Newspaper Page Text
(Concluded from 1st pagr.)
her translate foreign tongues, copy old inscrip
tions from ancient monuments, and paint pic
tures from originals which I had seen hanging
in the Louvre, or the Vatican, whither I sent
her passive mind. Once I sent her spirit to lis
ten to the chant of the nuns in the convent at
Madeira, and folding her hands upon her breast,
she repeated the solemn Te Deum, in her own
voice, of more than mortal sweetness.
She was my willing slave, body and soul, as I
had sworn she should be. In searching for the
secret of its tragrance, I had torn away, one by
one, the petals of the beautiful rose, even its
"most curled and hidden leaf, and laid bare
the golden heart, the seat of the subtle perfume,
that only evaporated when its Bhrine was thus
profaned. .......
All the sacred mysteries of my victim s lire
were searched for with eagerness and revealed
to my sight; even the holy secret that had been
closely tolded in her soul's innermost chamber,
and embalmed in pure and pious memories.
She had loved in early girlhood, and been forced
to sacrifice that love to duty; but its remem
brance lingered still, hanging, a veiled picture,
in the shrine whose privacy I had invaded.
Her soul knew no solitude—no secresy. iou
can faintly conjecture how humiliating this
was to a nature so exquisitely delicate andsen-
Bitive; with Buch a high sense of its own indi
viduality and independence. She uttered no
complaint; she urged no objection to my ex
perimenting upon her, but whenever I ap
proached her, there came into her eyes that
look ot helpless fear and entreaty that we see in
animals who are alraid ol us and crouch at our
coming. Gradually, she became a wreck of her
former sell. The look ot conscious intellectual
strength that had enthroned itself upon her
brow was gone; the serenity of smile and voice
and manner had given place to a nervous ex
citability. Physicians may tell you what they
please about the tranquilizing influence of
mesmerism and its value as a quietus, but it is
untrue. It may soothe ter a time, and lull into
unnatural quiet, but it is like pressure upon a
spring, ana the reaction will he sure to follow.
And now there was apparent in my wile the
phenomenon which I have observed to be one
invariable result of a continued course of mes
meric experiments—that of somnambulism. I
had remarked it in the case ot my little German
Wiiheimine, and in that of a young girl of par
tially deranged intellect, whose malady my fel
low-student, Wolfgang, had attempted to cure
by mesmerism, but which Boon ended in hope
less Insanity. Often, when awaking at mid
night, I found Blanche sitting beside the table
—her pale face rendered more pallid by her
white night-dress—sketching or writing with
closed eyes and outer senses, fast locked in
gletp; or I would miss her from the room, and
going down to the sea shore, find her standing
there, motionless as a statue, with tolded arms
and loosened hair, the Bobbing surf breaking
at her naked feet, and the night wind fluttering
her snowy garments. At such times I would
lead her quietly back, and if she chanced to
waken from her sleep, she would express no
surprise, but would bury her head in the pi How
ana moan softly to herself, like a heart-broken
child. And 1 saw all this; I loved her with all
the affection that could exist in a nature whose
faculties were all absorbed in a single purpose,
and yet I did not relinquish my design. You
think me a demon, Bayie; you think my crime
past all forgiveness.
•You were mad, 6ir; you were a monomaniac—
you must have been.’
‘I know it, boy, and I will suffer you to tell
me sc this once, but uever again; mind, never
again.’
it was a 'monomania that possessed me, and
I had no power ito struggle aghinst it. Sio ab
sorbed was I that I scarcely noticed the altera
tion in my wife, and I resolutely shut my mind
against the belief that it was my constant and
reckless experiments that had effected the
change. But the end came. She died—died in a
mesmerio sleep, Bayie. The poor, weary soul
1 had hunted, tortured, imprisoned within the
steel-iike bars of my will, had at length escaped
me. It was free at last.
