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THE SEMI-WEEKLY SUMTER. REPUBLICAN.
ESTASSIiB 532 El* 1854, )
By CHAS. W. HANCOCK. f
VOL. 18.
The Sumter Republican.
Semi-Weekly, One Year - - - ?1 00
Wekly, One Year - - - - - 2.00
tSTPAYABLE IN ADYA.NCI._tW
All advertisements emulating from public
lllces will be charged for in accordance with
an act passed by the late General Assembly
of Georgia—73 cents per hundred words for
each of the first four insertions, and 113 cents
for each subsequent insertion. Fractional
parts of one hundred are considered one
hundred words; each figure and initial, with
date and signature, is counted as a word.
The cash must accompany the copy of each
advertisement, unless different arrange
ments have been made.
Advertising Ksits-s.
One Square first insertion, - - - - ¥I.OO
Each subsequent insertion, - - - - 50
SSEPTkn Lines of Minion, type solid con
stitute a square.
All advertisements not contracted for will
be charged above rates.
Advertisements not specifying the length
of time for which they are to be inserted
will be continued until ordered out and
charged for accordingly.
Advertisements to occupy fixed places will
be charged 25 per cent, above .regular rates
Notices in local column inserted for ten
cent per line each insertion.
Charles F. Crisp,
•lltomey at .Law*
AMI3KICUS, GA.
deeifitf
B. P. HOLLIS,
mflttornev at Law*
AMEIMCUS, GA.
Office, Forsyth Street, in National Bank
building. dec2otf
E. G. SIMMONS’,
•tit. tor net/ at .Law *
AM ERIC US GA.,
Office in Hawkins’ building, south side of
Lamar Street, in the old office of Fort&
Simmons. janGtf
J. A.. ANSLKY,
‘ATTORNEY at law
AND SOLICITOR IN EQUITY,
Office on I’uiilic Square, Over Gyles’
Clothing Store, Ameiucus, Ga.
Al ter a brief respite I return again to the
practice of law. As in the past it will be
my earnest purpose to represent my clients
faithfully and look to their interests. The
commercial practice will receive close atten
tion and remittances promptly made. The
Equity practice, and cases involving titles of
land and real estate are my favorites. Will
practice in the Courts of Southwest Georgia,
the Supreme Court and the United States
Courts. Thankful to my friends for their
patronage. Fees moderate. novlltf
C A H D.
I offer my professional services again to the
good people of Americus. After thirty years’
of medical service, I have found It difficult
to withdraw entirely. Office next door to
l)r. Eldridge’s drugstore, outlie Square
janl7tf _ K. O. BLACK, M. D. _
Dr. J. A. FORT,
Physician and Surgeon,
Offers his professional services to the
people of Americus and vicinity. Office at
Dr. Eldridge’s Drug Store. At night can
be found at residence on Furlow’s lawn.
Calls will receive prompt attention.
I may2G-tf
Dr. 0. ?. HOLLOWAY,
DesstisT,
Americas, - - - Georgia
Treatssuccessfully all diseasesof the Den
tal organs. Fills teeth by the Improved
>.method, and inserts artificial teeth on the
best material known to the profession.
tSTOFFICE over Davenport and Son’s
Drug Store. marllt
J. B. G. Smith & Sons,
MIIMIIS Ml) BUILDERS,
Americus, Ga.
We are prepared to do any kind of work
in the carpenter line at short notice and on
reasonable terms. Having had years of ex
perience in the business, we feel competent
to give satisfaction. All orders for con
tracts for building will receive prompt at
tention. Jobbing promptly attended to.
mav26-3m
Commercial Bar.
This well-established house will be kept
in the same first-class stylo that has always
characterized it. The
Choicest Liquor and Cigars,
Milwaukee, Budweiser and Aurora Beer,
constantly on hand, and all the best brands
o£ fine Brandies, Wines, &c. Good Billiard
Tables for the accommodation of customers.
mayUtf JOHN W. COTNEY, Clerk.
Commercial Hotel,
% G. M. HAY, Proprietor.
This popular House is quite new and
handsomely furnished with new furniture,
bedding and all other articles. It is in the
centre of the business portion of the city,
convenient to depot, the banks, warehouses,
Vc., and enjoys a fine reputation, second to
none, among its permanent and transient
guests, on account of the excellence of its
cuisine.
