Newspaper Page Text
NEW ADVERTISEMENTS.
Unci© IPlato
ON HIS FIRST FALL VISIT
n i clams 4 bis
OF
E. A. VEAZEY!
GENTLEMEN AOT LADIES.
ONE AND ALL, BOTH GREAT AND SMALL, LET ME HAVE YOUR ATTEN
TION FOR A SHORT WHILE, AND I WILL TRY TO TELI
YOU SOMETHING ABOUT THE
uses & fASIES STOCK
OF GOODS THAT MR. VEAZEY IS RECEIVING FOR THE FALL TRADE.
■ '■<>■■ .
These goods have been bonght at a low fignre and will be sold the
same way, for if they had not been bonght low I know I conld not have
bonght those No. 14J Brogans at the price Uncle Plato bought them
SIOIS, MORE SHOES!
The Shoe line is full and complete in gentlemen's, ladies’ and chil
dren’s in various styles and prices. Come along we can fit yon up and
guarantee satisfaction in style and price. And
DON’T FORGET!
That the Douglas Shoe can’t be beat for $3.00, let him come from the
North, South, East or West, but come along and let us show you our
stock of Shoes.
A full and complete line of
HATS:
For old men, young men and boys. Boys’ wool Hats from 25cts np.
Men’s wool Hats from 25cts up. Call and look at our Hats and I think
we can please you in style, quality and price.
n cu n cm win
From the Northeast last Saturday morning reminded Uncle Plato of
the coming winter. There is some preparation to be made to stand the
chilly blast. We are prepared to fit yon up in this line at very low
prices—can sell yon Jeans at lOcts to 45cts per yard—prices can’t be
beat. Jeans pants at 75cts up ; Moul skin Pants very low.
A full and complete line of
m
Men’s And Boys’ Clothing
Calicos, Worsteds and Ginghams in the prettiest stvles. A com
plete line of
GENTLEMEN’S AND LADIES GLOVES.
A full line of gents Half Hose; a fall line of lovely styles m ladies’,
misses and children’s Hose, from 6cts per pair up. Ladies and gents
Handkerchief in abundance from let up to $1.25. Ladies’ Jersey Col
lars and Cuffs to match. Gents linen Cuffs and Collars. Gents
A pretty line of gents Scarfs and Cravats.
A full and complete line of Jersey Jackets in the latest styles, call
and see them, they are perfectly lovely.
Sheetings, Shirtings, Drills and Checks in the heaviest and best
brands made—no light weights.
We have ODly mentioned a few articles in the Dry Goods and
Notion departments, but we try to keep a little of everything in a gen
eral line, so come along and we can fill your bill.
A full and complete line of family
FAMILY DRUGS Mil PUT HIM I
38., 38., Harter’s Iron Cordial, Brown’s Iron Bitters, Hop Bit
ters, Brewer’s Lung Restorer, Dr. Roc’s Rheumatic Cure, Dr. Bull’s
Cough Syrup, Honey of Tar for coughs and colds, Lawrence’s Liver
Regulator, Johnson s Chill and Fever Tonic; Quinine put up in £ and
£ ounce vials; and every thing usually kept in the line of Family Med
icines.
GROCERIES!
Teas, Coffee, Rice, Bugar, Bacon, Lard, Syrnp, Molasses, Meal
Flonr, Wheat, Corn, Texas Rust Proof Oats. A full and complete
line of Laundry and Toilet Soaps; 2j Bagging, Arrow Ties uud Bug
ging Twiue.
Uncle Plato can’t remember all that we keep, but he has merely
mentioned au article here and yonder and somewhere else; he has
only fiiveu you a faint idea of what we have, so come along and let
rour wants be known, and I think we can supply them in most auv
line of goods. * 7
BQUHTRY mmos.-.
Will pav highest market price for all kinds of country produce, Full
market price paid for the fleecy staple.
■VOTJTS3 TJ^TTle^r,
33. -A.. V eaaoy
viu/.i'r, asofiftu.
GEORGIA HOME JOUII.VAL: GHEENESUOKO. FRIDAY, NOVEMBERS. ISBU. —EIGHT PAGES.
[Vf ft* Chicago l^lgw.]
OLIVIA;
TDK DOCTOR'S TWO LOVES
BY THE AUTHOK OF
’The Second Mre. Tillotaon " "Never
Forgotten," Etc., Etc.
