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SUNDAY GAZETTE. pu3lish:d every sundry mornh;. 32 BROAD STREET, - - ATLANTA, GA. THE “GAZETEE” SERIALS. 'S’iokt Stories of the Gazette during the past year have been the most brilliant pub lished in any Southern paper. We now ha ve the pleasure of announcing Six Serial Stories. which we will publish'during 1880. “TIIEIIPERONTHBIIEWfII,’' AND “ How He was Scotched,’’ a short but thrilling serial, the first of the six, is commenced in this number. This will be followed by a charming love story, entitled “WITH A SILVER LINING.” We shall then commence a powerful story by that most popular of Southern writers, Mrs. MARY E. BRYAN, entitled “WILDWOOD LODGE;” OR “UNDiNE’S SECRET.” Other announcements will follow. The Ga zette wiW continue all the features that have made it so popular, and the Serial Stories will be added to its attractions. For SIXTY CENTS we will send the Ga zette, post paid, for six months on trial. Send in at once, and secure the continuation of “THE VIPER ON THE HEARTH.” Only Sixty Cents. t Address ,1. IL PERRY A CO ATLANTA, GA., SUNDAY, JAN. 11. J 7’7; ll' WORDS.—PERSONAL. In announcing the half*dozen Gazette se rials with which we shall entertain our readers during the coining year, it must be distinctly understood that wc do not intend to change the character of the paper. It shall not become a mere story paper, but shall retain the characteristic features that have given it such popularity in the past. We merely add the serial stories, in order that the Gazette may fill the full measure of a family paper. The serials that we have on band, while they are sufficiently intense and entertaining, have none of the sensational elements of the ordinary blood and thunder story. There are 10,000 persons to whom the Ga zette is sent this week as a specimen copy. We ask of all such persons who receive it tc read it carefully, study its various features, and decide if it is not worth the small sum ol two cents a week. The regular newspapers— tilled with the rapid events of the day—can not carry the delightful freightage of gossip, sketches, sermons, stories, etc., with which the Gazette is loaded down every week. Read this copy of the Gazette, then, anc study its features. 1 <etyour wife ami childrer read it, and then if you think it is worth twe cents a week, send us sixty cents and it wil be mailed to you every week tor six months. We feel sure that there is nothing that wil. carry so much pleasure, entertainment anc instruction for so email a sum. Let us havt 10,000 subscribers this week. Read the papei foryourself, and send us your name, with sixty cents, for a trial of six months! OVR NEXT GOVERNOR. A careful survev of the hid must lead t< the conviction that Governor Colquitt will be his own successor. The scattered clumps o opposition that were noticeable a few montbj ago have melted away, the slanders and in sinuations that were whispered about have lost even their echoes, the excitement created by the last session of the Legislature has sub sided, and the people are quietly studying Gov. Colquitt and his administration. Such a scrutiny he does not fear. It i.- such a scrutiny as this that he invites. Electee by the people, in spite of the politicians, hi? responsibility is to the people. He stand.' upon his administration and his record, am these show: That he has reduced expenses in every de partment of the government under his con trol; That the taxes have been reduced one-thin in amount during his administration ; That in all the corruption, alleged and real about the capital, not one stain has been pm upon his name, but that whenever suspicior reached the door of his office it rolled back ir confusion. The politicians never fool the people. Ir matters where it is important to think at all the masses always think right. A gentleman said the other day that he had never seen any man gain strength so rapidly as Colquitt in the past three months. “You are mistaken,” replied a veteran observer, “he has not gained at all. He has always been the strongest man in the State with the people, and he is to-day. While you were here with the Leg islature you heard the politicians talk; since you have been home you have heard from the people.” Never in the history of political strife has a man so wronged and so fiercely assailed, come out of the trial with name and charac ter so spotless. Os all the charges and insin uations brought against our Governor, there is only one that has been proved, and that is that he has dared, in spite of his power, to reverently avow his allegiance to the same God that he worshipped, when he was a pri vate citizen. We do not believe it has come to pass that tin* people of Georgia will sub mit to see a man defeated because he has championed the cause of religion. We predict that this State has never seen so unanimous a vote as the one by which Alfred IL Colquitt will be re-elected to the office he now holds —not even when he went into it backed by 80,000 majority ! GRANT AS A PEACE-MAKER. We must confess our inability to see exactly how General Grant is going to bring peace to the sections. When General Grant was President he showed none of the elements of a peace-maker. He was brutal, despotic and unjust in his treatment of the South. He tilled our State capitols with troops. He dispersed our Leg islatures. He surrounded our ballot-boxes with blue-coats. He overturned the will of the people with bayonets. All protests were met with contempt, or insult, and there was no man in power in the United States from whom the Southern people did not hope for more, than the sullen soldier who sat in the President’s chair. How it is that this man can now be looked to for peace and reconciliation, is more than we can understand. lie is the very embodi ment of force and violence. The “stalwarts’’ of the North, disgusted with the policy of Mr. Hayes, (who, when he first took Mr. Tilden’s seat, showed much reason,) turn with audacity to Grant as the “strong man,” who can force the South to keep the peace. Considering the possibility of the election of a Democrat to the Presidency in 1880, they rely upon Grant as the man w!-o, at the head ol tin* army, can again force the President elect to cither resign his claims or wade through blood to the White House. What the South can want with such a man we cannot comprehend. Besides being op pressive and cruel to the South, his admin istration- was the corruptest that was ever known in American history. It bred more thieves, and developed more rings, than re- sulted from the four years of war. It was brutal, shameless, and inefficient. As far as we are concerned, we shall take none of Grant. Weave for Samuel .1. Tilden first ami for (he Democratic candidate, who ever he i after I'ildrn. Wr believe il possi hie for I'ildeu Io succeed if he is nominated ami has (he hearty support of the party but whether lie Mieceeds or not. it will be better for the South to vote fir him and bear with him the burdens of defeat, rather than enjoy with Grant (he spoils of government! OUR BOOK TABLE- Tin Books of the Week GoftMp Reviews and Chit-Chat. 1 .ETTEus From a Cat.