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YOL. II.
JOHN & VAN SYCKEL & CO,
Wholesale and Retail Dealers in
CROCKERY,
GLASSWARE,
House Furnishing Goods
Tin-Plate,
Stoves,
Hardware,
&c..
MANm.CmjBK*S o»
TINWARE.
No. 116 Third Street,
MACON. GA.
CARHART & OURD,
DEALERS XX
Hardware, Iron & Steel t
WOODENWARE,
Carriage Material,
Cotton Cine,
Circular Sawa
BOALES,
PAINTS, OILS, &c.
flu
R. J DAVANT. J. >. WCOD, JH
DAY ANT & WOOD,
1X4 Bity Street.
Savannah, Georgia
Special attention given to el
COTTON, RICE &HAYAL STORES
aasKTs fob
DRAKE'S COTTON TIES
Cash advances made cm oeniig - meats.
W. B. MELL & CO.
Wholesale and retail dealors in
SADDLES, BRIDLES, HARNESS,
Rubber and .Leather
BELTING AND PACKING,
French and American Call Skins, Sole, Han
ness, Bridle and Patent Leather,
WHIPS and SADD1HRY WABE,
TRUNKS, VALISES,
ttarket Square} Savannah, Qa
Orders by mail nromptly attended to._
ft. J. BRADDY & SON
Wrigiitsville, Ga.
BLACKSMITH SHOP.
A specialty of Plantation Work. Wagons,
Buggies, etc., made and repaired.
Plows and Plow-Stocks of all kinds, and
svery kind of Wood and Iron Work done by
A. .T. BRADDY & SON,
WrighUvflle, 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,
SAVANNAH, ga.
WBIGHTSVILLE, GA., SATUEDAY, FEBKUAEY 25, 1882.
Liking and Disliking.
Vo who know the reason, tell mo
How it is that instinct still
Prompts the heart to like—or like not—
At its own capricious will ?
Tell me by what hidden magic
Our impressions first are led
Into liking—or disliking—
Oft before a word be said ?
Why should smiles sometimes repel us,
Bright eyes turn our feelings cold ?
What is that which comes to tell us
All that glitters is not gold ?
Ob, no feature, plain or striking,
But a power we cannot shun,
Prompts our liking or disliking,
Ere acquaintance hath begun I
Is it instinct—or some spirit—
Which protects us and controls
Every impulse we inherit
By some sympathy of souls ?
Is it instinct ? Is it nature ?
Or some freak or fault of chance,
Which our liking or disliking
Limits to a single glance ?
Like presentiment of danger,
Though the sky no shadow flings,
Or that inner sense, still stranger,
Of unseen—unutter’d things I
Is it—oh, can no one toll me,
No one show sufficient cause,
Why our likings and dislikiDgg
Have their own instinctive laws '!
Love and Quince Seeds.
“I’m clean discouraged!" asserted
Farmer Ford, coming into the house
one cold fall day and sitting down
hard in a chair in the kitchen.
His wife, paring pumpkins at a table,
did not ask why.
“I expected we should do well this
year, but everything has gone wrong.
It isn’t the year for fruit, yet I thought
there would be a few apples, which
would have brought a good price in the
scarcity; but there isn’t a barrel of
apples in the whole orchard. The po¬
tatoes are poor, the corn blighted and
the rains spoiled the wheat. I didn’t
get half the hay I expected on account
of the early drought. The horse is
never going to get well of that lame¬
ness; the brindle ox died and my best
cow is sick. The pigs are fat, but pork
has gone down to nothing. My whole
flock of seventy hens are molting, and
bain’t laid an egg for a month. I’ve
got to buy grain for my stock, and com
is eighty-five cents a bushel. To crown
all, the frost took twenty-five bushels
of unripe* grapes from me. If that
isn’t enough to discourage a man, when
foreclosure of the mortgage upon his
farm is close at hand, I don’t know
what is!”
Mrs. Ford wiped her eyes.
“Cheer up, father 1 Jennie’s coming
home.”
But even the mention of his only
daughter could not dispel the good
man’s dejection and sense of trial. He
rose up, covered his partially bald head
with his old hat, and marched ont of
the house.
