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PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY ■'"<
' f riJie • 4-AT-
BKLUToif, GA..
By JOHN T. WILSON Jr,
w,^f?Z? 1-00 per 60 c «* u for »t>
months, 25cents forlhreamonths.
Bellton tie requested
na “ e * *> tll • nrh ’mounts of
money a, Jiey can pare, >om See. 'o $1
HEWS GLEANINGS.
Tennessee will not make a large wheat
crop.
The peanut crop of Tennessee will l>e
a failure.
Gas in Nashville is furnished at $1.75
per thousand feet.
A company is organizing to manufac
turecars in Selina, Alabama.
Ht. Augustine, Fla., has a surplus of
$2,749.87 in cash in her treasury.
Atisherinan at Pensacola caught 1,100
red snapper fish recently.
■Selma, Alabama, has « population in
itscorporate limits of 7,529.
. The mayor of Montgomery, Ala., re
ceives a salary of $1,06(1 a vear.
Western corn has killed a number of
horses and mules in Alabama.
estimate Mt. Davis has al
read j “made SIOO,OOO on his liook.
Boston capitalists are investing SSO’»,-
Ootr in a cotton factory at Vicksburg,
M iss.
Baltimore capitalist*-have invested
$5500,000 in a Davidsmi county, N. (’.,
gold ; mine.
Two hundred thousand young shad
have just been placed in the Congaree.
The colored people of Abbeville, S.
have formed a life insurance asso
ciation.
Yellow fever was not known in M< x
ico until 1725. *
Volusia county, Fla., has the latirest.
orange grove in the world—l,ooo acres.
Mr. Herzlcr, of Madison county, Ala
bama, clipped Il<is pounds of wool
from 252 sheep.
The sales of leaf tobacco in the Lynch
burg, Ya.. warehouse for the pn-ent
year aggregate 13,297,307 pounds.
An apple tree in LaGrange, Ga., has
two or three apples upon its trunk.
There is uot a sign of a twig or branch,
but they tire growing ii|>on the bark of
the tree.
A letter from Southern Florida de
scribes a flight of white butterflies frqm
the South that has filed the air like
snowfllakes for six days, going North.
A little nine-year-old boy at Center,
Ala, killed his uncle, named Brooks,
by hitting him on the head with.a rock.
The uncle had wipped the boy, and the
young reprobate took thismeans of re
dress.
Nino tenths of the babies born in
Oglethorpe county, Ga., this year are
hoys. This rule also apj'lies to animals. .
The males arc undeniably on top this
year. This preponderance of sex is said
to lie sign of coining war.
The spongers of Key West are making
money. The Democrat says there were
over .$21,0(10 worth of sponges on the
wharf there one day last week.
The Atlanta. Constitution says there
are many lunatics wandering around the
Country, because of the inadequacy of
the present accommodation-at the Lun
atic Asylum.
Georgia paper: The press of Geor
gia is a unit i i the cause of temperance.
The boys differ somewhat, however, in
their ideas as to the. proper mode of
attacking the hydra-headed monster.
We are for killing him with kindnesjf
and coercing him by persuasion. Choke
a dog tv death with butter and heVon’t
know what killed him.
The San Antonio Express says : Last
week was a good week for killing con
victs who attempted to escapethough
three were laid out instantly and two
others mortally wounded. When it ap
pcars-to be almost certain-death for a
convict to attempt to o-cHpe it seems
strange that the attempt should be so
frequent. To remain must bq almost
worst th m death t<: a go< dmany. “
The Pueblos of New Mex ide -believe I
thqt at death they will be carried away I
in some mysterious manner to a place
beneath a vast underground lake, where)
melonsand peaches and beautiful maid- '
ens and horse-. and in never-ending sup- I
ply for the good. Notwithstanding All
these inducements, somefof the Pueblos !
are as depraved as if they had been born -
in the United States.
The editor of Paris Nirth Texan time |
defines his position on th' lujtmr -qnca»4
tion: We are not a chrome temper-i
ance core nor a church member. We'
are a rough, wicked njgi, and we have
drank 'whisky, periodical! v,ttil our life j
until last year, when,recognizing the i
duties of a father,'remembered that we I
sre responsible for our example, we quit!
the accursed practice, ami we are in for '
the war against the traffic— not those '
who sell and drink it.
The North Georgian.
