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4 ■■■■ ANOTHER SHIPMENT OF THE HANDSOME ARRIVE THURSDAY MORNING—-"BETTER CALL AND GET ONE—THEY ARE FREE-3 PER CENT INTEREST, COMPOUNDED QUARTERLY, ALLOWED ON SAVINGS ACCOUNTS. The Fourth National Bank, Atlanta, Ga. HERO OF “THE JUNGLE” AROUSED TO NEW SENSE OF DUTY IN LIFE FINDS WORK—HOPE GROWS—TURNED OUT IN THE DEAD OF WINTER Blacklisting of Jurgis in Pack- ingtown is Climax of Inhumanity. "But where shall I go?" Jurgis ask ed, helplessly. “I don't know where," she answered, “Go on the street. If there Is no other place—only go! And stay all night!" In the end she and Marlja pushed him out of the door and shut It behind him. It was Just about sundown, and It was turning cold—the rain had charmed to snow and the slush was freezing. Jurgis shivered In his thin clothing, put his hands Into his pock ets ami started away. He had not eaten since morning and he felt weak and flk with a sudden throb of hope he recollected he was only a few blocks from the saloon where he had been wont to eat his dinner. They might have mercy on him there, or he might meet a friend. He set out tor the place IS fast as he could walk. "Hello, Jack,” said the saloonkeeper when he entered—they call all foreign ers "Jack” In Packlngton. "Where have you been?” Jurgis went straight to the bar. 'Tve been In Jail,” he said, "pnd I’ve Just got out. I walked home all the way 1 , and I've not a cent, and had nothing to eat since this morning. And I've lost my home, and my wife's 111, and I’m done up.” The saloon-keeper gated at him, with his haggard white face and his blue trembling lips. Then ho pushed a big bottle toward him. "Fill her up!” he said. Jurgis could hardly hold the bottle, his hands shook so. 'Don’t he afraid,” said the saloon keeper; "fill her up!” So Jurgis drank a huge glass of whls. ky. and then turned to the lunch counter In obedience to the other's sug. geitlon. He ate all. he dared, stuffing It In us fast as he could: and then, af ter trying to speak his gratitude, he went nnd sat down by the big red stove In the middle of the room. It was too good to last, however—like •It things In this hard world. His soak ed clothing began to steam, and the horrible stench of fertiliser to fill the room. In an hour cr so the packing houses would be closing and the men coming In from their work: and they would not come Into a place that smelt of Jurgis. Also It was Saturday night, and In a. couple of hours would come » violin and a cornet, and In the rear part of the saloon the families of the neighborhood would dance and feast upon Wienerwurst and lager until 2 or 1 o'clock In the morning. The saloon keeper coughed once or twice, and then remarked: "Say, Jack, I'm afraid you'll have to quit." He was used to the sight of human wrecks, this saloon keeper: he "fired” dozens of them every night. Just as haggard and cold and forlorn as this °ne. Hut they were all men who had given up and been counted out, while Jurgis was still In the light and had reminders of decency about him. As he got up meekly, the other reflected that he had always been a steady man, and night soon be a good customer again, ''you've been up against It, I see, he •aid. "Come this way.” in the rear of the saloon were the cellar stairs. There was a door above and another below, both safely padlock ed. making the stairs an admirable Place to stow away a customer who night still chance to have money or a political light whom It was not ad' visabie to kick out of doors. So Jurgis spent the night. The whls. ky liad only half warmed him, and he could not sleep, exhausted as he was; he uoutd nod forward, and then start up. shivering with the cold, and begin to remember again. Hour after hour passed, until he could only persuade himself that It was not morning by me sounds of music and laughter and •inglng that were to be heard from the room. When at last these ceased he e*. pected that be would be turned Into the street; as this did not happen, he fell to wondering whether the man had for. «'’Uea him. Bummer Jewelry . Of course it’s jewelry that ls Rood and wearable in any °ther season, but it seems peculiarly adapted