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THE SUNNY SOUTH.
INCIDENTS OF THE CIVIL WAR.
Our Men as Soldiers Then and Now.
A Unique Cooking and Utensil
Wagon.
When Bragg was sitting idly before
Chattanooga, frittering away the fruits
of his victory at Chickamauga. and giv
ing Grant ample time to bring an army
corps from Virginia to recuperate his
army for a forward movement, Hood's old
division of Longstreet’s corps was over
in Lookout valley watching the proceed
ings. and almost starving to death. A
part of the Fifteenth Alabama, under
the command of a captain, was picketing
a long stretch of the Tennessee river, and
doing no earthly good that any one couia
see except teaching tahe world how the
< 'onfedorate soldiers could suffer (even
when there was no use for it), and do
tneir duty, “siand by their guns, as the
old saying is. For a whole, week during
this time they had nothing to eat except
parched corn, and this was very scarce.
Right near the camp of this command,
in one of the coves of the Raccoon moun
tains. lived an old woman whose son was
in the Confederate army. She had noth
ing to depend on for subsistence except
a fcw r thickens, and the most beautiful
patch of Irish potatoes which the eyes of
a hungry soldier ever beheld, or the inner
man ever yearned after: for they were
not only good to look upon, but were, too,
in the very glory of their material prime.
An opportunity is given me right here
which, for the good of the lads of today
1 dare not neglect, to show the wonderful
difference between the soldiers of our
loved Confederacv~the men of the dear
‘ old South '—and the^ American soldiers
of this present time. Bill Arp tells us
that “only a few days ago a New Jersey
regiment was mustered out at Greenville.
S. C\. and immediately began their devil
ment. and their journey home was a,
reign of terror;” and that a Porto Rico
paper calls the United States troops a
“mass of base and shameless people:”
and says that "‘if the destiny of that fair
• island is to be at the mercy of these men
who rob. steal and insult their women,
and whose superior officers pay no atten
tion to the complaints against them, it
would op better far to sink it to the bot
tom of the sea.”
The treatment which a woman. Old,
helpless and unprotected, would receive
from such a company of armed men.
would leave, we fear, an indelible blot of
shame upon the pages of our country's
history. The treatment she did receive
was this:
The captain, looking with pi.y upon the
gaunt faces and longing eyes of his hun
gry men. explained to them the situation.
He drew a touching picture of the help
less and needy condition of the woman:
told them of the son who was fighting far
away in another part of the land, but for
the very same cause for which they were
fighting: and he appealed to their man-
heed to do nothing that would cast a
shadow on the fair record of the southern
soldier. Then, having won their sympa
thy by this appeal .and knowing they
would not fail him unless they were
tempted beyond their strength—not the
strength of the brave spirit, but of the
flesh made weak by terrible hunger—he
wisely and kindly kept them from temp
tation by placing a guard over those
chickens and potatoes by day and by
night, and I am glad and proud to re
cord that not one of them was touched.
Just before they moved from there the
captain purchased from the old lady a
hen. for which he paid (antiquities being
ing in that day as now. dear things),
three dollars, with permission to boil it In
one of her pots, to which she. out of
gratitude, added a few potatoes. This
hen was boiled thoroughly done In clear
water, without a particle of grease, and
it made a dish which even a king would
have relished—that Is to say, a real,
downright hungry king!
About this time it set into raining, and
on one of the gloomiest, rainiest after-
noohs anyone ever saw. the men received
orders to pack up and march over Look
out mountain, around Chattanooga to the
railroad depot on the opposite side, pre
paratory to a movement by Longstreet
on the enemy in and about Knoxville.
This march consumed the time from 3
o’clock in the afternoon till 12 or 1 o’clock
that night—and such a march! Ten hours
on the stretch over rough, uncertain
ground, through a drenching, penetrating
rain, loaded down with paraphernalia!
That is the slickest, meanest mud around
Chattanooga that was ever invented, so
these boys in gray have said, and they
could see no use for it except to deceive a
fellow when he thought he was stepping j
firmly and securely. But they got on
very well until darkness set in. and then
tame the tug of war. and many a poor
fellow stretched out upon, and literally
covered with that mud. can testify that
along that invisible and cruel road, it
was the victor. Many were the hard and
ludicrous falls, and many were the funny
things that proceeded from the victims.