VOL. TV.
m 3IALARIA.«
I found the loveliest spot on earth,
Where sweet and odorous blooms had birth;
I clapped my bands for very gladness:
’Good-by,” 1 said, “to ills and saduetw,”
When 10, there sprung from out the green
A hideous imp upon the scene I
I cried. “ Dread form, what is your name?”
In mocking tones, tho answer came—
• “ Malaria!”
1 fled unto the nearest town:
Here 1 resolved to settle down,
'Murdirt and grime, ’mid dust and mortar—
Myself, my wife, my son and daughter.
The people crept about like snails,
Or lagging ships bereft of sails.
“ What is the matter here?” 1 cried,
Aud many a trembling voice replied
“ Malaria!”
From out the fated town we sped;
We climbed the m Huit-ains; overhead.
Where the proud eagle Guilds her nest,
We>ltched our tent to take our rest.
One morning, bright, with eastern gold,
1 woke, and cried, “I’m hot;” “I’m cold
“ X burn;” “ I freeze.” “ What can it be?”
The answer came from crag and tree—
“ Malaria!”
The doctors, now, who lack the skill
To diagnose each pain and ill,
To this one thing they all agree,
No matter what their school may l»e:
With " Hem!” and llaw!”and look profound,
Your tongue they scan, your lungs they sound.
And then exclaim, ‘‘My friends, tut! tut!
Your case, 1 find, is nothing but
Malaria!”
I've chartered now a big balloon;
I hope to occupy it soon.
If “ it ” comes there to ache my hones
And waste my flesh, when ’neath the stones,
1 hope mv belter part may soar
To some fair land, some golden shore,
When* I may never hear the cry,
That haunts mo like a ghost Iv sigh—
“ Malaria!”
—Mrs. M. A. Kidder, in Baldwin's Monthly.
ONLY ONE FAULT.
You may see it in GfloeuwooiL. ceme
tery. A splendid tombstone with, a
woman’s name upon it. Not Ruth Holly
—though that is the name nnderiwhieh
you shall know her—but a prouder
name, and one you may have hoard.
Flowers grow about her tomb, and the
turf lies softly over it. You would
scarcely guess' her lite and its sad end
as you stood there. Rather would ryou
fancy that love and tenderness sur
rounded one over whom such piles of
sculptured marble rears itself ’from her
birth unto her death.
It is a story such as I seldom write—
this lite of hers—one that can uot lie
ended by happy reunions.and the sweet
sound of marriage bells; but there are
too many such stories in the world to
be qiiietly passed over, haply there be
any warning in them. The lives of others
are, if we read them rightly, the best
sermons <wer preached aud. this of Rath
Holly’s is only too true. ’ Yet it l>egan
very sweetly, like some old pastoral
poem. She. loved and was beloved again,
and tho man sho loved had only one
fault. He was young, he was brave, he
was witty, be was handsome, ho was
generous; his love was devotion, his
friendship no hikewarm thing of words;
lie had great talent and great power.
His eloquence had thrilled many an au
dience worth tho thrilling. What he
wrote touciftd thosnul tothe very quick.
He was an amateur painter and musician
and everywhere was loved and honored
and admired. He had only one fault in
the world—he drank too much wine at
times. When he did so ho turned, so
said convivial friends, into a very demi
god. It was wrong, but not so bad as
might have been, and ho would sow his
wild oats some day, they said, loving
him as his friends all loved him; and so
Ruth thought. .Sweet, loving, beautiful
Ruth, to whom he had plighted his’troth
and wooed in verse and song and with
his most eloquent eyes long before he
put his passion into words; but so did
not think Ruth Holly’s father. This
one fault of Edward Holly’s over
shadowed his virtue in his eyes, and
he refused him his daughter's hand,
giving him the reason why plainly and
not kindly.
“You’ll be a drunkard yet, Ned
Holly,” said the old man, shaking his
head, earnestly. “I’ve seen men of
genius the same road before. I’ve
often said I’d father have no talent in
my family, since it seems to lead so
surely to dissipation. My sous arc not too
brilliant to be sober men, thank heaven,
and as for my daughter, only a sober
man shall have her for a wife; you’d
break her heart, Ned Holly.”
So the dashing man of letters felt
himself insulted aud retorted hotly, and
the two were enemies.
