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VOLUME I.
INDEPENDENT PRESS.
“ M ithout Fear, Favor or Affection.”
eatonton, ga.
■»
SATURDAY MORNING, SEPT. 30,1854.
•Ibstract of the Poor School
lair in ficorgia.
The only Poor Seho'.l fund now sub
ject to distribution by the state, is the
fund raised by the Act of LS-id, which
appropriates seventeen hundred and
thirty-three shares of the capital stock
<>i the Bank of the State of Georgia,
eight hundred and ninety shares of the
Burnt of Augusta, and all of the avail
able assets of the Central Bank, after
t lie payment of its debts, for the pur
pose of aiding in the education of the
poor. The scrip for this stock is deliv
ered to the State Treasurer, and the
stock is placed under his management
and control for the purpose specified.
Only the annual income of this stock is
to be used.
It is made the duty of the Justices of
the Inferior Courts to report to the
Governor, on or before the first Mon
day in November of each year, the
number of poor children in their re
spective counties, between the age of
eight and sixteen ycar.y whose parents
are unable to educate them. These
facts are to be arrived at on the part
of the Inferior Court, in the following
manner: The tax-receiver of each
county is required to have a column to
his tax-book in which he shall enter
the number of children of all tax-pay
ers. between the ages of eight and six
teen years, and also of orphans and
widows paying no tax. This return
must be banded to the Clerk of the In
ferior Court. whose duty it is to lay it
before the first Grand Jury which
meets after the return is made. From
this return, that body is to make out a
list of all the children entitled to the
benefits of the poor school fund under
existing laws. Should there be a fail
ure of the sessions of the Superior
Courts, the duty devolved upon the
Grand Jury falls upon the Justices of
the Inferior Court.
It is then made the duty of the Gov
ernor to distribute ratably in propor
tion to the number of poor children re
ported to him from the several coun
ties, the annual income of the poor
school fund, consisting of the bank
stock heretofore mentioned. Each
county, through its Inferior Court,
must have made at least one report of
the number of poor children, in order
to receive any part of f the education
fund. If annual reports are not regu
larly made, it is the duty of the Gov
ernor to distribute to each county rata
bly according to its last report.
The distributive share of each coun
ty may be paid to any person present
ing a certified of an order of the
Inferior Court authorizing such pay
ment.
The Justices of the Inferior Court of
the several counties arc required with
in ten days after they have received
their proportionable share of the poor
school fund, to advertise' the same at
the court-house, and three other pub
lic places in their county, that they
have received the same lor distribu
tion.
Besides the bank stock set apart for
a poor school fund, the Justices of the
Inferior Court of each county are au
thorized, upon the recommendation of
the Grand Jury of the first term of
the Superior Court for each } r ear, to
levy and collect an extra tax in their
respective counties, sufficient, togeth
er with such funds as may be received
from other sources, to educate the poor
children of their respective counties. —
And this fund must be kept separate
from all other county funds, and used
for no other purpose whatsoever. The
Judges of the Superior Courts are re
quired to give this matter in charge to
the Grand Jury at tire first term of the
Court in every year.
The Justices of the Inferior Court
also have power to order an appropria
tion of any surplus county funds in aid
of the provisions now made, or which
may be hereafter made, for .the benefit
of county academics or the education
of poor children. *.
The real estate of academies is free
from taxation. Another immunity
extended on the part of the jaw for
the benefit of education is that any
pcmoß who retains money in his
hfmds belonging to any academy, and
§ ©C*ltd;|jt !oiiriial:-scl)oteii to literature, politics, unit Central SfeaKann.
shall refuse to pay it over to the trus
tees of said academy, is required to
pay at the rate ot 20 per cent, per an
num until such money shall be paid
to the trustees of the academy. And
any person, whether trustee, commis
sioner or agent of any academy in the
state, who shall refuse, when required
by a majority of the trustees, or corn
i missioners of the academy, to pay over
j to the treasurer of the academy, or oth
-1 or person appointed by the trustees or
| commissioners, within ten days after
demand, all sums of money in his hands
belonging to the academy, shall also be
compelled to pay 20 per cent, interest
upon such money until it is paid over
to the person authoized to receive it.