Sometimes their mouths were too full of
mud to permit utterance of any kind,
and the victim would stolidly pick himself
up and move on in grim silence: but gen
erally there was not much silence about
it. and pretty much everything was said
which the imagination of a soldier could
conjure up, and that is saying a good
deal.
In company G. Fifteenth Alabama, was
a sergeant named Bill Holly—wonder if
he is alive yet?—who was large and stout,
and very prone to strong expressions un
der provocation. He carried on his pon
derous form, along this march, almost
every known cooking utensil, sometimes
two or three of each sort. He was a
sight to behold thus arrayed, and the
boys immediately found a nickname for
him. which they didn't dare, however, to
utter in his presence. When they got in
about a mile or two of the stopping place,
and to a beautiful little slippery knoll,
there was a rattling, a commotion and a
noise that rolled from the top of that
knoll to the bottom. In the darkness it
was fearful, and those in front, as well
as those in the rear, yelled out: “What's
the matter?” A strong, cheerful voice
responded at once: "Oh. nothing: only
’company G’s cooking and utensil wagon’
has turned over.” From the darkness and
the mud below came a voice of thunder
demanding the name of the scoun
drel who dared to apply such a name to
him!
The sergeant was a lovely sight, closely
resembling an enraged elephant who had
been wallowing in the mud with the bag
gage of a whole caravan on his back.
CLAUDE ROBERTS.
BLUE AND GRAY
AT FITZGERALD.
Vetertis of Northern and Southern
Armies March Together.
The first annual picnic of the blue and
gray was held in Fitzgerald last week.
Hundreds of old veterans marched in line
to the tunes of “Yankee Doodle” and
“Dixie.” General John B. Gordon reach
ed there in the morning, and at 11 o’clock
delivered an address to an immense au
dience. He completely captivated his
hearers, and ae he would tell of the days
of ’61 and the struggle between the ar
mies of the north and south, tears rolled
down the cheeks of the old Confederates
and the old Grand Army veterans were
wild In their applause.
This is truly a mingling of the gray
and the blue in a southern colony founded
by members of the Grand Army of the
Republic.
Under the balmy skies of southern
Georgia a feeling of friendship has sprung
up whose effect will be felt for years to
come.
Ex-Representative Wiley Whitley, an
old Confederate veteran, was marshal of
the day. aided by Messrs. McCormick and
Rooks, of the Grand Army of the Re
public.
At night General Gordon delivered his
celebrated lecture. "The Last Days of
the Confederacy.” to an overflowing au
dience at the opera house. The reunion
will be held yearly in the future.
THE ARMITAGE MFG. CO.,
Of Richmond. Va., have a valuable side
line on commission for drummers reach
ing oil. paint and hardware houses and
manufacturing companies of all kinds.
Write for samples and information.
A CORRECTION.
WAVERLY. Le# Co.. Aia., May 1. 1899.
Editor Sunny South:
I notice in the article headed “To Their
Memory” that Company K. Eighth Con
federate cavalry, is classed as a Georgia
company. That company was mostly
from Chambers county. Alabama. There'
may have been a few Georgians in it. I
war with that company a great portion
of the time it was out till th* 1 fight at
Aiken, S. C.. where I was severely wound
ed the 11th or 12th of February, 1865. I
have always understood that the Eighth
Confederate was composed of Mississfp-
pfans and Alabamians. Would like to
know why Company K is called a Georgia
company. Respectfully.
J. B. ROBINSON.
Co. K. Eighth Ponfed. Cav.
“The colonial style advertisements of
Ayer’s Sarsaparilla, prepared by the J. C.
Ayer Co., of Lowell. Mass., and now run
ning in a large number of the representa
tive papers, are probably the most artis
tic and effective ever put out by any pro
prietary company in the world.”—From
the Fourth Estate. March 30. 1899.
A TRAGIC SEQUEL
A Reminiscence of the Civil War.
BY GEORGIA GRIFFING WILCOX.
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catarrh.
It was a beautiful evening in the au
tumn of jho war was s-till rag-
. ing between The s*?T*es. that a patriarV-fiaY
| negro, with snowy hair, and wrinkled
brow, was airing himself on the piazza of
an old shattered country seat on the
banks of the Mississippi river.
The moon just rising behind a promon
tory some distance down the stream threw
a long column of light across the smooth
surface of the water.
The crickets faintly chirping and the
din of the everlasting katydid, mingling
with the low gusts of a fitful breeze, gave
a kind of emphasis to the solemn silence
of a scene that appeared the very picture
of loneliness.
