About The Newnan herald. (Newnan, Ga.) 1865-1887 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 10, 1885)
The Newkak Herald. ’ PUBLISHED EVE ICY TUESDAY. A. B. CATES, Editor and Publisher.. icns or niiscuri»i: 0.18 copy oiftyear, in advance ?1.30 If not paid in^ advance, the terms are 12.00 a year. A Club of sire allowed an extra copy. Fifty-two mi-oilerscomplete the volume. HERALD The NewmLJTerj PUBLISHED EYEKY TUESDA WOOTTEN k CATES, Proprietors. WISDOM, JUSTICE AND MODERATION.- TEBXS:>>$1.50 per per year iu Advance. VOLUME XXI. NEWNAN, GEORGIA, TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1886. NUMBER 4. bates of advertising. One inch one year, $10; a coluiul rear, $100; less time than three mod $ 1.00 per inch for first insertion, anl c ents additional for each subsequent? sertion. 4 Notices in local column, ten cents I l'ne lor each insertion. Liberal arraa uicnts will he made with tnose adveij in*; bv the quarter or year. Alftransient mlvertisements must] paid for when hajided in. Annoui cing candidates, <&c., strictly, in advance. Address all communications to A. B. CATEr*, Nownan | Our lives are albums, written through With good or-ill. with false or true. THE MESSAGE OF LIFE. Twenty years ago I was one of many witnesses of a scene that ha« left upon my memory an impress perhaps deeper than that of any ■other occurrence of that stirring time. The sequel of the story, whicli I learned some months afterward, is parrated here with the principal event; and both together deserves a larger audience than any that has yet heard them, because they touch the heart and arouse those feelings of sympathy which make the whole world kin. It was in February, 1865. I was;, staff officer of a division of the Un ion army stationed about Winches ter, Virginia; and military opera tions being then practically ovei in that r gion, I had succeeded i getting leave of absence for twent; days. The time was short cnougl . at best, for one who hud been Ion; absent. Iron) family and friends, unr two days were to be consumed eael way in getting to and from tm northern home. I lost no time in making the first stage of my jour ney, which was a brief one, from Winchester to Harper’s Ferry, l>y rail.' Reselling the latter place alter dark, 1 found-to my great disap pointment, that the lastAruin that day for Baltimore had left an hour before, and that the next train would start at five o’clock on the following morning. There was no difficulty in finding a lodging, poor as it was; but there was trouble in getting out of it as early as I wished. Previous experience warned me that the state of agreeable excite ment «nd anticipation that possess ed me that night was not favorable t« sleep; and fearing a heavy slum ber in the early hours of the morn ing, when I should at- last lose my self, I gave a small reminder to the negro servant, and received his sol emn promise that, he would arouse me at 4 o’clock. The result was exactly what I feared. In a most exasperating co •- dition of wakefulness I lay until it seemed certain that the night must be half-gone; but an examination of my watch by the light of a match showed that the hour was but a few minutes past ten. Is there any thing more annoying than tl e inef fectual effort to sleep, when nature is fairly crying out for sleep? Ev- ery noise of the night came to me with the most painful distinctness; the harking ol a dog, the tramp of a body of soldiers as they went their rounds, relieving guard, the laugh and song of some boisterous revel ers, and even the musical ripple of the Shenandoah river just below me. i he long and vivid story of what had happened to me since last leav ing home passed through my thoughts—and only added to their excitement. All the wise remedies for insomnia that occurred to me were successively tiied—and foun<| wanting. Again my watch was con suited; it marked 11:30. Twice af ter this I heard the guard relieved; so that it must- have been later than 2 o’clock when sleep visited my weary eyes. A rude disturbance at my door awakened me, and I be came dimly conscious of the voice el the negro outside. “NVhat is it?” I cried, testily’. “What do you wake me up fur, at this time of night?” “Deed, sah, Ise sorry; ’pon my honah,*! is, sah! but detrain hab done