By the Act of 1843 the Inferior
Courts of the counties are empowered
to apportion the poor school funds of the
county at their discretion among the
poor children of the county, according
to their respective necessities ; to ap
point commissioners or such other per
sons as they may deem proper, without
compensation, to superintend the prop
er application of the fund, and the ed
j ueation of the poor; and to pass and
! enforce such rules and regulations as
: they may deem best calculated to pro
mote the objects of tko Act, provided,
the same are not repugnant to the laws
of the state.
The Act of 1854 contemplates the
Ordinary of each county as the keeper
of the poor school funds of the county,
and authorizes him to pay out the same
to the teachers who present their ac
counts, being governed by the list
which is placed in his hands by the
Grand Jury. A reasonable construc
tion of these two Acts would imply a
power on the part of the Inferior Court
to appoint, if necessary, commissioners
to act in conjunction with the Ordina
ry, arid to impose upon him rules in his
management of the poor school funds,
not repugnant to the laws of the state.
Teachers, in making out their ac
counts against the poor school fund,
must state the number of days in which
they imparted instruction to the poor
children, and only be paid for the
specified number of days. The Grand
Jury, under the law, may have re
turned pome children as entitled only
to partial aid, and if so, then the Ordi
nary must only partially pay the ac
counts presented for their instruction.
66 \*allcy Pioneer
"We have received a paper from
Hamburg, S. C., with the above title,
edited by C. W. Styles, at $1 per an*
num, only one half what the price
ought to be.
The editor complains that the daily
press, especially of Charleston, will
not exchange with him, and enquires
what is the rule in exchanging week
lies with dailies. If there is any rule,
we ourself would be pleased to know
it. We can tell the Pioneer what rule
we adopted, and it can see how it likes
it. When we started our paper, we
thought certain dailies necessary to us
in making up our weekly news items.
To such we sent the Press requesting
an exchange. Some of them courte
ously responded to our call, and some
did not. Our self-respect did not al
low us to repeat the request, and we
sat down and enclosed the editors the
cash, and their dailies were forthcom
ing instanter.
We think that were we the editor
of a daily paper, we would exchange
with all the papers published in our
State as a matter of courtesy, if not of
interest. But degustibus non , Jr.
Not at Home.— When Cibber once
went to visit Booth, and knew that he
was at home, a female domestic denied
him. He took no notice of this at the
time; but when in a few days after
wards Booth paid him a visit in return,
he called out from the first floor that
he was not at home,
“How can that he?” answered'Both,
“clo I not hear your voice?”
“To be sure you do,” replied Cibber;
“but what then? I believed your ser
vant-maid, and it is hard indeed if you
won’t believe me /”
# I
Clerical Joke.— -At the meeting
of the church the pastor gave out the
hymn commencing with “I love to
steal awhile away,” when the chorister
commenced singing, but owing to some
difficulty in recollecting the tune, could
proceed no farther than “Hove to steal,"
which he did three or four times in
succession, when, the clergyman, in or
der to relieve him from the dilemma,
waggishly remarked, that it was “very
much, to be regretted" and added, “let vs
way,"
* .
EATONTON, GA., SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 30, 1854.
l«trj).
I’OK THE INDEPENDENT PRESS.
[No. 18.]
I often think if thou hadst died.
I often think if thou hadst died
W hen chains of youthful passion bound us,
That I might view thy tomb with pride—
Affection’s drapery still around us,
Unto that tomb, with silent awe,
My heart would bear me, bending lowly,
As when the Moslem’s sacred law
Directs his feet to Mecca holy.
There, in the stillness of the tomb
My heart should breathe its silent sorrow,
And puro affection’s flowers still bloom,
To catch the ray of hope to-morrow.
Then I would breathe again the vow
lhat, from affection’s fountain gushing,
Once lit with joy thy living brow,
Thy cheek with maiden passion flushing.
And in the wind that sighed above
Thy peaceful grave at twilight even,
I’d fancy still thy vows of love,
For thou could’st never change in heaven.
Thus hadst thou died! —but as you live
Despair within its dungeon smothers
The hope that death alone could give—
Old worse than death —thou art another's!
Turnwold, July 23d, 1848. i. l.
H (Tale.
FOB THE INDEPENDENT PBESS.
II ENT WOLD:
A TALE OF FLORIDA AND GEORGIA.
BY T
(Continued .)