I would not believe mat it was death, despite
the increasing coldness ol the hands that lay
so heavily in mine. 1 bent Over to listen tor
the heating of the hushed heart; I laid a curl
ol her own flossy hair upon her lips and saw
that it stirred not with the breath of the soul
tnat Lad escaptd me. I started back in horror,
and at that moment the piercing shtiek of
a whippoorwill—the first I had heard on the
island—smote upon my heart like the agonized
ci\ of a wronged and upbraiding spirit. Too
late I awoke lrom my long trance, and knew that
my wile was dead, and that 1 had been hermur-
dtrtr. God in Heaven! boy, may you Dever
know the concentrated agODy of remorse and
despair that seared my soul in that hour! I
cmstd, I raved, 1 prayed with reckless blas
phemy.
1 v.ould have given the dominion of the world
to call back breath tc those pale lips, if only j
lor one moment, that they might murmur a
sinple word ot forgiveness. But it was too late !
too lute r * * * *
At lenglh a faint hope dawned upon my des
pair. I had read of the power ol mesmerism to
it store life to those aj patently dead, and this
remembrance inspired me with a sudden re-
sotve. All that night, with the stormy winds
and waves mocking my anguish, I worked with
the energy of desperotion, striving, by every
means in my power, to lure the soul back to
the tenement it had left. Near the last watch of
the night, my heart stood still, for a change came
over the luce of the dead. There was no move
ment, no twitching of its muscles, but a shadow
seemed to pass over the placid features, darken
ing, H9 I looked, into an expression of such un
earthly terror and agony, t hat 1 involuntarily
hid my lace in my trtmbling hands. When I
looked up, the features had resumed their mar
ble tianquility, ana no after effort could disturb
the rigiuness of death.
‘I buried her on the sandy shore of that deso
late island, and eversince I have been a haunted
man— haunted by artmembraucethat will never
leave me; that rankles in my breast like a poi
soned dagger; that leaves me no peace, no rest,
that shrieks in my dreams; that walks with me
like a shadow in my daily avocations of business
or pleasure, and tints the gold ot my sunshine
with the sickly hue of blood. Yet, 1 complain
not, tor the retribution is just. God takes into
His own hands those crimes of which human
justice is not cognizant, and the guilty must
submit- I)o you know wLy I have humiliated
myself to tell you this, Bayie?’
T partly guess it, sir.’
•Aye, I know you do by your trembling hand.
It is ot cause that fatal mama has not left me yet.
Struggle as I may, it comes over me at times,
and 1 find my self irresistibly longing to try my
old pow tr over men. You have been strongly
diawn to me, Bayie, and 1—yes, I will ackuowl-
edge it—1 have been stroDgly tempted to test
my power over you; 1 Lave lorctd myself to
make this revelation to you, that you may aid
me in subduing this wretched desire; that, it
ntcessary, you may put yourself beyond my
influtnce. Leave me, if you will, to my deso
late loneliness of heart, but do not say tlr.t you
pity me. 1 have borne my sufferings alon and
siuntly thus long, and I ask pity otnonabut
The Sultan oi Turkey.
HEALTH DEPARTMENT.
By John Stainhack Wilson, M. D-,
Atlanta, Geokgia.
John Morrissey died a poor man, and left
behind him than he had often won in a
gle day.
IVImt the Cry ol* Children Indi
cates.—Crying is the natural luuguage ot in
fants, and the medium through which they ex
press most of their sensations and wants. But
the cries are various in character and different
in signification; and mothers should understand
these differences.
The Cry of Ilunger.—This is the first
and most common cry, and many mothers seem
to recognize no other. Let a child become rest
less and noi»y from any cause, even from the
repletion of over-feeding, and the first thing is
to stop its mouth with the breast, or worse still,
to force some kind of food down its throat. A
little attention to the different kinds of cries
would do much to preserve the health of the
child, and to promote the comfort of the moth
er. The cry of hunger is distinctive and pecu
liar in this : The child asks for food by signs and
motions, before it commences crying. On awak
ing it will put out its tongue^ m'ne its hea;^
about as if in search of the breast, and, if at
this moment the mother oomes in sight, thor
oughly arousing itself, it will mauifest its joy
at seeing her, and eagerly take its meal; but, if
on the other hand, she is not present, and the
signs are not heeded, the cry will begin, and
continue much in the same tone until the sup
ply is obtained. These signs are not present
when the cry is occasioned by tome other cause.