- Hugh R. Hildreth A Co. H. 11. has written so many good things th it another good book from her pen need sur prise no one. “Letters From a Cal” isthe taking title of her last contribution to juvenile litera ture, which opens with a life of the wonderful Fussy that indicated the equally wonderful epistles that follow. Pussy had a variety of ad ventures after her young mist less left, ami she I«-Iis I hem just as t hey looked from a cal ’x point of view. In the first place, she knows more than many eats, and as her implied advice is always good, the little people will find much to learn in her adventures ami opinions. Her adventures an very curious ami consist ot a catalogue ot scrapes into which she got herself. A gentleman cal from over (he way escorted her home one evening, and in jumping into the cellar through the window, instead of the usual pile of cabbages upon which she had lighted heretofore, poor Fussy landed in a bar rel of soft soap and was nearly drowned. Care ful nursing brought her round, however, and her details of the process form not the least in teresting part of this very good book. Tin Serpent Charmer. By Louis Rouselet. Charles Scribner's Sons. This is a story of life in India during the period of the Sepoy rebel lion. The narrative is interwoven with dra matic incidents and scenes characteristic of Oriental life. In fact, is® chief value is its por traiture of habits and inodes of living with which no amount of descriptive writing ever makes us entirely familiar. The story is well told, with that skill in the development of dramatic situations which so many French writers possess. The volume is handsomely illustrated, and is altogether a striking book. Rabelais.—Edited by Mrs. Oliphant. Pub lished by <l. B. Lippincott Co., Philadelphia. By Walter Besant, M.A. Let no one be de ceived by the title. This book is the life and character of Rabelias, and a critical examina tion of his purposes and genius, and not a trans lation of his works, except in scat tered extracts. The author of the book feels compelled to make an explanation of the great dilHeuJty in treat ing Rabelais, and he cannot advise his readers, unless they are undertaking a serious study, to follow up his book by reading the original. He further explains: “Alone among the great writ ers of the world, he can be appreciated by stu dents only. To the general reader, to the young, to women in all ages he is a closed hook. For very shame he must be hidden away.’’ But on many accounts the present book is interesting to the general reader, it is a clear view of the man whose works are hidden from nearly all the world. It is a critical estimate of his char acter, genius, designs ami works. The book belongs to the series of Foreign Classics tor Eng lish readers. LITERARY ODDS AND ENDS. The Comte de Paris, who has just completed the fifth volume of his work on the Civil War in America, will finish the sixth and last dur ing the coming year. Tile next “No Name” novel i" by an Ameri can author, and bears the striking title, “His Majesty Myself.” It has a significant key-motto from Coleridge: “I once knew a man who had , advanced to such a pitch of self-esteem that he never mentioned himself without taking off his hat.” The first edition t7s.(h«»> of "The Wonderful Christmas Number” of St. Nicholas was ex hausted within twenty-four hours of issue, and a new edition of 10,1X10 copies has been issued. G. W. Carleton <fc Co , the publishers, have al ready sold 135,000 copies of their new children’s picture-book, "Magic Mother Goose Melodics.” This looks like another “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” success. Beginning with the. January number, the At lantic Monthly is to he printed in larger type and on larger paper, and will be increased to 155 pages. Mr. Howell’s new story will begin with that number. , “11. ll..’’in tlte Literary World, has an article on the lately published letters of Charles Dick- ■ ens, which have to her mind completed the . downfall of loyalty to Dicken - which Forster's ’ memoirs shook, she says of Dickens: -‘The ; ugly shadow of the memory of the moral pov erty which underlay the intellectual wealth; of the piteous caricature which deeds were to words, and acts to professed sentiments in the life, will dog our old love like a headsman, and wc shall not save it alive long.” OUR KNOWLEDGE BOX. Savannah, Ga.—Has Emory Speer said that he would take a nomination if (.tiered him? Will the Independents run a candidate for Governor and the State officers? J. L. 1. No. 2. It is said Gen. Wofford will be run as an independent. Wc presume he will be I backed by a full ticket. Eufaula, Ala.—l. What isthe proper pro nunciation of the town of Leadville ? Is it Leed . or Led ? 2 From what did it derive its name ? From a good lead (leed) of gold or silver, or from - the lead (led) ore abounding there, or was it from neither of these? R. L. B. 1. As if written Led-ville. 2. We believe its 1 name comes from the rich leads (pronounced leeds) of mineral in the vicinity. There is no lead (led) near the city. Albany, Ga.—Where can I get full informa tion concerning the Clement attachment? 2. i Why has not the Governor issued the fi fas. against Renfroe and his securities, as ordered 1 by the Legislature? N. 1. By sending 23 cents to J. B. Derby for a pamphlet containing everything that has been written about it, including statements of cost, profit, etc., from all mills now running. 2. He is now preparing the papers, we believe, and the fi. fas. will be issued within a few days. Lake Weir, Fla.—l. What size tree does the English walnut grow to be, and is it an ever green? 2. Are ships ever struck by lightning atse.? If not, why? 1. The Juglans Regia, the English walnut tree, reaches a very considerable size, being one of the most stately of trees. It is deciduous in its character. Os course it is not an ever green. 2. They have been struck by lightning and destroyed. Sailing craft are more likely to bestruck than steam vessels, the iron of the steam vessel being a protection. Jackson, Ga.—Why is the book called “A Fool’s Errand” by “one of the fools ?” 2. Who wrote “Curfew shall not Ring To-night ?” 3. If a lady rejects a gentleman, is it right for him to address i<r again ? 1. It is the slanderous record of a Northerner who came South to live, and treats of ku klux outrages, etc. It is like Uncle Tom’s Cabin. 2, Rose Hartwell Tharpe. 3. We cannot advise in cjT'atrs cornc/-, but if we loved a woman we should exhaust every honorable method of. winning her. CHURCHES AND CHURCHMEN. Bishop Gilbert Haven is dead. .Major Penn, tiie Texas revivalist, has been ordained to the Baptist ministry. Canada has a Roman Catholic population of 1,846,800, with 23 bishops, 1,509 priests, and 1,617 churches. Leading Israelites of Nev York, clerical and lay, have just formed a Sabbath (Saturday/Ob servance Society. Four of the seven Bishops of the Methedist Church South have been in the ministry from titty to sixty years, and possibly this is true of five oi the seven. Brooklyn has only one church for every 1 721 of population, while Washington has one’for every 932. Cleveland has one for every 1,044 • New Oi leans, one for every 1,315; Cincinnati, one for Baltimore, one for every 1,112, and Boston one for every 1,(566. St. Louis has one for every 1,8020 t population. The proportion in New 5 oik stands one to 2,613. The Fiji Islands, which are now a district of the Australian Wesleyan Methodist Church, now have Ml chapels and 291 other preaching places; ten missionaries, forty-eight native missionaries, and 23,274 members, exclusive of 39 European members. An odd sort of lawsuit has been brought against a church in Westfield, Mass Nearly two years ago a young lady named Alice Wes ton, while attending a temperance meeting at Hie church, w s unable, owing to lhe crowd, to pass from the vestry into the audience-room, and wlitle standing in the doorway the ropes which held the hanging doorgave wav and the door ltse.lt tell down, breaking one of her legs, it was nearly a year before Miss Weston could' walk, and she still usesa crutch. Soon after the accident the ladies of the church gave her Sfls but notwithstanding this a suit has been brought for damages. Her lawyer, it is said, Ims i offered to settle the dispute lor si,(Mm. BEAVERS CAUSE A DEADLY SCOURGE. Americus <_( la.) Recorder. .1 he beaver was hardly known in this sec tion before the war, but within the last de cade they have become so numerous as to be I a positive curse in some neighborhoods, j Those acquainted with the habits of this in genious rodent know what powerful dams | they throw across a stream, obstructing its I walers and thereby causing overflows, killing all the timber, crops and vegetable matteron the laud. Many attribute the deadly scourge, hemorragic malarial fever, an annual scourge oi some localities, to this cause. Trapping these animals has become quite a brisk busi-i ness in the last few years to the initiated. ' Ihe pelts are very valuable, and sell rap- 1 idlv hi this market for $2 50 to $3. and the - flesh is used for food, though it is rather I tmarse and strong. Last week .Mr. .John 11. I ’’ alker caught twenty-one on a single stream. |< THE GAZETTE, STESTEAY MORNING, ■■■■■ ■ gA ■ THE VIPER ON THE HEARTH. HOW HE WAS SCOTCHED. A Story of Love and Adventure. [The First of the Gazette SeriaH.l I. The Tinley farm, hy virtue ol its location, was as carefully concealed front public gaze . as it could have been if originally chosen as . the site of a monastery or nunnery, although, 1 heavi'ii knows, the Tinley.s had never been monastically inclined, the male repres nta tives of the line for four generations having I been just such rubicund, joll.t farmers as was 1 the inheritor of the family name and cares at the time when the present chronicle opens. But whether you viewed Ascutney Mountain from a distance, or traversing the stage road from the Black River Valley over into the valley of Mill Creek ami so on to Windsor, passed around the base of this, the most pic turestpte and lofty height in the Vermont portion of the Connecticut vale, you would never dream that the slight depression which appeared between that mountain and its near est neighbor, Little Ascutney, afforded room for a large and productive farm. And the very road itself which was the means of com munication between the main highway and the farm took anything but a direct course, as if, in its inmost heart, it wore quite doubt ful whether it were really worth the while to penetrate the gloomy recesses of the hemlock thicket which lined the miniature canon be tween the two heights, and so it at first ran for quite a distance nearly parallel with the stage road, affording room for three or four thrifty farms. But at length it turned ab ruptly to the right, and then commenced an ascent which speedily took away the breach of the best windrd pedestrian. This accent continued for nearly a mile, following the de vious course of a brawling mountain stream, so densely’ shaded that the sun scarcely ever had a peep at its limpid pools, where plump trout glided leisurely to and fro, well knowing that they had little to fear from the incursions of fishermen, inasmuch as John Tinley was an active Justice of the Peace, and his prem ises were duly “posted.” Those who had the courage and patience to elimb this winding road found that the depression between the mountains terminated in an almost level plateau, of considerable ex tent, and bearing evidences of long continued and faithful cultivation. The farm house and outbuildings, alike guiltless of paint or win dow blinds, stood at the right hand side of the cleared portion of the farm, four huge Lombardy populars standing guard in front of the house as firm and rigid as the sentries nt any navy yard or arsenal goto. The view from the front of the house was extensive and varied. Directly at one’s feet lay the valley of Black Biver, a checkerboard of plowed fields and meadow lands, through which ti e river pursued its sinnuoifs course, resembling very strongly a piece of b ! ack ribbon care lessly thrown across the aforesaid checker board. Bevond the valley rose the Green Mountains, height on height, while far to the west a faint blue haze indicated where the placid waters of Lake Champlain laved the feet ot the wild Adirondack range. Although late in December, the morning air was not uncomfortably cold, there having been quite a protracted thaw, following an early snow of unu-ual severity, of vvjiieh slight traces still remained in the nooks and cor ner ol the Tinley farm. But, as the proprie tor of that estate remarked to his daughter, as he climbed into his stout red wagon, there were evident signs of an approaching storm. Although the sky was completely overcast with dense gray clouds, the air was exceed ingly clear. not a vestige of a “cap” resting on the rugged head of old Ascutney. But there was that vague stillness and heaviness in the atmosphere which is instantly recognized by dwellerspn the mountain regions as the precur sor of a heavy storm. As her father drove slowly and carefully down the steep descent and disappeared in the dense foilage, Minnie Tinley stood in the kitchen doorway, gazing upon the familar landscape. In the deep silence which brooded over the scene distant sounds were borne to her ear with almost startling distinctness She could hear the creaking of the unvvieldly well sweep at Farmer Brown’s, a mile down the valley, said creeking forming a somewhetdis cordant accompaniment to the ringing tenor of young Stephen Brown, as he lustily sang “Pull for the Shore.” Miss Minnie unconsci ously made a very pretty picture as she stood in the open doorway, with a half repressed smile on her rosy’ She was one of those plump, sparkling eyed brunettes so often found among the rugged hills of New Eng land, whose personal charms seem to entirely justify the defense of the schoolboy who, when arraigned for the heinous offense of kis sing his fair seat mate, could only stammer, “Please, sir. 1 couldn’t help it.” The reflec tions of our heroine were evidently not of an unpleasing character, but alas for Stephen Brown, and alas for his clear tenor voice, which fell unheeded on her ears, while her thoughts had wandered far down the Connec ticut \ alley to meet a loved brother, who was speeding toward his Vermont home, and who she knew was not alone. To-morrow would be Christmas Day, and when a year ago young Tinley had brought home with him his particular chum at college, Robert Leon ard, the time had passed so pleasantly ami quickly that it needed no supernatural pow ers of prophecy to tell where Mr. Leonard would spend his next Christmas. Ami al though Minnie would have been exceedingly loth to admit it even to herself, the prospect of again seeing the fascinating stranger was undoubtedly not the least agreeable antiei pation in connection with the approaching holiday. The air grew thicker and chillier, and a vague mist gradually overspread the southern horizon. Although the trees were apparently i motionless, an uncertain, ghostly murmur seemed to issue from the deep recesses of the f dense forest which fringed the base of Ascut -1 ney, and a few stray leaves scurried around lhe corner of the house, as if seeking shelter from impending danger. Minnie was so lost in agreeable meditation that she did not per t ccive the growing chilliness in the air. until i ' recalled to more sublunary considerations by I i a loud hissing ami spluttering in the direction j of the kitchen .stove, mingled with a yell of l | agony from the cat, who had received a rath ' I er too liberal sprinkling of boiling applesauce. \ Thus rudely summoned to her housewifely du l ties, Minnie, with a slight shiver, closed' the ‘ door, through which the cat, sorely injured in both mind and body, had just made a'hurried r exit . ~ ■. .Minnie’s life was indeed a lonely one, and : it was not to be wondered at that she should ’. anticipate the coming of visitors with more | than ordinary pleasure. When nearly two | years since, she had been summoned from a ; distant school to a mother's death-bed, she j had, not without n severe inward strugg.e, ; i abandoned long cherished plans, feeling that j her duty lay in the old home, beside the re ■ ' maining parent, who without her would be in i deed alone, and cheerfully had she taken up the burden, displaying, as is often the case | with women, an amount of moral heroism far greater ththi is required of the soldier, who, | as