CHAPTER IX.
The next week the guests came pour
ingin. First, on Sunday afternoon,
came Jack Harper, the midshipman.
His advent was sailor-like and charac
teristic. He came tearing up the ave
nue, like mad, and burst into the room,
exclaiming, without looking round to
see who tv as present,
“Mr. Bentley you are settled here
iu a perfect paradise. Why I never
was so struck with a place in my life, ■
and I have visited a considerable num
ber, in different parts of our A globe.
I once thought that if I were rich as
Croesus, I would never give up the sea
for any house I could build, or any
one else. But I find I was mistaken ;
and whenever you grow tired of Bent
wold, just make it over to me, and I
shall be perfectly willing to “give up
the ship,” notwithstanding the advice
the gallant Lawrence.”
“Very well Jack;” was the reply,
“whenever I grow tired of it, I will
give it to you. But let me introduce
you. It’s unnecessary to enquire after
your health. Your appearance is suf
ficient evidence on that point. Mr.
Harper, Mrs. Bentley—and Miss Bent
ley.”
Jack’s altered manner and two pro
found bows, spoke volumes concern
ing his politeness and devotion to the
sex.
“Mr. Fitz Warren,” next designated
Mr. Bentley.
To him Jack’s salutation was cor
dial, as it was to every one. Fitz Wa
rren’s was cold and reserved though
scrupulously polite, as was his wont.
Seeing this Mr. Bentley said,
“Let me recommend you two to cul
tivate each other’s acquaintance. I
think I know enough of you both,
short as is my acquaintance, with one,
to feel assured that you will be firm
friends, whenever you become well
acquainted.
And now let me introduce you to
my sons, Jack. I do not introduce you
as Mr. Bentley and Mr. Harper; but
as Jack Harper and Frank Bentley—
so don’t let me hear you mistering each
other.”
“I am most'happy, Jack” said Frank,
“to shake hands with you and to be
allowed to call you Jack.”
“Glad to form your acquaintance,
Frank,” said Jack. “I hate this way
of mistering youths of my own age,
so Mr. Bentley could not have given
me a form of introduction more to my
liking.” *
Henry’s introduction followed next,
and then Jack amused the party the
remainder of the evening with his
reckless joviality, and his wild rattling
conversation. ,
The next day brought Col. Banks
and Miss Laura, from Louisiana. The
reader already knows ' something of
the latter, from the sketch given by
Helen. The Colonel himself, was a
fine-looking, ruddy, white haired gen
tleman of nearly sixty summers. His
white hair was almost the only sign of
approaching age. He was of the old
school—well educated, refined and
very polite— to “the sex.”
He and his daughter were well ac
quainted with all the Bentleys; and
the old gentleman was a particular fa
vorite of Mr. Bentley’s.
The party from Georgia with the ex
ception of Charley Hampton, arrived
soon after. The fashionable old bach,
elor delayed his appearance to the
middle of the week—“ Like a fine
belle” said Mr. Bentley, “anxious, by
delaying his advent, to make it with
as much eclat as possible.” His failure,
to come, however, did not in the least
affect the enjoyment of the party as
sembled. Never, I ween, did time
pass more pleasantly than with the
guests at Bentwold that Spring.—
What was there to mar their enjoy
ment? They all had youth, or health,
the season was pleasant, the climate
delightful, their hosts were intelligent,
kind, and knew how to enjoy life
themselves and to make their guests
happy, without worry or trouble to
themselves. They had at their com
mand horses, dogs, guns, servants. —
The mornings were spent by each one
in the way which pleased him or her
best. Mr. Bentley frequently rode
over his plantation or gave audience to
overseers or foremen; or when there
was nothing of this sort going on, he
rolled ten-pins, played billiards, &c.,
with his guests. The ladies, under
charge of Helen, spent their mornings
—I cannot say exactly how. Perhaps
in practicing sentimental music! Per
haps in writing love letters—or read
ing the last new novel. Perhaps in
curling their hair, or paint—l mean
putting on their best holes —or perhaps
in some kind of needle-work. Helen,
I know, spent a part of each morning
with her tutor, and in practicing her
music and dancing.