Then good Mrs. Ford wiped away a
tear. Her little financial ventures, too,
had been unsuccessful. The price for
butter was unusually low ; the turkeys
had gorged themselves on musty wheat
and been found stretched lifeless under
their perch. She had spent all her
spare time all summer braiding two
rugs for the doctor’s wife, and the doc¬
tor had moved away and left them on
her hands. There were no apples to
dry, and the pumpkins were rotting
dreadfully.
Such are the trials of farmers’ wives
quite frequently; but to have a mort¬
gage foreclose upon the old place where
she had lived ever since she was mar¬
ried—the dear old place where her
children had been bom, and where she
expected to spend her last earthly days
—this was too much, and Mrs. Ford’s
apron went up, and a great many tears
fell among its tidy folds.
Suddenly there was the roll of a yel¬
low old stage-coach’s heavy wheels at
the door, the banging down of a trunk,
and a graceful girl’s form in the door¬
way.
“ Mother 1—you dear, darling old
mother! Why, what are you crying
for?”
And Jennie Ford’s blue eyes opened
wide upon the now smiling and delight¬
ed wrinkled face.
“ I’m not crying, Jennie dear. Why,
how you have altered, child! an inch
taller, and—well, it’s mother that says
ic—so pretty! You hardly look like my
Jennie, with those blue ribbons and
that fringe of little curls over your fore¬
head.”
“Aunt Elinor wanted my hair
banged, mother."
z What, child?”
z Banged, mother dear. But never
mind my hair. You have been crying,
and I want to know what the matter is.’
Jennie, divested of her wraps, with
ker pretty shoulders buried in shirred
bine silk and laoe, was an apparition
lovely indeed to appear, tender and
blooming,in the old farmhouse kitchen.
A wealthy aunt, peculiar and com
paratively unknown, had. come to
Wheatlands the previous spring, and
pleased by the sweet-faced girl of six¬
teen she had never before seen, borne
her away for a summer to a fashionable
seaside resort. Another month had been
spent at her handsome city residence;
but finally Jennie had come home.
“ I suppose I was down-hearted, Jen¬
nie. Father—father's dreadful down
about the way things are going. The
stock and the crops—well, as he says,
everything seems to have gone wrong
this year; and—and the mortgage fgre
closes the first of January,” added Mrs.
Ford, her face bending over her again
busy hands.
She looked up at last in the silence
that followed, and met Jennie’s bine
eyes, grave enough.
“ But you needn’t fret, child. You
are young, and I dare say old Wheat
lands is a dull enough place to you,”
“It’s home, mother, and I love my
home. There is some one coming next
week—a—a gentleman—who has been
very polite and kind to me. He is rioh
and elegant, but I am not ashamed of
Wheatlands,” concluded Jennie, deci¬
sively, nodding her pretty head, with
its line of golden fringe.
Mrs. Ford understood.
“So my girl has got a sweetheart,”
she said.
A bright, eloquent, blushing look
from Jennie, but no words; for the
kitchen door opened, and, with a glad
cry, Jennie sprang into her father’s
arms. It was pleasant to see the old
man’s grim face break into smiles.
“ So you’ve come home at last,
child.”
“ I’d have come long; ago, dear father,
but Aunt Elinor wouldn’t let me.”
As Jennie sat down by the great open
fireplace, her father looked her over
from head to foot. No one noticed the
look of his face as he turned away.
Jennie herself was very thoughtful,
and sat gazing meditatively into the
open blaze, while her mother made the
tea and toasted bread on a great pronged
fork.
Mrs. Ford was one of the few fond
of old fashions, and clung to the old
time way of doing things. She had
nevei been persuaded to have a cook¬
ing-stove, a modern bedstead, or a
clothes-wringer.
All the fireplaces at Wheatlands were
open, the bedsteads were high-posted,
piled with beds filled with fifty pounds
of live goose-feathers, sheets as white
as snow and smelling of lavender, and
patchwork quilts of the most elaborate
designs.
Every carpet and rug in the house
Mrs. Ford had made with her own
hands. She had in use china and
crockery which had been her mother’s
and grandmother’s. Nothing equaled
in her estimation their habits and
ways, and she had been suffered to per¬
petuate them, though Jennie often
“wished her mother would have a
cooking-stove;” and her husband, on
a summer’s night, often escaped from
the smothering embraces of his feather¬
bed and spent the night on the chintz
covered lounge in the kitchen.