Ruth suffered bitterly. She loved her
father, and she loved Ed ward. To disobey
her parent, or to break her lover’s.hoart,
seemed the only choice offered her. She
had other lovers, she had seen much
society, and had been introduced to the
highest circles in France as well as in
England, but amongst all the men she
had known none pleased her as Edward
Roily did. Not what one styles an in
tellectual woman herself, she reverenced
intellect, and her affections were in
tense. The struggle in her heart was
terrible.
She met with her lover by stealth,
against her father’s will, but for a long
while she resented his entreaties to
marry him in defiance of her father’s
refusal. At last, angered by her per
sistence in obedience, Edward accused
her of fearing to share the fortunes of
One comparatively poor—one who must
carvO his own way up life’s steep liill
without assistance. The unmerited re
proach sunk deeply into her warm heart,
And in a sudden impulse of tenderness
and sympathy she gave him the promise
Ihe had so long sought in vain. They
were married that evening, and .before
1 morning wereupon.their way to a (ar-
I off city, where Edward, sanguine and
I conscious of power, believed that he
| should make for himself a name and
position of which any woman might be
i proud. To her father Ruth wrote a
' long letter, imploring Lus forgiveness,
BELLTON, BANKS COUNTY, GA.. JUNE 23. 1881.
but the answer crushed all hope within
her bosom.
“As yon now sow, so must you reap,”
were the words her father wrote. “I
have no longer a daughter,” and Ruth
knew that henceforth (for she had been
motherless for years) she had iu all the
world only the husband for whom she
had sacrificed fortune, and what is -worth
far more, the tender protection of a
father.
J n those early days Edward did his
best to make amends for all. and sho
was so proud of him and so foud of him
that she soon forgot to grieve.
Sho heard his name uttered in praise
by nil. She knew that he had but To
keep steadily on, to mount to the proud
est seat iu lame’s high temple, and for a
year she had no fear of his faltering.
Now and then a feverish something iu
his voice aud manner, a strange light iu
his eyes, a greater flow of eloquence in
his talk, a more passionate demonstra
tion of love for her than usual, told that
ho was under tho influence of wine, but
the fact only seemed to enhance his power
of fascination. Never was he so brilliant,
never so handsome. Almost could Ruth
have laughed at tho sermons- preached
by the temperance folks of the hwmsure
to follow wine-drinking.
If tho story could end here, the true
story of Ruth Holly’s life, it would be
almost a happy one, but alas, the sunny
slope adown which it seemed so easy to
slide, daily grew darker as the years flew
on. How they began to tell her the fate
before her, Ruth hardly knew.
A little flush of shame camo first when
lus step, was unsteady and his voice too
loud. Then a grigyed teal - or two when
be was unreasonable. Then a sorrow
that kept her heart aching night and
day. for the man who first won inspir
ation from fno‘glass nhw lost it in its
depths; loetiu'es to bo delivered wore not
given to the expectant publiet because
“of tho illness of the lecturer.?
Ruth know what that illne® meant,
and tried to hide it. Literary Avork was
neglected also. Money was lost that
might have been easily WoA Debts
grew and credits lessened, the handsome
suite of rooms was exchanged for one
quite shabby. Ruth’s dre« became
poverty-stricken, her husband was out
at the elbows and at the toes -ho was in
toxicated from morning until flight, aud
yet she loved him and dung to him,
and in his sober iflomcnts ho loved
lier as fondly as |ever. Sometimes
dll j nnd Jhe old
hope would bo aroused in lilm
and he would struggle to regain his
lost position, but it was all in vain,
rum triumphed, and in five years from
her wedding day Ruth found herself
with her eno remaining child, the first
having died within a year of its birth, in
the dingiest of wretched tenement
houses, iu a state bordering upon beg
gary. J
Edward had been more madly intoxi
cated than ever before; he had even
given her a blow, aud now, fas the night
wore on, he muttered and raved and
called for brandy, and cursed her and
hhnself until she trembled with fear.
At last, as the clock struck 10, ho
started to his feet and staggered out
of the room, vowing to get drunk some
wluu'o.
I’oor Ruth stood where lie had left her
for a few moments. The memory of the
past was strong on her that,night. Just
at this hour five years before they had
fled from her father’s home together.