In the evening—or rather before
sun-set, for the sun was hidden by the
■trees and shorn of its rays half an hour
before it went down—horses were
saddled and nearly all enjoyed the ex
hilaration of a gallop. And after tea,
occasionally, Howard and George
Washington and several others who
performed very creditably on several
instruments, were called in, and they
had a merry dance. Or for those who
did not choose to dance, the long col
onnade, and the dark grove afforded
promenades.
Late on Thursday afternoon, several
of the guests, with Mr. Bentley, were
standing in the colonnade facing the
avenue, when they perceived a car
riage with considerable pretensions to
style, rolling along most aristocratical
ly toward the house. As soon as it
was tolerably near, Mr. Bentley ex
claimed,
“There comes the immaculate Char
ley Hampton at last.”
“How do you manage to recognise
him through the person of that black
driver perched up there, and through
the curtains of the carriage besides ?”
asked Mrs. Holmes.
“I know him by bis equipage.”
“Well,” said Mrs. Holmes, “I should
imagine he is just the man to travel
in such a concern as that.”
“Charley will travel in good style,”
said Mr. Bentley, “when no one else
can. Now lam,well convinced that
when he landed from the steamer, the
first thing he did was to order Cupid to
hunt up that carriage. The wonder is
how he could possibly hire, at a livery
stable, a turn out in such ready good
taste. But as I said before, he finds
such things when no one else can.”
“You don’t pretend,” said Mrs.
Holmes, “to assert that that gaudy af
fair is in good taste?”
“I shall certainly inform Mr. Hamp
ton how you designate his carriage,”
said Mr. Bentley.
“You had better.”
“Do you know that he is a professed
victimize? ?”
“Yes.”
“Well do you not stand somewhat
in awe of him?”
“Not very much.”
“Well let mo tell you.' He will
most certainly, set himself out to break
your heart, when he finds you have
spoken disparagingly of him.”
1 “I have heard much of the redoubt
able Charley Hampton,” said Mrs.
Holmes, “and am determined to bring
him to my feet.”
“Provided,” said Mr. Bentley, who
was bent on having some sport. “Pro
vided, lie does not turn the joke.”
“Ihave met him several times,” re
sumed Mrs. Holmes, “but always had
so many flirtations on hand that I have,
heretofore, been, unable, to pay him
any attention.”
“And so now?” said Miss Banks who
just then came out.
“But now,” said Mrs. Holmes, “I
am perfectly at leisure, and am deter
mined to victimize him.”
“But perhaps,” said Miss Banks, “he
would say something similar concern
ing you.”
“Possibly he might.”
“You know there is no accounting
for the vanity of these men.”
“Their vanity is certainly sometimes
astonishing,” said Mrs. Holmes.
“But do you know, Mrs. Holmes,”
said Miss Banks, “I am determined to
be your rival? I shall contend for
the honor of breaking Mr. Hampton’s
heart, myself.”
“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed Mr. Bentley.
“Well it is singular!”
“What is singular?”
“Excellent!” continued Mr. Bent
ley. “We’ll have some rare sport.”
“But what,” asked Mrs. Holmes, “is
it vou have discovered that is so sing
ular?”
“Oh only a coincidence between the
language you held just now, and that
of a letter I received from Charley not
long since.”
‘‘lndeed! Well suppose you let us
hear what the letter says.”
“I intend to do so. And then I will
inform Charley of your generous in
tentions concerning him.”
“I am perfectly willing,” said Mrs.
Holmes. “And then we will be fore
warned and fore-armed all round.”
“Certainly. It will be a fair and
open trial of skill.”
“But the letter.”
“Well here it is. I will read you a
short extract only.”
So saying, Mr. Bentley drew out a
letter and commenced reading,
“And so, Horace, you say the renown
ed Mrs. Holmes will be at Bentwold.
I am glad of it. I have long desired
to cultivate her acquaintance, but
have never had an opportunity of do
ing so. True, I have met her several
times at Cotoosa and elsewhere, but
always at a time when I had so many
engagements on hand that I was un
able to bestow on her more than a
passing thought. Now, however,
thank God, I am entirely clear of all
last season’s engagements and am per
fectly at leisure and ready for a flirta
tion with Mrs. Holmes. I am not a
vain man, Horace, as you are aware,
buT I may say you know Charley
Hampton well enough to guess what
will be the result, whenever he at
tempts to win the heart of a lady, al
though that lady be the famous Mrs-
Holmes, herself.”