to the air y lingerie frocks of sum- tnnrtime—Handy pins, sash niiekles, collars, bracelets, 'vaist-sets, and so on. Lots smart new things. Maier & Berkele In the end, when the silence and aus- pense'were no longer to be borne, he got up and hammered on the door; nnd the proprietor came, yawning and rub bing hla eyes. He was keeping open all night, and dozing between custom ers. “I want to go home,” Jurgis said. “I'm worried about my wife—I can't wait any longer.” •'Why didn't you say so before V said the man. “1 thought you didn’t havo any home to go to.” Jurgis went outside. It was 4 o'clock In the morning, and as black as night. There were 3 or 4 Inches of fresh snow on the ground, and the tlakoK were fall ing thick and fast. He turned toward Anlele's and started to run. There was a light burning In the kitchen window nnd the blind: were drawn. The door was unlocked and Jiii'Kls rushed In. Anlelo, Marlja and the rest of the omen were huddled about the atove exactly as before; with them were sev- eral newcomers, .Inryls nolle,.,] -also lie noticed that the house was silent. "Well?" he said. No one answered him; they sat star. Ing at him with their pale faces. Hi cried again: "Well?" And then, by the light of the smoky lamp, he saw Marlja, who sat nearest him, shaking her head slowly. "Not yet,” she said. And Jurgis gave a cry of dismay. “Not yet?" Again Marlja's head shook. The poor fellow stood dumbfounded. "I don't hear her,” he gasped. “She's been quiet a long time, plied the other. There woe another pause—broken suddenly by a voice from the attic: Hello, there!" Several of the women ran Into the next room, while Mnrija sprang toward Jurgis. "Walt hero!" she cried, and the two stood, palo and trembling, lis tening. In a few moments It became clear that Mme. Haupt wns engaged In descending the ladder, scolding and ex horting again, while the ladder creaked In protest. In a moment or two she reached the ground, angry and breath' leee, and they heard her coming Into tbe room. Jurgis gave one glance at her, and then turned white and reeled. She stood breathing hard, and gazing about her; no on* made a sound. I haf done my best" she began sud denly. "I can do noting more—dere Is no use to try." Again there wee silence. "It ain’t my fault," she said, "you had ought to haf had a doctor, und not valted bo long—It was too late already ven T come. Once more there was deathlike stillness. Marlja waa dutch- Ing Jurgis with all the power of her one well arm. Then suddenly Mme. Haupt turned to Anlele. "You haf not got sometlng to drink, hgy? 1 she queried. “Some brandy?" Anlele shook her head. "Herr Oott!" exclaimed Mme. Haupt. Such people! Perhaps you will give me something to eat den—I haf had nottlng since yesterday morning, und I haf vorkod myself near to death here. If I could haf known It vae like dls I vould never haf come for such money as you gif me.” At this moment she chanced to look round and saw Jurgis. She shook her Anger at him. “You understand me," she said, "you pays me dot money yuet de same! It Is not my fault dat you •end for me so late I can't help you vlfe.” Here Madame Haupt paused for moment to get her breath; and Marlja. sealng the beads of sweat on Jurgis' forehead, and feeling the quivering of hla frame broka out In a low voice: How la Onar How la eha?" echoed Mailame Haupt. "How do you t'lnk she can be ven you leave her to kill herzelf eo? I told dem dot veivdey eand for de priest. She Is young, und she might haf got over It, und been veil und strong, if she been treated right. She light hard, dot girl—she la not yet quite dead." And Jurgis gave a frantic sceam. "Dead!” "She vlll die, of course,” said the Other angrily. "Der baby la dead now." The garret was lighted by a candle ■tuck upon a board; It had almost burned itself out and wae sputtering and smoking as Jurgis rushed up the ladder. Ha could make out dimly In blagkit* apread upon the tloor; at the foot of It was a crucifix, and near It a priest muttering a prayer. In a far corner crouched Elzbleta. moaning and walling. Upon the pallet lay Ona. She was covered with a blanket, but he could see her shoulders and one arm