How tender he was, how loving,
how gentle 1 How he vowed that
she would never regret that night, and
how had he kept those promises ? He
had broken every vow—he neither cher
ished hor protectell herl His worldly
goods he had given to the ravenous de
mon, drink, In’s love had lieeorne a some
thing scarcely worth having, aud yet
she loved him and clung to him. She
tried to feel cold aud hard toward him,
but she could not; she strove to remem
ber the blow he had given her, the oaths
he had uttered, but she answered herself
as she did so, “It was not him who did
it—it was rum.” She listened to the
uncertain, reeling footsteps iu the street I
below and. burst into tears.
“My poor darling,” she whispered, as
she thought some grievous calamity had
smitten him into the thing he was, and
he had not himself “put,an enemy in his
mouth to steal away pis wain,” unmind
ful of her pleading, unmindful of her
woe and of her shame. Sho thought of
him reeling helplessly along the street,
and feared that some harm would come
to him. Ho might fall in some out-of
the-way place and TO tiierc undiscovered
and so freeze to .death that bitter night,
, and in her agony of terror poor Ruth
I could not restrain from following
) him.
Her poor weakly baby slept; she
; wrapped it in a blanlfit and laid it in
I its poor cradle. Then she threw her
warm shawl over her head, aud hastened
down the street, bflsy this late Saturday
night with people of the
poorer classes.
A little way before her reeled the
I handsome, broad-sh<||ldered figure of
i her husband, and a lady bred and
1 born, fastidious, elegant, accomplished,
reared in luxury, h&d poor laborers’
wives warn then* dhi&reu to beware of
the “drunken fellow.”
She heard course laughs at his ex
pense, and under fiio shadow of her
shawl hes check burnt hotly,-but for all
that she never of going back
aud leaving him to himself. As soon as
! she could she gained his side and called
■ to him by name:
“Edward! Edwardl,
Ho’iurned and stood unsteadily look
ing as lier iu a befvildered way.
“Ydn?” ho said. “You ought to be
at hosie this time of night.”,
“Sos ought we both,” said Ruth.
“Couto, dear.”
He threw her hand off.
“I'm my own master,” he said. “I’m
not ti dd to any woman’s apron string!”
and staggered away again, Ruth follow
ing through the long streets with every
face trtrned toward them as they ’ passed
—some laughing, some contemptuous,
some terrified; out at last upon tho
wharves, and there tho besotted man sat
down more stupefied by the liquor he
hadsli lowed, iu that fresh, cold air.
Ruth v .is thinly clad—the chill of the
sea-bl:< 1 'jy?d to reach her vety heart.
She th .* “ght or tno liabe at homo aud
tears e nrsed down her cheeks. Again
and again sho pled with the mad man
at her side. Again and again she tried
to bring to his mind some lingering
mefnory of the past days when his love
and protection had been hers. In vain.
\\ rid fancies filled his brain, demons
borii of the fumes of ruin held posses
sion of his senses. Sometimes be thrust
her from him, sometimes ho gave her a
maudlin embrace, and bado her bring
•him more liquor, but go home he would
not The distant hum of the city died
out at last, all was still with the strange
al illness of a city night. The frosty
stars twinkled overhead. Now aud thou
a night boat passed up the river, with
measured beat aud throb. Once a ruf
fianly-looking follow sauntered past
them on the pier, but though ho flung
her an insolent word nnd yet more inso
lent laugh, and went away singing yet
more Insolently, ho did not approach
them. So benumbed had Ruth grown,
so cold to the very heart was sho, that
the power of motion had almost deserted
her, wh< nat last, ns tho church clock
not far nwiiy tolled the hour of four, the
degraded man staggered to his feet and
reeled homeward. She followed feebly,
and only by clinging to tho balustrade
could she mount tho wretched stairs. It.
was bitter cold within as without, but sho
was glad to find herself at last under
shelter. Her babe still slumbered and
sho did n>’t waken it. Her frozen bosom
could only have, chilled the little crea
ture. T i.-re were a few bits of broken
wood in < ,> corner, and with these she
made a 1 in the old stove, and crouched
over it. V i riving to gain some little
warmth while her husband, slumbered
heavily m the bed in the corner,
to whieC nc bad staggered on his en
trn-.uscdf -
Thus an hour passed by, and Ruth
also fell asleep. The silence, the pleas
ant warmth at her feet, the fancy that
all her trouble was over for the night,
lulled her to jfleasant dreams. From
them she was awakened by tho loud
ringing of tho factory bell and by the
sound of cries aud shouts in the street
below. Sho cast her eyes, toward tho
bed -her husband was not there? til*
ward the cradle—it was empty. Sho flew
to the window—tho street was full of
factory boys with their tin kettles. Some
great jest amused them mightily. They
roared, they danced, they tossed their
ragged caps on high, they shrieked in
unmusical laughter, and the object of
all this mail mirth was only too evident.