CHAPTBR VI.
X.EaVISO BNGI.AND.
“I -will send the child to you in a cab
on Wednesday," the -woman said, as I
rose and made my way toward the hall;
“you have not told me your address?”
I paused lor a moment. Dared I
teU her my address ? Yet my money
was paid, and if I did not, I should lose
both it and the refuge I had bonght
with it. Besides, I should awaken sus
picion and inquiry by silence. It was
a fearful risk to run; yet it seemed
safer than a precipitous retreat. I gave
her my address, and saw her write it
down on a slip of paper.
As I returned to my lodgings I grew
calmer and more hopeful. It was not
likely that my husband would see the
address, or even hear that any one like
me had been at the house. I did not
suppose he would know the name of
Martineau as my mother’s maiden
name. As far as I recollected, I had
never spoken of her to him. Moreover,
he was not a man to make himself at all
pleasant aud familiar with persons
whom he looked npon as inferiors. It
was highly improbable that he would
enter into any conversation with his
landlady. If that -woman did so, all
she would learn would be that a young
lady, whose name was Martineau, had
taken iT situation as English teacher in
a French school. What could there
be in that to make him think of me ?
I was on the rack all the next day.
It was the last day I should be in En
gland, and I had a nervous dread of be
ing detained. If I should once more
succeed in quitting the country unde
tected, it seemed as though I might
hope to be in safety in Calvados. 01
Calvados I know even less than of the
Channel Islands; I had never heard
tho namo before. But Mrs. Wilkinson
had given me the route by which we
were to reach Noireau; by steamer tc
Havre, across the mouth of the Seine
to Honfleur, to Falaisc by train, and
finally from Falaiso to Noireau by om
nibus. It was an utterly unknown re
gion to me; and I had no reason to im
agine that Richard Foster was better
acquainted with it than L My anxiety
was simply to get cltair away.
In the afternoon the little girl ar
rived quite alone, except that a man
had been hired to carry a small box for
lier, and to deliver her into my charge.
This was a great relief to mo, and I
gladly paid the shilling he demanded.
Tho child was thinly and shabbily
dressed for our long journey, and there
was a forlorn loneliness about her posi
tion, left thus with a stranger, which
touched me to tho heart. We were
aliko poor, helpless, friendless—l was
about to say childish, and in truth I
was in many things little more than a
child still. Tho small elf, with her
sharp, large eyes, which were too big
for her thin face, crept np to me, as the
man slammod the door aftor him and
clatterod noisily down stairs.
“I’m so glad 1” she said, with a deep
drawn sigh of rolief; “I was afraid I
should never go, and school is such a
heavenly place!”
The words amused yet troubled me;
they were so different from a child’s
ordinary opinion.
“It’s such a hateful place at Mrs.
Wilkinson’s,” she went on, “everybody
calling mo at onee, and scolding me;
and tliero such a many people to run
errands for. You don’t know what it
is to run errands when you are tired to
death. And it’s such a beautiful, splen
did place where we’re going to!"
“What is your name, my dear?”
I asked, sitting down on my box and
taking her on my lap. Such a thin,
stunted little woman, precociously
learned in trouble! Yet she nestled in
my arms liko a true child, and a tear
or two rolled down her cheeks, as il
from very contentment.
“Nobody has nursed mo like this
since mother died,” sho said. “I’m
Mary, but father always called mo
Minima, because I was the least in the
house. He kept a boys’ school out oi
London, in Epping Forest, you know;
and it was so heavenly! All the boys
were good to me, aud v. r o used to call
father Dominie. Then he died, and
mother died just beforo him; nnd he
said, ‘Courage, Minima! God will take
care of my little girl.’ So the boys’
fathers and mothers made a subscrip
tion for me, and they got a great deal
of money, a hundred pounds; and
somebody told them about this school,
where I can stay four years for a hun
dred pounds, and they all said that was
the best, thing they could do with me.
But I’ve had to stay with Mrs. Wilkin
son nearly two months, because she
could not find a governess to go with
me. I hate lier; 1 detest her; I should
like to spit at her 1”
The little face was all aflame, and
the large eyes burning.
“Hush! hush!” J said, drawing hot
head down upon my shoulder again.