The child, it is true, will take the breast when
offered, but it does not ask for it, and it will be
come quiet as soon as put there ; but this com
posure will be of short duration, for as soon as
it is taken from it, its lamentations will be re
sumed with redoubled violence. How strange
that a distinction so true to nature, so open to
daily observation, should be over-looked by
mothers who have much greater opportunities
for making such observations, than any physi
cian.
The Cry of Discomfort.—This may
arise irom almost any cause, however slight ;
and it certainly occurs olten enough for moth
ers to become well acquainted with it. If the
“little stranger’ wishes to change his position,
if any part of the dress presses him, if a pin
sticks, or anything else annoys, he must ex
press his discomfort in every case by crying,
having no other means of giving expression to
it. But, this cry is not preceded by the signs
of hunger, and there is an absence of the signs
yet to be mentioned, which indicate disease.
The Cry Of Passion.—Some children
are naturally cross and perverse, and showing
the ‘old Adam’ very early; they often give vent
to their aDger or iretfulness by cries, which are
emotional and not physical in their origin. This
kind of cry is distinguished by holding the
breath, and other indications of anger, difficult
to describe, but gonerally easily detected by
observing mothers. The flow of tears is, per
haps, the most distinguishing feature of the cry
of emotion, the secretion of tears being contin
ued almost exclusively to the mental or moral
feelings or faculties. It is a remarkable fact
that in all the crying of infants, tears seldom
flow freely, unless the feelings are strongly
moved. Even violent bodily suffering is not
often attended with tears; and Dr. Bull goes so
far as to say, that bodily suffering ‘has no tears.’
In verification of this, it may be remarked
that infants seldom shed tears before the third
or fourth month—a time when the moral emo
tions are coming into active play.
The Cry of Pain.—May be distinguish
ed tueu, by the absence of tears, the peculiarity
of its tone, and by the accompanying gestures
or motions, which will often enable mothers
not only to determine the existence of disease,
but also its seat.
Says Dr. Bull: ‘If a child, usually placid and
che-rful gets fretful, fractious, and crying with
its fingers going coDtiually to its mouth, this
denotes pain caused by a coming tooth prising
against a tender aud inflamed gum. If a child,
not accustomed to cry much, on some occasion
is perpetually crying, this denotes some con
tinued recurring, painful sensation somewhere,
and demands medical attention to detect and
remove the cause. If a child cry violently, this
denotes the presence of some pain, unless it he
the effect of passion. In the latter case tears
will be present. If it be from pain, and you
find at the same time the child incessantly draw
ing up its legs towards its body it is suffering
from disorder and pain in the bowels. This
may either be trifling in degree, caused b.
spasm, the result of slight irritation, possibly
the effect of over-feeding (the most frequent
cry of infancy) to be relieved perhaps, by the
gentle friction of a warm hand before the fire,
(and not by putting to the breast,) or it may
L ave a much more serious origin, and is not
thus to be removed, but requiring professional
treatment. If the fit of crying be simply the
result of temper, (and a discerning mother will
readily percieve the difference) the child will
j somtimes hold its breath till the recovery of it
seems doubtful and it will get black in the face.’
To remedy this holding of the breath, he recom
mends that the child’s hand be suddenly plung
ed into cold water. This will be very apt to
‘bring him to.’
The Moaning Cry, Etc.— Children,
when very sick and especially when greatly
prostrated, have a moaning, plaintive, whining
cry, which cannot be mistaken, and which need
not be described, as its presence leaves the ex
istence of serious disease beyond all question.
Of all the signs of disease in infancy, the cry is
the earliest, the most invariably present,the most
significant, and the most easily understood
with proper attention. Mothers cannot study
this symptom too closely, for by distinguishing
the cry of disease early, they will take measures
to arrest in the beginning, thus greatly abriding
it or preventing a serious attack. And, failing
in this, should the mother sufler the greatest of
all bereavements—the loss of her little one—
she will be spared the pain of self reproach.
