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(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.