lying bare; she was so shrunken he would scarcely have known her a piece of chalk. Her eyelids were closed, and she lay still as death. He staggered toward her and fell upon his knees with a cry of anguish: "Ona! One!” She did not etlr. Ho caught her hnnd In his, and began to clasp It fran tically, calling, "Look at me! answer me! It Is Jurgis come back—don't you hear me?" There tons the falnteat quivering of the eyelids, and he called again In frenzy, "Ona! Ona!” Then suddenly her eyes opened—one Instant. One Instant ahe looked at him —there wae a flash of recognition be tween them, he saw her nfar off, as through a dim vista, standing forlorn. He stretched out hls arms to her, he called her In wild despair; a fearful yearning surged up In him, hunger for her that woh agony, desire that was a new being bom within him, tearing hls heartstrings, torturing him. Hut It was all In vain—she faded from him, she slipped back and was gone. And a wall of anguish burst fmm him, great sobs shook all hls frame, and hot tears ran down hls checks and fell upon her. He clutched her hands, he shook lo r, In- caught her In hls arms and pressed her to Mm, but she lay cold and still— she was gone—she was gone! The word rang through him like the sound of >i lioll echoing In the fur depths of him, making forgotten chords to vibrate, old shadowy fears to stir— fears of the dark, fears of the void, fears of annihilation. Hhe tvaa dead! She was dead! He would never seo her again, never hear her again; An Icy horror of loneliness seized him; in- saw himself standing apart and watch ing all tho world fado away from hint —a world of shadows, of fickle dreams. He was like a little child, In hls fright and grief: he railed nnd called, and got no answer, and hls cries of despair echoed through the house, making the women downstairs draw nearer to on h other la fear. He was Ineousohihle. lie- aide himself—the priest came and laid Ills hnnd upon hls shoulder nnd whis pered to him, but he heard not a sound. Ho was gone nway himself, stumbling through the shadows, nnd groping af ter tho aoul that had fled. So he lay. The gray dawn came up and crept Into the attic. The priest left, the woman left, and he was nlono with tho still, white figure—quieter now, hut moaning and shuddering, wrestling with the grisly fiend. Nov. and then he would raise himself anil stars at tho white mnsk before him. then hide Ids eyes, because he could not bear It. Dead! Deed! And she was only a girl.' shy was barely 131 Her life had hardly begun—nnd here ahe lay murdered—mangled, tortured to death! It was morning when he rose up and camo down Into the kitchen—haggard nnd ashen gray, reeling and dazed. More of the neighbors had come In, and they stared at him In silence ns ho eank down upon a chair by the table nnd burled hls fare In hls arms. A few minutes later the front door opened; a blast of cold and snow rush ed In. nnd behind It llttl^ Kntrlna, breathless from running, and blue with the cold. "I'm home again!” she ex claimed. "I could hardly " And then, seeing Jurgis, she stopped with »n evcismatlon. looking from one to another, ehe »sm that something had happened, and ahe asked In a lower voice: “What's the matter?" Before any one could reply. Jurgis started up: he went toward her, walk- leg unsteadlh. "Whme have ym been?" he demanded. "Selling papers with the boye." eho said. "The snow — “Have you nny money?" he demand- ad. SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS Tho story of "The Jungle," Upton Sinclair** novel, which caused , the government Investigation Into the methods employed by tho beef trust, has Its origin In an actual Packlngtown romance. > A simple-minded coterie of Lithuanians arrive In Chicago, seeking employment, and aro conducted to Packlngtown by n friend. Jurgis, a giant In strength, Is betrothed to Ona, and tho first chapter tells of the wedding In all Its grotesqueness. After mueh tribulation the entire fam ily obtains work In the stockyards—all but Ona, who, Jurgis said, should never work. The terrible tale of the slaughter houses Is told with almost revolt ing detail till* tilth, till* oven* Hiking of IlHiidH, the