Table Boarders Accommodated oh
Reasonable Terms.
may9-tf G. M. HAY, Proprietor.
ELAM JOHNSON, JOHN W. mTHEHSON,
STEVE It. JOHNSON, JAMES B. WILBANKS.
El AM JOHNSON, SON & GO.,
WHOLESALE
iOWSiiniHS
—DEALERS IN—
vTOBAOOO AND CIGARS,
FOREIGN and DOMESTIC FRUITS, Veg
etables and Melons in Season. BUT
TER, CHICKENS and EGGS,
SWEET and IRISH Potatoes.
Uon.iguincnt'i anil Orders Solicited.
12 Decatur and 13 Line Sts., I’. O. Box 515.
ATLANTA. GEORGIA.
mayßtf
AYER'S
Sarsaparilla
cures Rheumatism, Neuralgia, Rlieuma
tic Gout, General Debility, Catarrh, and
all disorders caused by a thin and impover
ished, or corrupted, condition of the blood;
expelling the blood-poisons from the system,
enriching and renewing the blood, and re
storing its vitalizing power.
During a long period of unparalleled use
fulness, Aye it’s Sa USA pah i li..v has proven
its perfect adaptation to the cure of all dis
eases originating in poor blood and weakened
vitality. Jt is a highly concentrated ex
tract of Sarsaparilla and other hlood
puri Tying roots, combined with lodide
of Potassium and Iron, and is the safest,
most reliable, and most economical blood
purifier and blood-food that can be used.
Inflammatory Rheumatism Cured.
“Avicu’s Sarsaparilla has cured me of
the Inflammatory Rheumatism, with which
I have suffered for many years.
, , ' w. ir. Moore.”
Durham, la., March 2, 1882.
“Eight years ago I had an attack of
Rheumatism so severe that I could not
move from the bed, or dress, without help.
1 tried several remedies without much if
any relief, until I took Ay Kit’s Sarsapa
rilla, by the use of two bottles of which I
was completely cured. J have not been
troubled with the Rheumatism since.
Have sold largo quantities of your
Sarsaparilla, and it still retains its
wonderful popularity. The many notable
cures it has effected in this vicinity con
vince me that it is the best blood medicine
ever olfered to tlie public.
E. F. Harris.”
River St., Buckland, Mass., May 13,1882.
“Last March 1 was so weak from gener
al debility that I could not walk without
help. Following the advice of a friend, I
commenced taking A via it’s Sa-rsaparilla,
and before I had used three bottles I felt
as well as I ever did in my life. I have
been at work now for two months, and
think your Sarsaparilla the greatest
blood medicine in the world.
James Maynard.”
520 West 42d St., New York, July 19, 1882.
Ayer’s Sarsaparilla cures Scrofula
and all Scrofulous Complaints, Erysip
elas, Eczema, Ringworm, Blotches,
Sores, Boils, Tumors,.and Eruptions of
the Skin. It clears the blood of all impuri
ties, aids digestion, stimulates tlie action of
the bowels, and thus restores vitality and
strengthens tlie whole system.
PREPARED BY
Dr. J.C. Ayer&Co., Lowell, Mass.
Sold by all Druggists; price §l, six bottles, §5.
Sitters
llostetter’s Stomach Bitters, by increasing
vital power, ami rendering the physical
functions regular and active, keeps the sys
em in good working order, and protects it
against disease. For constipation, dyspep
sia and liver complaint nervousness, kidney
and rheumatic ailments, it is invaluable,
and it affords a sure defence against mala
rial fevers, besides removing all traces of
such disease from the system.
For sale by all Druggists and Dealers
generally.
AYER’S
Ague Cure
IS WARRANTED to cure all cases of ma
larial disease, such as Fever and Ague, Inter
mittent or Chill Fever, Remittent Fever,
Dumb Ague, Bilious Fever, and Liver Com
plaint. In case of failure, after due trial,
dealers are authorized, by our circular ot
July Ist, 1882, to refund the money.
Di\ J. C. Ayer&Co., Lowell, Mass.
Sold by all Druggists.
FOLTTZ’S
HORSE AND CATTLE POWDERS
XL,
N° Horse will die of Colic, Hots or Luko Fk-
Vjer, it Foutz’s Powders are used in time.