She will have the consolation of knowing that
she has done all that a fen.!, dutiful mother could
do.
Beautiftili^ouiiiAfii Scenery---
Dahlouega, Da.—Graphic
Description.
BY MISS F. G. L.
Editors Sunny South:—Your excellent paper
seems to open up a way of advertising, as it
were, every portion of our S’ate, and yet North
Georgia has never had a showing, if you will al
low the expression. We, ot the mountains, are
proud of the beautiful scenery, pure water and
clear bracing atmosphere, and certainly pity
those who choose to go elsewhere to seek health
and pleasure. One with a love of the beautiful
can here gratify every craving of his taste, hut
i{ he loves society and its empty gayeties, he
should not venture into this world of clouds.
It is only the travel-weary, dust-stained mem
bers of society who find a congenial atmosphere
here. Those wiso elevate their fastidious noses
at our homely surroundings, should go else
where. We will have none of them.
Hid away among the mountains, surrounded
oh every side, rating balmily in their embrace
lies our little town. Not large, nothing strik
ing in its appearance, a kind ot a Sleepy Hollow
place, regularly laid out, its rocky streets, run
ning parallel with each other over the hills,
giving it a rude rustic look, which only adds to
us attractiveness. To the south, on one of the
highest points about the town, stands the old
U. S. Mint, now converted into the most flour
ishing school in the Slat —the North Georgia
Agricultural College. The building is large
aud handsome, from its old fashione I style of
architecture, and commands a most magnificent
view—the best that can be obtained about the
town throughout the entire year. To the south
runs a high ridge which shuts out the view in
that direction, save from the summit ot this ridge.
To the Northeast and West the Blue liidge forms
an unbroken line, seeming to say by their
height aud great strength “thus far canst thou
go and no farther.” They truly seem impassi
ble, and yet cur country produce comes to us
mainly from beybnd them. It is a singular fact
that living all their lives amid such beautiful
scenery has deadened the perceptions ot the
people here, aa.t they stare in astonishment at
any enthusiasm. Living where every day some
new beauty is developed, where all should en
noble aud refill^ the heart, they never see or
feel any of it at all. This is a digression.
We will carry ,!ur readers to the foot ot the ridg* 1
of which we have spoken, it is a short w alk, quar
ter mile perhaps, the climbing easy. We want
you to see Dahlouega as it is now. She is put
ting on her summer robes of bright green. If
we wait until later, we will tail to see how her
houses play at nide and seek among the trees.
It is too warm to hasten, you say. Well, so it
is, but have you no appreciation ? Do not
turn, but wait until we bid yon, yon will eDjoy
it all the more. Weary already ? Bor shame !
you have never breathed the exhilerating air.
Here we are now, turn and feast your eyes.
How beautiful Dahlouega is at our feet! The
mountains run lurtber away, hi.l behind hill
hill beyond bill, stretching on and on, rising
gradually until they seem to leap at once to
hundreds of feet in height, the clouds resting
above them ;and yet so clear is the atmosphere
that we can almost see the trees upon them,
though they are eleven miles away. Now aud
then we see smoke curling among them. The
eye comes back. To our left is the college,
standing like an old castle above its feudal
town. Down at our right are the works of the
Fairmount Mining Company and the cottages
of some of the students who are testing the
good and evil of bachelorhood. Immediately
before us the town proper. Its white houses
are pretty among the trees. That red building
is the court house. Yonder to the right is the
Signal office aud Masonic hall. On that hill to
the east stands the little church belonging to
the colored people. Down among those large
maple trees is the Methodist church. What
mountain is that to the right ? That is Yonah.
The symmetrically shaped peak in front of ns is
Black or Graney mountain. Yon see where the
ridge seems to break abruptly, ending in a
graceful curve? That is Cedar mountain, at
whose base lie the celebrated Porter’s springs.
