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§kugttjsta fjjusitttss teds.
W. B. VAIL,,
WITH
KEAN & CASSELS,
Wholesale and retail dealers in
Foreign and Domestic Dry Goods
209 Broad st., lat stand of H. F. Russel & Cos.
AUGUSTA, GA.
J. MURPHY & CO.
Wholesale and retail dealers in
English While Granite & 0. 0. Ware
ALSO,
Semi-China, French China, Glassware, &c.
No 244 Broad Street,
AUGUSTA, GA.
T MARK WALTER,
MARBLE WORKS,
BROAD STREET,
Near Lower Market,
AUGUSTA, GA.
THE AUGUSTA
Gilding, Looking-glass,Picture Frame
FACTORY.
Old Picture Frames Regilt to look Equal to
JVcw. Old Paintings Carefully Cleaned,
Lined and Varnished.
J. J. BROWNE, Agent,
346 Broad st., Augusta, Ga.
SCHNEIDER^
N DEALER IN
WINES, LIQUORS AND CIGARS
AUGUSTA, CtA.
Agent for Fr. Schloifer A Co.’s San Francisco
CALIFORNIA BRANDY.
HHOGiH EUEQUOTT CHAOIPAGKB.
E. R. SCHNEIDER,
Augusta, Georgia.
Bones, Brown ft Cos., J. ft S. Bones ft Cos.,
AUGUSTA, GA. HOME, GA.
Established 1825. Established 1869.
BONES, BROWN & CO.,
IMPORTERS
And dealers in Foreign & Domestic
HARDWARE
AUGUSTA GA
E. H. ROGERS,
Importer and dealer in
RIM, GUNS PISTOLS
And Pocket Cutlery,
Ammanition of all Kinds,
245 BROAD BTREET, AUGUSTA, GA.
REPAIRING EXECUTED PROMPTLY
(SUitttott -Business Csuits.
LI6HT CARRIAGES BUGGIES.
J. F. AULD,
Carriage ufact’ r
GLBERTOiV, GEORGIA.
BEST WORKMEN!
BEST WORK!
LOWEST PRICES!
Good Baggies, warranted, - $125 to $l6O
Common Baggies - SIOO.
REPAIRING AND BLACKSMITHING
Work done in this line in the very best style.
The Best Harness
My 22-1 V
T. M. SWIFT. MACK ARNOLD
SWIFT & ARNOLD,
(Successors to T. M. Swift,)
dealers in
DRY GOODS,
CROCKERY, BOOTS AND
SHOES, HARDWARE, &c.,
Public Square, ELBERTOI GA.
H. K. CAIRDNER,
ELBERTON, GA.,
DEALER IN
BY COOIS. GIOCIIIE.
HARDWARE, CROCKERY,
BOOTS, SHOES, HATS
Notions, &o
ELBERTON FEMALE
THE exercises of this institute will be resum
ed on Monday, August 18th, 1873.
term, four months. Tuition, $2.50,
$3.50, and $5 per month, according to class—
payable half in advance.
Mrs. Hester will continue in charge of the
Musical Department.
Board in the best families can be obtained at
from $lO to sls per month.
For further information address the Principal
H. P. SIMS.
THE GAZETTE.
New Sei ies.
A TALE OF CALIFORNIA MINES.
BY JOAQUIN MILLER.
There was a company up the gulch
above us. Portuguese were these—a
! quiet, unobtrusive set of men, with dogs
and shot-guns, and the quaintest little
cabins in the world. Brown men—sail
ors mostly—with ear-rings in their ears
and their shirt-bosoms open; clannish
people, silent and respectful. Then there
were other companies below, not unlike
our own—a hundred men or more on
this little mountain stream. Trees above
us in eternal green, chapparal along the
steep and fierce old mountain side that
pitched almost perpendicularly on either
side the stream upon us, from which
whistled the partridge through the day,
and called the gray coyote at night. No
other sounds than these, but the rattle
of the stones in the cradle, or the tom
and the pick and the shovel on the rocks.
No doctors, no lawyers, nolaw, no thieves.
Forty miles the nearest trading camp.
All things we brought from there, across
a wall of everlasting snow, upon our
backs—bread and bacon and beans, and
beans and bacon and bread—the whole
year through. At last the dreaded scur
vy came. Men suddenly fell ill, lost the
use of their limbs, fell helpless on their
hands. No help, nothing would do them
good but change of place and change of
diet. We could not carry them out across
the snow. This was dreadful. You could
not have seen these strong, brave men
stricken there, helpless, dying day by day,
without hope, and been silent. Sad!
fearful!
