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'jimnnnuli <Lvibtmc. Published by the Tbibotb Pnbh»hi> s Go 1 J. H. DEVBAUZ, Manaoxb. ' I B. W. WHITE, Solicitor. { VOL. 11. ] N #WLY FITTED UP. I ÜBORINgIeN’S HOME I Restaurant & Lodging, M Wm. B. Brown, Proprietor, || 182 Bryan St., SAVANNAH, GA, fl Meals at all hours. Choicest brands of fl trines, liters and cigars always on hand. ' Bi:.N N JLTT’JS I HUHN HAIR EMPORIUM. fl Ladies’ and Gents’ wigs made to order, fl Also Fronts, Toupees, Waves, Curls, fl frizzes and Hair Jewelry. We root and ■ makeup ladies’ own combings in any desirable style. We have character Wigs md Beards of all kinds to rent for Mas querades and entertainments. Ladies and children Hair cutting and shainpooning. Also, hair dressing at your residence if •equired. We cut and trim bangs in all of the latest styles. Cash paid for cut hair and combings of all kinds. All goods willingly exchanged if not satisfactory. Kid Gloves Cleaned. R. M. BENNETT, No. 56 Whitaker St. Savannah, Ga. FRANKLIN F. JONES AT STALL HO. 31, IN THE MARKET, Announces to his friends and the public that he keeps on hand a fresh supply of the best Beef, Veal and Mutton, also all kinds of game when in .season, and will be glad to wait on his customers as usual with politeness and promptness, ktgi prices are reasonable and satisfaction is Kiaranteed. Goods delivered if desired. ON‘T FORGET, STALL NO. 31. CREEN GROCERY. HENRYFIELDS THK OLD RELIABLE (rREENGROCER WOULD inform his friends and the public that he still holds the fort t his old stand corner South Broad and East Boundry streets, where he keeps on band constantly, a full supply of fresn Beef, Veal, Mutton, Pork, Fish, Poultry, Eggs, Game and all kinds of Vegetables. Prices reasonable—to suit the times. Bwada delivered if desired. fob good JOB PRINTING -40 TO TUB— SAVANNAH TRIBUNE. Envelopes, Business Cards, Statements, Posters, I And in fact everything in the Job Printing line neatly and cheaply ex- I ecuted at short notice. Satisfaction guaranteed. Cive us a cal!. Why Do I Love Thee? Why do I love thee? Ask the bee that sips Nectar divine from out the willing flower Why it abideth upon those open lips, | ‘Wherefore it wingeth around that elfin bower, And when thou dost this sunnv secret know r hou wilt not marvel that I love thee so, >' Why do I love thee? Ask the ir eadow green Why it doth love the flower that blooms above it Whose sweet perfume or rainbow-tinted sheen O’erspread their charm above the fields that love it, And when thou dost this tender secret know Thou wilt not marvel that I love thee so. Why do I love thee? Ask the bird that sings Os smiling skies and valleys rose-embowered Why from his heart his happy carol springs, Why on the air its melody is showered, And when thou dost this joyous secret know Thou wilt not marvel that I love thee so. Why do I love thee? Ask ths artist crowned With fairest thought, his rare ideal growing, Wherefore he stands upon enchanted ground, Why his proud eye with rapture light is glowing; And when thou dost this subtle secret know Thou wilt not marvel that I love thee so. Why do I love thee? Ask of him who hears Sound-woven poetry of strains elysian Why heart and soul do melt with unshed tears, Swayed by the magic of the rapt musician; And when thou dost this wondrous secret know Thou wilt not marvel that I love thee so. Why do I love thee? Ask the burdened heart Weighted with sin, forlorn and anguish riven, Why, as the tears from out the eyelids start. Peace comes in gazing on the star-pure Heaven; And when thou dost this holy secret know No longer marvel that I love thee so. ON THE FARM. John Ramsey was working on his farm, his careless, loose dress displaying to advantage his tall, muscular figure. A broad straw hat shaded his handsome face. The hands that guided the plow were strong hands but whiter and more delicate than such pursuits usually al low. Daisy Hale sat watching him. Her dress was print, but made with flounces on the skirts and rufllei on the waist. She wore a jaunty hat, covered with puffs of white muslin and bows of blue ribbon to match the spots upon her dress. The face under Daisy’s hat was gloomy, not to say cross. A very pretty face, but not pleasant, having a petted, spoilcd-child frown and a brooding dis content in the large blue eyes. Presently the farmer drew near her, and, taking off his hat, fanned himself with it, while he stopped his horses and leaned indolently against the plow. “You look deliciously cool under this great tree,” he said. “And—hem!— very much dressed for 9 o’clock in the morning!” “Inao-penny calico,” she said con temptuously. “It is too absurd for you to be plowing and hoeing and milking cows and doing the work of a laboring man! I thought when you came home from college you would do something besides work on a farm.” “Ana let the farm go to ruin. That would be a poor way to pay my debts.’ “Your debts!” she said, looking as tonished. “Do you owe debts?” “Certainly! You and I are both very heavily in debt, Daisy. I think when Auot Mary took us in, poor little or phans, I her nephew, you her third cousin, all the money she saved in a life of hard work was spent upon our edu cation. Do you know that she has noth ing but the farm, and that to take her from it would probably shorten her lifer’ “But you could send her money, if you were in the city in some gentlemanly occupation.” •‘Perhaps so, ten oi twe.ve years from DOW. To-day I propose ,!