Fontz’s Powders will cure and prevent Hog Ciiolxra.
Foutz's Powders will prevent Gapks in Fowls.
l’outzs I owders will Increase the quantity of milk
and cream twenty per cent., and make the butter firm
amt sweet.
l out/.'s Powders will cure or prevent almost every
Disease to which Horses and Cattle are subject.
I'outz s Powders will give Satisfaction.
Sold everywhere.
DAVID E. FOUTZ, Proprietor,
md.
Wool wanted’
BY THE
Laurel Mills Manufacturing
Company.
In exchange for good honest jeans tweeds
and linseys, wo exchange our cloth to farm
ers, wool-growers and merchants on favora
ble terms, and will give you better value for
your wool than you can get by selling for
money.
FOR 10 POUNDS WASHED WOOL,
We give 3 yards Doeskin Jeans.
Wo give 10 yards School;Boy Jeans.
Wo give 10% yards Tweeds.
We give 12% yardsplain or Chock Linseys.
FOR 10 POUNDS WOOL IN THE DIRT,
We give G yards Doeskin Jeans,
i Wo givo 8 yards School Boy Jeans.
I We give H'A yards Tweeds.
We givo 10 yards plain or Check Linseys.
We will manufacture your wool into
jeans for 22K cents per yard, tweeds 15%,
linseys 12%. Wo pay freight on all wool
sent us. Send for circular and samples, and
you will send your wool when you see our
goods. Direct to
Laurel Mills Manufacturing Cos.,
ROSWELL, COBB COUNTY, GA.
aprll-sw&wly
INDEPENDENT IN POLITICS. AND DEVOTED TO NEWS, LITERATURE, SCIENCE AND GENERAL PROGRESS.
AMERICUS, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 8, 1883.
BIS OLD WBDi HONE.
When the cares o£ the day are all over, and
When Earth sleeps ’neath the light of the
moon,
1 lav myself down on my pillow to sleep,
And to dream of my old cabin home.
Of my old cabin home, in the fair sunny
South,
Neath the shade of the wide-spreading
trees
Where the birds ever sang, and the leaves
of the boughs
Were moved by tlie soft summer breeze.
O my old cabin home on the banks of the
James 1
Down close by the broad river’s side ;
How dull are these days in comparison now,
With the days that I spent on its side !
I am far, far away from the scenes of my
youth,
But still backward my memory will roam;
And how sad, yet how sweet, are tlie mem’-
ries that cling
’Hound the spot of my old cabin home !
In my old cabin home at night when a boy,
I would sit by the blazing fireside;
While the candle it sputtered, and mother
she spun,
While she sang to the babe by her side.
And I would crack nuts on the open stone
hearth
And list to tho hammer’s ding-dong;
Or would oftsitand watchmydearmother’s
face,
And oft times would join in her song.
But tlie ashes are dead on the old home
hearth,
Where so brightly the embers once shone;
And the baby lias grown to an angel long
since,
When she lied from the Old cabin home.
In those days when I laughed, and I whis
tled and sang,
My heart was unceasingly light;
When I fished in the river, and roamed at
my will,
And often I hunted by night.
A vision of beauty my manhood once
blessed.
My love she became and my pride.
How relentless was Fate! O how cruel
was Death!
He dragged lior away from my side !
lie took her away in her beauty and youth,
And left me all sad and alone,
Death withered the fairest blossoms that
e’er
Had bloomed by roy old cabin home.
My old cabin homo 1 see still in my dreams,
How dear are its scenes to my iieart!
Its woodlands! its meadows ! its valleys!
its streams!
Say, Fortune, O why did we part?
How oft have 1 drank at the old mossy
spring,
From tho gourd cup which hung from the
bougli!
How pure were its waters 1 how crystal and
cold !
But how far arc they moved from me now!
In the silent churchyard, by the old wood
land church,
So quiet, remote and alone,
Sleep my father and mother—all my kindred
of earth,
In their graves near my old cabin home.
Life, the happiness may bring to our old
age sometimes,
Of serenity, virtue and truth;
Bnt no joys are so perfect to us and as sweet
As the unalloyed joys of our youth.
Since care and old age have palsied my
frame,
Streaked my hair and furrowed my brow,
I am too eld to roam to my old cabin home,
Too feeble to totter back now.
