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The News an Herald.
PUBLISHED EVEKY TUESDAY.
A. B. CATES. Editor and Publisher.
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THE NEWNAN HERALD.
WOOTTES k CATES, Proprietor*.
WISDOM, JUSTICE AND MODERATION.
TEKWS:..!M.50 per per year in Adranee.
Y0LUME XX.
NEWNAN, GEOBGIA, TUESDAY, JUNE 23,1SS5.
NUMBER 3ft.
Thb Newnan Herald.
PUBLISHED EVERY TUESDAY.
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Withpood or ill, with fal»e or true.
ALICE S HEROISM.
I was a telegraph operator sta
tioned in the little town of Deering,
upon the line of the Pacific railroad,
lietween the cities of D and
O . Six miles further west
was the more pretentious town of
Paris, upon the direct road to D—.
Deering was by no means a model
residence. Still, there was a school,
and a timid little blue-eyed woman
hud come from Vermont to teach it.
How long an unprotected woman
might have lived in Deering I can
■only guess, for Alice Holt had been
there but three months wheji she
■consented to walk into church with
me and walk out my wife. This
was in July, and we had occupied a
pretty cottage nearly a quarter of a
mile from the telegraph stalior
since our marriage.
With this necessary introduction
I con.e to the story ot that < ictoher
night, and the part my blue-eyed
Alice, only 18, and afraid of her own
shadow, played in it.
I was in the office at about 7:30
o’clock when one of the city offi
cials came in, all flurried, saying:
“Stirling, have you been over to
the embankment on (he road to
day?”
“No, I have not.”
“It was a special Providence took
inn there, (hen. One of the gn at
masses of rock has rolled down di
rectly across the track. It will be
as dark as a wolf’s mouth to-night,
v end if the midnight train comes
ftv.n D there will he a horrible
smash-up.”
“The midnight train must stop at
Paris, then,” I replied. “I will send
a message.” «
“Yes. That is what I stopped in
for. The other track is clear, so
you need not stop the train to D
“All right, sir.”
I was standing at the door, seeing
mv caller down the rickety stair
case, when Alice came up with m.v
supper.
“Any messages to-day ?’’ my wife
asked.
“One from I) for John Mar
tin.”
“John Martin?” Alice cried; “the
greatest ruffian in Deering. What
was the message?”
“Midnight train.”
“Was that all ?”
“That was all. Mr. Hill has just
been in here to tell me there is a
huge rock across the track at the
embankment, so 1 shall stop the
midnight train at Paris.”
She went into the dressing-room
taking no light, hut depending upon
the candles burning in the office. 1
was rising from my seat to send the
telegram, when the door opened,
and four of the worst characters in
Deering, led by John Martin, enter
ed the room. Before I could speak,
two threw me hack in my chair, one
held a revolver to my head, and
John Martin spoke:
“Mr. Hill was here to tell you to
stop the D train. You will not
sen.d that message. Listen. The
rock is there to stop the train—put
there for that purpose. There is
half a million-in gold in the express
ear. Do you understand?”
1 trembled for Alice. Not a sound
came from the little room as I was
tied, hand and foot, to ray chair-
bound so securely that I could not
move. It was proposed to gag me,
but finally concluding that my cries,
if I made any, could not be heard, a
handkerchie! was bound over my
mouth.
The door of the wash-room was
closed and locked, Alice still undis
covered, then the light was blown
out, and the ruffians left me, locking
the door after them.
Teere was a lo**g silence. Out
side I could hear the steps of one of
the men pacing up and down,
watching. I rubbed my head
against the wall behind me and suc
ceeded in getting the handkerchief
on my mouth to fall around my
neck. I had scarcely accomplished
this when there was a tap on the
inner door.
“Robert,” Alice said.
“Yes, love! Speak low, there is a
man under my window.”
“I am going to Paris. There is no
man under my window, and I can
get out there. I have six long roller
towels here knotted together, and I
have cut my white skirt into wide
strips to join them. The rope made
so reaches nearly to the ground. I
shall fasten it to the door-knob and
let myself down. It will not take
storm over, though still the night
was inky black.