There were six of them, and the worst
case in the six was that of the man with
the leather nose, all brought together,
all lying looking hopelessly, sadly into
each other’s faces, thinking of other faces,
other scenes, in other lands. At last an
old sailor suggested, as a last resort, a
remedy. He had seen a ship’s crew saved
in some land in the tropics. We would
try that. It was to place the men, strip
ped nude as nature, up to the chin in
the earth, till the loose and warm rich
soil should draw the poison from their
bodies.
There was reason in this. Besides, we
had some evidence that it would save our
men; for once when a party of men at
tacked us, Ave won the fight, and follow
ing them a little Avay, found a wounded
Indian buried up to the eyes in the
earth. They had done this in hope of
saving him, to try and heal his wound,
and they are good physicians.
We dug six pits in the shadow of a
pine, in the loose and warm alluAual soil;
and there, as the sun went down, Ave
stood the men up to the chin, and filled
the earth in about them. It Avas a love
ly moonlight night, balmy and peaceful
as a paradise. Not a sound save the
doleful howl of a wolf in the crags above.
Even in this condition the grim Russian
was the centre of interest. But he was
silent and helpless. His head inclined
to one side, and rested on the loose,
warm soil beside him. His hand Avas
half hidden in the earth.
Oregon Jake was there, assisting as
well as he might, in his awkward and
loose way, in the singular experiment
and effort to save the lives of the strick
en men. But he was not gifted with any
special gravity of bearing, and the gro
tescpie picture before him, with all its
sadness, had its comical feature.
He went up to Ginger and began to
talk, as he looked now and then at the
Russian over his shoulder. He half
laughed as he did so.
The buried man heard him, lifted his
head with an effort, and cried out, in a
ghostly, graveyard voice:
Knock him down, Ginger; knock him
down!”
Ginger, true to his helpless friend,
knocked him down on the spot.
Again the feeble head of the helpless
man settled over on the soft soil. He
closed his eyes with the most perfect
satisfaction, and then smiled till his
white teeth looked like the entire roof
of a miniature cemetery.
After a while the tired miners began
to retire, and, with a silent prayer for
the success of the experiment, left it to
time. The invalids were cheerful, and
now with a little hope, chatted gaily
enough together, but looked strange be
yond description—the six shaggy heads,
just bursting through the earth, like
Banquo’s, there in a row, in the fitful
moonlight. It looked like men rising
from the earth and coming up to judg
ment. Their voioes sounded weird and
ghostly, too, as of another world. After
ELBERTON, GEORGIA# SEPTEMBER 3# 1873.
awhile, one by one they fell asleep, and
all was still, save the howling of the wolf
on the bluff above. I grew frightened
ike. I think the others did too. 4pd
one by one we stole away and left them
there, as the night went on, and sougjht
our bunks inside the cabins, and threw
us down in our clothes and slept. It was
an experiment for life or death.
What a strange stupor overcomes men
sometimes at night who have been lxard
at work all day. Singular that we should
have left those six men there at midnight
in the black shadows, with only here
and there a ray of moonlight to relieve
the scene. Strange that we could not
keep awake.
The experiment was a failure. The
wolves come down in the night and ate
off every head level with the ground. |
LOT’S WIFE.
A correspondent in Virginia sends
the following story to Lippincott’s Mag
azine.
As I approached a pond the other day
where some negroes were cutting ice, I
chanced to hear the conclusion of a con
versation between two hands on the sub
ject of religion.
“What do you reckon you know ’bout
ligion? You don’t know nothin' tall
’bout ’ligion.”
“I know heap bout ligion; ain’t I dona
read de Bible.”
“What you read in de Bible? Isay
you can’t tell me nothin’ what you read
in de Bible ?”
“But I kin dough, I read ’bout Mor
ro.”
“What sort o’ Morrow—to-morrow?"
“No, Go-morrow.”
“Well, whar he go, and what he go
fur ?”
“Shoh, man! he didu’tgo no whar, coz'
he has a town.”
“Dar, didn’t I tell you, you didn’t
know nuthin’ bout nuthin’. You read;
de Bible ! How cum de town named
Moro’ and how the town gwine any
whar? Town ain’t got no legs to go
wid.” ■ j
“De debbil dey didn’t. Ef day stay;
dar till to-morrow ? Splain me dat.” j’S
“But dey all gone, and de towjgtc
All done burnt up.”
“Ef dar ain’t no pepul, and dere ain’t
no town named Morro ? G'long nigger !
Didn’t I knew you didn’t knew nuthin’
’tall ’bout ’ligion ? But go on, and tole
me ’bout some more what you read in
de Bible.”