But I shall some day lay down the burden
of life,
And when my glad spirit has flown,
O lay tho old bones by my loved ones of
earth,
In the spot by my old cabin home !
WV s CY.~LX>V&YiOY S.
BETTER THAN HE DESERVED.
Woman’s Love and Forgiveness.
lIY MATTIE DYEII BRITTS.
At the window of a neat cottage, in
a pretty but simple country village,
stood a girl with a bright, hopeful face
it not a beautiful one.
She had a fine head, crowned with a
wealth of rich brown hair, but it was
put simply back, in a heavy loop be
hind, guiltless of bangs, frizzes or puffs,
and her dress though perfectly neat and
ladylike, made not the slightest pro
tension to styie.
There was not a particle of city
“style” anywhere about her—she look
ed like what she was, a modest, pure,
country blossom, a wildwood rose,
which had not yet lost its freshness
and fragrance.
She was intelligent—that her nohle
brow would have told you at once, and
she was well educated too, having been
an eager student with the best of teach
ers, but she lacked all sign of the pres
tige and self-possession of a society la
dy, and, indeed, any knowledge of “so
ciety ways” at all.
But what cared .Jeannette Allyn for
society now? All the “society” she
wanted was coming to her in a few
moments.
Her lover, Stephen Foster, who had
gone to the city to seek bis fortune, was
coining to visit her, and she stood by
the window, wreathed with climbing
roses which Stephen’s hand had helped
her plant, with a bright light in her
eye, and a crimson rose-hue on tho
smooth cheek nearest tho window,
which vied vvith tho queenly llowers
without.
Stephen had been very successful in
the city, she knew. He had won hon
or and fame in his profession of a law
yer, and ho was last winning wealth.
In the late fall he was to take her to
the home in the city which would by
that time bo ready. And Jeannete'
was willing to go, for would not Ste
phen be with her?
She had had fears—she knew that
his sphere was now far above her, and
it might bp that her simple gifts would
fail to satisfy him. But ho had writ
ten, he had said lie was coming to ful-
fill all his pledges, and then Jeannette
was happy.
And the hour was almost arrived
when he would be with her. Nay, it
had come! For she heard his footstep
outside at the moment, and the next he
was in her presence.
He was looking splendidly, and was
elegantly dressed. He took her in his
arms and kissed her warmly, yet Jean
nette fancied she missed something
from the embrace that bad been wont to
be there.
She conld not have told what it was,
but she felt it. They talked long and
earnestly. Stephen told her of his
struggles for a high, position, and of
his triumphs, and his hopes and inten
tions for the brilliant future before
him.
And with every word Jeannette’s
heart sank lower. These were heights
which she was never fitted, either by
nature or education, to reach. With
eager, questioning heart, she sought,
in her turn, to read the deepest recesses
of his nature, and the truth was borne
into her very soul. Stephen, too, felt
that she was no longer a mate for him.
She had felt this neglect more than
once of late, but tried to believe that it
was only her fancy. She saw the bit
ter truth. Honor held him—ho had
come to fulfill the letter of all his
pledges, bnt the heart had gone out of
them, long ago. They were irksome
to him, and he would regard her not as
a helper to his bright future, but as
a clog upon liis footsteps.
Poor, loving girl! She had given
him her whole heart, her deep, undivi
ded love, and this blow was a cruel
shock. It well nigh killed her, but
she was a proud, brave girl, as well as
a loving, gentle one. She resolved not
to act too hastily. She did not give
one hint of her purpose to Stephen, but
when he bad gone, she sunk upon the
window-seat, buried her head in her
arms upon the table, and wept such
tears as youth weeps but once.
But when she had sobbed out her
lieart-brealc she was stronger.
“I have decided what to do,” she
said, “I will give him his freedom. If
he does not accept it,” —ah, that one
last hope that she clung to; —“then I
may be happy. But if he does —oh, I
would rather he would, a thousand
times, than let him wed me when he
did not love me!”
She gathered Stephen’s letters alto
gether, placed his ring with them,
wrote a little letter, telling him what
she had discovered, and setting him
free, entirely from all bonds to her.
She told him she had not ceased to
love him—never would, but feared that
he had lost his love for her, and that
she would be a clog upon his climbing
feet if lie joined his lot to hers, and
that if he desired his freedom.it was
his.