he leads the forlorn hope, has the stimulus I of companionship and the prospect of tangi | ble honors. And though she was frequently I left, alone for hours in that secluded farm house, her courage, never deserted her, and | she flitted through the dismal rooms like a sunbeam, her joyous songs making the rafters : ring again. | While she was intent upon her Christmas preparations, time passed quickly until at I length the huge cabinet clock in the corner of ! the kitchen, in a piping voice strangely dis | proportioned to its size, announced the hour ,ot noon. I hen she glanced out of doors for the first time and Saw that it was already j snowing fast, and that the southwest wind i I was gradually rising. “Well,” soliloquized ■ | she, “Pa'll certainly have time to get back be-1 j fore the. snow gets deep enough to trouble I him. He’s got to the street [localism for the I ' village] by this time, and it’s almost train i i time now. Even if it does come on to storm , I pretty hard, they ought to be here by six I o’clock.” So saying she again plunged into I ‘ the sea ol household cares, while the storm rapidly increased its force, the wind rising Io i gale, and the snow accumulating with a rapidity nnknoAii except in mountain re- Sliortly aft■ r noon Minnie had eaten a little lunch and fed the cat. who had returned to his old quarter.' near the stove, when for the first time she noticed the absence of Hover, the huge Newfoundland, who was always her protector in her father's absence. In vain she called and whistled: the only r-spouse w as the shrill scream of the wind as it rushed down the wide chimney, and the rustle of the dense clouds of snow against the window panes. Could it be possible that the dog had followed his ma-ter to town—a thing lie had never been known to do before? In spite of her natural (-outage, Miunie began to foel vaguely alarmed, and her mind was not at all reassured by a glance through the window, as ’ she realized that the storm was something out of the common. I'he wind was now blowing furiously, and darkness was already closing in. Siu foil that longing for companionship, if only that of the faith'ul dog, which is so natural Io the human heart in time of im agined or actual 1-eril. But the dog was no where to bi> found, mid she was forced to con clude tiiat he had billowed his master. Ihe storm increased in fury as the day s waned, and the lonely girl as she drew close to the lire, could hear the fierce blasts calling to one another in trumpet toms as they swept through the tops of the huge maples, while mi oecas onal gust would rock the house g to its very foundations. At 4 o'clock it was s already int- nsely dark, mid Minnie lighted ( several candles and placed them in the front windows Io light the expected travelers to their destination. But as she listened to the tierce onslaughts of the storm she began to fear that those travelers would be unable to force ihej wtiy up the mountain road, and that she would be compelled to pass the night alone in the dreary bouse. But she consoled herself with the thought that the very tury of the storm was in itself a protection, for if it. kept away friends it would also keep away foes. But there were the poor sheep and the barn: they must be fcjl and milked storm or no storm. So thinking, she put oil her rubber boots and, wrapping herself in a large shawl, started for the barn. But as soon as she turned the corner of the house she was convinced that it would be useless for h< r to try to reach the barn. Indeed, it was only with the grea'est difficulty that, breathless and fatigued, she regained the kitchen a d closed the do r. Familiar as she had been from girlhood with mountain storms, she re alized that the present gale exceeded in vio lence any she had ever seen, and that it would be utterly impossible for her father to return that night. So she replenished the fire, and, l iking her crochet work mid the last Harper’s, strove to forget her dismal surroundings. But the fierce wind rattled the casements and moaned through the key lures, rendering it impossible for her to keep her attention upon her read ing. Occasionally there would be a partial lull, when the loud roar of the wind would subside into a weird sobbing, and the snow would sift softly against the windows, as though they- were brushed by the wings of passing birds. Then the distant roar of the next gust would seem to gradually approach from the depth of the forest, until, with a mighty rush, it would swoop down upon the house, milking it quiver like an aspen, while huge masses of snow would beat again t idle stout door, like giant hands knocking for Al , mission. Six o’clock had struck, and Minnie had arisen to make a cup of tea, when, in one of those partial cessations of the storm, she thought she heard a feeble human cry. Spell , bound, she listened for its repetition, but a • savage gust of wind rattled every door ami window, and she was compelled o await its subsidence. At length it died away, in ghost ly inurmu’-s, and then chilling her very heart’s blood, came that agonizing cry, "Help, hel^i!” For a moment she stood transfixed, but only for a moment. Os course it must be het father and the expected visitors. As this , thought flashed across her mind, she sprang to the door, and, throwing it open, regardffess i of the dense mass of snow that poured into time . room, sent our upon the air a cheery shout of I welcome. Then lighting a lantern, sheequip . ped herself for the rescue. 11. When, four days before Christmas, Samuel . Lane, alias Slippery Sam, was released from ; the \ ermont State Prison, his four years term i of imprisonment having expired, it is but sim ple justice to that individual to state that tain resolutions'which he bad tiifhrlsi coil*' • cerning bis future career were at least partly s I made from an honest desire to quit the devi- ■ ous ways of crime; ways which had been to him anything but way s of pleasantness. And : as he passed the massive iron door, which for - four long, dreary’ years had inexorably cut i him off from the busy world outside, aiid re- ■ alized that he no longer wore the livery of the ■ convict, but was decently clothed, and' had a • small sum of money in his pocket, he was - fully determined to follow the advice of the Chaplain and seek a home at the West, where amid new scenes and new faces he might can- , cel the dark record of the past. As he walked , slowly down the broad main street toward the . railroad station, his newly formed resolutions I caused him to unconsciously elevate the head , so long bowed down, and to meet unflinch ingly the curious gaze of the passers by. But the discharged convict soon found that . he was not exempt from the common lot of - weak humanity. The tempter, in the form of ■ one of his late companions in the prison, laid . in wait for him at a convenient corner. Os - course he was not going away without taking just a friendly drink? And so the old, old story, so sad, and, alas, so common, was re- ■ peated, and late in the morning of the day be fore Christmas Samuel Lane awoke from a troubled sleep to find himself lying on the ground under the shelter of a little thicket, just outside of the town. The sky’ was over cast, and occasionally’ a snowflake would float leisurely down through the interlaced brandies, and would rest lightly on the soiled and tat tered garments which had replaced the good suit ot clothes furnished him only two days ago. He was chilled to the bone, and at the same time burning with that intolerable thirst known only to those who have drank deeply of the intoxicating cup after long continued abstinence. Sitting up, he peered through the bushes with bloodshot eyes. Just across a narrow valley, and not more than half a mile distant, glimmered the whitewashed wall of the prison, which had so long been his enforced home. He knew just how the interior of