Those two peaks whose summits alone yon can
see, are Blood and Slaughter mountains. The
scene is beautiful. Do yon not recall as yon
stand here Goldsmith's thoughts—
“ Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening’s
close,
Up yonder hill the village murmar rose ;
There as I passed with careless step and slow,
The mingling notes came softened from below;
The swain responsive as the milk maid sung:
The sober herd that lowed to ffieet their young;
The playful children jHst let loose from school
The watch dogs voice that hayed the whispering
mind
And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant
wind.”
But the signs of population have not failed,
as we will see when we descend. At another
tima we will view the scene again.
We have already made this letter too long.
If at eome future lime, Mfssrs. Editors, you
will give us a hearing, we will endeavor to give
some lurtber items concerning our little out of
the way town.
Hahlonega, Ga., April 18.
‘If* You Love the Young Lady
Marry Her.’
In the April number of that sprightly paper,
the Cricket on the llearth, we find in the depart
ment given to answers to correspondence this
advice:
‘You are old enough to marry, provided your
resource- are such as to allow you to incur such
a responsibility. If you love the young lady,
marry her, and don’t trouble your head about
Phrenological nonsense.’
If the writer of that advice be well informed
on the subject, and of course be ought to be to
give such sweeping advice, then many people
who think they understand the subject are la
boring under error. Let us examine the ques
tion under consideration.
Is love all that is necessary to constitute an
appropriate and happy union between parties?
Is it possible for a man to love sincerely and
continuously a woman whose mental and phy
sical constitution is utterly unfit for compan
ionship? It is said that love is blind, and the
way in which love matches are rometimes ad
justed, it would really appear that nothing is
more blind than love. When we remember
that a human being has reason, moral senti
ment, and the elements of prudence and wis
dom, as well as the power to love, and that
love may be strong while the other elements are
weak, and vice varsa, it is a matter of serious
inquiry whether the advice of The Cricket is
souud. If its editor will study temperament,
he will learn that a marriage between two per
sons, each being healthy, may be very disas
trous in respect to the health of the children
born to them. No prudent man would willing
ly make a hospital of his house, or weary the
life of his wife and himself in a fruitless en
deavor to rear scrofulous children, if such a
deplorable condition could be easily avoided.
If the editor will spend half an hour some fine
day with one who understands Phrenology and
Phisiology, at a front window on Broadway, he
may have pointed out to him scores of h althy-
looking men and women of a given tempe
rament, who, if united in marriage, would nev
er raise a healthy child, though thpy migh have,
a dozen. He could have persons pointed out
to him of a peculiar temperament • who never
could live happily together, being too much
alike. They might love each other as unmar
ried persons, but the honey will turn to vine
gar by the sure work of time and intimate ac
quaintance. Our contemporary, however, says:
•if yon love the girl, marry her.’ We appeal to
thousands of intelligent men and women who
may remember a pair of sparkling black eyes,
or blue eyes, which at twenty-one or earlier,
they thought were essential to their happiness.
They loved ardeutly, but soim thing happened
which prevented marriage, but ten years after
wards, when time had ripened and matured the
persons in question, it was seen that the mar
riage once regarded so important and essen
tial to happiness, would have resulted in pre
cisely the reverse.
Our advice, generally, to young' men is; it
you do not love a girl, do not marry her, no
matter what graces, or genius, or wealth, or
culture she may have; but we cannot, by any
means, s iy to all, if you do love a girl, marry
her, unless she have the qualities which, com
bined with yours, will give a reasonable pros
pect of prosperity and happiness. Sensible,
moral people have o*her considers'ions besides
the blind impulse of L-vo, when the suij-ctof
manmge is presented to the r consideration.
It y ouug people would read twenty-five cents
worth of Physiology instead of twenty-five dol
lars wortli of novels, they would know far more
about the practical significance of marriage
than they generally do.
Toe sober realities of life soon teach far too
many young couples that they have wrongly
related themselves, and that neither is proper
ly adapted >o the other. Dees the reader doubt
mis statement? Then let him or her contem
plate domestic life as it exists around us, and
consider the vast array ol suits for divorce which
crowd the calendars of our courts.