Struggle to keep up with the pacemakers, Is all vividly doplcted. Tho llttlo faintly buys a house on tho Instalment plan, only to find they have been swindled, and Ona Is furred to seek \\mk t" the m tu.il 11 \ I i»k ixi»imim«**4 iiihI the • Interest on the purchase contract, of which they learn too late. Just ns Ona and Jurgis pay Marlja wliat they owe her. Jurgis turns hls ankle and Is laid up for months. Hls nature begins to chnnge. He become/ cross and savage with pain, titarvatlun stares the family in the face. Finally Jurgis begins work In the fertiliser plant—the deadliest of all—and Elzblctu slaves in the sausage stuffing department. The little boys of tho family learn to swear, drink and smoke. Gradually the grind throws tho family Into constant stupor. They talk little—only eat what they can, sleep when they can, and work, it seems to thorn, always. Then Onn confesses, under compulsion, that In order to save the entire family from financial destruction and loss of Jobs, Connor, foreman of her department In the yards, had forced her to receive attentions from him. Jurats almost kills her. Then he rushes blindly to tho yards nnd tries to kill Connor, sinking hls teeth Into him. and finally being dragged off by a dozen men. Jurgis Is then arrogted and spends Christ- mas Eve In prison, awaiting trial. Jurgis, In Jnll, meets a cracksman and Is Initiated Into the mysteries of crime. Later he Is sentenced to thirty days in prison for assaulting I'onnor. He learns from a messenger that hls family Is starving. Finally ha laraleaasd and returns to what once was hls horns. Another family has it. Jurgis In unable to dlscovor where Ona and the rest of the llttlo coterie reside. He is told they are starving and freezing to death In some bleak garret. Jurgis traces hls family to a shanty to find hls wife dying. He seoks a midwife, who laughs In hls face when ho tells her he has only a dollar and a quarter, but she finally relents and goes with him. Ai the door of the shanty Marlja meets and entreats him to go away until the morning. He walks the stroets all night, and reaches home In the morning In time to close hls wife’s eyes In death. Then he takes to drink In earnest. (Copyright, 1906, by Upton Sinclair. All rights reserved.) Death of His Little Son Comes As Final Blow of Cruel Fate. She had crowded all her boarders Into one room on Ona’a account, but now he could go up In the garret whero he belonged—and not there much longer, either, if he did not pay her some rent. Jurgis went without a word, and, stepping over half n dozen sleeping boarders In the next rom, ascended the ladder. It was dark up above; they could not afford any light; also It was ncsrlv ?e cold us outdoors. In a corner, nz far away from the corpse ns pens! ble, sat Marlja, holding little Antanos In her cfno good arm nnd trying to soothe ’Yes.” “How much?" "Nearly three dollars. Jurgis." "Give It to ms.” Katrina, frightened by hls manner, glanced at the others. "Give it to me!” he commanded again, and she put her hand Into her pocket nnd pulled out a lump of coins tied In a bit of rag. Jurgis took It without a word, and went out of the door and down the street. Three doors nway was a saloon. "Whisky," he said, as he entered, and as the man pushed him some, he tore at the rag with hla teeth, and pulled out half a dollar. “How much Is the bottle?" he said, "I want to get drunk.' CHAPTER XX. Dut a big man cannot stay drunk very long on three dollars. That was Sunday morning, and Monday night Jurgis came home, sober and sick, real izing that he had spent every cent the family owned, and had not brought a single Instant’s forgetfulness with It. Ona wns not yet burled; but the po lice had been notified, and on the mor row they would put the body In a pine coffin and take It to the potter’s held. Elzbleta was out begging now, a few pennies from each of the neighbors to get enough to pay for a mass for her; and tbe children were upstairs starving to death, while he, good-for-nothing rascal, had been spending their money on drink. Ho spoke Anlele. scornfully, and when he started toward the fire ahe added the Informa- he tlon that her kitchen