The old house had once been the favor
ite residence of the Dorseys, but after the
death of thp last owner, it had gradually
fallen to decay, hastened no doubt by
the violence of the foraging parties who
sometimes swept along the banks of the
river.
The shutters hanging by a single hinge
or creaking upon two. were slammed
backward and forward against the brok
en windows; t-he out-houses were torn
down and partly taken off for firewood
and partly strewed in fragments over the
ground; the garden, whose limits were
marked by the woful ruins of a fence,
was whitened with the rank but graceful
flowers of the Jamestown weed, and the
trees, which.were once the pride and
beauty of Elmwood, had been either cut
down by the foragers or left rising in a
few blackened shafts, the very ghost of
that vegetable life which had departed.
Poor old Ephriam was now the only hu
man being about the melancholy premises.
Brought up to a life of ease and indo
lence in the light service of the late Mr.
Dorsey, he had be^n found in his old age
too cumbersome a piece of furniture to
follow any fragment of the family.
Day after day he sat lonely but con
tented in this out of the way place, gaz
ing with a philosophic air upon the calm
waters of the river, and supplying the
want of a companion by continually solil
oquizing on the passing changes of the
weather, or such other thoughts as the
situation might inspire.
On the evening in which we introduce
him to the reader, his thoughts seemed
considerably less placid than usual. His
gestures, which on ordinary occasions
merely supplied the place of half a
tongue, now formed the staple of his
speech, and his foot stamped, and his fist
clenched, as he kept on exclaiming in a
low. emphatic mutter. “Wbll. ’twon’t do—
’twon’t Jo—no how can fix it: here’s Massa
Will wants to marry young missus. I lib
wid de great folks long enough to know
as how it s no good to marry when de
young missus ain't willing, or my name
ain’t Mister Ephriam Dorsey. Esquire.”
"And den her old farder. a gwine to give
away his daughter, when her heart’s most
a-breaking for Massa George! I wonder
what’s a-gwine to come next.
" 'Twon't do—'twon’t do—no how can
fix it’”
Saying these words with a great deal
of emphasis, old Ephriam shook his head
very sagely three of four times, and look
ing up was surprised to see a well built
schooner gliding like a swan from behind
a cluster of trees that had bithertoo con
cealed her course up the river.
Ephriam’s thoughts were easily turned
into another channel.
Leaning over the frail railing, his whole
soul seemed to have come up into his eyes
as he watched the beautiful vessel.
The graceful craft had now come in
front of th* piazza and the dull heavy
splash of the anthor showed that her
course was ended.
"Oh!” muttered old Ephriam. who look
ed on with an eye of wonder. "I reckon it
ain't no good them folks arter. no how
can fix it. Who knows but what dey de
black pirates—blast der nigger faces!
’Spose now I jist shuts de door and keeps
close till dey makes off agin: twon't do
nobody no harm, will it?”
He soon drew himself into his den. and
crouching in an upper room, where he
might see without being seen, he awaited
th® result with fear and trembling.
"Dare dey comes!” he exclaimed, draw
ing in a long breath.
der‘ wa
self, for all I know.
ora adNK
O! Lord a mercy, i
you pirate ain't a-coming right up to de
house! I reckon dare's a dozen pistols
under dat black cloak. O! mercy, how he
bangs de door.”
“Lord a mercy!” he groaned, between
his teeth, “if he ain’t kicking de door
down!”
At this moment a long, mournful hoot
rang through the lonely chambers and
gave a new quickness to the beatings of
Ephriam’s heart.
He stole a furtive glance back over his
shoulders, and there sat a great horned
owl. looking with a face full of wisdom,
right info the eyes of the terrified negro.
He tried to repeat the words of a
prayer, but memory failed him and his
tongue refused to move.
He could stand this no longer: giving a
frightful yell, he sprang from the cham
ber and. made haste to open the door to
the stranger, who was now shouting for
admittance at the very top of his voice.
The guest was a tall, military looking
man. with a countenance somewhat mark
ed by the furrows of passion.
His eye was dark, quick and piercing,
and through his whole deportment show
ed the calmness of a well bred gentleman.
“Why did you not answer sooner?” was
his first question, in a tone of voice that
gave a new force to the thumps of Ephri
am’s heart.