“Then there is Mr. Foster,” she con
tinued, almost sobbing; “he torments
me so. He likes to maLo fun of mo,
nnd tease me, till I can’t hear to go
into his room. Father used to say it
whs wicked to hate anybody, nnd I
didn’t hate anybody then, I was sc
happy. But you’d hate Mr. Foster and
Mrs.'Foster, if you only knew thorn.”
“Why?” I naked, in a whisper. My
voice sounded husky to me, and my
throat felt parched. The child’s im
potent rage and hatred struck a slum
bering chord within me.
“Oh! they nro hard in every way,”
she aaid, with emphasis; “they frighten
mo. He is fond of tormenting any
thing, because bo’s cruel. We had a
cruel bey in our school onco, so I know.
But they are very poor —poor as Job,
Mrs. Wilkinson says, and I'm glad,
Aren't you glad ?"
The question jarred in my memory
against a i>A>rinimta craving after re
veng, which had di and away in ths
quiet and tranquillity ot Mark. A year
ago I should have rejoiced in any meas
ure of punUhnieut or retribution which
iia*l overtaken those who hail destroyed
my hanpinnas. lint it wss not so now;
or iieriisps I should Vstliar own that it
ss> only faintly so. it had never oc
curred to me that my flight would
|iluugu him iuto po erty -unbar to my
own. lint now that the idea was
tiirunt noon rue, I wondered bow I
*•.( luvii uvci iiioke i iios iieos-ary
•o >*e ineiioi of my conduct. Ought ]
to do Miyiliiug for him? Wss there
any'limy I could do lo Ic Ip him?
it *la ill. 100 " pui u and the child 1
i treat 4 bun Ml fence In Alls* Foster
he knew he sbonld die like a dog. I
was a little tiny b.t sorry for hint then,
for nobody would like to die like a
dog, and not go to heaven, yon know.
But I don't care now I shall never see
them again —never, never I I could
jump out of my skin for joy. I shan't
even know when he is deed, if he does
die like a dog,”
111 1 dead! My heart beat foster and
faster as I pondered over these words.
Then I should be free, indeed; his
death would release me from bondage,
from terror, from poverty—those three
evils which dogged my'steps. I bod
never ventured to let my thoughts run
that way, but this child’s prattling bod
now forced them into it. Richard Fos
ter ill—dying I Oh, Godl what onght
I to do ?
_ I could not make myself known to
him; that was impossible. I would
ten thousand times sooner die myself
than return to him. But yet there
came back to my mind the first days
when I knew him, when he was all ten
derness and devotion to me; declaring
that he could find no fault in his girl
wife. How happy I had been then for
a little while, exchanging my step
mother’s harshness for his indulgence!
He might have won my love; he had
almost won it. But that happy, golden
time was gone, and could never come
back to me. Yet my heart was softened
toward him as I thought of him ill,
perhaps dying. What could I do for him
without placing myself in his power?
There was one thing only that I could
do, only one little sacrifice I could
make for him whom I had vowed, in
childish ignorance, to love, honor, and
cherish in sickness and in health, until
death parted us. A home was secured
to me for twelve months, and at the
end of that time I should have a bet
ter careor open to me. I had enough
money still to last me until then. My
diamond ring, which had been his own
gift to me on our wedding-day, would
be valuable to him. Sixty pounds
would be a help to him if he were as
poor as this child said. He must be
poor, or ha would never have gone to
live in that mean street and neighbor
hood.
Perhaps—if he had been alone—l do
not know, but possibly if he had been
quite alone, ill, dying in that poor
lodging of his, I might have gone to
him. I asked myself again, Gould yon
have done this thing ? But I cannot*an
swer it even to myself. Poor and ill
ho was, but he was not alone.
It was enough for me, then, that I
could do something, some little service
for him. The old flame of vengeance
had no spark of heat left in it. I was
free from hatred of him. I set the
child gently away from me, and wrote
my last letter to my husband. Both
tho letter and the ring I inclosed in n
little box. Theso are the words 1
wrote, and I put neither date nor name
of place:
I know that you are poor, and I send you
all I can spare—tho ring you onco gave td
me. lam even poorer than yourself, but
I have fust enough for my immediate wants.
T forgive you, as I trust God foi gives mo.
This business settled, I returned to
the child, who was sitting, as I had so
often done, gazing pensively into the
fire. Was she to be a sort of miniature
copy of myself?
“Come, Minima,” I said, “we must be
thinking of tea. Which would you like
best, buns, or cake, or bread and but
ter? Wo must go out aud buy them,
and you shall choose.”