She sent the package to the hotel
where he stopped, hoping against hope
that he would not accept her sacrifice,
but would hasten, joyfully, to convince
Her of her mistake.
But, alas, no Stephen came! He
sent a cold note, saying that perhaps
she was right, and if she, too, desired
tobreaktheengagement.it would be
better broken than kept. And he went
back to tho city by the very next train.-
Poor Jeannette “took up her burden
of life again, only saying ‘‘it might
have been!” and bore it bravely. Her
father died, and she was left alone in
the rose-wreathed cottage. She might
have married. More than one suitor
sought for a favor, but a single expe
rience was enough for her. She calm
ly said “No” and kept on her way.
She had means enough for the mod
est life she led, and if she was ever
lonely, if the nights dragged, and the
days grew weary in the little cottage,
where she lived alone with one maid,
nobody ever heard her complain.
And in the city Stephen Foster pros
pered. He married, six months after
he left Jeannette, a wealthy bride,with
no soul nor heart, a vain, frivolous
girl, whose silly life must often have
called to his mind in contrast, the
pure, true, noble woman lie had so
cruelly deserted.
But she only lived two years, and
then he had her wealth. Jeannette,
in her quiet cottage, heard of him often.
She knew that he was growing great
as well as rich. Men spoke his name
almost in whispers. He went here and
there, and was feted and praised on
every hand. If he ever thought of
Jeannette she never knew it, much less
had any token of his remembrance.
But at last came a change. His
fast life undermined all. Wealth went
first, health followed, and with the loss
of bodily vigor, the loss, also of men
tal strength.
Nothing on earth is so fickle as pub
lic favor, and with the decline of its
idol, that deserted him, he was glad to
retire to private life, with fame and
fortune both wrecked. After a time a
longing came over him to revisit the
scenes of his youth. He thought then,
of Jeannette.
“Married long ago, no doubt,” said
ho, “and happier than ever I would
have made her, poor girl!” p
Ho went to the quiet village. Being
weak from ill health, he did not feel
able for tho walk from tho station to
the hotel "Where he meant to stop, but
took his scat in one of the carriages
waiting at the railroad, to ride down.
What was it? Was it retribution?
Or was it tho last despairing effort in
behalf of his good angel, which caused
those staid horses, who never iii their
lives before had dreamed of doing such
a thing, to run away, and upset the
carriage, throwing Stephen out just
at Jeannette Allyn’s door.
Whatever it was, they did it. And
when she came out, grieved to find a
poor traveler flung lifeless at her door
stone, and bade them carry him in and
lay him upon her best bed, and hasten
for a physician, she had no idea who
the stranger was.
When, in bathing his pale face with
cool water, she looked at it, she knew
him. She was deeply startled, but
that was all.
“He is an old friend. Why should
I not care for him?” she said.
And so Stephen Foster, a shattered
wreck, lay in Jeannette Allyn’s best
room, tenderly nursed and waited upon
for days before he knew her, or even
where he was.
It was herself who told him.
He feebly asked, one evening, for a
drink of water, and when she gave it,
he recognized her.
“Jeannette!” he said. “Is it you?
where am I?”
It is I, Stephen. Yon are in my
house,” she answered.
“But how came I heie?”
“The stage was overturned at the
door, you were hurt, and brought
here,” she said quietly.
“Have I been a trouble to you long?”
he said, with a pained flush on his pale
face.
“You have been here a week, but
never a trouble, Stephen,” sheanswer
ed quietly.
“And not ungrateful, Jeannette.
Are you—whore is your husband?”
“I never had any. I am still Jean
nette Allyn,” she answered, still quiet
■y-
“My wife is dead,” said Stephen,
after a long pause.
“So I had heard, before you came,”
said Jeannette.
“Not only that,” said he, “but I
have lost all else. Fame, wealth,
health. You have had a broken-up
wreck cast upon your threshold for
mercy, my old friend.”
“Mercy he shall net have, unless he
stops talking at once, as the doctor has
ordered,” said Jeannette, tiying to
speak gayly.
“But I cannot stop, until you let me
thank you,” said he.
“Wait until you are stronger, then,
Stephen, r.o matter what you are, or
what you have lost, you are the friend
of my youth, and you shall share all I
have, until you are ivell enough to
meet the world on your own account
once more. Don’t say a word, but
just rest now. When you are well we
will talk it all over.”