The midnight down-train was
coming swiftly, surely, to certain
destruction! Where was my wife?
Had the ruffians intercepted her at
the cottage? Was she lying dead
somewhere upon the wild road ?
Her heroism was ot no avail, hut
was her life saved ? In the agony of
(hat question the approaching rum
ble of the train was far more the
bitterness of Alice loss than the
horror of the doomed lives it car
ried. Why had I iet her start upon
her mad errand?
The heavy train rumbled past the
telegraph office. It was an express
train and did not stop at Deering
station, but, as I listened, every
sense sharpened by mental torture,
it seemed to me that the speed
slackened. Lislening intently, I
knew that it hail stopped at the em
bankment, ns nearly as I could
judge. • Not with the sickening
crash I expected, not preceding
vails and groans from the injured
mssengers, hut carefully. A mo
on! more anil I heard shouts, the
crack of firearms, sounds of some
conflict.
What o-iild it a'l mean? The
minutes were hours, till I heard a
key turn in the door of/ny prison,
and a moment later two tender
arms were around my neck, anil
Alice was whispering in my ear:
“They will come in a fe w minutes,
:ove, to set you free!”
“Hut have you bee” to Paris?”
“Yes, dear.”
“In all that s to fin ?”
“Selim seemed to understand. He
•arried me swiftly and surely. I
vas well wrapped in my waterproof
•leak and hood. When I reached
Paris the train had not come from
“Rut it is here.”
“Only the locomotive and one car.
In that car were a sheriff, deputy
slierifi, and twenty men, armed to
the teeth, to capture the gang at the
embankment. I came, too, and
they lowered me from the platform,
when the speed slackened, so that
I could run here and tell you all
was safe!"
While we spoke my wife’s fingers
had first untied the handkerchief
iron ml my neck, and then, in the
dark, found some of the knots of the
cords binding me. But I was still
lied fast and strong when there was
i rush of many feet upon the stair
case, and, in another moment, light
and joyful voices.
“We’ve captured the whole nine!”
was the good news. “Three, includ
ing John Martin, are desperately
wounded, but the suprise was per
fect. Now, old fellow, for you!’’
A dozen clasp-knives at once sev
ered my bonds, and a dozen hands
were extended in greeting. As for
the praises showered upon my
plucky little wife it would require a
volume to tell half of them.
BACKBONE AND GRIT.
“The stage has gone, sir, but
there’s a widow lives here, and she’s
got a boy, and he’ll drive you over.
“Did you knit?”
“Not at first, hut after awhile
mother began to have rheumatism
in her hands, and the joints became
swollen and the fingers twisted, and
He’s a nice little fellow, and Deacon J * lurt ^ er to raove them. Then I
Ball lets him have his team for a | Earned to knit; before that I wound
trifle, and we like to get him a job j
The Intricacies of the Law.
A Missouri man who had stolen a
horse and who had been arraigned
before court said:
“Judge, so far as I am concerned
you may have the horse. No one
can say that I have ever been stingy.
It’s the only horse I have, but it’s
yours.”
The judge explained that the
crime consisted of a violation of the
law.
“Oh, that’-- it, eh ?” said the pris-
mer. “Well, then, I reckon I’m in
for it; but say, if it’s net the horse
they care for, just keep him till I
et out and I’ll make it all right.
Won’t, eh? Let me tell you. Your
blamed law is so mixed up that no-
bodv understands it.”
About the Time.
Minks—Dear ine, Winks! I didn’t
know you were in that big railway
accident. Did the company pay
up?
Winks—Big railway accident?”
“Yes. You were pretty well
shaken up, that’s a fact. Don’t be
lieve you’ve got a whole nerve in
your body. You ought to be in
bed.”
“I’ve not been on a railroad for a
month.”
Then what under the sun have
you been doing?”
“Making garden.”
Saving Trouble.
Sax—Those new rails you put in
this porch are not half planed.
Fax (a carpenter)—That’s all
right. They’ll get smooth pretty
soon.
“But they’re all nailed in.”
“Yes; never mind about that.