When Jennie had kissed her mother
and father good-night that evening,
and silently carried to her pillow the
problem of the mortgage’s foreclosure,
the father and mother sat silent before
the red embers of the hearth. Tho old
man’s elbows were upon his knees and
his face in his hands. He uttered a
groan.
“As if it wasn’t enough to have
things going the way they are,” he ex¬
claimed, “ without having Jennie come
home with her hair in bangs 1”
“Why, father—”
“ What sense is there in frizzling and
frowseling her hair over her forehead
like that? It’s the foolishest thing in
the world! I knew Elinor would spoil
her—I knew it from the first!”
“ I think it looks very pretty, father;
but-”
“ To think a daughter of mine should
ever bang her hair!” groaned the poor,
gloomy man, as he rose, set his chair
back against the wall, and betook him¬
self disconsolately to bed.
*• I wonder if I’d better 3peak to
Jennie about her hair?” mused Mrs.
Ford. “ It seems a pity. Those little
curls, just like tendrils on tho grape¬
vines, make her forehead and eyes look
so pretty. I guess I won’t, just yet.
It does seem as though trouble was
making father dreadful cross-grained.”
No complaint was made to Jennie of
her bangs. She came down the next
morning with the same fringe of little,
soft curls above her pretty brows, but
with a broad gingham apron tied over
her neat print wrapper; and she washed
the breakfast china, made brown bread
and pumpkin pies, made up the plump
feather beds, and prepared dinner as
deftly as if she were in total ignorance
of the fashions.
Mrs. Ford was satisfied that Jennie
was not spoiled, if her father was not.
If Jennie had known of her father’s
disapproval. It would have been hard
for her to have abandoned those objec¬
tionable bangs, for some one else had
been especially pleased by Jennie’s
adoption of the style.
Mr. Chester Childreth was very ap¬
preciative of nice effects in the toilets
of ladies, and at last reports was still
undecided whether the loose tresses
made the deep fringed bine eyes so
lovely or the pretty eves made the little
curls so charming. The thought thrilled
Jennie’s heart every time she looked
in the little mirror, and it would have
been actual cruelty to have deprived her
of her bangs. Mr. Chester Childreth
seemed so far away—and though she
loved her home it was very bare of ro¬
mance and the refinements of the sum¬
mer which she had found so congenial.
“ Hasn’t anything done well ?’’ asked
Jennie, wiping the tea things with her
mother, and referring again to the mort¬
gage.
“Nothing but the quiaoos, Jennie
They’ve borne wonderfully well this
year. Ncaily two bushels apiece, and
there’s fifty trees. But there isn’t much
sale fqr quinces about here. I think
I’d better put up enough to last for
two years, and father will get what he
can for the rest of them.”
Just here Jennie dropped the snowy
dish-towel, and had nearly dropped a
china teacup; but though hep cheeks
were very red site shut her lips tight,
and wonld not speak a word until she was
"Ure. She only remarked, after a little:
“ I wouldn’t be in any hurry about
doing up the quinces, mother.”
A few days later Mr. Chester Chil¬
dreth arrived.
When they bad kissed each other
(though Jennie had intended to be
quite reserved), and read in each other’s
eyes all the truth of how they loved
each other, and tho old folks had re¬
tired and left them in full possession
of the cozy, comfortable, old-fashioned
sitting-room, Jennie told him her
trouble, and about the quinces
Now Mr. Chester Childreth was a
druggist, and replied, quickly:
“ You are perfectly right, dear Jen¬
nie. Quince seeds, a preparation of
which is popular for dressing ladies’
hair, are now four dollars a pound, on
account of their scarcity. I will gladly
give your father that price for them,
and wonld if he had a hundred times
as many more. Twenty-five pounds
will net him one hundred dollars.”
He declared afterward that he never
in his life saw such a happy girl as
Jennie was at that moment.