On the steps of the liquor store op
posite stood Edward Holly, holding his
child in his arms and exhibiting for tho
benefit of the delighted crowd all those
antics of which an intoxicated man alone
is capable. He called on the grinning
master of the gin-cellar, to “give this
child (some brandy;” and turned the
screaming infant about in a manner that
left no doubt that he would end by drop
ping it upon the broken pavement.
Wild with terror Ruth rushed out into
the street, and made her way through
the crowd to tho spot wbore her husband
stood, but before she reached him the
scene had changed.
Some boy more brutal than tho rest
had thrown a handful of mud into Ed
ward Holly’s face, and£ ho, reeling and
blaspheming, had dashed forward to re
venge the act.
The child had been flung away at the
first step, but fortunately had been
caught by an old woman who, though a
degraded creature herself, hail enough
of the woman remaining to save an in
fant from injury.
And now the whole horde of hoys besot
tho drunken man, pelting him with
sticks and stones and decayed vegetables
from the kennel, and reveling in the
brutal delight with which such a sceae
always seem to inspire boys of the lowo»
classes.
Ruth saw that her babe was safe and
that her husband was in danger, and,
forgetful of all else, .flew toward him.
She cared nothing fpr the jeers of the
mob; before them all sho Hung her arms
about him aud interposed her beautiful
person between his assailants.
The head that had carried itself a little
proudly in the preseifce of the highest of
the land—that had seemed more queen
like thau that of theiEmpress herself at
the court of France—that had awakened
the envy of titled English women when
tho young American woman dwelt
among them—dronwed itself low upon
the bosom of the ittunkeu wretch who
was the jeer and scorn of a low mob, and
only in love and pity, not in anger, did
she speak to him: P
“Come home, Edwardl They’ll hurt
you. my poor lovolxomo home with me.”
Mad as he was—billed with the demon
of drink, to the exclusion of the soul
God had given him—the soft, sweet
voice, the fond touch of the white Angers,
awakened some memory of the past in
the man’s breast.
“Go you home, girl!” he whisjjered,
“I’ll lull them? Don’t fret. “ I’ll kill
'em, and—•”
“Come home, darling,” she whispered
again, aud he stopped and gave her a
kiss. At that the boys yelled derisively,
and flung more mud and stones at them.
One threw a stone—a heavy stone, sharp
pointed and jagged. Whether he ever
intended to strike the man is doubtful,
but the missile flew fiercely tlirough the
’ air and crashed against the golden head
of tho devoted wife. A stream of blood
gushed from the white temple and poured
down upon tho bosom where it dropped
never to lift itself attain—never, never
more. Only with a quivering shudder
of pain she felt for the face of the man
who had sworn to love aud cherish her,
and had broken that vow so utterly
while hers had been so truly kept.
“Good-by, Edward,” she whispered.
“I cau't see you now—kiss me. Oh, be
good to baby I Be good to babyl” and
uo word more.
Tho crowd was hushed to silence. A
sobered man bent over tho dead woman,
whoso hands had dropped away from his
breast, and the love and truth and ten
derness of her heart were all manifest to
him iu that terrible moment—manifest
in vain, for repentence could not restore
her to life, nor blot out the love which
had crushed her heart through all those
weary days of her sad married life.
“What is the matter here?” cried a
voice, as a portly man forced his way
through tho crowd. ‘‘ A woman hurt?”
“ A woman killed,” said the policeman,
“ and that brute is the cause of aR,” ana
the gentleman bent forward and started
back with a cry of anguish.
“It is Ruth 1” he said. “My Ruth! ”
and fell back into the policeman’s arms
in a deathlike swoon. Forgiveness and
repentence had come alike too. late for
poor Ruth Holly. Her father could give
her nothing but a grave.