Passers-by will smooth them.”
“Passers-by ?”
“Yes; ril stick on ’em a piece of
long to reach heme, saddle Selim i j )H j >er with the word ‘paint’ on it,
’ u " * Don’t fear an( j ever ybody will give the rails a
and reach Paris in time,
for me”
Nine o’clock! As the bell of the
church clock ceased to strike a
rumble, a fl::sh, told me that a thun
der storm was coming rapidly. Oh,
the long minutes of the next hour.
Ten o’clock. The rain falling in
torrents, the thunder pealing, light
ning flashing! Alice was h afraid
of lightning. Eleven o’clock. The
rub to see if it’s dry.’
History’s Work.
Instead of “brave as a lion,” an
expression heretofore in common
use, would it not be a good idea to
employ the simile “bold as a bear?”
History makes and unmakes meta
phors.
when we c"*n.”
It was a hot day in July. Away
up among the hills that make the
lower slope of the Monadnock
mountain a home, one must take an
early train to the nearest station
and trust to the lumbering old coach
that made a daily trip to K
The train was late; the stage, after
waiting for some time, was gone.
The landlord of the little white ho
tel appeared’ in his shirt sleeves,and
leaning his elbows on the balcony
rail, droppod down on the hot and
thirsty traveller what comfort could
he extracted from the opening sen
tence of my sketch.
“Would we not come in and have
some dinner?” “Yes.” “Should
he send for the deacon’s team?”
“Yes.”
And the dinner was eaten and the
team came around—an open buggy
and an old white horse, and just as
we were seated, the door of the lit
tle brown house across the way
opened and out rushed the “widow’s
boy.” In his mouth the last morsel
of his dinner; he had evidently
learned how to “eat and run.” His
feet were clad in last winter’s much-
worn boots, whose wrinkled legs re
fused to stay within the limits of
his narrow, faded trousers. As his
legs flew forwaid his arms flew
backward in an ineffectual struggle
to get himself inside a jacket much
too short in the sleeves.
“There he is,” said the hostler;
“that’s the Widow Beebe’s boy. I
told him I’d hold the horse while he
went home to get a bite.”
The horse did not look as if he
needed to he held, but the hostler
got his dime, and the hoy approach
ed in time to relieve my mind as to
whether he would conquer the jack
et, or the jacket would conquer him
and turn him wrong side out.
He was sunburned and freckled,
large mouthed, red haired, a home
ly, plain, wretched little Yankee
boy; and yet, as we rode through
the deeper summer bloom and fra
grance of the shaded road, winding
up the long hills in the glow of the
afternoon sun, I learned such a les
son from the little fellow as I shall
not soon, forget.
He did not look iftuch like a
preacher as he sat stooping forward
a little, whisking the flies from
the deacon’s horse, hut
his sermon was one which I wish
might have been heard by all the
boys in the land. As it was, I had
to spur him on nowand then by
questions, to get him to tell all
about himself.
“My father died, you see, and left
my mother the little brown house
opposite the tavern. You saw it,
lidn’t you, sir—the one with the
lilac bushes under th’e window?
Father was siek a long time, and
when he could not work he had to
raise money on the house. Deacon
• lull let him have it, a little at a
time, and when father was gone>
mother found the money owed was
almost three hundred dollars. At
first she thought that she would
have to give up the house, but the
deacon said, ‘Let it wait awhile,’
and he turned and patted me on the
head; ‘when Johnny gets big
enough to earn something, I will
expect him to pay it.’ I was only
nine then, and I am thirteen now:
l remember it, and I remember
mother cried and said, ‘Yes, deacon,
Johnny is my only hope, now;’ and
I wondered what work I could do.
I really felt as if I ought to begin at
once, but I could not think of any
thing to do.”
“Well, what did you do?" I asked
quickly, for I was afraid he would
stop, and I wanted to hear the rest.
“Well, at first I did very funny
things for a boy to do. Mother used
to knit socks to sell, and she sewed
the rags to make rag carpets, and I
helped.”
“How? What could you do?”