“Didn’t hear. Massa: old nigger hard of
hearing. Couldn’t git de door open no
sonner. *clare I couldn’t.”
"Silence!” rejoined the other, with the
same quiet sternness of expression. “Si
lence. and get a light here immediately—
do you hear?”
“Ought to know dat voice.” muttered old
Ephriam. as he busied hirrfself with the
light: “ought to know dat voice, but can’t
say for life who ’tis.
"Here’s de light. Massa.” he continued,
in a louder rone: “we don’t keep candles.
Massa Will don’t help his fader’s old nig
ger: howeber. old Ephriam's not de man
as tells tal*»s out o* de family.
“Who is it you are talking about?” in
quired the stranger.
“Lord a mercy, didn’t mean no harm.
Massa. I is jist worked up. ’bout de word
what wus fotched here today by Jake, dats
my son. as how Massa Will’s a-gwine to
marry, dey say—some says as how young
missus ain’t willing to de match; but
Ephriam Dorsey never tells tales out de
family. Guess I could tell de reason,
though. Miss Emily ain’t never held her
head up since Massa George went away.
Nobody knows what made de old man
make him swear dat iron clad oath for.”
“Well, what was the oath. Ephriam,
since that seems to he your name?”
“What was de oath? Why. nothin’, only
jist as old massa wus a-gwine to die. he
calls up Massa Will and Massa George,
an’ says he—de ole gemmen—spoke so low
an' solemn de tear stood in my eye—says
he ’My sons. I am going to die. and I
wish to leave you at peace with one an
other. I have long observed that you
have both set your affections on Emily
Douglass, a girl worthy of any man’s love:
but as both cannot marry her. I wish you
now to swear, as you value a father’s
blessing, that you will proceed no further
in the matter. Tn my will I have divided
my fortune between you. each to possess
the portion of the other in case of his
dying without issue. T now entreat you
that so soon as my affairs are settled, you
will both join the southern forces, and not
return until at least two years after my
death. Now. swear this, my sons, and let
your father depart in. peace. George, will
you refuse to smooth your old father’s
passage from this world?’ Massa George
couldn’t stand this no longer.
“ *Xo.’ says he. ‘mv father, though my
heart break. I will not deny your last re
quest. I swear I will do as you wish.'
“Arter dis. Massa Will also swore, but
in such a way as if he didn’t mean to keep
his promise a day. And de old man bless
ed ’em. and turned over in his bed and
died.
“Well, dey both goes ofT: but arter a
while, jist as we all 'spectea. back comes
Massa Will, and saying dat Massa George
was dead, he gits de fortune, and begs old
Edward Douglass for his daughter. De
old man snapped at de bait as greedy as a
gudgeon.
“And eber since dat. dare’s been noth
ing but coaxing and scoldin’ from one
day s end to t’other. Young missus ’mem-
bered Massa George too well to bite so
easy. But dey’s plagued ner and crossed
her till de poor things' most crazy, and I
hear de’re gwine to make her marry dis
evening, whe’r she will or no."
“This night, did you say?” asked tne
stranger, in a dry. husky tone.
“Dis night! dis night! Lord a mercy. If
it ain’t Massa George himself—I wonder
where’s de ole nigger's eyes?—An’ where
you been all dis time? An’ why didn't you
tell me 'twas you?”
With these and a flood of similar ques
tions. which he did not wait to have an
swered. the old negro strained the young
wanderer to his bosom.
But George Dorsey was now in no hu
mor for trifles.
He gently, but firmly, disengaged him
self from thp grasp of the old domestic,
and strode with an impatient step up and
down, in a mood which even old Ephriam
thought too sacred to meddle with. The
silence was broken at last by a loud
knock at the door.
“Shill I let ’em in, massa?” said Ephri
am.
“Certainly; but stay, take care that you
don’t blab about my being here.”
“Yes. massa.” replied the negro, as he
went with trembling to unbar the door to
his new visitors.
They proved to be the very bridal party
in question, who frightened by the thick,
black clouds, which had now begun to
overspread the sky. had concluded to stop
at the old place until the storm was over.
There was quite a crowd of young la
dies and gentlemen on horseback, with a
minister of th' neighborhood. Leaving
their horses in the yard, they poured mer
rily into the old ruinous chamber, where
George Dorsey, keeping himself away
from the light, passed unnoticed, except
by old Ephriam’s answering to a casual
question, that he was a stranger who had
stepped in on account of the rain.