waa no longer for wouifl scarcely npn inai ner «ucnen was no longer ror before; she would only plead with him, dreadful meaning of Jhat Incident nnd was all but a skeleton, and as white as him to fill with hls phosphate stinks, here by the corpse of hls dead wife, he went away with a shaking at the him to sleep. In another corner crouch ed poor llttlo Juozapas, walling because he had nothing to eat all day. Marlja said not a word to Jurgis; he crept In like a whipped cur, and went and sat down by the body. Perhaps he ought to have meditated upon the hunger of the children and upon hls own baseness; but ho thought only of Ona; he gave himself up ngaln to the luxury of grief. Ho shed no tears, being ashamed to make a sound; he sat motionless and shuddering with hls anguish. He had never dreamed how much he loved Ona until now that she was gone—until now thn(. he eat here, knowing that on the morrow they would take her away, and that he would never lay eyes upon her again— never all the days of hls life. Hls old love, which had been starved to deoth, beaten to death, awoke In him ngaln; the flood-gutes of memory were lifted —he saw' nil their life together, saw her as he had seen her In Lithuania the first day at the fair, beautiful as the flowers, singing like a bird. He paw her aa he had married her, with all her tenderness, with her heart of wonder; tho very words she had spoken seemed to ring now* in hls ears, the tears she had shed to be wet upon hls cheek. Tho long, cruel battle with misery and hunger had hardened and embit tered him, but It had not changed her —she had been the same hungry soul to the end. stretching out her arms to him. pleading with him, begging him for love and tenderness. And she had suffered—so cruelly she had suffered, such agonies,, such Infamies—ah, God, the memory of them was not to be borne. What a monster of wickedness, of heartlessness, he had been! Every angry’ word he had ever spoken came back to him nnd cut like a knife; every oelflsh act that he had done—with what torments ho paid for them now! And such devotion and awe as welled up In hls soul—now that it could never be spoken, now that It was too late, too late! Hls bosom was choking with it, bursting with It; he crouched here In the darkness beside her, stretching out hls arms to her—and she was gone forever, she was dead! He could have screamed aloud with the horror nnd despair of it; a sweat of agony beaded hi* forehead, yet he dared not make a sound—ha scarcely dared to breathe, because of hls shame and loathing of himself. Late at night came Elzbleta, having gotten the money for a mass, and paid for It In advance, lest she should be tempted too sorely at home. 8he brought also a bit of stale rye bread that some one had given her, and with that they quieted the children and got them to sleep. Then she came over to Jurgis and sat down beside him. She said not a word of reproach— she and Marlja had chosen that course before; she would only plead with him. Already Elzbleta hod choked down her tears, grief being crowded out of her soul by fear. She had to bury one of her children—but then she had done it three times before, and each time risen up and gone back to take up the battlo for tho rest. Elzbleta was onn of the primitive i I entures Ilk.' th* angle-worm, which on living though cut In half; like a hen, which, deprived of her chickens one by one, will mothor the last that Is left her. Hhe did this because It wns her nature Hhe usk**il no qu«>stloIlH ill.-.lit t lie Justice of It, nor the worth-whiteness of life In Which dPNtnif tlon and death ran Hot. And thin old ('•.||,im,n sense view she labored to Impress upon Jurgla, plead ing with him with tears In her eyes. Ona was dead, but the others were loft and they must be saved. She did not ask tor her own children. Hhe nnd Marlja could care for them somehow, but there was Antanas, hls own son. Ona had given Antanas to him—the lit tle fellow was the only remembrance of her that he had; ho must treasure it and protect it, he must show himself a man. He knew what Ona would have had him do, w*hat she would ask of him at thin moment, If she could speak to him. It was a terrible thing that h|..,i,|.