Stephen turned his face away, and
lay quietly as she bid him do. But
there were warm tears trickling down
upon his pillow where she could not see.
This was the woman lie had thought
beneath him, and deserted for a sense
less doll of fashion.
Well, liis retribute had overtaken
him, and it was sufficiently bitter.
And well deserved say you?
Perhaps it was. No doubt it was.
But the heart of a loving woman can
forgive and forget much.
Stephen was now alone and lonely.
Jeannette had always been both. So
when he was well again and able to be
about the house, when he asked her to
forgive and forget the unhappy past,
and talk about the last and latter love
which would never wander from her
more, she did not say him nay.
Stephen had a small lemnant of
money left, but he had no other home
to go to. So Jeannette would not let
him go at all. There was a quiet wed
ding in the little church, and then they
went back to the cottage, which was
now home lor both of them.
Of course gossip commented, and
many said he only married her for a
home, and called her a fool. But he
really appreciated and loved her at
last, and though, no doubt, he got bet
ter than he deserved, Jeannette never
was sorry that she had given it to him.
Educated Like a White Man.
Arkansaw Traveler.
“So, yer’s eddycated like a white
man, is yer?” said old Jasper to his
son, who had just returned from school.
“Yes, sir I have acquired a good edu
cation,” the young man replied. “Ed
dycated like a white man, yer says?”
“Yes, sir.” “Like the man what
buys cotton, I ’sposes?” “Yes.”
“Wnll, I hab to see ’bout dat. Now,
’sposen I had a bale ob cotton what
weighs 500 pounds, an’ I sell it to yer
self, de white man, how much would
yer gin me fur dc bale at seben cents
or pound?” “Thirty-five dollars,” the
young man replied. “Yer’s a liar!”
the old man shouted. “Y’er’d figger
roun’ and cheat me outen $lO. Dar
ain’t no usen sendin’ yer to school, nor
liftin’ yer ’bove the natchull lebil of a
nigger. Come on lteah, now, Drap
yer eddycation and help me set out
cabbage plants. Talk to me ’bput de
eddycated nigger!”
Vital Questions.
Ask the most eminent physician
Of any school, what is the best thing in
the world for quieting and allaying all irri
tation of the nerves and curing all forms of
nervous complaints, giving natural, child
like refreshing sleep always?
And they will tell you unhesitatingly
“Some form of Hops!”
CHAPTER I.
Ask any or all of the most eminent physi
cians:
“What is the host and only remedy that
can be relied on to cure all diseases of tlie
kidneys and urinary organs; such as Bright’s
disease, diabetes, retention or inability to
retain urine, and all the diseases and ail
ments peculiar to Women”—
“And they will tell you explicitly and em
phatically ‘Buchu-’ ”
Ask the same physicians
"What is the most reliable and surest euro
for all liver diseases or dyspepsia; constipa
tion, indigestion, biliousness, malarial fever,
ague, &c„” and they will tell you:
“Mandrake! or Dandelion!”
Hence, when these remedies are combined
with others equally valuable
And compounded into Hop Bitters, such a
[Concluded next weok.j
CATS.
BY MARY W. STANLEY GIBSON.
I am about to “take up my pen in
hand” in behalf of a much injured, op
pressed, and misunderstood race. I
solemnly deny that eats, taken as a
race, are treacherous, or deceitful. I
ought to know. From my cradle I
have loved eats, and at this day I love
them. A house without a cat is but a
dreary desert to me. And where at so
little cost, can you find a piece of house
hold furniture so suggestive of fireside
comfort, in its every look and motion?
To see Pussy purring on the hearth
rug, with her pink toes tucked away
cosily under her snowy breast, and her
emerald eyes winking and blinking in
the bright blaze, as she looks grateful
ly up to yon, is to see the embodiment
of all household ease and snugness. A
bright fire and a kettle singing on the
hob; crimson curtains drawn close to
shut out the stormy night; a table laid
for tea, and you in your easy-chair
with a favorite book in your hand;
and, to crown all, poor Fussy as I have
described her, with the bine ribbon on
her neck and the half emptied saucer
of creamy milk beside her—what more
can life give you of happiness than
this?
“Bnt cats arc such thieves!” says a
farmer’s wife. “The moment I leave
my tnilk-room door ajar, there’s the
cat at the cream.”