The new guests were not long in making
themselves at home.
The bride, pale and serious, sat by an
open window looking upon the fury of
the elements with a countenance from
which all mirth seemed to have passed
forever.
There was a Grecian symmetry in the
calm repose of her features: her dress was
of the most simple kind: a single diamond
sparkled upon the snow-white hand, and
as she sat with her pale face reposing up
on that delicate hand, and her eye stead
ily fixed on the darkness without, she
might have been mistaken for some beau
tiful statue.
The storjn was now raging in its mad
ness.
The winds whistled like fiends around
the trembling old mansion.
The lightning sometimes blazed in a liv
ing flash that gave a momentary glow to
the landscape, and then left it in tenfold
darkness.
The storm now passed over as suddenly
as it had arisen. The moon was shining
our from the inky fragments of the
clouds.
The bride, who had sat so far unnoticed,
now stood gazing upon vacancy, with an
intense, fearful expression, that sent a
chill through every heart: her lips slowly
moved, and turning around, she gazed full
on the form of George Dorsey, then sank
upon the floor with a shriek that rung
again and again through the lonely cham
bers.
Life seemed now to have taken its flight:
her pale face drooped upon her bosom and
as she lay in all the helplessness of death,
she seemed like some fair lily whose stem
has suddenly snapped beneath the ruth-
5.? —- -
“Make way! Make way!” exclaimed a
stern, manly voice, in a tone that made
the silent lookers-on shrink back in dis
may.
The crowd opened, and the unhappy lov
er knelt down by the side of his Emily.
The low murimfr that George Dorsey
was before them ran around the room
and caused a tear of sympathy to arise in
every eye.
“Seize me! Seize me. gentlemen! Why
should I be suffered to live?”
Deep sighs were the only answers to the
ravings of the hapiess lover.
But at length the officers, thinking it
best to remove him from a scene that in
creased his frenzy, had him carried to
his vessel, where he remained insensible
till his sailors weighed anchor, and floated
off afar from the scene of misery.
Years had passed, and time, which mel
lows all things and destroys most, had
spread his silent waters over the name
and the history of the Dorseys.
The neighborhood had been changed by
the floodtide of war.
New feelings and new inhabitants had
caused former traditions to be forgotten.
The old names of the Douglasses and the
Dorseys were like the things of a dream,
and as the unhappy wanderer, who had
now for a second time returned to the
scenes of his boovhood. was riding slowly
along a broad, lonely road, he could find
few traces of those things which, had so
indelibly impressed their images on his
heart.
The night was dark, and the way was
lonely: a slow, drizzling rain soaked
•through his coverings and sent a shiver to
his bones.
Oppressed with the dreariness of the
scene, it was with an emotion of pleasure
that he espied a light from a wretched lit
tle hovel at the very side of the road,
which promised some chance of shelter.
Thinking to reconnoiter a little before
entering this unpromising abode, he ap
proached the low window, and looking in
saw a sight that made him tremble with
horror.
There was a low table in the middle of
the room, and on that table lay a plain
deal coffin, with the skull and cross bones,
those melancholy emblems of death, lying
conspicuously on the top.
The only living being was a woman, ap
parently in the prime of life, but whose
pale, pinched features and rolling eyes,
glowed with the lurid fire of insanity.
There she sat by the lone table, hum
ming a mournful ditty to herself, and
keeping time by knocking the skull with
the cross bones.
But what most startled the wanderer
was the strange resemblance of those wild
features to the adored countenance of his
own sweet Emily.
The unhappy truth flashed upon his
mind at once.
But how she. whom he had left for dead,
should have been restored and reduced to
this miserable condition, it passed his
mind to imagine.
Rendered almost insensible with these
thoughts he gave a deep groan, which
reached the quick ear of the sufferer
within.
She turned round hastily, and seeing
again the face that had so long haunted
her thoughts, the shock proved too strong
for the small remnant of reason that was
left.
She sunk upon the ground, and poor
George Dorsey was again called upon to
witness the death of his Emily.
This time the tyrant did not fail in his
blow.
A few lucid moments occurred, in which
the lovers made some mutual explana
tions. and the victim of lo'e and misfor
tune departed to her last home.
The next morning some neighbors, sur
prised at not seeing the owner of the
hovel at her usual place at the door, went
in and found George Dorsey sitting fixed
and senseless by the side of his Emily,
whom he had never ceased to adore.