gone dese two hours.” It was even so. Broad daylight— 7 o’clock in the morning—the train gone, and no chance to get out o! Harper’s Ferry till twelve more precious hours of my leave had pas sed—this was the unpleasant situa tion to which I awoke upon that dreary February morning. To make the best of it, is the true philosophy of life; in fact, it is folly to do any thing else; but huikAi nature will assert itself, and I grumbled all t< myself that morning, as most of iny readeis would have done in my place. Breakfast .over, 1 strolled around the queer old place, not to ( see its sights, for they were very familiar to me, but to merely while away T the time. Of all the places in this land where man has made his bV'^-ti-'n, none is more remarka- b. • u-.,«i ts natural situation than cramped and circumscribed in ev- ■ cry direction. I went back to the hotel after an hour’s stroll, wrote some letters, read all the newspapers I could find about the place, and shortly after 11 o’clock went out again. This time mv ear was greeted with the music of a band, playing a slow march. Several soldiers were walking brisk ly past, and I inquired of them i! there was to be a military funeral. “No,sir,”oneof them repIied;“uot exactly. It is an execution. Tw< deserters from one of the artillery regiments here are to be shot upon Bolivar Heights. Here they come”' The solemn strains of the musie were heard near at hand, and the cortege moved into the street where we stood, and wound slowly up th> hill. First came the band, then Gen oral Stevenson, the military eom- miihderof the. post, and his staff; then the guard preceding and fob lowing an ainbul nee, in whicl .verc the condemned men. A whoh regineiit followed, marching by latloons, with reversed arrn-,'i>ak :ig in the whole a spectacle thai .vhieh nothing can be more solemn Close behind it came, as it seem •<! to me, lie- entire p pulation o Harper’s Ferry; a motley crowd o several thousand, embracing sol diers off duty, camp-followeis, ne groes, and what not. It was a raw damp day, not a ray of sunlight had yet penetrate ! the thick clouds, ano un i rfoot- was a thin coating o ,now. Nature seemed in sympathy v ith the misery of the occasion. The spot selected for the dreadful Stevenson at his headquarters, and! A FORTUNATE MISTAKE. after introducing myself, and refer- ring to the morning’s scene on Bol- J u fhisis a pretty piece ofnusine ss. ivar Heights, I ventured frankly to j * mus * SH Y- Here I am, just on th Here the Potomac and the Shen andoah un'je and break through tlu •ofty bar rap - ot the Blue Ridge; and Harper’s Ferry, located at the point of their confluence, is environed by lofty mountains, up the steep side of one of which the village seems t» clamber and cling for support From the lofty top of Maryland Heights, opposite, a wonderful pan orama may be seen; and of this view Thomas Jefferson wrote that it was worth a journey from Europe to see it. But if you a e set down in Harper’s Ferry, at the base si these great hills, your view is I scene was rather more than a mile ip the Heights, where a high ridge or ground formed a barrier for bul lets that might miss their mark. Arrived here, the troops were form ed in two large squares of one rank each, one square within the other, with an open face toward the ridge. Two graves had been dug near this ridge, and a coffin was just in the rear of each grave. Twenty paces in iront was the firing party of six files, under a lieutenant, at order arms; the general a"d his staff sat on their horses near the center. Outside the outer square, tin- great crowd of spectators stood in perfect silence. The condemned men had been brought from the ambulance, and each one sat on his coffin, with his open grave befort him. They were very different in theii aspect. One, a man ot more than forty years, showed hardly a trace of feeling in his rugged face; but tlu other was a mere lad, of scarcely twenty, who gazed about him with a wild, restless look, as if he could not yet understand that he was about to endure the terrible punish ment of his offense. The proceedings of the court mar tial were read, reciting the charges against these men, their trial, con viction and sentence; and then the order of Gen. Sheridan approving the sentence “to be shot to death with musketry,” and directing it ti be carried into effect at 12 o’cloct noon of this day. The whole seen- was passing iinimdiateiy before m\ eyes; for a staff uniform will pa?: its wearer almost anywhere in th- army and I had passed the guard? and entered the inner square. A chaplain knelt by the condemn ed men and prayed,fervently, whis pered a few words in lhcear-of.acli. wrung their hands, and retired. Twi soldiers stepped forward with hand kerchiefs to bind the eyes of tin sufferers, and 1 heard the officers o the firing-party give the coininam n a low’ tone: “Attention!