Tho child born amidst want and pen
ury, nourished by a half-starving mother,
pined away and died in the luxurious
homo to which its grandfather bore it;
and now, as the old man sits alone in his
splendid home, he sometimes hears a
strange, wild cry in tho streets outside,
through which a drunken creature reels
and staggers, howling over and anon,
“Ruth! Ruth! Ruth!”
It is Edward Holly, who ever in his
drunken madness searches for his mur
dered wife. It is the pitiful, horrible,
li eart-breaking wreck of the once splen
didly-beautifiu man of talent, who had
only one fatdt.— Mary Kyle Dallas.
An Incident of the Blockade.
A correspondent of the Boston Adver
tiser, discussing tho subject of color
blindness, relates tho following as coming
under his own experience when em
ployed in the blockade of tho port of
.Wilmington, North Carolina, during the
war of the rebellion: ‘!Thc ships ou
blockade duty got under way at sunset,
aud at dark moved to their regular sta
tions, some going well in toward Fort
Caswell and others further off, keeping
under low steam and iu a specified beat.
To prevent as far as possible our own
ships from mistaking andfiring iuto each
other, each supposing the other a Block
ade runner, as did happen more than
once, my own ship getting three 24-pound
shells from one of our own vessels, a
system of cballeuging and answering sig
nals by showing or flashing ared or white
light was established. As we all knew
the station or beat of each ship, we could
usually tell with tolerable certainty what
vessel was sighted. But, to prevent ac
cidents, it was the rule for any ship
doubting to challenge by showing the
challenging signal for that particular
night. If no answering light was shown,
or au incorrect one, the challenger had a
right to fire. One night my own ship
was challenged. We were so near that
all bands on my vessel knew well what
ship made the challenge. We answered
by showing a red light for three or four
seconds. Again we were challenged and
again we answered as before. All bauds
were at quarters. Almost immediately
after our second answer the lock-string
of tho 100-pounder rille on board the
challenger was pulled,; the gun, pointed
directly at my ship, happily missing fire.
Before the gun could be reprimed we
were made out, and uo harm done. The
next day an interview was had with the
commauder of the challenging ship, and
he was informed by me that his chal
lenges were correctly answered, I my
self seeing it done. Why our answers
were not seen by his ship could uot be
made out. He informed me, however,
that he had been many months in com
mand of his ship, and never before had
that gun missed fire. ”
What Mamina Said.
The young woman who, with her lover
end little niece, sat in the shadow of the
curtain while tho company was in tho
room adjoining, had a good deal of pres
ence of mind whew the niece said very
loud, “Kiss me, too. Aunt Ethel." “You
should say kiss me ft/’ic.e, or kiss me two
times, not two,” said Aunt Ethel, calmly.
It is to be bopecUthat the well-known
English “beauty lady ’’ was equal to tlni
occasion, also, when au elderly and emi
nently respectable-gentleman made an
afternoon call, and, as elderly gentlemen
often do, he took the child aud kissed
her. “You must not do that,” said the
child, struggling, “lam a respectable
married woman!” “What do you mean,
my dear?” asked the astonished visitor.
“Oh, that’s what mamma always says
when the gentlemen kiss her!” replied
the artless infant.
Advice given to gay Lotharios by M.
Aurelian Scholl: “Whenever you write
a letter to a married woman date it
‘April !.’ Then,df the husband finds it,
clap him on thinilioulder, point to the
date, nnd say with a burst of laughter:
,Fooled again, old fellow.’”— Figaro.
Evhhy Thuhbday at
BELLTON, QEQRG-IA.
RATES OF SUBSCRIPTION.
Oueyear(s2 numbers), $1.00; six moi ths
numbers) 60 cents; three months (13
numbers), 26 cents.
Office in the Carter bull liu f, wnt of th
depot.
NO. 25.
Second Life.