■"> work this SAVANNAH, GA.. SATURDAY, AUGUST 6.1887. farm and see how many bushels of corn I can raise on it.” He took hold of the plow handles as he spoke, started the horses, and left her, her eyes full of angry tears. “He might as well have said what he meant,” she thought, springing down and starting for the house. “He thinks 1 ought to cook and make butter and work like a servant girl, when I have studied so hard and tried to make my self a lady, that he might not be ashamed of me.” As she drew near the house the sting of John’s words penetrated more and more through the crust she had drawn over her heart, until a fresh stab had met her at the door. Looking in at the open door, she saw a white head bowed in weeping, a slight figure shaken by sobs. Quickly through all the selfishness, self-reproach struck at the girl’s heart, and in a moment she was on her knees beside the low chair, her arms around the weeping woman. “Oh, Aunt Mary, what is it? Oh please don’t cry so! Oh, what has hap pened?” “Why, Daisy, dear”—through sobs that would not be checked at a moment’s notice—“don’t mind me; I’m only tired, dearie—only tired.” 5 “Now, I will darken the window,” Daisy said, and you are to rest! Sleep, if you can, until dinner time.” “But, Daisy, you cannot make the dinner.” , “I will try,” was the quick reply; and Aunt Mary submitted. Washing the potatoes, shelling peas, frying ham, making coffee, all allowed thought to be busy, and Daisy sighingly put away some of her day-dreams over her homely tasks. She had taken off her flounces and hat and put on a plain dress and large check apron before she began to work, and she was rather astonished as her kitchen duties progressed to find herself happier than she had been since she returned home. When John came to dinner he was as tonished to find Aunt Mary “quite dressed up,” as she blnshingly said, in a clean print dress and white apron, her dear old face showing no sign of heat or weariness, while Daisy, with added bloom and bare white arms, was carry ing in the dinner. “The new girl, at your service,” she said saucily, as she pulled down her sleeves. “Dinner is ready, sir.” But her lips quivered as he bent over her and whispered, “God bless you,dear! Forgive me if I was too hasty this morn ing.” John said but little as the day wore on and still found Daisy at her post. It was not in the nature of things for Aunt Mary to sit with folded hands, but it be came Daisy’s task to inaugurate daily naps, to see that only the light work came to the older hands, to make daily work less of a toil and more of a pleas ure. And the young girl herself was sur prised to find how much she enjoyed the life that had seemed to her a mere drudgery. Once more came a June day when Daisy sat in the fields and John stood leaning against the fence beside her. Four years of earnest, loving work had left traces upon both young faces, ennobling them, and yet leaving to them all the glad content that rewards well doing. Many hours of self-denial both had met bravely, many deprivations both had borne well. Daisy wore a black dress and upon the hat in John’s hand was a band of crape, but through a sad ness of their voices there yet rang a tone of happiness. “You love me, Daisy?" John said to her. “When have I not loved you?” she answered. “And you will be my wife? Darling, I have long loved you, but after Aunt Mary was stricken down with paralysis 1 would not ask you to take up new duties. Now she needs you no longer, and you shall leave the farm whenever you wish.” “Leave the farm? Ob, John, must we leave it? I thought it was yours now.” “So it is.” “And you have made it so beautiful, as well as profitable! Oh, John, why must we leave it?" “Only because I thought it was your wish.” “It would break my heart to go away. I love my home.” And John, taking the little figure in to a close embrace, wondered if any city could produce a sweeter, daintier little lady than the one he held in his arms. Acupuncture. Shampooing, acupuncture or piercing of the body with needles, and the burn ing oftuoxas on the skin have from the earliest times formed the staple of Jap anese surgical skill. The blind and dumb have always been educated in the first two, and have acquired extraordi nary skill as shampooers in many mus cular and intestinal complaints. They are allowed to combine music and money lending with their main calling, and go about toward evening with a low whistle for a street cry. The best of these shampooers know all the superfi cial muscles, and their services arc called in for headache, hysteria and paralysis. Degrees, too, were conferred on them, with ceremonial robes and white wands surmounted by wooden balls. The medical school, established A. D., 669, had a Professor of shampooing with ten pupils and an other of acupuncture with 20. In 820 five acupuncturists were attached to the imperial palace, being paid by the month, a<nd obliged to keep up their knowledge of their own subject as well as of the pulse, surgery, botany, and prescribing by studying particular books. Acupuncture is not an invention of the Japanese—the first treaties upon'lt being attributed to a Chinese under the Sung dynasty—-although the form of the nee dles used and the mo e of their employ ment have been much improved upon by them, tubular needles, for instance, were invented in 1689. It should not be for gotten that Asclepiades, in the first cen tury of our