—shoulder arms!” I looked at my w’atch, it was a minute past 12. The crowd outside had been so perfectly silent that a flutter and disturbance running through it at this instant fixed ev erybody’s attention. My heart gave a jump as Y saw a mounted orderly urging his horse through the crowd and waving a yellow envelope over his head. The square opened for him, and he rode in and handed the envelope to the general. Those who were permitted to see that dispatch, read the following: Washington, D. U.. Feb. 23,1865. Gen. Job Stevenson, Harpefs Ferry. Deserters reprieved till further orders. Stop the execution. A. Lincoln. The older of the two men had so thoroughly resigned himself to his fate, that he seemed unable now to realize that he was saved, and he looked around him in a dazed, be wildered way. Not so with the other; he seemed for the first time to recover his con sciousness. He clasped his hands together, and burst inti) tears. As there was no military execution af ter this at Harper’s Ferry, I have no doubt that the sentence of both was finally commuted. Powerfully as my feelings had been stirred by this scene, I still suspected that the dispatch had in fact arrived before the cortege left Harper’s Ferry, and what happened afterward was planned nd intend ed as a terrible lesson to these cul prits. That afternoon I visited General state my suspicions, and ask if they were not well-founded. “Not all,” he instantly replied, “The men w’ould have been dead had tnat dispatch reached me two minutes later.” “Were you not expecting a re prieve, general ?” “I had some reason to expect it last night; but as it-did not come, and as the line w’as reported down between here and Baltimore this morning, I had given it up. Still, in order to give the fellows every possible chance for their lives, I left a mounted orderly at the telegraph office, with orders to ride at a gal lop if a message came for me from W ashington. It is well 1 did!—the precaution saved their lives.” Ilow the dispatch came to Har per’., Ferry must be told in the words of the man who got it through. TIIE TELEGRAPHER’S STORY. On the morning of the 24th of February, 1865, I was busy at my cork In the Baltimore telegraph ifiice, sending and receiving messa ges. At half-past ten o’clock—for I had occasion to mark the hour—the -signal C—A—L, several times re peated, caused me to throw all else aside, and attend to it. That was the telegraphic cipher of the war department; and tele graphers, in those days, had instruc tions to put that service above all others. A message was quickly ticked off from the President to the ‘-ommanding officer at Harper’s Ferry, reprieving two deserters who were to be shot at noon. The mes sage was date the day before, but had in some way been detained or delayed between the department l . the Washington office. A few words to the Ba.timore of fice, which accompanied the dis patch, explained that it had “stuck” at Baltimore, that an officer direct from the President was waiting at the Washington office, anxious to hear that it had reached Harper’s Ferry, and that Baltimore must end it on instantly. Baltimore would have been very glad to comply; but the line to Har per’s Ferry had been interrupted since daylight; nothing whatever had passed. So' I explained to Washington. The reply came back before my lingers had left the instrument. ■You must get it through. Do it some way, for Mr. Lincoln. He is very anxious, has just sent another messenger to us. I ealled the office superintendent to my table, and repeated the dis patches to him. He looked at the clock. Almost eleven, he said. I see just one chance—a very slight one. Send it to New York; ask them