those long shops looked at this moment, with the rows of human automatons bent over their tasks: the silence unbroken save by the rattle of the machinery and the regular blows of the hammers; the watchful keepers, with their ever ready weapons: the harsh voiced over seers, continually urging on their unwilling servants— all this was vividly pi, tured to his mind, and in his chilled and destitute con dition, like many another man under similar cirucmstances, he wished himself back again, standing on that spot where his feet had worn a depression in the floor. For there, at all events, he would find food and shelter, the obtaining of which was now entirely problem mat ical He had lain down quite close to the high way, but was effectually screened from the observation ot those passing along the road by a dense undergrowth of oak bushes, while at tne same time he could see all who passed. He had risen to a standing pos tion, and was Vigorously chafing his benumbed hands, when his attention was drawn to the road by the sound of approaching wheels. Dropping to his knees he sought a convenient gap in the bushes, and availed the approach of the ve hicle. It was a substantial ted farm wagon, ami the animal by which it was drawn audits sole occupant, a man of middle age, did not in the least detract from the impression of solidify and trustworthiness which was made by the first sight of the wagon. Immediately opposite the spot where the hungry eyes of ihe e.xrconviet were peering through the bushes, the red wagon was met by a convey ance of an entirely different description, ibis was a, light buggy, resplendent with green and crimson paint, and drawn by a coal black mare, delicate limbed and spirited. Nor was the appearance of the occupant of this tasty equipage less widely different from that of the sturdy farmer in the wagon. The sunken cheeks, clean shaved chin, keen black (‘yes, and neatly arranged dress, bespoke at once the professional man. Both horses stopped without any intimation from their drivers, for every well bred Ver mont horse early learns that the common . courtesy of that region demands a pleasant. I greeting even to strangers; but in this easel the animals were n» strangers to each other, having held frequent interviews with the as- I sistauee of their respective owners. The gen-I tleman from town opened the conversation, I not a word of which was lost, by Lane, as he i crouched, in the bushes within a few feet of I lhe speakers. “Good morning, Tiuley. You’re just the j man 1 wanted to see. 1 should have come out to your place in a day or two, had 1 not met you this morning.” “Well.” replied the farmer, “when Squire Comstock wants to see John Tinley, 1 s’pose its pretty easy to tell beforehand the object of his visit.” “Yes," laughingly responded the lawyer, “our dealings thus far have been of one kind. I :J?ld 1 may sav om siib d You Tinleys have tw-vi-r been much ol a family for going to law : indeed, if all men were like yon, 1 am afraid we attorneys woulil fairly starve But 1 be llbve 1 may say that I have been the means ot putting you in ti e way of st veral excellent investments, which are even now bringing you in a comfortable amount of inter* st.” “You have, indeed, replied Tinley, “and you we.l know that i have perfect confidence in you So, if you want what money I hap pen to have on hand vou re welcome to it, mid no questions asked. "That was what 1 wanted to see you about. I have a chance to buy an excellent mortgage, which will pay si p. r ceut. How much cun ■ tmi let me have?'’ Well, let me see.'’ musingly returned the farmer I ve got just s2,.'ithl on hand at I picsent. I s’pose Jack will need about S4OO between this ami spring, and the odd SIOO would see me an’ the gal through 'i'cs, 1 : can let you have the $2,000, ’Squire.” : “Just the sum 1 wanted, Tinley. Let’s see, . you don't bank your money. 1 believe.” i “No, sir. Ever since I lost that S7OO down the river, I've been my own banker. What i little time 1 have any money on hand 1 keep ■ it in my own house. “But you have such a lonely place out ; there. 1 should think you’d be afraid to leave 1 that pretty daughter of yours alone, with so i much money in the house.” r . ‘Well, you see, the very lonesomeness of .. ■ the place is a protection. All the tramps and e: strollers fol'ow the main road, and no one s I ever thinks that a man who is stuck way up 1 ■ there on a hill farm makes any money. But I I tell you my place has made a better show- ing of late years than some of the rich river ' farms. Another thing, ’Squire, I’ve got about i the best dog in the State, ami he’s a better] protection to Minnie than anyt ing of hit- ] man kind would be.” “I hope so. Well, suppose I drive out one I day next week and bring the mortgage with : nie.” “All right,’Squire, any time to suit you. Looks like a snow storm, don’t it?” “Yes. 1 m afraid we’re going to get a heavy’ storm, and J must be moving along. Good day.” The farmer returned the lawyer’s farewell, and the two vehicles passed on out of the range of those eager eyes in the bushes. All | the good resolutions of two days before were ] forgotten, and the thievish instincts which had been nursed by- long years of crime asserted . themselves with; renewed vigor. Over $2,000 ; in a lon ly- farm house, guardi d only by a: young girl and a dog! 'That money must be ] his. Once secured, it would furnish him with the means of a long season of riotous pleas ure in the great metropolis. But he must act I quickly. This house might be many miles ■ away, and he must reach it before the return of the owi.er. Rising to his feet he limped painfully into the road, and nerving himself for a prolonged effort, started in the direction from which the farmer had come. It was now snowing rapidly, and the wind was increasing to a gale. Fortunately for the pe kstrian, however, the wind was at his. back, and urged on by his wicked motive he made rapid progress. About noon he knocked I at the kitchen door of a farm house and begged something to eat. Taking pity upon his forlorn condition, the housewife gave him a seat by the fire, while she placed upon the table a substantial meal, such as can be found only in a New Eug'aud farm bouse. The ex convict cautiously engaged his hostess in conversation, and at length inquired if she knew where John Tinley lived. “John Tinley?” npl ed she, “why, of course I do. He married my cousin, and a go-, d wife she was to him, although some peo ple have accused her of being stingy. But that she never was, and now she’s dead, poor thing. The Tinleys have always been fore i handed people. Seem s if they had better ! I luck way up there on the mountains than other folks had on go.-d river farms.” “ But,” interrupt- d he, despairing of ex tracting any useful information from this garrulous Hi od, *'how far is his house from here ?” ’ “ Well, if you take the turn to the 1< ft, about a mile from here, and go over the hill, ’taint mere’n six mi'es. You want to take the Felchville r< ad, and turn off at the wa tering trough. If it wasn’t so stormy, and you could find your way, v ou could cut across through the woods, hut a stranger would have hard work to find the path, and—” But Lane could wait no longer, and, cut ting short the woman’s directions, he thanked her for Iter kindness and went forth into the storm, which was now raging furiously. The snow was already ankle deep, and fast in creasing, while the fierce southeast wind urged ,J’im forward at a sp:-ed that rendered him breathless. His clothing was an entirely in adequate protect!.