“Which would cost the most?” she
asked, looking at me with the careworn
expression of a woman.
We were discussing this question
with befittiDg gravity, when a great
thump against the door brought a host
of fears upon me. But before I could
stir the insecure handle gave way, and
no one more formidable appeared than
the landlady of the house, carrying be
fore her a tray on which was set out a
sumptuous tea, consisting of buttered
crumpets and shrimps. She put it
down on my dressing-table, and stood
surveying ii and us with an expression
of benign exultation, until she had re
covered her breath sufficiently to speak.
“Those as aro going into foring
parts,” she said, “onght to get a good
English meal aforo they start. If you
was going to stay in England, miss, it
would be quite a different thing; but
me and my master don’t know whal
they may give yoh to eat where you’re
going to. Therefore, we beg you’ll ac
cept of the crumpets, and the shrimps,
and the bread and butter, and the tea,
and everything; and we mean no of
fense by it. You’ve been a very quiet,
l-eg’lar lodger, and give no trouble, and
we’ro sorry to lose you. And this, my
master says, is a testimonial to you.”
I could hardly control my laughter,
and I conld not keep back my tears. II
was a long time now since any one had
shown mo so much kindness and sym
pathy as this. The dull face of the
good woman was brightened by her
kind-hearted feeling, and, instead of
tli inking lier, I put my lips to her cheek.
“Lor!” she exclaimed; “why! God
bless you, my dear! I didn’t mean any
offense, you know. Lor! I never
thought you’d pay me like that. It’s
very pretty of you, it is; for I’m sura
you’ie a lr.oy to tho backbone, as often
and often i’ve said to my master. Be
good enough to >t it all, yon nnd tha
little miss, for you’ve a loug journey
beforo you. Go 1 bless you both, my
dears, and givo yon a good appetite.”
She backed out of tho room aa she
was speaking, her face beaming upou
us to tho last.
Thoro was a pleasant drollery about
ber conduct, and about tho intense do
light of the child and her hearty en
joyment of the feast, which for thr
time effectually dissipated my fears and
my melancholy thoughts. It was the
last hour 1 should spend in my solitary
room; my lonely days were past. This
little elf, with her large sharp eyes and
sagacious, womanly face, was to be my
companion for the future. I felt closely
drawn to her. Even the hungry appe*
tite with which she ate spoke of ths
hard times she had gone through. When
she had eaten all sho could eat, I heard
her say softly to herself, “Courage,
Minimal"
CHAPTER Vfi
A I.ONO jorassr.
It was little more than twelve months
since I had started from the same sta
tion on tho same route; hut thoro wa
no Tardif at hand now. As 1 went
into the tioket-ottlue, Minima caught m<
by the dress, uud whispered earnestly
into my ear.
“We’re not to travel first class," slit
taiil; “it costs too much. Mrs. Wilkin
son said we ought to go third, if we
could* and vnji’rw to nav (or. sue.
please, only hslt-price, und tlieyll pay
yon again when we reach the school.
I’ll route with you, and then ihev’ll set
I’m only half-price. 1 don’t look toe
ohl, do 1 r
"You look very old,’’ I auswoted,
•lulling at her sul iou fare.
“Oh, dear, de.trl* kite said) "bill I
ail wry •insll. I‘ethape I’d better not
i oiue to the ticket tiMj the por<er* me
Mktt •i | o-.-g out I we be i fair)/
a*ooMt w men I* j ntige pyram d* of ftp*
pit*. Truck-load* of tiiem *t ood at
evary station. The air wss scent and by
them. Children were pelting one an
other witli them; aid here and there,
where the orchards had been cleared
and the trees stripped, flocks of gees-e
were searching for tboso scattered
among the tufts of gras*. The roses
were in blossom, and tho chrysanthe
mums were in their first glory. The
few countrywomen who got iuto our
carriage st 11 wore their snowy muslin
caps, us in summer. Nobody appeared
cold and pinched yet, and everybody
was living out of doors.
It was almost like going into anew
world, and I breathed more freely ths
farther we traveled down into the in
terior. At Falaise we exchanged th*
train for a small omnibus, which bor
tne name “Noireau” conspicuously on its
door. I had discovered that the little
French I knew was not of much serv
ice, as I conld in no way understand th<
rapid answers that were given to my
questions. A woman came to ns, at the
door of a cafe where the omnibus
stopped in Falaise, and made a long
and earnest harangue, of which I did
not recognize one word. At length we
started off on the last stage of oui
journey.