“Is she fed regularly, as you feed
your children?” I ask.
“Lor’ ! what a question! Why, of
course we don’t fuss to feed tho cat reg
ular. She picks up her living round
the place.”
And so, because the poor beast,
starved and desperate, “picks up her
living” in the milk-room, she is a thief!
Let Mrs. Farmer keep one of her pamp
ered noisy children on short commons
generally, and see how long her cream
would last! Bnt then “the dear child”
conld never, by any stretch of imagi
nation, be called a “thief,” even if the
neighbor’s milk-pans should suffer, as
well as those at homo.
“Cats are so treacherous!” cried an
other. “There was my Johnny a
playing with one the other day, and
the horried thing turned to and almost
scratched bis dear little eyes out.”
“And what was Johnny doing to the
cat?” I ask.
“Why, you see he was just amusing
hismelf a little, end the dear innocent
little fellow was trying to pull her
teeth out with the scissors. You see,
bo has watched the dentist at tny teeth,
and the dear ingenious little creature
was only trying an experiment; and,
upon my word,you would have thought
the cat wbs mad. If I hadn’t been
there, I do believe the innocent little
angel would have been murdered!”
“A pity he was not!” I exclaimed,
and the innocent angel’s mother is my
deadly enemy from that day.
Inquire into all the charges against
this much abused animal, and you will
find them all based upon such lies as
these. A woman, as I have often ob
served, is the most inconsiderate and
unreasonable of created beings, where
her own offspring are concerned. It
seems to her that God created that poor
animal expressly to have its teeth pull
ed out with scissors by Johnny, and
the cat has flown in the little monster’s
face, when it defends itself in the only
way it knows. I knew a woman who
allowed her young children to torment
a kitten till two of its legs were broken,
and then in that condition she turned
the helpless, suffering little creature
into the street. I know another woman,
not ten miles from the place in which
I write, whose little girl put a kitten
in her apron and pounded it till it died.
The mother never interfered, and was
bitterly indignant with the lady for
rescuing the kitten at its last gasp,
and administering to her child some
slight portion of the punishment it
deserved. 1 know hundreds of cases
akin to these. And yet these very
women call themselves good and tender
hearted, and cannot be brought to see
or understand that a dumb animal can
feel pain as well as we can.
I must leave this subject. It is one
on which I cannot trust myselfto dwell.
1 began it lightly—l end it seriously,
and with an aching heart. I believe
most firmly, that if any punishment
for our ill-doing is to fall upon us, here
or hereafter, it will he for sins like
these, against the poor and helpless
animals that have no words to speak
their pain, or to implore mercy from
their tormentors. I believe that the
mother that encourages her child to be
cruel will answer for it, and suffer tor
it, in the shape of cruelty or wrong,
from that very child. 1 believe it, and
I hope it. For if a sparrow cannot tall
from Heaven without tho knowledge of
Him who made it, do you suppose that
the awful cruelty and brutality of men,
women and children toward animals of
every kind is t > pass unseen? For all
these things a day of reckoning shall
surely come.
As to Pussy, lying on her rug here
beside me, no one can make me believe
that she does not love, and is not grate
ful to mo for my tender care. She is
always glad to meet me when I come;
she always mourns for me when lam
gone. It is her habit to be ever beside
me, even when I walk abroad. Last
summer her foot was caught in a trap
and severely hurt. She was in terri
ble pain, for thero it hung beside her, a
bleeding, festering wound. l T et she
would follow me all the same, limping
along on three logs, and crying with
pain now ami then, but firm in her de
termination not to desert me, come
what might. I had to give up roy
| FOUR DOLLARS PER ANNUM.
walks till tho foot was well, on this ac
count. And now, when Igo out, she
and her kitten form my body-guard in
the high road, and neither will be driv
en hack till 1 return myself. Fed reg
ularly and plentifully, they never thieve
treated kindly, they are always gentle;
loved sincerely, they love me hack. And
they are hut the last of a long lino—
there have been many other favorites be
fore them, of whom I can honestly say
the same. I have found treachery and
deceit enough in my path through life.
I have found my confidence betrayed,
and my love and friendship worse than
wasted, over and over again. But those
who thus betrayed, deceived and mock
ed me, were not Cats.