-n against the storm, and he was compelled to use the greatest exer tions to keep his ears and face fiotn freezing But he felt that he could nut spare the time to stop ai d warm himself, and like an evil spirit sped on before- the wind, until darkness closed in around him. Stopping to make in quiry, he found that he had wandered from the road, and was obliged to retrace his steps for two miles in the face of the pitiless storm At length he turned into ti e road leading to the Tinley farm. Ready to sink with fatigue and benumbed with cold, he pushed on past, the cozy’ farm bouses, whose gleaming lights seemed to invite him to come in and be warmed and fed, but the evil impulse within him gave him strength still to stagger. Once within the shelter of the wood he found progress easier, although the steepness of the ascent and the great accumulation of snow rendered it necessary for him to fre quently pause for breath. A drowsy feeling, too, was fast creeping over him, and threat ened to entirely overpower his faculties Once he sat down on a huge log in a sheltered nook. He could hear the sullen roar of the storm in the treetops, but was entirely pro tected from its force. The drowsiness in creased upon him, and visions of his past life flitted before him. Again he seemed to hear the church bell in the little village where he had spent a happy and innocent boyhood, and his subsequent wild career of crime was for gotten. A smile played upon his lips, and he was fast lapsing into fatal unconsciousness, when a gust of unusual severity broke off one of the branches of a tree near'by, and hurled it violently’ against the recumbent man. Half stunned and badly bruised, he once more struggled to his feet, and climbed wearily up the steep road. In a few moments he emerged from the wood, and saw, glimmering through the driving snow, a bright light. He was now exposed to the full fury of the storm, which fairly swept him from his feet. Clutching the fence, he raised a feeble cry for help, but his voice was drowned in the roar of the wind, and dense masses of snow threatened to bury him. But the instinct of life was not yet en tirely dormant, and staggering onward, nearer to the friendly light, he threw all his remain ing energy into a repeated cry for aid, and thou sank unconscious into the drifting snow. (To be continued.} WHEN WILL THE MILLERS GIVE THE PUBLIC NUTRITIOUS FLOUR ? Atlanta Mills Do it Now—The Flour of Wheat BY HENRY S. CHASE, M.D., ST. LOUIS, MO. The Millers’ Journal contains an analysis of wheat. This analysis shows that wheat contains all the elements for the nutrition of the body in plentiful supply. No other grain equals it in this respect But its elements of nutrition arc distributed through the grain unequally. The gluten forms flesh, and also contains nearly all the phosphate of lime, which latter is the bone and teeth-lorrning material. Now this gluten is a thin coating lying irnmedi i ately under the bran coat and adherent to the j latter. The gluten coat surrounds the great I interior magazine of starch c. Ils, of which | the greater bulk of the grain of wheat is corn ' posed. These starch cells are glittering white, i and under the microscope look like a moun i tain of snowballs. These starch cells com pose the bulk of superfine flour. The gluten coat, under the microscope, is of a dark brown color, and is composed of much larger and more irregularly-shaped cells than the starch. Therefore, it is evident that if the gluten coat I be excluded from the flour a much inferior sody-nourishing substance is sold than wheat j meal. The starch cells are only heat and fat-producing— not muscle. My experience as a professional man has convinced me that thousands of women and children suffer, both in mental and physical health, from the want of the gluten and phos phates which are excluded from the flour of wheat. 1 believe this to be ti e prominent cause of dental decay. Ihe teeth are imper fectly hardened for the lack of phosphate of I lime; the brain suffers for the want of pbos- I phorns; the bones are diminished in length, I and the muscles are dwarfed. When will the ' millers give the public more nutritious food ? ; We wish to state that a great deal of the ; patent process flour does not contain the nu-I tritious gluten element that is so desirable, j M e know, however, of some brands of flour, : one in particular, manufactured in this city, j that does contain all the elements of nutrition i distributed through the wheat so unequally. Most of the patent process flour is taken only [ from the center of the wheat, and therefore | does not contain the elements so desirable in j a health building and sustaining flour. I A HAIN OF GOLD. A NIGHT IN THE PHILADELPHIA MINT, WHERE THE GOVERNMENT PRO DUCES ITS CASH. How It is Accomplished The Methods in Use-Coining Dollars—The Wealth of Nations- Gold Notes. Philadelphia Press. 1 lie I nited States mint was established by act of Congress on the 2d of April, 1792, and a building was soon erected on the cast side of Seventh, near Market. The first Director of the mint was David Rittenhouse, LL.D., and among his more distinguished successors have been Elias Boullinot, Robert Patterson. Janus Ross Snowden, Ja.n.es Pollock, the late lamented Dr. Linderman, and the present efficient and capable superintendent, Col. Snowden. Ihe first money coined by the , United States were COI’CKK CENTS, t which were coined in 1793. Silver dollars ( were next made in e794, and gold eagles in ■li 95. Ihe first tnaclii'ery as well as meta' I , used came from England, and up to 181 G the ' : work was altogether done by horse or hand ( power. During five year’s of tl e mint’s ex -1 | istence work has been suspended, owing to -1 the prevalence of disease in the citv. The present building, on Chestnut, near Broad, was finished in 1833. It is built of white mar ble, in the Grecian style. In 1854 it was made thoroughly fire-proof. But now the grim watch-dog of the mint is wait ng to go through the building with us. All is silent and still; the buzz and beat of machinery has ceased ; the flashing colors of the day are dead, and but a dim, dull light suffices to show the powerful agents of mak ing money. On the left of the hall, as we en ter, is the Treasurer’s office; on he right, the cashier's, both now deserted. Passing through the hall to a yard on the left, is seen the weighing-room. Here all the precious metal received is weighed. Gold from California, Georgia, Montana and Nova Scotia; silver from Nevada and the Hurt of the world. : Here comes the valuable family plate Io be ' mel ed up, telling the glory of decayed for | tunes and destroyed hopes, just as the first bricks of silver but recwly wrenched from the bosom of mother earth tells the tales of hopes realized and fortunes made. Here, too, comes copper (rum Lake Superior and nickel from our own State at Lascaster. Here are piled huge bricks of glittering silver, tons in i weight; each brick weighs from 10(1 to 150 pounds, which are handled as though they were clay. Near at hand are the scales to weigh this mass of potenfal money. As in fallible ns the scales of justice, they will mark the slightest and most minute amount as well as the greatest. The largest weight used in the weighing-room is 6,000 ounces ; the small est weight u«ed in the mint is in the assay room, and one-thirteen hundredth part of an ounce in size; it can barely be seen by the naked eye. Here is the vault where the gold is kept prisoner; double linings of iron, | double doors of steel, and locks and bolts of the most intricate description—all show the care and caution necessary to be observed. Stepping inside, there lie quietly small dull ingots, which give a dull yellow gleam in tl e candlelight, hardly betrayed its nature, yet which will soon go forth and exert a greater power for weal or woe than that exerted by the mightiest living potentates. BLOCKS OF SOLID GOLD. Gold dust, grains of gold and crystalline lumps are here ready for the melter's pot. To the deposit melting-room next it goes in locked iron boxes, from which it is placed in pots, and with a suitable flux is melted and moulded. Bits are cut off for assaying, and then it goes to the refiner and