“Well, the people who would like
a carpet could not always get time
to make it. So I went to the houses
among the farmers and took home
their rags, old coats, and everything
they had, and out in the woodshed
I ripped and cut them up. Then
mother sewed them, and sometimes'
I sewed some, too; and then I rolled
them into balls and took them back
to the owners, all ready to be woven
into rugs.”
“But did they pay for their
work ?”
“Oh, yes, we got so much per
pound; and I felt quite like a young
merchant when I weighed them out
with our steel-yards. But that was
only one way; we’ve two or three
old apple trees out in the back yard
by the wall, aDd we dried the apples
and -old them. Then some of the
farmers who had a good many ap
ples began to send to us to dry, and
we paid them so many pounds all
dry and had the rest to sell.”
“But you surely could not do much
in ways like theie?”
“No, not much, but something;
and we had the knitting.”
the yarn for her. I had to learn to
sew a little, too, for mother didn’t
like to see the holes without patch
es.” And he looked half smilingly
at the specimen on his knees.
“But you did not mend those?”
said I.
“Yes, sir; but I was in a hurry, and
mother said it was not done as it
ought to he. They had just been
washed and I couldn’t wait for them
to dry.”
“Who washrtlthem?” t.
“I did, and ironed them, too. 1
can wash and iron almost as good
as mother can. She don’t mean to
let me, hut how is she going to help
it? She can hardly use her hands
at all, and some days she cannot
leave her chair, so I had to learn to
make the beds, and to scrub the
floor, and wash the dishes, and I
can cook almost as well as a girl.”
“Is it possible? I shall have to
take supper with you on my way
back to the city, and test your
skill.”
“It’s a pity, my boy, that you
haven’t a sister.”
“I had one,” he said gently, “hut
she died; and—if she had lived, I
houldn't have wished her to lift,
and bring wood and water, and
scrub, as poor mother always did.
Sometimes I wish I could have
sprung all the way from a baby to a
man. It’s such slow work growing
up; and it w’as while mother was
waiting for us to grow up that she
worked so hard.”
“But, my dear boy, you can not
expect to be son and daughter ami
mother, all in one. You can not do
the work for a whole family.”
“Yes, lean; it isn’t much, and I
am going to do it and the work my
father left undone. I am going to
pay that mortgage, if I live.”
“Heaven grant you may,” I said
fervently, under my breath; “for
not many mothers have such a
son.”
“Mother don’t know I mean to do
it, and she is very anxious I should
go to school, and I mean to some
time; but I know' just w'here the
boys in my class are studying, and
I get the lessons at home. Mother
reads them to me out of the book
w'hile I am washing the dishes or
doing her work, and we have great
fun. I try to remember and repeat
it, and if we come to anything w T e
can’t make out, I take it over to the
teacher in the evening; she is very
kind—she tells me.”
“Very kind ? Who wouldn’t be
kind to such a boy? How do you
expect lo save if you spend your
time indoors?”
“Oh, I don’t do girl’s work all day;
no indeed! I have worked out our
taxes on the road. It wasn’t much,
but I helped the men build a stone
wall down by the river; and Deacon
Ball lets me do a great deal of w'ork
for him, and when I get a chance to
take anybody from the hotel to
ride, he lets me have his team for
almost nothing, and I pay to him
whatever I make. And I work on
the farm with the men in summer;
and I have a cow of my own and
sell the milk at the tavern; and we
have some hens, too, and sell the
eggs. And in the fall I cut and pile
the winter’s wood in the sheds for
the people who haven’t any boys—
and there’s a good many people
around here' who have not any
boys,” he added, brushing a fly
from the old horse with the tip of
his whip.
After this we fell into silence and
rode through the sweet New Eng
land roads, with Monadnock rising
before us, ever near us and more
majestic. It impressed me with a
sense of its rugged strength—one of
the hills, “rock-ribbed and ancient
as the sun;” but I glanced from the
mountain to the little red-headed
morsel of humanity at my side,
with a sort of recognition of their
kinship. Somehow they seemed to
belong together. I felt as if the
same sturdy stuff was in both of
them. It was only a fancy, but it
was confirmed the next day, for
when 1 came back to town after
seeing my invalid friend, I called on
Deacon Ball. I found him white-
haired and kindly-faced. He kept
the village store and owned a pret
ty house, and was evidently very
mother in him and it’s got to work
VVe think a good deal of the widow.