“ You see there’s only two hundred
dollars needed to cloar the debt off!’’
she cried. “ I’ve part of one hundred
—fifty—that Aunt Elinor gave me for
my dress the coming year. Of course
I intended to give father that; but he
has only twenty-five laid*, away, and I
have thought—what if we could make
out one hundred, there was tho other
dreadful hundred—”
“ The quince seeds secure that. Your
fifty and your father’s twenty-five make
seventy-five. Then, if your mother
and yourself will make twenty-five dol¬
lars’ worth of quince preserves for
market I will secure its sale with an
acquaintance of mine, who is a dealer
in fresh and preserved fruits,” ccn
eluded Mr. Childreth, who, though he
would gladly given Jennie’s father the
comparatively small sum needed, wonld
not for the world have offended the in¬
dependence of the little girl he admired
so much.
Jennie could hardly wait until morn¬
ing to rush to her father, throw her
arms around his neck and tell him the
whole story.
Mr. Childreth stood by enjoying tho
scene and confirming the truth of her
statements. He told the honest farmer
• • • . .
how many countries had been ransacked
to supply the demand for quince-Beed,
and assured the good man that it was
not a fairy tale until he was forced to
believe. -
Mrs. Ford wept for joy.
“I think—I dq think, Jennie, that
father would have fretted himself into
his grave before long if it hadn’t been
“My bangs!” laughed Jennie. “Ob,
I overheard him scolding about them
that night—poor father! but Chester
liked them, and I really did not
think I ought to give them up
when they are so becoming to me!”
A few weeks completed the plans for
closing the mortgage, and Farmer Ford
took courage. And it was then that the
wedding took place, beneath the be¬
loved old roof.
Customs and Principles of the Bunkers
The Bunkers profess all the funda¬
mental principles of Christian faitli.
They Jo not, however, believe in tho
eternal perdition of souls. They have
no creed apart from the Bible. What
they aim at is to restore Christianity
to its primitive purity, scrupulously to
follow the precepts and the example of
the Savior, and to make religions con¬
viction tho sole arbiter of conduct in
life. They still baptize the neophytes,
as their founders at Scliwarzenan did,
by immersing them three times in the
name of the Father, the Son and the
Spirit. Their holy communion is pre¬
ceded by the rite of foot-washing. A
curious discussion has of late engaged
their attention upon tho question
whether the single or the double mode
has the better claim for observance
When the same brother both washes
and dries the feet it is the single mode;
when each service is performed by a
separate person they call it foot-wash¬
ing by the double mode. It is not to
be understood, however, that tho whole
congregation is thus served by one or
two of their number. There are enough
of them going around with tub and
towel to finish the ceremony within a
reasonable time. Foot-washing and
communion are always administered in
the evening, during the afternoon a love
feast is held, in commemoration of the
supper which Jesus took with his
disciples. There is no binding rule as
to the choice of food, though among the
viands lamb has the preference. Even
such luxuries as coffee and butter, un¬
known to scriptural Palestine, are not
objected to. After the love feast comos
the “holy kiss.” The minister gives it
to the brother that sits next to him on
the right; he applies it in turn to his
neighbor, and thus it is passed along
the line, and by the last is carried to
the next table. Tho same order is ob
served with the women, with tho ex
ception that tho first kiss is applied by
the minister to the first sister’s hand
The Dnnkers live in peace with one
another, and seek no redress for injury
done to them by recourse to law. Dis¬
agreements among themselves are set¬
tled by the elders, whose decision is
final. Only in exceptional cases, and
after permission is granted by the offi¬
cers of the congregation, do they insti¬
tute law suits against the people of the
world. Like the Quakers and Men
nonites, they refrain from taking or ad
ministering oaths, from participating in
warfare or giving countenance to it in
any manner whatever. They are averse
to accepting public office. Their poor
they support. Among tlieir host of
200,000 people there is not one who
sutlers from want. Even those who
fail in business are aided to make a new
effort, and such assistance may bo lent
three times. After the third failure
they take it to be the will of God that
the unfortunate brother shall not suc¬
ceed.— Century Magazine.
How the Calf Crew.
On one of the railroads running on
of Detroit the passenger train made a
sudden halt between stations the other
day, and an old woman, who was travel¬
ing with the usual accompaniment of
parcels, whirled herself around and in¬
quired of the passenger behind:
“Have we colluded with anything?”
“I guess not."
“Then what did we stop for?”
“There was a calf on tho track, I be¬
lieve.”
That satisfied her for that time, but
in half an hour there was another stop
to pack a hot journal.
“ What on airth is the matter now?”
she inquired, as she tried to jmsh up
the window.
