About The Newnan herald. (Newnan, Ga.) 1865-1887 | View Entire Issue (June 23, 1885)
The News an Herald. PUBLISHED EVEKY TUESDAY. A. B. CATES. Editor and Publisher. TERM Ol Sl'BSCUPTION : One copy one year. In ad ranee *1-50 If not paid in advance, the terms are $2.00 a year. A Club of six allowed an extra copy. Kifty-two numbers complete the volume. 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. RATKS OF AnVKRTlSl One inch one vear,$10: a column one year, $100; leRs time than three months, $1.00 per inch for first insertion, and 00 cents additional for each subsequent in sertion. Notices in local column, ten cents per line for each insertion. Liberal arrange ments will be made with those advertis ing by the quarter or year. Alftransient advertisements must be paid for when handed in. , Announcing candidates, Ac., $3.00 strictly in advance. Address all communications to A. B. OATES, Newnan, Ga. f>«3| Our live* arcalhuuiH, written through 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