Mandy and me. I did before lever
saw Mandy; hut for ail that we hold
the mortgage and Johnny wants to
work it out. Mandy and me, we are
going to let him work ”
I turned away, for I was going to
sup at Johnny’s house; hut before i
went I asked the deacon how much
Johnny had already paid.
“Well, I don’t know; Mandy
knows—I pass it to her; she keeps
the book. Drop in before you go to
the train and I’ll show it to you.”
T dropped in and the deacon
showed me the account. It was the
book of a savings hank of a neigh
boring town, and on Its pages were
■eesdita'of all t.fie little sums tiie boy
had earned or paid; an 1 I -aw they
werestandingin the Widow Beel e’s
name. I grasped the deacon’s
hand. He was looking over the
housetops to where Monadnock was
smiling under the good-night kiss
of the sun.
“Good-by sir, good-by,” he said,
returning my squeeze with interest:
“Much obliged, I am sure, Mandy
and me too; but don’t you be wor
ried about Johnny. When we see
it we know the real stuff it takes to
make a real man—and Johnny has
got it: Johnny is like that mountain
over there—chock full of grit and
lots of backbone.”
GENERAL NEWS.
William Ewart Gladstone.
Mr. Gladstone resigned the Pre
miership on June !), 1885, after hav
ing held it from April 28, 1880.
William Ewart Gladstone was
born December 29, 1809, the fourth
sc n of Sir John Gladstone, Bart,
merchant, of Liverpool, and was
educated at Eton and at Christ
Church, Oxford. He was graduated
as a double first-class man. In 1832
he was elected a member of the
House of Commons, and has been in
the House ever since. The first few
years he was a Conservative, but
for many years he has been a lead
ing Liberal. He was one of the
Junior Lords of the Tieasury, 1834-
35; Under-Secretary of State for the
Colonies, January to April, 1835;
Vice-President of the Board of
Trade, 1841-43; President of the
Board of Trade, 1843-45; Secretary
of State for the Colonies, 1843-40;
Member of Parliament for the Uni
versity of Oxford, 1847-55; Chancel
lor of the Exchequer, 1852—55, and
again 1859-66; Prime Minister, De
cember 9, 1868, to February 21, 1874.
On April 28, 1880, he was appointed
Prime Minister and Chancellor of
the ' Exchequer. He resigned the
last named position December 16,
1882.
Mr. Gladstone is unequaled in
parliamentary experience and read
iness in debate, and his oratory is
of the highest order. In 1870 meas
ures were passed which disinherited
and disendowed the Irish Church
and gave Ireland a liberal land bill.
Among his achievements since 1880
are a second land bill for Ireland, a
change in the rules of procedure in
the House or Commons and the
passage in that body of the Repre
sentation ot the People Bill.
He was married in 1839 to the
eldest daughter of Sir Stephen
Giynne, Bart., who is still living.
Two of his sons sit in the House of
Commons, one is a clergyman of
the Church of England, and one
daughter is married to a minister of
the Establishment.
A Cruel Comparison.
“There is no difference between
your last picture and the Egyptian
town just evacuated by the British,”
said an art critic to an amateur ar
tist of Brooklyn.
“Are you serious?” asked the
painter, coloring with mingled emo
tions of fear and pleasure.
“Certainly,” replied the hypercrit
ical critic with a smile.
“Please explain what you mean,
sir.”
“Well, they are both Handaubs.”
A Logical Deduction.
“Mamma, what’s a bookworm ?’’
“One who loves to read and study,
collect books, my dear.” The next
night company called. Miss Edith,
who wears rings innumerable, was
present. “Oh! mamma, look at
Miss Edith’s rings. I guess she’s a
ringworm, ain’t she?”