“Nothing—nothing—only a cow on
the track,” he replied, as ho continued
his reading.
The third halt was made just outside
of a station for wood, and as she heard
the whistle and felt the train slowing
down, sho got a brace for her feet and
called out:
“ First a calf and then a cow, and now
they are going to bump right into a
yoke of oxen and string ns all to
flinders! If they kill mo the old man
won’t settle for less’n $200 in cash!”—
Detroit Free Press,
NO. 41.
Day’s Ride—A Life’s Analogy.
Mil tangled forest and o’er grass plains wide,
Bv many a devious path and bridle-way,
Through tho short brightness of an Indian
day,
In middle winter, ’twas my lot to ride,
Skirting the round-topped, pine-elad mountain¬
side;
While far away upon the steely-blue
Horizon, half concealed and half in view,
Himalaya’s peaks upreared their snow-crowned
pride,
In utter purity and vast repose.
I, ere tho first faint flush of morning
glowed
Within her eastern chamber, took the road
And, slowly riding between day and night,
I marked how, through tho wan, imperfect,
light,
Ghostliko and gray loomed the eternal snows.
So near they seemed, each crack and crevice
small,
Like bas-relief work showed, while in the
light
Of ruddy morn, gray changed through pink
to white.
But soon tho sun, up-climbing, flooded all
The heavens, and then a thin and misty pall
Of exhalations roso, and palo of hue
And fainter over those far summits grow,
Until tho day waned low, and shadows tall
Sloped eastward. Then once more, in radiance
clear , „
Of setting sunlight, beautiful as brief,
Each peak and crag stood out tn bold relief,
Till, slowly, pink faded to ghostly gray.
So through life’s morning, noon-tide, even¬
ing, may
Ideal hopes dawn, fade and reappear.
—II. C. Irwin.
1TJNUENT PARAGRAPHS.
They speak of “yeller dogs.” Did
anybody ever see a dog that wa k s not a
yeller ?
The difference between a hungry man
and a glutton is—One longs to eat, and
the other eats too long.
“I don’t like that cat. It’s got
splinters in its feet!” was the excuse of
a four-year-old for throwing the kitten
away.
“ Money is active,” Fogg read in his
newspaper. “ That’s so,” he said.
“ It’s active enough to keep out of my
reach.”
Great results often flow from seem
ingly insignificant things. It should
be remembered that even the tick of a
watch is a matter of moment.
Quitting advertising in dull tipies is
like tearing out a dam because the
water is low. Either plan will pre¬
vent good times from ever coming.—
Yonkers Gazette.
A new work on etiquette says: “ Soup
must be eaten with a spoon.” Persons
who are in the habit of eating soup with
a fork or a carving knife will be slow to
adopt these new-fangled ideas.
Three men called at the house of a
Norwegian in Wisconsin and demanded
money. The man was away and thus
the wife felt called upon to pitch
one over the stove, break one arm for
tlio second, and scalp the third with
a stick of wood.
New York has two or three bowling
alleys especially for ladies. Young
women who are too delicate to help
their mothers to do housework will"find
rolling at tenpins a very pleasant exer<
cise. But the best “ten strike” is to
marry a man worth §1,000,000,
First Tilings About Paper.
Paper was first made from linen rags
in 1302.
Printing was invented in 1436.
Almanacs were first printed by Pur
back in Vienna, in the year 1457.
The Bible was first printed in
in 1402.
In 1471 the first printing press was
set up by Caxton.
Musical notes were firsjt printed in
1502.
Metal type was first made in matrices
in 1402, by Peter Schoefer, at Nurem
burg.
The first newspaper in tho world was
the Gazette , and was issued at Nurem
burg in 1457.
Lead pencils were first made in the.
United States by William Monroe, at
Concord, New Hampshire, in 1811.
Postage stamps were first used in
England in 1840, and in the United
States in 1847.
The printing press was first intro¬
duced to the United States at Cam¬
bridge, Mass.
Statistics disclose the fact that of
every ten children born in England
and Wales, less than seven ever reach,
their twentieth year. In France only
one-half tho boys and girls who are
born attain that age, and Ireland falls
oven below this’ miserable standard of
juvenile healthfnlness.
The fire losses in the United States
during 1881 aggregate $100,000,000.