to get it to Wheeling, and then it may get through by Cumberland and Mar- tinsburg. Stick to them, and do .v’hat you can. By this time I had become thor- •uglily aroused in the business, and set to work with a will. The dis- iatch with the expl nation went to New York-and promptly came the i-epiy that it was hopeless; the wires were crowded,-and nothing could be lone till late in the afternoon, it then. I responded just as Washington aad replied to me. It must be donejit is a case of life and.deoth; do it for Mr. Lincoln’s sake,who is very anxions about it. And I added for myself, by way of emphasis, For God’s sake, let’s save these poor fel lows! And I got the New York people thoroughly aroused, as I was my self. The answer came back, Will do what we can. It was now ten minutes past 11. In ten minotes more, I heard from New York, that the dispatch had got as lar as Buffalo, and could not go on to Chicago, Inquiries from Washington were repeated every five minutes, and I sent what had reached me. Half-past 11 the dispatch was at Chicago, and they were working the besitoget it to Wheeling. Something was the matter; the Wheeling office did not answer. The next five minutes passed without a word, then-huzza!-New York says the dispatch bas reach ed Wheeling, and the operator there says he can get it through to Harper’s Ferry in time. At this point the news stopped. New York could learn nothing fur ther for me, after several efforts, and I could only send to Washing ton that I hoped it was all right, but could not be sure. Later in the day the line was working again to Harper's Ferry, and then I learned that the dis patch had reached the office there at ten minutes before 12, and that it was bronght to the place of exe cution just in time.—Youth’s Com panion. veof my departure, called upon t<- meet Jack’s wife, escort her to the Willows and see that she enjoys herself during the summer months. If Jack wasn’t such a good-hearted fellow, and my favorite nephew to boot, I wouldn’t do it. But, well, there; I suppose 1*11 have to go down to the city, make myself known to the charming creature and do the gallant for Jack’s sake. ed he “Quite ready,” she replied as she followed John to the cab The trunk was put in place, and the pair were soon whirled to th< depot. The ride by rail was so pleasant, the lady, Jack’s wife, was such an agreeable companion, that John Harney would have extended thejourney if he could. The prosy country depot was reach d, where a plain, democratic wagon awaited them. Then the drive followed; a delightful five miles along sweet- scented clover fields and moon lighted streams. Finally the Wil- nangitall! Why did the scamp go j { 0 svs is reached, a rambling farm Und tnarry "SOlire one I did nol hnncanrmn tho Kanb- nf a Qmanthlr fnarfjrTtmwe know? I’ll give him a piece of my mind when he returns from Europe for getting 'his bald-headed uncle in this scrape.” The partly audible meditation trom the flaxen-haired chap was more forcible than choice. But then, it was only'one of John Harney’s peculiar streaks. If anyone had overheard him, "that is, anyone wholly acquainted with him, they would not have paid overdue-atten tion. If there was one thing he delight ed in above all others, it was to pass for a bald-headed advisor of youth. He took every possible occasion to call himself bald-headed; when, be the fact known, the slight spot upon his bump of selfesteem was barely discernible, still, it gave him a deal of importance to be looked upon as an “old man.” Strange, loo! His associates were all young people. He was not a favorite among old , Civil Service Commssioner Tho- man has tendered his resignation, to take effect Nov. 1, and the Pres ident has accepted it. people; yet, he called himself old i ftn( j tiie and bald-headed. It was a great shock to him when he heard that Jack ha-1 gone and married an opera singer, not be cause of any disparity of social po sition. He was a sensibl person in this wise; but because he had, in his mind, drawn up a plan for Jack to follow and abide by in the future. Hispla s were all broken and scat tered when Jack married; hi3 plans are now all changed by Jack’s sud den departure, thereby necessitat ing his, John’s, taking charge of the lady for the summer. After some