The rest of the story need n$t be told
Two plain gravestones in a wild little j
burial place, near the old country seat of
Elmwood, mark the spot where the lov
ers are reposing side by side, having found
that union in death which they were de
nied in life.
The wild grass waves over the scene of
their slumbers. And as the cold winds of
autumn sweep along the bare tract of
country they seem to linger for a moment
in Ton grove of pine trees, and to whisper
a dirge to their memories.
Are You Bilious?
THEN TJSB
“Best Liver Fill Made.**
arsons’ Pills
p
A SOLDIER’S WARNING.
He Prophesied His Own Death on
the Da j Before the Battle.
Many an old soldier can tell tales of
premonition and portent that would
convert the stoutest scoffer to a belief
in the existence of what is indefinitely
termed by psychologists “the sixth
sense.” The following reminiscence of
the civil war. delivered by a white beard
ed Ohio veteran, is a case in point:
“When the war broke out." said he. "I
was clerking in a store over in Greene
county. Charley Shearer, who afterward
became one of our circuit judges, was
employed in the same store. His brother.
Frank, and I were nearly of the same
age. One day I went across the street
and enlisted. I was only 16 years old at
the time, but I was sworn in. Frank
Shearer also enlisted, and we went out
together. He and I were messmates and
chums. A finer boy never lived. We
went through the hard campaigning of
General Sherman and were with him in
the Atlanta campaign. Just the day be
fore the battle of Resaca Frank came to
me and said: ‘Andy. I am going to be
killed tomorrow. I know that I will be
shot early in the fight.’ I laughed at his
fears, but he said he was telling the
truth. I finally became convinced myself
that he may have had a premonition, and
importuned him not to go into the battle.
He said it would not do for him to get a
sick leave, even if his health was bad—he
was just about sick—for the boys would
call him a coward. A braver boy never
lived, and I told him so. I finally got his
consent to let me go to the lieutenant
colonel and get him detailed for head
quarters work during the coming en
gagement. I did so. being frank with the
colonel and telling him everything. He
at once granted the request and wrote out
the desired order. I gave it to Frank that
night and thought he was safe. The next
morning, however, he refused to obey and
insisted that if he failed to go into bat
tle with the rest of us the boys would
question his bravery. • We "went into the
engagement and Frank fell dead at the
first volley from the enemy.”
NATURE’S OWN REMEDY.
Shakespeare has well said: "There is a
tide in the affairs of men which, taken
at its flood, leads on to fortune.”
In other words, there comes a time in
every man’s life when a great opportuni
ty is offered to him. If he accents it, he
Is rewarded with health and happiness;
if he neglects^it, the chances are it is
gone forever. ^
Horace Greely said a quarter of a cen
tury ago. “Go west, young man, and
grow up with the country.”
If the shrewd, sensible reader would go
and drink Bowden Lithia water, from
Lithia Springs. Ga.. or when in Atlanta
grasp the opportunity of visiting their
pleasant office and reception room op
posite the Aragon hotel, and drink cool,
transparent Bowden Lithia Springs water
fresh from the springs, he would learn
how to keep well and happy, and be free
from indigestion or sleepless nights.
Boston capitalists have purchased 600
acres of copper land at Blue Wing. N. C..
and will at once institute work for the
thorough development of copper deposits
on their property: further reports say
'thS^^ne AiTyFm'brtte Copper Mining com
pany has been organized (under West Vir-
gina laws) to promote and own the prop
erty.
from the !»»>■<•• ——_ ——l-:——
u«hir thorn. Price »ct«.: Are •!.<*». Pamphlet free.
I. S. JOHNSON # CO., 22 Custom House SUBoston.
M&f
Originated in 1810, by the late Dr. A. Johnson.
Family Physician. Its merit and excellence
have satisfied everybody for nearly a century.
All who use it are amazed at its great power.
It is safe, soothing, satisfying; so say sick,
sensitive sufferers. Internal and External.
It cures every form of inflammation. Pleasant
to take dropped on sugar. Cures colds, croup,
coughs, cramps, burns, bruises, all soreness.
We have nsed your Anodyne Liniment in our
family for years, and it is almost the only medicine
we do use, and we use this for almost everything*
I have used it at an external application with aston*
ishingresults. Hiram Odlin, Bangor, Me.