Love is the prime essential of marriage, and
should always exist between the contracting
parties, but there are other considerations which
are essential, aud without which marriage can
not be happy. When intelligent people know
scientifically, whom they ought not to marry,
they are not likely to permit their love to con
centrate in an improper direction.— Phrenologi
cal Journal
Personal.
The Shah of Persia is accused ot wearing false
diamonds. This is sub rosa.
The Turks thought Grant was a fine man be
fore he said nothing but looked wise.
The New Orleans ^imes says that Bayard Tay
lor can lunch in half a dozen different lan-
gnages.
The first Honorary Commissioner to present
himself in Paris came all the way from Arizona
and his name is Tonner.
Interesting ; “ Mrs. Congressman Blackburn
bas the smallest and prettiest feet in Washing
ton for her size.”
“ How I wish,” Bays Modjeska, “ that I did
know English better and yet they say it is
that peculiar accent that imparts a charm to her
voice.
Mrs. Sonthworth is described as the modest
and unassuming writer of sixty-eight novels.
She has a wide, full brow and clear blue eyes,
and talks very well.
“I had no idea,” said President Hayes, “ of
the extent of the commerce of Philadelphia.”
And Philadelphia rose up and wept for joy on
His Excellency’s bosom.
Miss Fannie Hayes, the President's daughter,
is ten years old, and has light brown hair, dark
brown eyes, and asingnlarly.beantifnl complex
ion. She plays the piano very prettily, and is
said to be modest and amiable.
Beecher illustrated his lecture in Hartford,
Conn., the other night by some capital mimicry
and acting; and when he recited the oath whieh
is administered to witnesses, he first gave the
solemn effect of such an oath, with gesture and'
tones filled with reverent solemnity as he re
cited the form—and then, when to show how
the oath is too often administered, he rattled it
off—“ Youshollmlysweartellwhoietrnthan’noth-
Ingbntthetruths’helpy’God”—the whole audi
ence roared again.
Scene foni Court Comedies.
A Lily of the Yalley.
Judge: Where did yon find this darkey,
Officer ?
Officer: Canght him hanging round a clothing
store, your Honor. There’s been lots of cloth
ing missed lately; and this fellow looks kind o’
suspicious. Too plump for these hard times.
Judge: What is your name, prisoner?
Prisoner: Napoleon Bonapart Gibbs.
Judge: What is your occupation ?
Gibbs: I se traveling agent for de new patent
white wash brush, sah.
Judge: Take off your coat, Gibbs:
Gibbs: I hope you ’sense me sah. I’se been
troubled lately wid the fluenoy in de head, do
'zootio, sah. I'bb very bad.
Judge: Take off your coat, Gibbs, (Gibbs
takes off his coat slowly.)
Judge: Ah ! Another coat under that; noth
ing like being well wrapped np, as they say in
Alaska when they go a skating. Take off your
coat, Gibbs.
Gibbs: I isn’t well, I isn’t, sah. De doctor
say, Napoleon, you wear plenty olothes, De
’fluency, sah. (Takes off his coat.)
Judge: Ah ! What have we here ? A swallow
tail ! Take off your coat, Gibbs.
Gibbs; Dis yere won’t do, Judge,
stiffness in de borax, Ise very bad
his coat.)
Judge: Ah ! A double-breasted froob ! Take
off your coat, Gibbs.
Gibbs: Dars gwine to be a funeral here, dar is,
sah; I feels the stiffaess rising in de borax,
(Takes off' his coat.)
Judge: What’s this? A shooting-jacket, by
the soul of Nimrod! Take off your coat,
Gibbs.
Gibbs. Ise gwine for a kerpus—I’se getting
cold. Dis yere is murder in de first degree,
(Takes off his coat.)
Judge: A linen duster. I think I’ve got you
down to hard pan, Gibbs. *1 shall commit you
without bail. Take him down gently, officer,
tor he is a lily—a lily of the valley. He toils
not, neither does he spiD; yet Solomon, in all
his glory, was not clothed like him.
Sunshine and Shadow.