A general burst of laughter greeted
the reading of this precious extract,
in which Mrs. Holmes could not re
frain from joining heartily, although
she was somewhat taken aback. Miss
Laura Banks seemed to enjoy the
reading with peculiar zest; seeing
which, Mr. Bentley, after the laugh
had somewhat subsided, said,
“Miss Banks will 3 ? ou listen now to
what Charley has to say about you?”
“About me?” cried Miss Laura in the
utmost confusion.
“Certainly. About you.”
“Why what can he know of me?”
“Oh! a great deal.”
“Why I never saw him.”
“I know it.”
“Well how can he know anything of
me?”
“Very easily. I am aware that you
never saw him, and that he never saw
you; but you have heard of him, have
you not?”
“Frequently.”
“Well is it surprising then that he
should have heard of you?”
Miss Banks was forced to confess it
was not, and Mr. Bentley resumed,
“You flirts and heart-breakers are
certain to know all about each other
by reputation, whether you have ever
seen each other or not.”
“Let us hear what he says, at any
rate,” said Miss Laura.
“Here it is then.” „
“Miss Laura Banks also, you say will
honor your house with
I am glad of that too; for as it is utter
ly improbable that the other affair can
occupy more than half the time I in
tend spending with you, the conquest
of her heart may prevent the rest of
the time from hanging heavily on my
hands.”
“You may look for me about the
middle, &c.”
“The rest is not interesting. And
now ladies, what do you think of my
friend Charley?”
Think?” said Mrs. Holmes. “Why
that his impudence is unaccountable.
But the greater the pride the greater
the fall.”
And as she said this the carriage
drew up before th e door and a fine
looking mulatto opened the door for a
gentleman who occupied the back seat.
When the carriage stopped, the latter
rose slowly, and lounged lazily and
dignifiedly down the steps with an un
lit cigar between his teeth. He had
been enjoying a dry smoke for the last
half hour of his ride. He stopped a
few moments to give some directions;
and let us, with the ladies, examine his
appearance while he is doing this.—
He was an exceedingly fashionable
looking man of about forty years of
age. His hair was dark, though not
black; his eyes were such as are not
often matched for expression and beau
ty. His nose was rather Boman in
its form, and his face, taken altogether
was more distingue than handsome.—-
An air of the most supreme and im
perturable self-satisfaction rested upon
it, which however, was as different
from common, vulgar conceit, as the
bright shining gold is from the base
counterfeit.
He was dressed in very plain style,
but his clothes fitted in such a way
as to show at the first glance that they
were made up by an artist, and any
one looking upon him could not fail
to admit that this plain dress was much
more effective than the finery of com
mon men. Besides, his clothes, al
though of plain colors and subdued
style were made of the most costly
materials to be procured. His figure
was calculated to display to advantage
his exquisite dress—his attitudes be
ing careless and indolent, but very
graceful. It was impossible not to re
cognize, at a glance, the man who had
all his life, mixed with fashionable so
ciety. His whole appearance was that
of a man of the world ; and Mrs*
Holmes and Miss Banks, look as close
ly as they might, could find no fault
with his personal appearance. They
were forced to admit to themselves, as
he stood with his neatly gloved hand
raised to enforce attention from his
servant, that he was, at least, a “foeman
worthy of their steel.”
Still, after all, if a very close ob
server had seen how his eye brighten
ed, aiid his breath came quick as he
looked up and saw the face of his dear
est friend on earth—Horace Bentley—
he would have seen an expression which
would have gone far toward convin
cing him that Charley Hampton was
not the mere man of the world. And
justice to him compels me to state now,
that he was not. If he had been, he
never could have been the chosen and
bosom friend of such a man as Horace
Bentley. That gentleman would nev
er have selected as Iris most confiden*
tial friend, and one who had continued
as such during a score of years, one
whose heart was not in the right
place.
As he finished his directions con
cerning his baggage, he turned, and
very leisurely commenced ascending
the steps of the house. He was met
by Mr. Bentley, and for a short mo
ment he could not avoid throwing
aside the mask, as he grasped firmly
and shook strongly, without speaking
the hand of his old and tried and val
ued friend. He soon recovered how
ever, but not till all present had noticed
this remarkable exhibition of feeling
on his part. Remarkable at least to
those who knew him not. The Bent
leys understood it very well.