“Well, Morro avus a big town—’bout
mighty nigh’s big as Washington city—
de pepuls what lived dar was de meanes’
pepul in de whole worl’—dey was dat
mean, dat de Lord he couldn’t bear ’em,
and he make up his mind dat he gwine
burn de toAvn clear up. But dar avus one
good man member ub de church, presid
in’ elder, named Lot.’’
“Yaas, I knoAvd him !”
“Whar you know him ?”
“On de canal. He owned a batto, he
drov it himself.
“He isn’t de man ! I talking sense
noAV. Den de Lord he came to Lot and
he say, Lot I gwine to bum dis town. —
Y r ou and your Avife git up and gether
your little alls and put out fo’ de crack
ob day, coz I cert’nly gAvine bum dis
town and de pepul to-morrow. Den Lot
he and his wife riz and snatched up his
things and traveled soon in de momin’.
And de Lord he took pi-nots and some
shavins, and he sot fire to dat ar toAvn
ob Morrow, and he burnt it spank up
and clear down to de groAvn, shore’s you
bom.”
“What cum o’ Lot?”
“He and his Avife, dey went, and dey
went, till presently his Avife [say, ‘Lord!
ef I ain’t gone and lef de meal-sifter and
de rollin’ pin, I wisht I may die!”
and she turned round—and she right
dar, now!”
“What you recon she been doin’ all
dis time?”
“Nuffin.”
“She must be a mighty good-fur nufin
woman.”
“No she ain’t. De Lord he turned
her to a pillow ov salt, coz she is too
’quisitive.”
“Dar—evrybody know ’bout sack ob
salt; but what come o’ Lot”
“Lot, he weren’t keem’ ’tall ’bout no
robin pin and meal-sifter, so he kept
straight, long ’thout turain to de right
neider to de left.”
“And lef de ole omun standin dar by
herself?”
“Yaas.”
“In de middle uv de road ? ’
“Yaas.”
“Must hev keered mighty little fur
her—want to get married to second Avife
I spect. But de fust man what cum ’long
and want to get some salt to mak a asli
cake, be gwine to bust a piece out ov
Lot’s wife and ’stroy her; and what do
you think ob dat? Call dat ’ligion ?
And de ole man lef her and you read
dat”—
Here peremptory order from the fore
man to “go to work” broke short the con
versation.
HIS*HAT.
A COMPLICATED CHICKEN CASE.
Jones, who keeps a variety of fowls,
was asked by a friend to board a valua
ble hen for a few days, for some reasons
best known to himself. The proposition
was assented to, but by some means the
hen got out of the coop, strayed away
and could not be found. The owner
felt aggrie .e l, as the fowl belonged to a
choice breed. Some months later a dis
sipated man and a hard case generally,
residing in the neighborhood of Jones’,
came to him and wanted to sell a valua
ble hen for less than half price. He had
the fowl with him in a basket. It was
worth five dollars, but as he w’anted the
money badly, he would sell it for two
dollars. Joues looked at it, and thought
it resembled the lost hen. He asked the
man how he came by the fowl. The
man gave some plausible answer; and
Jones, not being able to identify it, and
thinking if he had really stolen it he
would not have ventured there to sell it,
thought he would buy it and say noth
ing more about it.
He did so, placed it in the coop and
went about his business. The next
morning he sent word to his friend that
the lost hen was found. The friend has
tened down to look at his property, and
the two went to the coop together, feel
ing pretty well. When they got there
their feelings must have undergone a
t dhange, as their smiling faces suddenly
Elongated, and in other ways they seem
ed disappointed. The coop was empty.
-Lape of the fowl was
: H&ked-oj. w.-,nu*V.
cl'ftred that there had been foul work, and
stepping into the cage picked up some
thing, and telling his friend to follow
him, started in the direction of the dis
sipated man’s house. They found him
at home. He appeared pleased to see
his visitors, and hurriedly remarked to
Jones, “I’ve got a mate to that hen I sold
you last night. You can’t tell ’em apart.
They are twin sisters. Come and look
at her.”
As soon as Jones set eyes on her, he
also was struck Avith the resemblance.—
Finally, looking sharp at him, he said:
“Who owns that hen ?”
The other, nothing daunted, replied
“I own it.”
Jones advanced a step, concentrated
a bit of lightning in his eyes, and, lifting
his voice to a louder key, repeated:
“Who oavus that hen ?”
The other, with a voice less confident,
“I own that hen. Do you want to buy
her ?”
Then Jones pulled a soft felt hat out
of his pocket, and holding it before the
astonished gaze of the chick thief, said:
“Who owns that hat?”