J. J. Newman, the mining engineer who
has examined the lands that discoveries
of copper ore made near Salisbury. N.
C.. at the Union gold mine, are the larg
est ever made in rhe United States not
even excepting the Anaconda mine. An
immense v*»in of gold and copper-bearing
ore runs for half a mile from 30 to 100
feet back on the surface. At the top it Is
3 per cent, at water level 5 per cent, and
as the miner goes leeper down it pans
out 13 to 40 ppr cent and more of pure
copper, some of it at the bottom being
almost layers of native copper.
The value of the gold in the vein runs
from 83 to 8750 per ton. It can be mined
for $1 a ton. Newnan estimates that
there are 270.000.000 cubic feet of this ore.
and says there is enough ore for 20 large
companies to work for a century.
Messrs. Milligan & Brown, of Green
ville, Tenn.. it is reported, have perfected
arrangements for the establishment in
Greenville of a mill for the manufacture
of hosiery and underwear. Tt is expected
the factorv will he placed in operation
early in the summer of 1899.
Reward of Virtue.
From the Detroit Journal.
Being 87 himself and his wife but 17, he
regarded the oatmeal with distrust.
“Is there ground glass or poison in this,
sweetheart?’’ he asked.
“No. darling.” she replied.
Accordingly he sent the oatmeal to a
chemist and had it analyzed, and it was
thoroughly established that there was
neither ground glass nor poison in it. and
the old man was so surprised that he
drank himself to death.
And his young widow came into all his
property.
How much better it is not to be wicked!
WALL PAPER
Send Sor tree rample boo*
beautiful dealgoe direct from m
afhetorera and cave 15 per cent.
Ateata Wanted.
KAY8ER A ALLMAN,
If 14*191C Barbel §«., Ffctla., Fa.
Lewisohn Bros, of New York have pur
chased the copper mines property of the
Pittsburg and Tennessee company at
Ducktown. Tenn., for $157,500. Improve
ments amounting to nearly $250,000 will be
made and the property will be worked ex
tensively.
$2.00 per Day and Up.
^ he jCeycten.
Special Rates per Week.
198 Peachtree Street,
Atlanta, Sa.
Stricture3jjS5>
Dr. Carter’* BBAK4IOLTSST Baagtca will dial ad g«, 4]gart
aad fcrarar fm PraUral 8T11CTUSS In lS4ay». Beafiaa
dtoMlra In tfcraa Mara, aarlat vfella pan datp. Cana Olwt
ST. JAMES ASS’N. Dept. 32 BOND HILL. Q.
(PM
«nd WkUn Habit*
cared at bohew&b-
out pain. Book at par-
tlcalara aent nu
B.M. WOOLLEY,M.tt
ta. fia. OOcolMJiWbitabaUSL
ACADEMY CF ST. VINCENT
DE PAUL
SAVANNAH, GEORGIA.
Boarding and Bap School for
Young Ladies Conducted
By the
SISTERS OF MERCT.
Founded in 1845. This school con
tinues the careful training and thor
ough Instruction in every depart
ment. for which it has hitherto
been so favorably known. For par
ticulars, address
THE MOTHER SUPERIOR,
St. Vincent's Academy.
Savannah, Ga.
$12 TO $35 Can be made by
working for us.
PartiCe preferred who
have a horse and can give
their whole »ime to our
business. Even spare time will pay splendidly.
This announcement is of special' interest to
farmers and farmers'sons, and others residing
in rural districts. A few vacancies also in towns
and cities.
B. F. JOHNSON,
901 E. Main St., Richmond, Va.
A mil II OPIUM-MORPHINE Anti-
■ ■ Mill H^dote: a two weeks’ trial cures
■ ■ I | Ifl three-fourths of the cases. 83.01
11 DR. ROUGHTOX. Manager,
w American Medical Dispensary, Atlanta.G».
BED-WETTING CURED. Sample FREE.
| Pr. T. E. Mar, Bloomington, I1L
The Semi-Weekly
Journal
ATLANTA, GA.
Brings the news of the world to you twice a
week for the usual price of weekly papers.
In addition it offers choice of a number of the
world's best books. Among the most popular
of these books is
The Life of General
Joseph Wheeler,
BY T. C. DeLEON.
Also “Greater America.” illustrating in half
tone our new possessions. There are over a
hundred titles to select from. Send for sam
ple copy. Price 41.00 a year. Agents wanted
everywhere.
4^