Ise got a
(Takes off
The Grocery Bazaar of North Texas
Of all the commercial marvels coming under
our observation in the ‘City oi 11- ights,’ the
mammoth wholesale grocery establisnment of
Joseph H. Browu is perlu-ps the greatest. Think
of it, ye men of the East! In a far-off city of
the Western prairies, scarcely out of Us swad
dling clotLes, where, until the last decade, the
huff do and moose have roamed unscared since
tbe'cradliug of time, there are by this one house
alone annually sold goods to the value of one
million of dollars.
Mr. Brown’s success as a merchant is a strik
ing illustration of what individual pluck and
enterprise may accomplish in reversing the laws
of trmje. Coining to Fort Worth five yeats ago,
at a time when a railroad to that poiut was a
thing of the future, with little capital beyond
his faith in the city's future and his own busi
ness prescience, he resolutely set himself to
work to grasp all the possibilities of the situa
tion- His hopes are in process of speedy ful
fillment, He has just erected a magnificent
building, the spacious dimensions of which
fairly rival those of any first-class wholesale es
tablishment in the North or E ;st, having a
width ot 66 teet and a depth ot 150 feet, with
all the appointments of commodious offices,
cellar, gas and water facilities. We turned onr
hacks on Fort Worth—the latest birth of the
Western prairies—feeling that we had learned a
new solution of the problem of commercial
success.
A Dominion clergyman off-rs reduced mar
riage rates to clubs of ten. No chromos.
About this time do not consult a physician
as to your wife 3 health, and don’t worry your
self about her going into the angel business.
It isn’t wings she’s after, but a sptiag ttjle hat
‘Mr’ Tapenthread isn’t in, I see,’ said an old
shopper to the clerk in attendance. ‘No’m he's
at home to-day.' ‘I suppose he has nothing
new?’ ‘Yes’m, he has;got pneumonia.’
An orthodox doubt as cited by Puuch: ‘Mam
ma dear, Francoise, the new nurse, always says
her prayers in French. Do you think she
will be understood ?’
An Italian writer says that Constantinople
is but a skeleton of a great city, of which the
smaller part is walls and the rest an enormous
conglomeration of barracks.
The facility with which people are killed in
Paris is quite remarkable. It is estimated that
between the Hue Montmartre and the Made
leine eight persons are run over every day.
In one of the mean, narrow streets of Paris
excavations havo been made for widening, and
there have been found skeletons and other
signs which show that here ran the old Roman
military road.
He was saying: ‘As the pearly column of
smoke in a winter’s atmosphere rises unbroken
heavenward, so my heart rises to thee. As the
sunflower follows the cruel sun which gives it
life, so my heart follows thine. As the blue
brook runs its unhindered course to the sea,
so my soul runs in slavery, goes to thee.’ She
said: ’Henry, now that we are engaged, will
your nail blade cut corns ?’
In the spring the maiden’s fancy
Turns to thoughts of makiDg hay—•
What a matrimonial view, she
Flirteth much and plays croquet.
But the youug man does not tumble,
And with mercenary view,
He considers that it’s cheaper
To pay board for one than two.
NEW ADVERTISEMENTS.
Spanish Cliufas,
Clean and Dry by mail, post-paid, for 40 cents a quart.
By express, at $1 per peck. Order at once.
W. P. SEXES & CO.,
152-tf Drawer 19, Atlanta, Ga.
The celebrated Merck Trus< is the best most comfort
able and most easily adjusted. The pressure can be
regulatid by the wearer. Send for testimonials from
physicians and patients. All interested are invited to
call and see this Truss, or order one by mail or express
Address W. G. BROWNE,
152-tf 33# Whitehall st., Atlanta. Ga.
B V The habit of usingMot-
I At YV ODllsj 8 bbine/inmOpiuin, l.aud-
Painless
AMERICAN
IUM
Cure or
ANTIDOTE.
anum or Klixir of Opium
cured painlessly by thie
Improved remedy1
Manufactured at Atlanta,
Ga., at reduced prices.
Tasted in hundreds of
cases. Guaranteed. Par
ticulars Fkkk. Address B.
M. Woolley, Atlanta, Ga.
Office No. 36, |over Linen Store, entrance 331
Whitehall street.