News from The Courant American

 
The Courant American
Cartersville, Georgia
January 31, 1901, page 5
 
Transcribed by:  
 

George Davis, who shot Laura Young from the effects of which she died, was tried in superior court last week and found guilty of involuntary manslaughter.  It was claimed that the shooting was accidental.

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Mrs. Huggins, the woman who killed a little negro boy last fall plead guilty to involuntary manslaughter in the superior court last week, and was sentenced to twelve months in the chain gang.  It was shown that she did not intend to hit the boy, but only shot to scare him.

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Page 8.

Letter From Texas.
W. F. Corbin Writes of His Trip to Bartow County.

Rock Port, Texas, Jan. 22, 1901
Courant American:  After a long and wearisome trip over the great iron railway from the hill county of north Georgia to the great state of Texas, I am once more at home with dear wife and children.  The old train pulled into Sherman about 6 p. m., on the 19th inst.  At the depot we were met by loved ones, with conveyance to carry us out to our little home; dear home, sweet home.  There is no place like home, be it even so humble.  In a little more than one hour we were driven up into the yard at home.  Well we were all glad, and it is impossible to tell how glad we were to be there together again.  The month that had passed since we left home seemed like years.  After the usual greetings the gayful tears were wiped away, then I must tell them all about the dear ones back in old Georgia.  What a task, but oh how pleasant to tell them of father, brother, sisters, uncles, aunts, cousins, friends and neighbors.  I in detail tried to tell them as best I could all about each one they inquired of.  When they would ask me if the old friends seemed to be glad to meet me, I simply told them that I found it more pleasant to me to meet them than I had anticipated, and when I could see the joyful tears standing in the eyes of old grayheaded true and tried friends, it was enough for me.  God bless the dear old friends of old Bartow.  I feel unworthy of such friends, but am truly thankful that it is my privilege to have them.
What can I say about the old home?  Once it was a home where father and mother lived, a home where brothers and sisters were young and gleeful.  Many cherished memories cluster around us of the times, when dear mother was there to make home happy.  But alas, death came and called away father, and mother, brothers and sisters, until only three out of eight were left.  Oh how different the old home.  Then again my mind is led back to the old home, when my dear young wife and I started in life, to share the fortune and ills of life together.  That brings to our mind many pleasant and happy memories.  At this old home all of our children were born.  For many long years it was a pleasant happy home, but sorrow came after awhile.  The good Lord took one of the dear children to himself, a precious darling daughter.  Oh how hard to part with such a one, too sad to dwell upon, but such is this life.  We know that all is well with her, and we are willing to say thy will be done.  But when we look at the old home now, what a contrast, not the home of father and mother, neither the home of wife and children.  Just upon the hill a little way off, we see a lovely little city of the dead, where father and mother, three sisters and one brother and several other near dear relatives are laid to rest.  While walking this lovely spot among the little monuments marking the spot where the remains of our loved ones were laid to rest, it seemed as if we were walking on holy ground.  Then we could see that loving hands had been careful to keep this little sacred spot neatly and tenderly kept.  Those two good sisters had spared no pains nor labor to keep this little city neat and clean.  God bless those loving hands that have been so faithful.

I would be glad to say something of the pleasure of meeting dear Fannie, her husband and our little granddaughter at Knoxville, and the other friends we met there, the kind hospitality with which we were received, but I fear I am intruding already.  Suffice it to say that I had about as many good things as was possible for a poor unworthy creature like myself could enjoy.

Let me say in conclusion that I am glad that it was my privilege to visit my old home and friends.  I am truly glad that I had the privilege of meeting so many of the old neighbors and friends, but sorry that I failed to see many of the old friends that I delight to love.  I will never cease to love the good people of my native county.  With best wishes to all, I am

Yours truly,
W. F. Corbin.

 

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