Where could we be going to ? Ibe
gan to ask myself the question anxious
ly after we had crept on, at a dog-trot
for what seemed an interminable time
We had passed through long avennet
of trees, and across a series of wide,
flat plains, aud down gently sloping
roads into narrow valleys, and up the
opposite ascents; and still the bells
upon the horses’ collars jingled sleep
ily, and their hoof-beats shambled along
the roads. We were seldom in sight oi
any house, and we passed through very
few villages. I felt as if we were go
ing all the way to Marseille*.
“I’m so hungry 1” said Minima, aftei
a very long silence.
I, too, had been hungry for an houi
or two past. We had breakfasted at
started from the station, her right to a
half-ticket unchallenged.
The November night was cold and
> and there was little difference
between the darkness of the suburbs
and the darkness of the open country.
Once again the black hulls and masts
of two steamers stood before us at the
end of our journey, and hurrying
voices shouted, “This way for Jersey
and Guernsey.” “Thisway to Havre.”
What would I not have given to return
to Sark, to my quiet room under Tar
dif’s roof, with his true heart and stead
fast friendship to rest upon I But that
could not be. My feet were setting out
npon anew track, and I did not know
where the hidden path would lead me.
The next morning found us in
France. It was a soft, sunny day, with
a mellow light, which seemed to dwell
fondly on the many-tinted leaves of the
trees that covered the banks of the
Seine. From Honfleur to Falaise the
same warm, genial sunshine filled the
air. The slowly moving train carried
ns through woods where the autumn
seemed but a few days old, and where
the slender leaflets of the acacias still
fluttered in the caressing breath of the
wind. We passed through miles upon
miles of orchards, whore a few red
loaves were hanging yet upon the knot
tod branches of tha apple trees, bo
midday at one of the stations, but we
had nothing to eat since, except a roll
which Minima had brought away from
breakfast, with wise prevision; but this
had disappeared long ago.
“Try to go to sleep,” I said; “lean
against me. Wo must be there soon.”
“Yes,” she answered, “and it’s such
a splendid school! I’m going to stay
there four years, you know, so it’s fool
ish to mind being hungry now. ‘Cour
age, Minima!’ I must recollect that.”
“Courage, Olivia!” I repeated to my
self. “The farther you go tho more se
cure will be your hiding-place.” The
child nestled against me, and soon fell
asleep. I wont to sloop myself—an un
quiet, slumber, broken by terrifying
dreams. Sometimos I was falling from
the cliffs in Sark into tho deop, trans
parent waters below, where the sharp
rocks lay like Bwords. Then I was in
the Gonliot Caves, with Martin Dobree
at my side, and the tide was coming in
too strongly for ns; and beyond, in the
opening through which we might have
escaped, my husband’s face looked in at
us, with a hideous oxultatiou upon it.
I woke at last, shivering with cold and
dread, for I had fancied that he had
found me, and was carrying me away
again to his old hateful haunts.
Our omnibus was jolting and rum
bling down some steep and narrow
streets, lighted by oil-lamps swung
across tlioin. There were no lights in
any of tho houses, save a few in the
tipper windows, os though tho inmates
were all iu bed, or going to bed. Only
at the inn where we stopped was there
anything like life. A lamp, which
hung over the archway leading to tht
yard and stables, lit up a group of peo
ple waiting for the arrival of the omni
bus. I woke up Minima from her deep
and heavy sleep.
|TO BE CONTI SUED. I
Attractive Lodgings In Nantucket.
A young couple, evidently newly mar
ried, landed upon this peaceful isle ono
day, says a Nantucket correspondent,
not long ago, anil wandered about the
ancient town of Nantucket in search of
a summer boarding place. At last they
came upon a large, comfortable looking
house, ur.preten.ious but homelike in
appearance, which they made up their
minds would do admirably.
“I think this is a charming place,
Edwin,” twittered the bride. ‘‘Suppose
we inquire hero.”
“Yes, my angel,” replied Edwin. “I
hope all the rooms are not taken; I see
no sign in the window.”
Tripping lightly up the steps, the
“angel” knocked loudly at the door,
and, presently, in response to the sum
mons, a stout, matronly looking woman
made her appearance and asked what
was desired
“Your rooms are not all occupied, I
hope *” said the bride, interrogatively.