melter. For assaying the gold the small piece is taken to 'the nssayer's room nov, a dark apartment re sembling Dr. Faustus’ chamber, with its cru cibles, kettles and pans. The gold is put in a black-lead pot, melted and stirred and fluxed to make a comp'ete mixture; cooled and rolled out. Then half a gramme is ac curately weighed, which is stamped 1,00 and all the weights hereafter used are deci mals of this to the ten-thousandth part. Sil ver for the alloying is next added, and then the lead for the cupellation ; then the whole is cupelled until the base metals are used, and then the remaining bullion is beaten in a spiral and the silver dissolved out, and the remaining gold determined by weight. To return to the melting room : it is there that all the gold and silver used in the mint are melted; iron moulds are used, which are pre viously greased to prevent sticking, and as the metals are] in a molten mass they are poured into these moulds and speedily cooled, after which they’ are called ingots and are long, thin blocks of a rich color, though not yet showing their perfect beauty. Here liter ally gold and silver are in the air, for the very clothes on the workmen, the sweepings from the floor, and the water used for wash ing, are found to be full of them, and are worth about $25,000 a year. From the melt ing-room the bars go to the rolling-room. The mighty revolving jaws, which in the day put forth squirming and writhing tongues of gold, are now still. In the day the ingots are passed through the rollers to the number of 200 an hour to each pair of rollers, and come forth just the thickness of a coin. Behind them, in the same room, are the cutting presses, which with a continual snap, snap, bite out 225 planchets or plain coin pieces a minute. Os these machines there are nine As the planchets are cut they’ are taken in boxes to the annealing furnaces for the hard treatment they have received makes them brittle. In these furnaces the metal is heated to a red heat, when it becomes as soft and pliable as leather, and is then taken out to cool Then the planchets go to the adjusting room, where they are weighed and insp cted. If too light, they are retnelted; if too heavy’, but near the weight, they are filed down to it; but if altogether too heavy, they’ too are remelted. From the adjusting-room they goto the clearing-room, where with acids and heat they are thoroughly cleansed, then dried with sawdust and peanut-roaster ar rangements. Massive monsters are the presses, of which there are ten, and each capable of turning out over 100 coins a minute, which, if they were double eagles, would amount to $34,000. Belore the planchets are put in the , coming presses they are milled or have their edges turned up. Now conies the final ope ration by which money is literally made lhe amount of pressure required to make a per fect coin is from twenty to eighty tons —the larger the coin the larger the weight. l he planchets are put in a brass tube, and with each impression of the press are caught in two iron arms and placed on the lower ibe which is in the bed of the press, correspond ing to the upper die, and by the coming to gether of these two dies are the coins struck. As the planchet rests on the lower die, lhe upper descends and the planchet is pressed by them; in-tantly the two arms catch the struck coin and throw it into a box beneath. At this moment it is legal coin, and not be fore. Gathering the coin from the boxes, they are placed on counting-boards, which ate grooved boards, somewhat like washing | boards, which are divided so as to hold just a certain number of coins. As the coins aie run in the grooves and counted, they are poured in a drawer, from which they are taken, counted, put in bags, and are then ready to go forth to make their work of wretchedness or happiness But the cabinet of ancient and modern coins remains. In it are the widow’s mite of the Scriptures, and, curiously enough, there is a coin from an old Philadelphia mint, one 2,000 years old. which existed in Asia Here, too, are specimens of coins of all nations of the globe, and here is the end of the visit to the mint. RABIES IN A COON. From the Tyler (Texas) Courier. Some time last winter a gentleman in the northern part of Smith County, on the Sabine river, was riding a pony, and as he was ap proaching the river a raccoon ran out and bit the horse on the leg. lhe raccoon repeated or continued its attack until the gentleman put the pony into a gallop and ran off. A tew days ago the gentleman was leading the pony out of a pasture. While he was letting down the fenee the pony suddenly commenced I biting the rails furiously, had a fit, fell down, I and in a few.moments was dead. ESTATE OF W. A. KAWNOX. Special. F. G. HANCOCK, SUCCESSOR TO RAW-SON & HANCOCK, WHOLESALE MA.M FA4 Ti ll ER AX» JOBBER OF Paper, Paper Roxe.s ? BLANK BOOKS & STATIONERY. r»r*izx r rEj«.s3’ si pi’l-ies a. ssxvecji-a.lty No. 4 MARIETTA STREET. Factory and Warehouse, Rawson Building, 26 Alabama Street. A MORMON WEDDING FEAST. How a Woman’s Heart Rebelled Against the Dogma of the Church. Sacramento Union. Some months ginee, Mr. R. brought the ; beautiful Miss Finnell home to be our neigh bor—a plural Mrs. R. To my surprise I was I the recipient of an invitation to attend the ’ supper given in celebration of this event. | Mrs. It. (the first.) received inc kindly, for ■ away down deep in her life this woman and ( I have qualiti'-s in kinship. We sat down to ! supper at 6 o’clock. Mr. R. and his first wife sat at opposite ends of the table. The new Mrs. R. sat by “Sister Julia.” I had the post of honor at the right of the bridegroom. This ! new kind of Benedict wore an almost sheep- j ish air, and was ill at ease throughout. It dawned upon me at last that my presence on such an occasion was a reproach to me. I was more than ashamed of my own stupidity in yielding to what appeared so plainly as a most vulgar curiosity. In such a mood it was of course difficult to be amiable, and as the best substitute for that amiability due from a guest at a marriage feast, I tried to be witty. Suffice it to say. we succeeded in stinging i each other like a nest of angry hornets, and 1 nothing but our good breeding prevented an open quarrel. We animals fed at that supper with som thing of the snappishness att ibu-j table to feasting wolves. That agonizing supper over, we stood round the bright lire in i the cosey little sitting-room- Mr. R. had ; planned to take his bride to the theater, and so preparations in the way of gloves, cl oaks ; and bonnets b<-gan. The late Miss Finnell was soon toileted for the opera in most fash ionable attire. Mrs. R. —my old friend stood half r- dining against the piano. We i bad been silent for a moment, and, to relieve the emba: rassment taking possession of us, 1 said: “Mrs. R., ir almost makes one wish to be a bride again.” Mrs. R. laughed accom modatingly. Just then Mr. R. placed his arm gently around the slender waist of his new bride, folding her handsome opera-clock close to her form and drew her toward him. She responded to this caress by a tender upward g'ance of her beautiful eyes. Then I looked • toward my friend, to find her face pallid as death, while a look of agonizing endurance, mingled with devilish malignity, almost froze my blood. I had said aloud in actual sur prise before turning toward her, “As I live he .actually loves this girl.” Mrs R.’s look met mine squarely. That face told me all. No lies now, with ready lips, at the bidding of fealty to religion. That antagonized, refined, sensitive face proclaimed the system damned. | A wo nan’s natural love rose grandly in the j awful denunciation of those fierce eyes. A . great throb of pity tilled my own woman’s ‘ heart 1 saw all the torture and noble rage of self-restraint. I stepped toward her, as if to hold her in pity to my heart My Mormon lady friend took me by the arm