further meditation over the subject, he retired with his mind made up logo to the city, introduce himself to Jack’s wife and bring her back to the Willows. It was wonderful to note John Harney’s air of age-given impor tance as he stepped forward to greet the pretty figure in traveling dress. He hau seen many hand some women; they had created more or less of an impression upon his heart. Yet, as he clasped the ti ny hand and looked down into the honest blue eyes upturned to his, he thought he had never met a more lovely woman in all his life; and he mentally added that Jack had shown rare choice in loving and wedding sucli a paragon of female loveliness. “Jack writes me that I am to escort you to the willows; take sole charge of you and make ■your stay there as pleasant as pos sible,” said John, beaming a most uncle like protection from every feature of his fine face. “D-did he say all that?” softly ask ed the little woman. “Yes; and more too, the rattle brained scampr-but there; pardon me. I forgot that I was speaking to the lady of his preferment.” “Preferment,” fell like an echo from the red lips. “Yes; lucky dog,” responded John The latter part, however, was uoftly and aside according to stage par lance. “I shall he round with a cab at five. Trust you will be ready.’ He moved by impulse, and before the lady could speak he was out of the room and down the front steps. “Jack never said anything to me about going to the Willows for the season. The Willows? Oh, yes, the place where Jack was brought up I—well, I will go. He is very handsome But who is he? This last self-put question brought a sudden stop to the charming creat ure’s musings. “If he is so well ac quainted with Jack, his picturt will no doubt be in the album. ” She went to the album. The sec ond face she gazed nj>on was the gentleman’s in question. She slip ped the card from the page. Upon the back, written in a plain, busi ness hand, she read: “Your bald- headed Uncle.” “Bald headed! It must b£ a joke. He isn’t so old as that. Jack’s un cle! I’ll go to the Willows. Perhaps it will not lie such a prosy season after all. But why did he speak of me as the lady of Jack’s prefer ment, I wonder ?” When John Harney called at 5 with a cab, the lady’s trunk was ready, and she stood in the parlor with her hat already adjusted, pull ing on her gloves. “I beg yenr pardon,” she said turning her bright face toward J.»hn, “but a person generally likes to know the name of a fellow trav eling companion.” “Why, what have I been think ing of all this time. Tobesure;you are quite right I am your Ancle,” fell blandly from his lips. “Oh, yon are ?” “Yes. Are you quite ready,” ask- house upon the bank of a smoothly (lowing river, with long double rows of willows ranged u; and down .the stream. “There, that job is over and off my hands,” uttered John Harney as he lighted a cigar and fell back in his easy chair. The days and weeks that follow ed were as some Arcadian dream tr John Harney. But it was not all sunshine. There was strange, perplexing doubt in his mind. Why- should a married woman permit any man but her husband to ac company heron moonlight strolls? Pshaw! That amounted to nothing. Only her uncle—by marriage. Again, whit rig'it had iie.Joh n Harney, to sit by the side of his nephew’s wife and tell her of his Inight dreams? What right had i.e to weave romance with love’s .. agio words, and say- in tones of soiled rapture: A lid when the golden day is over HUMOROUS. Je sunset flushes the western h.iriz >n, all the day cares will be .sweetenel by the presence of the mile woman J love. John Harney’s heart was bursting in his bosom as he recalled i In- look she gave him then. He can feel her hand yet, as she laid it, warm and tremulous, upon his arm and said: I hope your fondest antic- pations will be fully realized. And this was what bothered John Harney’s mind by night and by- day. “My God! I love, adore my nephew’s wife, heaven help me!’’ had been the cry in >re than once that swelled from his heart upon retiring, or when seated in his li brary. And the poems sent to the magazines from his fruitful pen were freighted with a vein of sadness commingling together in one strain. “Leona, you tell me that you wish to return!”asked John Harny. as the two were standing under