By this time the thief had lost his
presence of mind, and answered as he
had done about the hen—“l own that
hat.”
“Of course you do,” said Jones. “I
found that hat in my hen coop, but the
hen was missing. How came the hat in
my chicken coop, and where is the chick
en ?”
“I don’t know,” replied the thief in an
humble voice.
“Very well,” said Jones, eyeing him
significantly, “111 give you that hat for
the hen. What say you ?”
“I don’t understand how that hat
came in your coop, but as I got that off
from a dead yankee’s head in the war, I
value it highly. It’s a trade, Mr. Jones,
but I don’t understand how it got into
your coop.”
The grasshopper bend is raging at the
watering-places. Eli Perkins Avrites to
the Graphic: “All the young ladies have
it here. It is considered very Avrong for a
young lady not to stick her arms back
like a grasshopper’s legs and then walk
with a sailor’s swagger. They call it the
‘NeAvport roll.' When a young lady
gets loaded down with bottles, fans, um
brellas, tooth brashes, and gutta-percha
combs, and moves off Avith the grasshop
per bend and Newport roll, you might
as weU get off the balcony and. let the
tiai igo by. I always do.”
Vol. 11.-No. 19.
A TELLING HIT.
The recent death of John C. Tucker
calls to mind a speech which he made in
the house of representatives some years
ago—a speech that was full of tingling
wit, and it was delivered in the happiest
manner.
General Banks had been elected gov
ernor by a combination between the free
soilers and know nothings, and it was
naturally supposed that in his inaugural
address there would be some reference
to the issue of the campaign. But the
adroit governor omitted all mention, of
the anti-slavery question, as well as of
the native American policy. A member
arose and moved to print ten thousand
copies of the address; when instantly
Dr. Tucker got the floor and spoke as fol
lows :
“I rise, Mistlier Spaker, to second the
motion of the honorable gentleman to
print tin thousand of his excillincy’s ad
dress. You may wonder, Mistlier Spa
ker, why I, who am nather a personal
nor political friend of his exeillincy,
should do this. It is well known that
his excillincy has risen to power by a co
alition between the anti-slavery and na
tive American parties.—or as they are
sometimes called—free soilers and know
nothings. And this put me in mind of a
little story.
“There was a bishop in Dublin who
engaged a painther to make a large pic
ture for the caytliadral. The subject
chosen was the crossing the Red Say by
the Israelites. After a suitable time the
picture was completed and hung in the
caytliadral, covered with a broad and
heavy curtain. A great crowd of people
assembled to see the picture unveiled.
The priests entered in procession the
organ sounded, and the singers sung.—
All faces were turned in anxious expec
tation to the great curtain. When it
was dhrawn aside, nothing could be
seen but a vast expanse of wather—red
dish green wather. The bishop in a
great rage turned to the painther and
“I I engaged you to paint a
picture of the Israelites crossing the Red
Say?"
“Thrue for you, that’s jist it,” said the
painther.
“But where are the Isrrelites!” asked
the indignant bishop.
“They’ve gone over,” said the pain
ther.
“Well, but where are the pursuing
Egyptians ?”
“They’ve gone unther,” said the pain
ther.
“With a similar disappointment the
friends of his excillency stand now. If
they ask “What has become of the nay
ger ?” the answer is: “He’s gone over.”
Mr. Spaker, if they ask, then, “What has
become of the know nothings ?” “Why,
they’ve gone unther," Mistlier Spak
er.”
The roars of laughter from all parts of
the House made the rest of the speech
inaudible.
ANCIENT PREDICTION.
Entitled by popular tradition “Mother
Shipton’s Prophecy. Published in 1448,
republished in 1641:
Carriages without horses shall go,
And accidents fill the world with woe,
Around the earth thoughts shall fly
In the twinkle of an eye.
The world upside-down shall be,
And gold be found at the root of a tree.
Through hills men shall ride
And no horses be at his side.
Under water men shall walk,
Shall rifle, shall sleep, shall talk.
In the air men shall he seen
'ln white, in black and green.
Iron in the water shall float
As easily as a wooden boat,
God shall be found and shown
In a land that’s now not known.
Fire and water shall wonders do,
England shall at last admit a foe.
The world to an end shall come
In eighteen hunndred and eighty-one.
NO EFFECT.
A clergyman was was traveling, and
stopped at a hotel much frequented by
wags and jokers. When at the table the
Avags used all their artillery of wit upon
Him without elicting remark in self de
fence. One of them, at last, said to
him:
“Sir, I wonder at your patience!