“No, ma’am They was all lull until
a week ago; when old Mrs. Simpson was
buried. She had Bright's disease and a
room to herself and since she died it
has been vacant.”
“May I ask what you charge for the
room, w ith board, by the week I"
“Law! ma'am.” exclaimed the woman
with great astonishment. “We don’t
charge nothing lor looms, nor for board
either. ’lbis here is tiie Nantucket poor
house. ”
Nantucketers take no small pride in
the oxi elleui'C of t iclr charitable aud re
formatory lust But Inns.
Thru is a good deal ot practical
common sense hi t >e answer of the old
took in New Orleans whm her young
mistress told her of Wiggins’ com ng
Mid!' CU n i l ytVnoaat n>e't <Jm|*
a in. dil. iliisit* o an u i so shot V
NEW ADVERTISEMENTS.
LOSE NO TIME!
IN SECURING THE BIRBMNS NOW BEING OFFERED AT
GOODYEAR CO.’S
CAttlAGl HfllSlTil!
WILL BE SOLD THE LARGEST AND MOST
SISiRABLI JkSSOETMBH’f
OF OPEN AND TOP BUGGIES ever brought to this market at lower prices than ever
before offered. These goods are First Class, with steel axles and tires, thoroughly paint
ed, full leather trimmed, and warranted for twelve month?. Just received another
shipment of those line
ill CARRIAGES, PHAETONS & CABRIOLETS
OPEN and TOP BUGGIES, made upon special orders, by the best Manufacturer*
Nor;h and East. Nothing being used in the construction of these vehicles but the bast
materials, and in Quality, Style and Finish are uncaqualled by any others now in the
market. In stock a full line of
Which I will offer at LOWER PRICES than have ever before been known in the
history of the business. MILBURN, STUDERAKER and STANDARD PLANTATION
WAGONS, all sizes. Oak and Hemlock Sole Leather, Calf Skins, Shoe Fin’dings,
Carriageand Wagon Materials, Harness Leather, Belt Lacing of superior quality, Rubber
and Leather Belting. Also, a Full Line of
hahdwakb ,
Guns, Shells, Powder, Shot, Table and Pocket Cutlery, Plow Points for all makes,
Nails, Axes, Hoes, Picks and Matlocks, Pitch Forks, Shovels, Spades, Steelyards and
Scale Beams, Grind Stones, Rakes, Padlocks, Carpenter Tools, Flies, Hinges, Window
Sash, Doors and Blinds, Farm and Church Bens, which lam offering at LOWEST CASH
PRICES.
Opposite Georgia Railroad B | GOODYEAR & CO.
70a Broad Street. ) Successors to P. H. MAY & CO.
Engines & Mill Machinery,
Boilers, Piping and all kinds of Fittings.
KORTING DOUBLE TUBE INJECTOR, the leading boiler
feeder. Operated by one handle. Will lift the hot water
through hot suction Pipe. Guaranteed to work under all
circumstances. We are agents lor Georgia, South Carolina
and Florida. Shafting, Pulleys, Hangers, Boxes, etc., in
stock for prompt delivery. We buy, sell, repair, exchange
and rent Engines on best terms. We have the most ex
tensive shops in the South. We are prepaired to do all kinds of re
pair work at shortest notice.
<3-230. ss. 3L.OcSs CO.,
FOUNDRY, MACHINE AND BOILER WORKS,
- GEOE3LA.
mayl
| BASE BALLS AND BATS,
GLOVES, MASES, BELTS, CAPS, SHOE PLATES, BASES, Kipl
And all other Base Ball Supplies.
J write for price lists.
IT Boots, Stationary and Job Printing.
J. TVE. R.ICHAH.DS,
*29 BROAD STREET. AUGUSTA. GA.
JOB PRINTING
Of Every Description Neatly
Executed at this Office.
ORDERS WILL RECEIVE PROMPT ATTENTION.
GIVE DS A TRIAL I
THEO. MARK WALTER
Steam Marble amt Granite Works.
Broad St., near Lower Market. Augusta, Oa.
M ONU M ENTS, TOM BBTONES,
AMD MAEBLKWOftK CIKNRUAU.Y, awtlo to or<lr, A largo .
)rt tt“ii ftlwnyn ui4 tiMijii rt*mly lot y. iron (ttucuig (of
tol (<*f Hit.