“Mon cher Horace,’.’ began the inim
itable Charley. “ I am excessively
glad to see you. Still more glad am I
to see that you are dressed like a gen
tleman, although you are living down
here in this wild country, so close to
the Indians. There are still hopes, I
see, that you will not entirely forget
the lessons you and I learned to
gether.”
“Forget them Charley?” answered
Mr. Bentley. - “Why I am a better
dressed man to-day than you are, al-
J TERMS. $2.00 A YEAR,
NUMBER 24.
though you are a young man, unmar•
ried, and I am an' old man, and mar
ried.”
Now Charley and Horace wero about
the same age, and this was intended
by the latter as a sly hit at the former,
for the amusement of the ladies. The
imperturbable Charley was not the
least disconcerted however, as ho re
plied,
“All vanity, Horace! All vanity t
I see you have not yet rid yourself of
that besetting sin. Imitate piy exam
ple. You see how free lam from thi.4
ridiculous affectation.”
“Certainly. I see.”
“Well, profit by it. I need not en
quire after your health. You look so
well, the question would be imperti
nent.”
“True,” said Mr. Bentley, “I refrain,
from asking concerning yours, for tho
same reason. But I will see you in
your own room to-night, after these
bright eyes around us are closed in
sleep. Now you must pay them your
homage.”
“Os course.”
“ Well, then. You. know Mrs.
Holmes ?”
“I believe I may claim that honor,”
said Charley with a profound bow,
which was returned as profoundly by
the lady, as she said,
“Certainly, we are acquainted Mr.
Hampton.”
“I certainly do know you Mrs.
Holmes—for what Georgian does not
know the pride and boast of his State ?
but I was not sure you would recog
nize so humble an individual as my
self, on the strength of a passing in
troduction a year ago.”
“Come,” was the answer, “I shall
be forced to consider you guilty of tho
sin of wnieli you were exhorting Mr.
Bentley to free himself, if you continue
in that strain.”
“Upon my honor I” began Charley,
but he was interrupted by Mr. Bent
ley, who said,
“Excuse me Charley, but that fino
speech to which you were about togivo
utterance will keep very well until
another time. I wish to introduce
you to Miss Banks. Miss Banks, al
low me to introduce my very particu
lar friend, Mr. Hampton of Georgia.”
“1 am honored in forming your ac
quaintance Miss Banks,” said Charley,
bowing.
‘‘And I,” said Miss Banks, “am
happy to form the acquaintance of any
one who claims to be a friend of Mr.
Bentley.”
CHAPTER X. * -
A few days after Charley Hamp-f
ton’s arrival, the Butlers were invited
to dine at Bentwold. They wero un*j|
acquainted with most of Mr. Bent-*
ley’s guests. "When they made their
appearance in the drawing-room, tho
latter were all assembled, and group
ed in different parts of the room.—
Some were conversing in pairs, and
others in knots of three or four. Jack;.
Harper was engaged fqj the time in
teasing and' being teased by Miss 1
Banks—Billy Pitt Morton was con- ;
versing in very proper set terms with
Helen Bentley, while Frank was un
conscious of the existence of any ono
else, while pouring forth words of elo
quence to Kate Moag&h
Fitz Warren wasjfeclining on a so
fa, with an air off abstraction, which
showed how litt|# interest he felt in
what was goingfon around him. In
spite of his abSjpsicted manner, howev
er, he occasionally gazed in the,direc
tion where saplelen Bentley, with an
apparent int|jjflst which showed itself
too plainly. But even in these occa
sional there was the samo ap
pearance of abstraction displayed in
liis general mlkner; and this very for
getfulness of alltoXQund him rendered
him more careleS than was common
with him, of concSying his thoughts.
Fortunately, the comply had learn
ed his mood, and they iiaoWlso learn
ed to leave him to his own
when he was not disposed to con
verse. Consequently, he wa| leftNafc
this time unnoticed, and noione obit
served his actions. 1
He was communing with himself.
He had thought tho time hi. coma*
when the power of love had
to disturb his repose. He hacU%>ng
struggled against it—had neveryielolcU.
to it once, though on one , occasion,
almost overcome—aud finally thought
he had triumphed over its|power^—^