| si l.i 1 ii« hL#- hlid; hut the life had been too hard for her, and she had to go. St was terrible that they were not able to bury her, that ho could not even have a day to mourn her—but so It was. Their fate was pressing; they had not a cent, ai)d the children would perish—some money must be had. Could he not be a man for One's sake, and pull himself to gether? In a little whtlo they would oe out of danger—now that they had given up the house they could llvo more cheaply, and with all the children working they could get along, If only he would not go to pieces. 8o Elzbleta went on with feverish intensity, was a struggle for life with her; she was not afraid that Jurgis would go on drinking, for ho had no money for that, but she was wild with dread at the thought that he might desert them, might take to tho road, ns Jonas had done. Dut with Ona's dead body beneath Ills eyes Jurgis /rould not well think of treason to hls child. Yes, he said, he would try, for tho sake of Antanas. He would give the title fellow a chance —would get to work at once, yes, to morrow, without even waiting for Ona to be buried. They might trust him; he would keep hls word, ccftne what ■ftpjlfl And so he was out before daylight tbe next morning, headache, heartache and all. He went straight to Graham's fertilizer mill to see If he could get bark hls Job. Dut the boss shook his head when he saw him—no, hls place had been filled long ago and there was no room for him. Do you think there will be?” Jurgis asked. ”1 may have to wait.” No,” said the other; "it will not be worth your while to wait—thfre will be nothing for you here.” Jurgis stood gazing at him in per plexity. "What Is the matter?** Jie asked. "Didn't I do my work?” t The other met hls look with one of cold Indifference and answered, "There will be nothing for you here, I said." Jurgis had hls suspicions ns to tho heart. Ife went and took hls stand with the mob of hungry wretches who were standing about In the snow be fore tho time station. Here he stayed, break fast less, for two hours, until the throng was driven away by the clubs of tho police. There was no work for him that day. Jurgis had made a good many nr qualntances In hls long service at the yards—there were saloonkeepers who would trust him for a drink and a sand wich, und members of tils old union who would give him a dime at « pinch. It was not a question of life nnd death for him, therefore; he might hunt ull day, and come again on the morrow, nnd try hanging on thus for weeks, like hundreds and thousands of oth- Meantlmo, Teta Elzbleta would go nnd beg, over In the Hyde Park district, and tho children would bring home enough hi pacify Anlele, and keep them all alive. It was the end of a week of this sort of waiting, roaming about In the bit ter winds or loafing In saloons, that Jurgis stumbled on a chance In one of the cellars of Jones’ hlg packing plant He saw a foreman passing ih« open doorway, and hailed him for a j<ii* Push a truck?” Inquired the man, and JurgJs answered, "Yes, sir!" be fore the words were well out of hie mouth. What’s your name?” demanded tho uthor. "Jurgis Rudkus." "Worked In the yards before?” "Yes." ** Whereabouts ?’’ "Hrown's killing beds nnd Durham's fertiliser mill.” "Why did you leave there?” "Tho first iline 1 hud an accident, nnd the last time I was sent up for a month.” i see. Well, I’ll give you a trial. Come early tomorrow and ask for Mr. Thomas." Ho Jurgle rushed home with the wild tidings that ho had a* Job—that the terrible siege wee over. The remnants <.f the family had quite u celebratloi that night; nnd In the morning Jurgi wan at tho place half an* hour before the time of opening. The foreman came in shortly afterward, and when ho saw Jurgis he frowned. "Oh,” he said, "Z promised you n Job. didn’t I?” "Yes, air,” said Jurgle. "Wall, I’m sorry, but I made a mis take. I can't us»> you." Jurgis stered dumfnunded. "What’s the matter?” he gasped. "Nothing,” said the man, "only I can't use you.” Thero was the same cold, hostile stare that he had had from the boss of the fertilizer mill. He knew that there was no use In saying a