era, recommended needle puncture for dropsy. The operation consists in driving gold, silver or steel needles, from one-half to three-quarters of an inch into the flesh. The needles are of various forms and have spirally grooved handles for the better twirling of the instrument. The operator holds a needle lightly with the le't hand resting the point upon the skin of the patient. He then in serts it by a slight tap on the handle, given 4dth a small wooden mallet held in the right hand. The needle is then gently pushed aud twirled until it penetrates to the proper depth, and after a few seconds is slowly withdrawn in the same manner, the skin about the puncture being subsequently chafed for a few moments. The number of perforations made at one time varies from one to twenty, aud they are oftenest made in the abdomen, to which, however, they are not confined; special treatises laying down the spots to be pierced in various diseases, - an 1 one division of study distinguishing on the back the so-called hollow spots (more than a hundred in number; when the ends of the nerve-fibres arc found—for the application of the needle or the moxa. A faint effort was made to intro duce the Japanese needles into England and France in 1825, but although combined with electricity, it came to nothing. lWestminst?i It:view. His Good Name. Bilkins—“Bickiey is very angry with you. He says you have been making remarks about him that have injured his good name.” Bagley— “Indeed?" Bilkins—“Yes; he prizes his good name very highly.” Bagley—“He does? Well, I don’t. 1 have it on three notes and have learned not to prize it at all.” — [Judge. Wortli a Trial. An Austrian phy»;c an < »ys that nine times out of ten headache can h» al most instantly cured by a spoonful of salt dissolved in a quantity of water sctiicient to enable the sufferer to drink it. (*1.25 Per Annnm; 76 cents for Six Months; < 60 cents Three Months; Single Copies I 5 cents' -In Advance. PEARLS OF THOUGHT. The heavens are as deep as our aspira» tions are high. The talent of success is nothing more than doing what you can do well with out a thought of fame. Hope is like the sun, which, as we journey towards it, casts the shadow of our burden behind us. Every great and commandiflg move ment in the annals of the world is the triumph of enthusiasm. It is better to have thorns in the flesh with grace to endure them, than to have no thorns and no grace. He who doos a base thing it zeal for his friend, burns the golden thread that ties their hearts together. An irritable man lies like a hedgehog rolled up the wrong way, tormenting himself with his own prickles. Purity, sincerity, obedience and self surrender—these are the marble steps that lead to the spiritual temple. Misfortune is never mournful to the soul that accepts it, for such do always see that every cloud is an angel’s face. Revenge is a debt, in the paying of which the greatest knave is honest and sincere, and, so far as ho is able, punctual. He who decides in any case, without hearing the other side of the question, though he may determine justly, is not therefore just. A Medicinal Honey. About three years ago a distinguished French naturalist M. Guilmeth, who was traveling in Tasmania, came suddenly upon a grove of gigantic eucalyptus trees, from 260 to 390 feet high, and with a trunk so large at the base that it took forty of his Kanackas, joining . hands, to reach around one of them. High in these lofty trees he discovered what he at first took to be enormous galls, but which he soon ascertained to be the dwelling-places of swarms of small, black wild bees of a variety be fore unknown to him. Besides being black and smaller than the ordinary honey bee, this wild bee has its layguet rather more developed than that of the domestic bee. M. Guilmeth attempted unsuccessfully to domesticate it in Tas mania. He caused some ol these im mense trees to be felled, and secured tl.e honey. The largest individual store of honey weighed as much as 11,000 pounds avoirdupois. The honey is described as a thick, homogeneous, somewhat linnsparent syrupy liquid of a deep orange color; having an odor suggestive at once of its containing eucalyptus principles. As the result of experiments on himself and one of his friends, Dr. Thomas Caramnu states that, on taking a tablcspoonful of the honey in a little tepid water or milk, after a few moments one perceives a gentle, agreeable warmth take possession of the whole person. At the end of ’ half an hour, the elimination of the active principles by the air passages having be gun, the voice becomes clearer and the breaQ? perfumed; the lungs feel more elastic, more supple. Having continued the use of the honey for a wc< k, four tablespoon fulls daily, the autboi, who - * speaks of himself as respectively fleshy, found that he could go up two pain of stairs, two steps at a time, without stop ping to take breath or feeling at all blown.- [New York Medical Journal. * Illustrious Sons. Homer was the son of a farmer. Demosthenes was the son of a cutler. Oliver Cromwell was the sen of a brewer. Milton was the son of a money scrive ner. Cardinal Wolsey was the son of a butcher. Shakesjieare was the son of a wool stapler. Christopher Columbus was the son of a weaver. J&i Daniel de Foe was a hosier, and the son of a butcher. Whitefield was the son of uu inn keeper at Gloucester. Robert Bums was the son of a plow man in Ayrshire.,—[lndianapolis News. NO. 42.