MAN BORN OF WOMAN.
Chicago Eye.
Man born of woman is of few days
and nowhere to lay his head. The
bright sun rises in tho East, and he is
hustled out of bed for his day’s exer
cise acquiring broad and a deathless
name. He hies himself unto his field
of labor, and perspires like a hired
man in a haymow. liis path to man
hood is strewn with hedge-thorns and
puppy love. Ho becomes a veritable
sage at twenty, and kicks over the par
ental traces, and tells the “governor”
that he is not previous enough for the
stylo of doing business at the present
ago. Then he collects all the traps
that were given to him in his boyhood
days, and lumps them off to tho high
est bidder. “Good bye, mother,” says
he, and we next hear that some pleas
ant companions whom he found in a
large city, took a kindly interest in him
and showed him the sights which were
many, even unto the nineteenth gener
ation. When the police pulled him
out of the river, with his pockets rifled,
he was sorry that these guardians of
the night had interfered at all. Oh !
what a chump am I, says he, when you
wot not you are apt to get done up,
even as Oscar Wilde, who tried to
make merry with the tail of the frisky
tiger, and was in turn bitten by a soft
eyed bunko stecrer. Then he begins
to think, as the Prodigal Son once
thought, that ho is an bass by 700
majority, and several piolice precincts
to hear from. I will go home, says he,
uuto my father and tell him to kill the
fatted goose, for his calf’s come home,
and he will fall upon my neck and I
will he spared the occupation of that
swine-herder, who fed upon shucks and
thought himself in big luck to reap
enough toward his appetite. Then he
goes home to his dear old mother, ami
he acts like a human being for a long
spell, for he has not forgotten that
home is the dearest spot on earth.
Then he sees a pretty girl—liis heart
melts like wax, and pours out. at her
feet like kerosene through tlie bung
hole of a barrel. Poor thing, she flut
ters like a butterfly between earth and
heaven. She is struck on his shape
and his ice cream, and manly bearing,
which others call love-sickness—a dis
ease that effects the gizzard as well as
tho head and puckered feet. The
preacher tells them to join hands, eat
hearty, give him a fee according to the
size of their joy, and circle to the left.
Then the clouds begin to break up in the
west, and tlie sun is hidden away be
hind them. The winds blow, and tho
mud splashes, and the happy groom
begins to wonder if tho sun will ever
show liis bright face again. The
clouds bank some more, and the wind
whistles through his wampus like the
old woman kept tavern. Then a Mas
eott, in the divine form of an angel
hoy, looms up on tho horizon of his
cold, cramp-colicy life; but this ripple
of laughter and sunshine is overshad
owed too often by reverses and misfor
tunes that bring only misery to those
loved more than our own existence.
Disappointment follows quickly upon
the heels ot adversity, and life, sncli as
it is, begins to look like a blank card.
Renewed energy and hard experience
teaeli him the nairow way through the
fields of economy to the rich mines of
prosperity. The sun is now lowering
behind tho douse clouds—the silver lin
ing dazzles like a fairy tale. His re
ward has come at last—he is about to
sit down to banquet in the evening of
life and rest his vertebra l . But, before
he can voice the usual blessing, the
sun has fallen beneath the brow of the
adjacent hill, and Old Father time,
with liis rusty scythe, comes upon the
scene, and garners the gray-haired sire
to his narrow couch in the dell. He
has left an estate for his children to
quarrel over, and the noble lawyer to
rescue for himself. Is life worth liv
ing? Well, we leave that to you. As
for ourself we do not clamor for six feet
of earth before the day set by God for
our terse molecules to mingle with the
murky clay of oblivion. So long as
thero is life there is hope—of a wind
fall.
Can’t Get It.
Diabetis, Bright’s Disease, Kid
ney, Urinary or Liver Complaints can
not be contracted by you or your fam
ily if Hop Bitters are used, and if you
already have any of these diseases
Hop Bitters is the only medicine that
will positively cure yon. Don’t forget
this, and don’t get some puffed up stuff
that will only harm you.
Dr. Franklin, ir speaking of educa
tion says: “If a man empties his
purse into liis head, no one can take it
from him.”
Physicians use Shriner’s In
dian Vermifuge in their practice and
pronounce it a first class article. A
trial will convince the most skeplical
of its intrinsic merit.
NO. 91.