word, and he turned nnd went uwny. Out In the saloons the men could tell him ell about the meaning of It. They gazed at him with pitying eyes— poor devil, he wns blacklisted! What had he done? (hey asked—knocked down hls boss? Good heavene, he might have known! Why, he stood as much chance of getting a Job In Pack lngtown as of being chosen mayor *»f Chicago. Why had ho wasted hls time hunting? They had him on n secret llBt In every office, big and little, to tho place. They had hls name by thl* time In Ht. Louis and New York, In Omaha nnd Uoston, In Kansas City and Ht. Joseph. Ite was condemned nnd sentenced, without trial and without appeal; he could never Work for the packers again —ho could not even clean cattle pens or drive a truck In any place when? they root railed, lie might try It, If he chose, as hundreds had triad It, and found out for themselves. Ho would never he told anything about It, he would never get any more satisfaction than ho had gotten Just now ; but he would always nnd when the time oante that ho was not needed. It would not do for him to give any other name, either—they hod company "spotters’* for Just that purpose, and he wouldn’t keep a Job In Packlngtown three da\s. Jurgis went home, carrying these new tidings to the family council It w-na a most cruel thing; here in this district was hls home, such as it uhm, the place he was used to nnd the friends he knew—and now every pos sibility of employment In It was closed to him. There woh nothing In Pack lngtown but pAcItlng houses; «nd no It wns the dame thing as evicting hlrn from hls home. He nnd the two women spent all day and half the night discussing it. It W'ould be convenient downtown to the children’s place of work; hut then .Marlja was on the road to recovery and had hopes of getting a Job In tha yards; and though she did not >***• her old-time lover once n month, be cause of the misery of their state, yet she could not make up her mind to gu away snd give him up fotever. Then, too, Elzbleta had heard something about a chance to scrub the floors In DurhHm’s offlcea nnd was watting ev ery day for word. In the end It waa decided that Jurgis should go down town und at tike out for himself, *.nd they would decide after lie got n job. As there was no one from whom he could borrow there and he dared not bog for fear of being arrested, It whs arranged that ever)- day he should moot one of the children nnd he given IS cents of their enrnlngs, upon which he could keep going Then ell day h»* was to pace the streets with hundreds und thousands of other homeless wretches. Inquiring at stores, ware houses and factories for a chance; and at night he was to crawl Into some doorway or underneath n truck and hide there until midnight, when he might get Into one of the station- houses end spread a newspefier upon the floor and Ite down in the midst «*f a throng of "bums” and beggars, reek ing with alcohol and tobacco and filthy with \errnln and disease. (Continued in Tomorrow’s Georgian.) Barrett’s Friends to Meet, mooting of the friende of V. M. Garrett, candidate f<»r council from the Fifth word, will be held Thursday evening at 8 o’clock In Justice Puck ett’s court room. THREE GOVERNORS and a hoot of depositors with Two Million, Throe Hundred and Kiftv Thouaand Dollar* to their credit, strongly endoraed THE NEAL BANK. \V*8 Aral appointed a Slate Depoaltory by the late Gov. W. Y. Atkin son. then by Bx-Gorernor Alton D. Candler, roappolnted by him, then appointed by hla aucceetor, Oovernor J. M. Terrell, alao reappointed by hint. We are no near the ten thoueand lino of accounU on our books that we are encouraged to reach out for TWENTY THOUSAND DEPOSITORS. If each on© of our loyal patrons will send us one or more accounts we will soon have the roll complete, thus enabling us to still further increaso our ability to aid Merchants, Manufacturers and Home Uullders. SAVINGS DEPARTMENT. One Dollar starts an account with a little Homo Bank and book or with a book only. We allow Interest, compounded aerat-annually, at the rate of THREE AND ONE-HALF PER CENT. PER ANNUM. I M. THOI.roIt. frnH.nl ». f. UA.tr, CllUir.. H. C. QALOWtlt, Atil. C.lU.1,