the willows. “Yes; there is work for me to commence in the city. I have had a delightful time, thanks to your kindness.” “It’s nothing lost to ra Leona. You have brought a deal of sun shine to the old place. And to me—” He did not finish. How she would have despised him, he thought, bad he continued. “Jack and Mabel will be back in two weeks—” “Jack and who!” quickly interrup ted he, as he laid his hand on her arm. “Why, Mable, sister—” “And what right has he to take your sister abroad!” fell from his lips as his fingers clasped her wrist. “I never knew that it was wrong for husband and wife to go abroad together,” replied she. The glow of the dying sunset shone upon John Harney's face, transfiguring every feature into a picture of happiness as he bent down and said: “And you will let me come to the city soon after you!” “Why!’ “Because I love you,. dear,” was his response. And now, after the honeymoon is over, John Harney blesses bis nephew, Jack, for changing hi- mind at the very last moment, and taking his wife to Europe. And the other—was a fortunate mistake in deed.—H. S. Keller. It was a Detroit girl who mar ried at 15 so as to have her golden wedding wheu it would do her soiim good. “Bejabbers,” exclaimed an Irish man, “I’ve slept sixteen hours! J went to bed at eight and got op at eight.” Why (Hobson Objected.—“Hob son,” said Muggins, “they tell me you’ve taken your boy away from the graded school. What’s that for ?” “Cause,” said JFIobson, “thc- master ain’t fit to teach ’im.” “Oh,’i said Muggins, “I’ve heard he’s a very good master.” “Well,” replied Hobson,apologetically, “all I know is he wanted to teach my boy to spell-raters with a’ p.’ ” One dirty, rainy day, not long ago, I wis s -»t.e 1 in-it 1: acnw-led car, when a lad who had just step ped on pi t bis bead in at the door and asked if there was any room ‘No,” came from a man in the cor ner, “we’re a’fou here.” Whereup on an old woman rose up and indig nantly exclaimed: “1’lia l-est may be, but I’m gey shuro I’m not!” A rural chap, with a great deal of music in his sou!, visited the city and stopped in front of an op era house where the orchestra was rendering Wagnerian airs. “Go ing in?” asked a friend, tapping him on the shoulder. “Well, yes, 1 calculate to,” he replied, “but I guess I’ll wait till they get t.'i i.ugh mending boilers inside. I Want t< hear the music.” T HARDWARE, Sc C Ll E. FEE WEST SIDE PUBLIC! SQUABF, SSW8A9, <il. -c0-> Jet# -son’s Ten Holes of Life. The following rules for practical life were given by Mr. Jefferson, in a letter of advice to his namesake Thomas Jefferson Smith, in 1825: 1. Never put off till to-morrou what you can do to-day. 2. Never trouble othqrs tor wha! you can do yourself. 3. Never spend your money be fore you have it. 4. Never buy what you do no; want because it is cheap. 5. Pride costs us more than hun ger, thirst and cold. 6. We never repent of having eat en too little. 7. Nothing is troublesome that we do willingly. 8. How much pain have those evils cost us which have never hap pened. 9. Take things always by their smooth handles. 10. When angry, count ten before you speak; if very angry, count a hundred. • In a pidice court two young men iceused of stealing > pie from a inker’s shop, pi.-:hat they .ere hungry. “Why didn’t yon ■teal Lue.i-I, then?” the judge asked nd the sententious reply was, Liked pie better.” A gentleman having occasion to :all on Mr. Joseph G , writer, ound him at home in his writing chamber. He remarked the great lent of the apartment, and said, “It ss as hot as an oven.” “So it ought o be,” replied Mr. O—, “for ’tis here [ make my bread.” A certain little Pharisee, who was •raying for his big brother, had a rood deal of human nature in him, •ven if he was only six years old. le prayed, “O Lord, bless brother Jill, and make him as good a boy hs [ am!” The de con’s son was telling the ninister about the bees stinging his >a, and the minister asked, “Stung your pa, did they? Well? what did your p:t say?” “.Step this way a nomeii ” sai l the b >y, “I’d rather whisper it to you.” Old Mrs. Darnely is a patten; of household economy. She says sin; has made a pair of socks to last fif teen years by only knitting new feet (o them eve y winter, and new legs every other winter. “How do you define black as your fiat?” said a schoolmaster to one of iiis pupils. “Darkness that may be felt,” replied the youthful wit. “Yes, I am prety tired,” he said. “I sat up all night with a corpse.’’ “Was it a wake?” asked a friend. “No,” he answered sadly, “it was not awake, it was dead. ” “That’s a pretty bird, grandma,” said a little boy. “Yes.” replied the old ,dame, “and he never cries.” That’s because he’s never washed!’ replied the youngster. At a convent where light litera ture is forbidden: “My child, what are you reading?” “The life of one of the saints, sister.” “What saint, my child?” “ft. Elmo!!!” Sister passes on to the next dormitory. “Did you see my antelope as you came in?” asked Claribell. “No,” answered Adolphu®, “but if its the one with the curls around her forehead, I pity the man she eloped with,” And now he wonders why she acted so coldly. Miss Tayleur (to Miss Smythe) : “I want to introduce to you Mr. Nailsly, back there, who thinks you are so awfully handsome. You know of him, don’t you ? He is very amusing and eccentric-never t h i •. i. ? as anyone else does." * “Inquirer.” No, an intelligence office is not a place ;<• look for in telligence. The name is entirely irrelevant. B n if you want a green house-girl whom you will have to teach all she will ever know, that is the place to go. The Eclectic for November ha the following table of c<mtents: “A Dialogue on Novein,” by-Vernon Lee; ‘ A Dark Page of Jfaiian His tory;” “The Cholera Iriocu'a ion Falacy,” “Reminiscences of an t- tache,” a story; “Color Muse ;' ‘Paradise,” :i poem; “The Automa ton Chess-player;” “On the Origin of the Higher Animal.-;” “Tegner;” “Mrs. LiHung Chang’s First Din ner Party,” by Miss Cordon Cum- ming; “George Eliot’s Politics;’ “Girton College iu 1885;” “Coun cils and Comedians;” “Vittoria Col- onna;”“M. Renan of Himself;” and an unusual varietys>f Foreign Lit. r ary Notes, Miscellany, and Book notices. The content* are well se lected and of unusual interest and value even for this sterling periodi- caL Keep in stock a full lino of heavy and shop Itartlw re, Agricultural IssrlcnMl Mechanics Tools, and Maoliinerv Supplies. SPORTIN'Q- HOODS! Out* stock of Guns were imported direct for us this veir, anil we aro enabled make prices thatare “astonishingly low.’’ ToebBstSingleStou: 15 irnl, Walnl Stock Guns at $5 00; the Best $ I (toil. Double (inns over offered in this marks Brooch-Loading Gums from >15.00 to > V>.00. Shot enough to supply the County; a ^o t Powder ond Shells. Waterproof Caps 5 cents per box. Pouches, Charges, Bold j finding Implements, etc., ct<*. BUCKTHORN FENCE WIR] which is fast supercooling all other wire fence. A toss Peed Cutters, Milburn Cotton Gin, Dexter <’ luehiner f for reap msihlo parties of any kind at low d froul any regular Agricultural House. for Victor Cotton ScaleJ rn Shelters, Ac. We will bul prices than can bo obtaiifl Give us a Call, we will Save you Money! Good goods, lionet prices, and satisfaction guaranteed. PROM SEPTEMBER PI RS T TO MA RCJI FIRS F.>J3fl j&TTERMS CASll soplf MILLINERY GOODS MRS. F. G-. HILL HAS RECEIVED HER FALL STOCK •f now and fresh goods and is prepared to attend to the wants of her customers.! Thankful for liberal patronage in the past she solicits continued favor. Rooms! •ver Cuttino’s store. sep21) THOMPSON BROS. Jedroom, Parlor and Dining Room Furniture. Big Stock and Low Prices. PARLOR AND CHURCH ORGANS. WOOD and METALLIC BURIAL CASES' XS^Orders attended to at any hour day or night.^0 so '’ 16 -^ THOMPSON BROS., Newnan, Ga. New Grocery Store! Fancy and Family Groceries, Teas, Coffee, Sugars, Syrup, Flour, Lard, Hans, Bacon, and Canned Goods in Endless Variety ! A LARGE LOT OF TIN-WARE AT FIVE AND TEN CENTS. Also, a fine line of TOBACCO, Etc. L. BEBRO. OIGARS, Greenville Street. Next dopr to Reese’s drug store. sop 29- W. .S Winters ESTABLISHED 1873. G, W. Nelson W intersANDMeison DEALERS IN- PiMOjS, MILLINERY! MRS- R- M- BARNES, ON DEPOT STREET. Wishes to inform the public, that she will supply them with fine Fash ionable MILLINERY GOODS at low prices. Call and examine her stock before buying elsewhere. JVlu^ical JVIetcljkiydi^e -OF OY DESCRIPTION.- 31-1X3 PIA1TOS Taken in Exchange f >r new Ones. CHATTANOOGA, TENN. BRING YOUR JOB WORK TO THIS OFFICE;
