,
PUNGENT PARAGRAPHS.
Follow the example of trees—keep
some things in the shade.
The farmer that “ ran rapidly through
his property ” wore a red shirt and had
his brindle bull behind him.
A Syracuse maiden has promised to
marry five different men. The papers
refer to her as “a promising society
belle.”
“ Six Girls” is the title of the latest
novel. It is expected that a sequel
entitled “ Our Broken Gate ’’ will be
issued soon.
A Philadelphia man, who had been
i lted by a wide-mouthed girl, had a ter¬
rible revenge. He sent her a scrub¬
bing brush for a tooth brush.
“Isn’t your husband a little bald?”
asked one lady of another in a store,
recently. “There isn’t a bald hair in
his head,” was the hasty reply of the
wifo.
On account of the dry, hot summer,
the failure of the American corn crop
is going to have a destructive effect
upon the vintage of heavy wines in the
south of France.
When a woman sees a new fall stylo
bonnet on another woman’s head, she
declares it to be hideous. The next
day, when she gets one also, she sud¬
denly discovers it to be as pretty as it
can be.
“ Who did the churning last week ?’
asked Farmer Fouroclock. “I did,”
said Bill. “ Then you do it again this
week,” said the old man; “one good
churn deserves another.” Covert ex¬
pressions of joy by all Bill’s brothers
and sisters.
“Fellow-citizens,” said the street
corner orator, standing on a dry goods
box amid the glare and smoke of many
torches, “my position upon this ques¬
tion is a peculiar one.” And just then
when the box caved in and let him down
in tho shape of a letter V, gripped by
the neck and heels, the crowd rathe!
thought it was.
A Curious Beetle.
A recent issue of the New York
Times says: The golden cucuyo which
has been at Tiffany’s for some time Is
dead. It was one of four or five speci¬
mens of this rare South American beetle
in this city. They are regarded with
superstitious reverence by the women
of South America, and the few that are
caught, for the beetle is rare in its na¬
tive country, are fastened in tiny fet¬
ters of gold and worn as an ornament.
A gold or gold and jeweled hand is
passed around the thorax to which is at¬
tached a slender gold chain about four
inches long which ends in a long pin.
This pin is thrust into a bouquet of
flowers on the shoulder or on the hat,
and the beetle is left to ramble the
length of the chain. It is an uncanny
looking black thing about two inches
long. The true South American cucuyo
is a fire beetle, a single specimen giving
oat light enough in a dark room to en¬
able one to read a newspaper. v They
are capable of living without food for a
great length of time. There is one in
the city which is not known to have
eaten anything in two years. The
beetle at Tiffany’s probably died of
overfeeding. Its appetite was tempted
with sweetened water and rotten weed,
but the creature paid no attention to
the food. A piece of banana was placed
in the box which served for its cage,
and it eagerly began eating it and clung
to it for three days, when it was foutrd
dead. It should be mentioned in con¬
nection with the use of the living beetle
f dress that
as an ornament to the ear or
they have powerful jaws, aud gnaw their
way through anything except metal in a
few hours.