Have you heard what has been said
against you ?”
“Oh, yes, but I am used to it Do you
know who I am ?”
“No, sir.”
“I Avill tell you. lam ohaplain of a
I lunatic asylum; such remarks have no
j effect upon me I”
MATCT. your own sunshine.
“Oh dear, it always does rain when I
want to go anywhere!” cried little Jen
nie Moore. “It’s too bad; now I’ve got
to stay indoors all day, and I know I
shall have a wretched day.”
“Perhaps so,’ said Uncle Jack; but
you need not have a bad day, unless you
choose it.”
“How can I help it ? I wan’t to go to
the park and hear the band, and take
Fido and play on the grass, and have a
good time, and pull wild flowers, and
eat sandwiches under the trees; and now
there isn’t going to be any sunshine at
all; and I’ll have just to stand here and
see it rain, and sea the water run off the
duck's back all day.”
“Well, let’s make a little sunshine,’'
said Uncle Jack.
“Make sunshine!” said Jennie ; “why
how you do talk!’' and she smiled
through her tears. “You haven’t got a
sunshine factory, have you?”
“Well, I’m going to start one right
off, if you will be my partner,” replied
Uncle Jack. “Now let me give you these
rules for making sunshine; First, don’t
think of what might have been if the
day had been better; second, see how
many things there are left to enjoy; and,
lastly, do all you can to make other peo
ple happy.”
“Well, I’ll try the last thing first.”
and she went to work to amuse her lit
tle brother Willie, who was crying. By
the time she had him riding a chair and
laughing, she was laughing too.
“Well,” said Un le Jack; “I see you
are a good sunshine-maker, for you’ve
got about all you or Willie can hold just
now. But let’s try and see what we can
do with the second rule.”
“But I haven’t anything to enjoy,
’cause all my dolls are old, and my pic
ture-books are torn, and—”
“Hold,” said Uncle Jack; “here’s an
old newspaper. Now let’s get some fun
out of it.”
“Fun out of a newspaper! why, how
you talk!”
But Uncle Jack shoAved her how to
make a mask by cutting holes in the par
per, and how to cut a whole family of
paper-dolls, and how to make pretty
things for Willie out of the newspa
per. Then he got out the tea-tray and
shoAved her how to roll a marble round
it.
And so she found a great many pleas
ant amusements, and when the time for
going to bed came she kissed Uncle
Jack, and said:—
dwr Jack.”
“Good-night, little sunshine-maker,"
said he.
And she dreamed that night that her
Uncle Jack had buit a very large house,
and put a sign over the door, which
read:
SUNSHINE FACTORY.
Uncle Jack & Little Jennie.
She made Uncle Jack laugh when she
told him her dream; but she never for
got what you must remember, “A cheer
full heart makes its OAvn sunshine."
[The Little Folks.
MODESTY.
The Rev. W. B. Sprague, in some ad
vice to his daughter, has the following
paragraphs, which it will not injure
young ladies to read and treasure up:
“There is one point, my daughter,
which is too important to be omitted
I refer to the deportment which it be
comes you to maintain towards the oth
er sex. The importance of this, both as
it respects yourself and others, you can
hardly estimate too highly. On one
hand it has too much to do with forming
your own character; and I need not say
that any lack of prudence in this respect,
even for a single hour, may expose you
to evils which no subsequent caution
could enable you effectually to repair.
On the other hand, the conduct of every
female who is of any consideration, may
be expected to exert an influence on the
character of every gentleman with whom
she associates, and that influence will be
for good or evil, as she exhibits or fails
to exhibit a deportment which becomes
her. So commanding is this influence
that it is safe to calculate upon the.
character of every community, from know
ing the prevailing standard of female
character, and that can hardly be regard
ed as an exaggerated maxim which de
clares that ‘woman rales the world.’
“Let me counsel you, then, never to
utter an expression or do an act which
even looks like soliciting a gentleman’s
attentions. Remember that every ex
pression of civility, to be of any value,
must be perfectly voluntary; and any
Avish on your part, whether directly or
indirectly expressed, to make yourself a
favorite, will be certain to awaken the
disgust of all who know it.”
A little boy being instructed in morals
by his grandmother, the old lady told
him that all such terms as “bygoll," “by
jingo,” “ by thunder,” etc., were only lit
tle oaths, and but little better than other
profanities. In fact, she said he could
tell a profane oath by the prefix “by.”
All such were oaths. “Well, then, grand
mother,” said the hopeful, “is *by tele
graph,’ which I see in the newspapers,
swearing?” “No," said the old lkdy,
“that is only lying.”