with almost rude force, and whispered warningh', “Mrs. Castine, for God’s sake remember where you are.” I did remember, and, discomfited, re turned to my place near the mantle. Amid this liitle flurry the bridal party took their leave. ' We women were a silent party at first Mrs. i R. still stood leaning on the piano with her i look bent on me almost resentfully. “You don’t think yourself called upon to pity me, Mrs. Castine?” she said, with au almost quarrelsome tone. “1 do pity you, Mrs. R , and I have a right to.” “You think me jealous of mv new sister, then ?” “ Mrs. R., we are both proud women. We only need to look into our hearts to learn what a real woman must feel under the ordeal through which you are passing.” “ I am not jealous. Mrs Castine. Not only not jeal us, but happy in this new love of my husband. Our faith teaches us to love our sisters in marriage as our own flesh. This marriage is not an est’angement of my hus band’s love as it would be in an unsanctified Gentile, but a remarriage to myself. In this marriage I live over again my own espousal my own bridal, and renew again the first sweets of married love.” We were all decidedly uncomfortable, and our two lady companions tr ok their leave to getlier. But my impulse of pity had not been lost, and, without a word having been spoken between us after our friends retired, she sank into a chair, and, covering her face with her hands, cried out in bitterness: “Oh! Mrs. Castine, I am most wretched! Between me and any celestial light, or any glory or peace or consolation in this life or in the world to come, there stands that woman. Between me and all the light of my rel’glon stands that woman This girl’s face is hate ful to me —that my husband shou d love one for her mere beauty a'one! My imagination cannot be held buck from ali the soul tortur ing, crucifying things which follow in the train of this marri ige. The box at the thea tre holds to-night a man and wife —not more. There are the gentle pressure of hands, the glances of lovi-.g eyes, the blending of lives ; into one destiny in this life, the first exquis ' ite rapture of honeymoon, which cheats itself ! with the delusion that a capital stock of love i has been laid in sufficient to draw upon for i life. Beyond these rise, in spite of all pre- . tense to spirituality, the bridal bud, the cra dle, the child, in whose veins there can be the c mimingiing life-blood of but one father and one mother. All these things one man tan have with only one woman in marriage. No, M rs. Castine: marriage to one woman] unmarr es a man to all other women, or there is no marriage.” There was no answer: I offered none, but. kissing her cold forehead, left her alone with her desolate sorrow. BEAD TAUtAVO SEK.VIoy. PAINTING DESTRUCTION, And decide if it is not worth Two Cents a Week! To have such a Sermon brought to your fire side. Then send Sixty Gifts for six months of the Gazeite. Read “ The Viper on the Hearth,” and decide if it is not worth Two Cents a Week ! IO get the continuation of this Story, ami a well tilled paper besides. Send Sixty ( enls for the Gazette for six months. With COTTON AT 12 CENTS, Can’t you spare Two Cents a Week! for a large, well-tilled Raper, with which to Make Your Family Happy ? Semi Nixly Cents, ami the Gazette will he ’ sent you lor Six Months. Address J. u. DEBBY A- C®. 1880 D. B. PLUMB & CO., Family Drug Store, 26 Whitehall Street, Atlanta, Ca. Have on hand and are daily receiving FRESH AND PURE Drugs and Medicines, Chemicals, Paint--, Oils, Dye Stuffs, Choice Perfumery, Toilet R-quisites, Surgical Instruments, and all necessary article* for a Physicians’ outfit. Plumb's Cologne Waters, for so many years a favorite, a specialty Prescriptions carefully prepared with the purest articles known. j Open on Sundays for I he sale of medicines only REMEMBER TIIE NUMBER •-3<5 AVI, it oil it 11 (St reet. 20 1 A MONTH ! THAT LIMITS THE SALES FOR SNOOK’S FURNITURE HOUSE. A Brilliant Month’s Work—That is ah Index of the Future—Can any Southern Fur niture House Match it ? The Gazette has had frequent cause to ad vertise the energy, and nerve and enterprise of Mr. P. H. Snook, the proprietor of The Cheapest Furniture House in Georgia, and to chronicle the success that has attended his efforts. The universal popularity of Mr. Snook has led everybody to wish him prosperity from the start. The enterprise with which he has run his business has led the newspapers to sound his praises; and the fact that he has reduced ’ the prices of furniture so heavily has made him a benefactor to all who have had to buy : furniture! But Snook depends on none of these. He J is grateful to his friends for their good wishes, to the newspapers for their praise, and to the : public for its appreciation of his success in putting down prices; but He asks the patronage of the public for none of these reasons. His claims upon the i buying publie are these: Ist He sells furniture cheaper than itcan be bought anywhere in the State, and he de fies the closest scrutiny of this preposition. 2d. He offers the newest, freshest and most attractive stock of goods to be found in Geor ] gia, and he begs customers to compare his i stock with others. By these two simple rules —which, in their simplicity, embrace everything—he has built up a trade that has no equal in the Southern States. In the month or December he sold $19,G00 I worth of Furniture, and his books will I show it I i It is well-known that large sales allow small percentage of profit. A man who sells $20,- 000 can sell for less than one who sells $3,000’ Snook’s sale in December alone, were more than any other dealer in Atlanta from July to January. In 1879 he sold over twice as much as all Atlanta dealers put together, ( and his books are ready to show it.) while he i had no more expense than any one of them. ■ He was therefore enabled to m H much cheap i er than any of them. I He figures so closely that in sales of $140,- I 900 he made less than ten per cent. Small dealers charge from 25 to 33 per cent. The difference will make you rich. Then buy from Snook' But what does this record mean ? It means that the people have found that Snook’s is the cheapest furniture house in the State. It ] means that they have made prices elsewhere I and found that they could do better at Snook’s : People do not trade on friendship. They ] are not deluded by newspaper articles. And when with half a dozen stores competing for the trade it sets in, with a mighty current to one store, it means that that store is the best and cheapest- Water don’t run up-hill. Trade don’t seek the highest priced stores. In opening the new year, Mr. Snook re spectfully appeals to the public in making l their purchases of furniture to bear only one thing in mind: "Never think of buying anything, not eren a chair, until you hare tried Snook's prices." He will answer for the rest, if you will only do this much. M ishing all his customers a “Happy New Year," he pledges himself to make his store an honor to Georgia as well as a pleasure to shoppers, and to make it deserve, more than ever, the appellation: The Cheapest Furniture House in Georgia." DAVID H. DOUGHERTY I have just finished ta' i g an inventory of stock on hand, but why tax your time bv placing it before you and asking you to read it, when 1 can assure you my stock is immense and comprises even thing needful that is kept by any first-class Dry Goods House South ? It is my desire to reduce my entire stock be fore getting in my SPRING PURCHASES, and to do this I have marked my goods at figures that are bound to move them. I lon’t ask you to buy my gaods before looking it others, but look at mine before buying of ithers, and I am sure that I will convince ou that it is to your interest to buy of me. Somebody is going to get Bargains from iow until the First of March next. Don’ ou forget it. You won’t, will you? Terms ’ASH.