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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.