“Speakin’ of productive soil,” said
the man from Dakota, “the half has
well-to-do. Naturally we talked of not been told. A few weeks ago
Johnny, and the deacon said to me,
with tears in his old, watery blue
eyes:
“Why, bless your heart, sir, you
don’t think I’m going to take his
money do you ? The only son of his
up into double bow knots with rheu
my wife said: ‘Why, John, I b’lieve
you’ve took to growin’ again.’ I
measured myself, an’ I hope Gabriel
’ll miss me at final roundup if I
hadn’t grown six inches in two
weeks. 1 couldn’t account for it for
mother and she a widow, and tied some time, till at last I tumbled to
the fact that thar war holes in my
matics, besides! True enough, I let boots, an’ the infernal soil got in
his father have the money, and my j thar an’ done its work.”
wife she says, says she to me, ‘Well,
deacon, my dear, we’ve not got a
child and shall be just as well off a
hundred years from now if the wid
ow never pays a cent;’ hut ’cording
to my calculations it’s better to let
the boy think he’s payin’. She says
I might as well try to keep a barrel
of vinegar from workin’ as to keep
that boy from workin’. It’s the
Looking on the bright side:—“My
wife is really getting very comple
mentary,” remarked Fogg. “Ah!
how’s that ?” asked Brown. “Why
she came very near speaking of my
beautiful raven locks.” “How near,
for instance?” “Why,she said my
head looked like an old crow’s
nest.”
Gen. Gram’s extreme weakness
continues.
The cholera is making steady
irogress in Spain.
The fever epidemic in Plymouth
ind Wilkesbarre, Pa, is now subsid
ing.
A new kind of worms are devas
tating the corn crops in the state of
Kansas.
The Chautauqua University,
which is conducted on the corres
pondence plan, has now 60,000 stu
dents.
Miss Cleveland’s manuscript is
v.-rv leyili!,-. It is characteristic of
the Cleveland family that you can
tell what they mean at the first
guess, whether they speak it or
write it.
The New York Herald says that
if the South continues to grow as it
has done for the last twenty-five
years the North will have to look
out for its boasted industrial su
premacy.
Berlin hotels • are using paper
for plates for bread, butter, cake. A
substance of similar tenacit y and
appearance has long been used in
making the pastry served in Amer
ican hotels.
A Democrat who has been anx
ious tor an office sadly observ il
the other day that the arctic gla
cier which is moving at the r ite of
one mile every thousand years
ought to be called the Cleveland
administration glacier.
The city assessment on the Kim
ball House is $450,0 I ), which entails
a tax of $6,75 i. I a ■ assessment on
he Markaam House is $119,000.The
lighest assessment on a private
residence in Atlanta is $40,000, plac
’d on the houseof Col. John T.
Grant.
The fame of Florida as the place
to make fortunes in has reached
London,and a colony of fifty fam
ilies of fruit growers and market
gardeners are now preparing to
immigrate to .St Lucie, Fla, in No
vember. It is expected that their
skill and knowledge of horticulture
will insure them very great suc
cess.
A curious discovery was made re
cently when a lightning rod which
had been in place fifteen years, etn-
beded in soft clay, was removed.
1’here was found attached to it
a solid lump of iron ore weighing
ninety-six pounds,supposed to have
been produced by the conversion of
day by the action of electricity.
Miss Cleveland is the baby of the
Cleveland fami y. She looks to he
thirty-five. She is a medium-sized
woman, inclined to be petite, with
square shoulders, a short neck and
a face sallow in its complexion, hut
decided in its features. From
high forehead little brown
curls stand upward, and, going
backward, cover her whole head
with innumerable ringlets.
The ease of T. J. Cluverius, con
victed of the murder of Lillian
.Madison, came up again June 16 in
the hustings court, Richmond, Va.,
on motion of arrest of judgment,
hut hearing was further postponed
until Friday, counsel for the pros
ecution not having finished exami
nation of the record in the case.
There was an immense crowd pres
ent in anticipation of the pronounc
ing of death sentence and scenes in
cident thereto.
