Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

> 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.