Men may inquire solemnly and with
many a doubt whether any other world
than this awaits the human race ; but,
i once admitting a second life, the dark
cloud of punishment must be seen on
that remote horizon. There can be no
second life without n memory of the
events of this career. It is the chain of
memory which makes a resurrection Atom
the dead possible. If a person should
arise from the grave and have no con
sciousness of ever having lived before,
that would be no second life only in a
. post trifling and unjust sense. Dr. Ed
ward Beecher once published quite a
volume to show that man is now in his
second world, and at death will pass to
his third aud last. But if we have most
utterly forgotten any such first life this
is made our first existence by tho very
fact of such forgetfulness. If we did all
1 live once before in this planet or in some
other planet, that fact has been forgot
ten with an amazing uniformity and
thoroughness. Memory makes this our
first life. A thousand volumes from all
the wise monos all nations could not in
tervene, with their learning and elo
quence, aud oppose the simple evidence--
of memory in this strange case. It is
your first world. Your memory can
pick up its twenty dr thirty or forty its
sixty years, and can hold them all in or
grasp and say I once lived one of those
summers and winters. We can all look
at that bunch of faded flowers and say I
saw them when they were fresh and
beautiful. This recollection is, there
fore, that mental attribute which alone
will make possible a resiirrection from
the dead. The only immortality that
can be thought of is, therefore, one
which can look back upon this first ex
perience of being. Euless friends shall
know each other, there will be no meet
ing of friends, for take away tho recogni
tion and all else is empty. Thus the
future world awaits wholly upon mem
ory—tho creator of immortality.— Prof.
David Swing.
Beautiful Hair.
.Tennis and Julia were praising the
luxuriant locks of their respective
mothers, and the discussion was brought
to an unexpected conclusion by the fir; 1-
mentioned, who said : “ It is my moth
who has tho most beautiful hair; G: •
has so much that it prevents her sleep
ing, and sDe takes it off before going
bed!”
A Wisconsin girl’s innate modesty
caused her to ask a clerk iu a store for a
pair of limbings when sho wanted leg
gins. The struggle for the cake now
lies between her and the Alissouri girl
who tells strangers that during the war
the enemy threw up bust works on her
father's farm.
A citizen of nymoutn, Ina., tlrea
six shots at a supposed burglar, and
then his wife called out: “See here,
Sam, if you don’t stop shooting at me
vou’U have the house full of neighbors.”
As the hot days of summer draw near
}>eop!e are debating the question,
“Where shall Igo fora trip?” It has
been fashionable for a year or two to
visit the Northern lakes and mountains.
These resorts are very pleasant in hot
weather, but they have serious draw
backs. First, it is very expensive get
ting there and then back again. Then
it is still more costly to remain, as one
shouhl, until .after Southern frosts; for
if one returns home during the malarial
season he is much more liable to suffer
the effects of the poison than he would
have been had he remained South all
summer. Then their distance from bus
iness and other connexions is an objec,
i tion. All these can be avoided and more
than equal b'eiiefit secured by the ex
penditure of less than half the time,
money and trouble of preparation nec
essary for a Northern trip. We have
within easy reach a resort whose claims
have been before the public fifty years
and never been rivalled or disputed. In
all that ministers to health or pleasure
it is the peer of any place in the United
States, and its charges are very reasona
ble. Railroads give its visitors ex ur
sion rates. We refer to Bailey Springs,
Alabama, Ellis & Co., proprietors. In
addition to its merits as a pleasure re
sort, its power to cure all diseases of
debility, poverty of the blood, nervous
exhaustion, dropsy, scrofula, dyspepsia,
and especially diseases of the kidneys or
bladder,‘is truly wonderful. Write to
them before making other arrangements.
A postal card only costs a cent
Out in Cincinnati they propose to send
a man to jail if he reads a newspaper on
Sunday. Considering the character of
Cincinnati papers, this is right.— Boston
Globe.
Prejudice Kills.
“Eleven years our daughter suffered
on a bod of under the care of
several of the best (and some of the
worst) physicians, who gave her disease
various names but no relief, and now
she is restored to us in good health by as
'simple a remedy as Hop Bitters, that we
had fxrohed at for two years, before
using it. We earnestly hope and pray
that n<> one else, will let their sick suffer
as we did, on account of prejudice
against so good a medicine as Hop Bit
ters.’ ’-—Th e Pa re n ts. —Telegram.
He had just taken his seat in the street
oar, in fact had hardly got fairly down,
when a lady entered. lie immediately
rose. “Don't rise, sir; I beg of you,
don’t!” she Said. “Good Heavens,
ma’am,” he yelled, "I must! There’s a
pin three inches long set up on that
seat!” She made no further objection to
his rising.— Boston Post.
Don’t Take Any <’linnre« on lAfte
, When Warner’s Safe Kidney and Liver Cure
will regulate and keep you healthy at all times.