Paris is cleared of rats by her
municipal council offering a pre
mium for their skins. Two years
ago the premium for their
skins was $3 per 1,000, hut it has re
cently been raised to $10 per 1,000
in order to get the city cleared oi
the pests. The rats are of the Nor
way kind, and breed four times a
year. The skins when collected are
sold to glove makers for four cent-
each and 20,000 skins are said to
have been made into ‘genuine kid’
gloves last year.
In the New Hampshire Legisla
ture a viva voce vote for United
States senator was taken in the As
sembly June 16.Wi lliam I Chandler
received one vote, Harry Bingham
117 votes and Henry W. Blair 179.
The latter was declared the choice
of the Hou.se. .In the
Senate a viva voce vote was taken
at noon. Seven Senators voted for
Harry Bingham and fifteen for
Blair, and the latter was declarer!
the choice ot a majo ity of the f e i
ate forUnited States Senator for six
years from March 4, 1886.
The manufacture of glucose oi
grape sugar in this country now
employs 6,475 workmen, who ari-
yearly paid $10,000,000; employs 4,
575 workmen,who are yearly paid$2.
375, 750 in wages; consumes*13,703,
04)6 worth of raw and manufactured
material yearly, and in the samc
time yields a product worth $18,-
270,000. Each year there can be
made about 610,000,000 pounds of
corn sugar and 61,000 bushels ol
corn used daily, each bushel giving
thirty-two pounds of glucose. The
glucose sugar can l»e made with
profit it is said at two cents per
pound.
Arnall Bros & Co.
Is the place to find the prettiest and largest line of
DRY GOODS, FANCY GOODS,
NOTIONS, HOSIERY,
Clothing, Hats and Shoes*
ALSO A COMPLETE STOCK OF
Family Groceries.
111KV ALSO SUPPLY FARMERS AND GUNNERS WITH
BAGGING AND TIES.
Having watched for our chance and been very careful in the pur
chase of our stock, we have BOUGHT CHEAPER THAN
EVER BEFORE, thus being enabled to offer
Bargains in all Kinds of Goods.
A visit to our store, an examination of our goods and an inquiry
of our prices is all that is necessary to convince you that ours is
THE GREAT BARGAIN STORE !
ARNALL BRO’S & CO., Newnan, Ga.
W. B. ORR <fc CO.
Are receiving daily additions to their stock ol GENERAL MER
CHANDISE, which is varied and too numerous lo itemize. Full
line of Ladies, Gents and Children’s
S H OESI
Something extra in hand-made, and every pair guaranteed.
DRESS GOODS,
Lawns, Organdies, Nuns. Veiling, Cashmere, Berlin Cord, Checks,
Nainsook, Swiss and Mull Muslin, a complete assortment of Cotton-
ides, Checks, Bleached and Brown Shirting and Sheeting.
READY HADE CLOTHING AND HATS,
making a specialty of them, and they must go. We invite one and
ill to come to see us. Thanking you for past:patronage we solicit a
continuance of the same. W. B. ORR & CO.
THOMPSON: BROS.
Bedroom, Parlor and Dining Room Furniture.
Big Stock and Low Prices.
PARLOR AND CHURCH ORGANS.
WOOD and METALLIC BURIAL CASES
4^'Orders attended to at any hour day or night.^9
iy THOMPSON BROS., Newnan, Ga.
$1
PREMIUM
O O
BUGGIES
JAMES A. PARKS.
I wish to call public attention to the fact that I am still in the Buggy
Business,and hive a greater variety in stick than ever before. I also
offer a premium valued at ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS to be distrib
uted with every ten buggies, to he divided by the purchasers, as agreed
upon by themselves, when the tenth buggy has been sold. J. A. Parks.
lEBLEAlCBAfflllS
McNAMARA
G. G. McNAMARA.
Sc ROBERTS,
5. ROBERTS.
-DEALERS LV-
IN FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC MARBLES AND GRANITES,
AND IRON RAILINGS
•oi.slantlyon hand i.r made tonrder. Tablets, Monuments,dm. Special designs ai .I
estimates furnished on application for Marble or Granite work of any descriutioii.
Lock box 242. Griffis Da.
gtTD. F. BREWSTER, Agent, Newnan, Ga.^0