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THE BANKER ATHENS, GEORGIA, AUG, 6, 889
NOW I LAY ME DOWN TO SLEEP.
••Now I lay me down to sleep,"
Lisped my boy, his evening prayer,
And the blue eyes soft and tender
Glistened bright thro’ tangled hair.
"Mamma, does God bear me ask him
To be good to you? I fear
He don't see us, tho' you tell me
He Is always bov'ring near.
"Does he know how hard I struggled,
Tho' 1 got my papers lata,
little boys, you know, can't hurry.
But for huger ones must wait.
"Tried so bard to tell them, mamma,
'Cause I wanted to help you.
And some m*n would frown so at met
Tho' my papers were all new.
"When 1 held them op tn passing;
And cried ‘Papers! buy one, please P
Tfo, you scamp, shut up your squalling;
Give a man some rest and ease.’ ”
And the precious eyes closed softly
O'er the trials of the day;
Angels guard his peaceful slumbers
Till the morrow's da wning ray.
Ol from these dear patient children
Who would earn their dally bread.
Turn ye not, but list their pleading,
Let a tender word be said.
8mfle upon them, cheer and bless them.
Our dear Saviour loves them, too,
And from his own image made them.
Just as he did all of you.
Tho* your path be strewn with flowers,
Your heart Oiled with pleasure bright,
O! forget not those less favored, <
Who must earn their bread to-night.
THE OLD CLO’ MAN.
“Oh, such pretty vases, mamma!” said
Fanny, nearly throwing herself out of the
-window, in her eagerness to look after an old
clothes man, who with his bag upon his
e colder, and his basket of brittle ware upon
9 arm, was just that moment passing the
door. “Such pretty, pretty vases I Do let
me have one, mammal”
, Now, I never, on any account, encourage
one of those people, I have hitherto made it
a positive rule never to allow one of them to
cross my threshold. Yet, somehow, Fanny's
eyes—they are just like Psalter’s—looked so
coaxingly into mine that, before 1 bad taken
a moment to consider about it, 1 opened the
door; and the minute I did so, of course, the
cld clothes man came straight up the stairs,
With his “Old clol old shoenl Eny tings to
change dis morning, latyf”
* As I had opened the door, I thought it
could do no harm to humor Fanny, just for
<mce, you know; so, telling the man to wait
a moment, and bidding Fanny, in a whisper,
Cot to leave the hall until I came back (for I
Was afraid the man might meddle with some
thing while 1 was gone), 1 ran up stairs and
Was soon engaged in inspecting the contents
pf a musty old wardrobe in the lumber room.
There was an old office coat of Psalter’s terri
bly out at elbows; an old vest of brother
John’s, totally destitute of pockets; a little
frock of Fanny’s, which she had outgrown a
year before; and a broche shawl of my own,
Which had been spotted with rain, and which
I had placed in the wardrobe in a fit of im
patience, pretending to myself that it was
Utterly ruined.
1 It was the only thing of any value there,
and, in fact, it was so good that I hesitated
about producing it on the present occasion. I
turned it about and looked at it over and
ever again. The center was the only part
which was stained. I could rip the border
off and have it dyed, and my shawl would be
as good as new again. But then it was so
much trouble, and I had a very pretty shawl
and a cloak and beaded wrap besides. Bo I
did feel afraid that it would be wrong to dis
pose of it for next to nothing.
, While I was deliberating on the subject, I
heard some one. beside me say, “Why don’t
you come, mammaf’ and there, if you’ll be
lieve me, stood that disobedient child, not
withstanding 1 had told her not to leave the
hall on any account. There she was, and the
old clothes man was alone down stairs. I
declare I bad half a mind to shake her welL
I ran down stairs inimediately. There
stood the peddler just where 1 had left him,
rubbing his bands one over the other, and
looking so steadfastly at nothing that he
really seemed to have a cast in one of Bis
eyes and a squint in the other. Ugh! whwta
villainous looking face he had—it absolutely
made me shudder. He lifted the coat ft om
the chair upon which 1 had laid it, and held
it,at arm’s length with a supercilious air.
“Ahl” ho said, “datls goot for nothings,
laty Dat isb not goot for rags. I got very
pretty tings in my basket. Laty, any old
clo’8, old shoes—anyting else, latyf Little
laty, want pretty tings out uv my basketf”
. “Here’s a frock,” said Fanny, “and a vest
Of Uncle John’s, and a shawl of ma’s.”
“Ah!” grunted the man. “The frock Is no
goot—not worth nothings; The vest was no
use mit me. The shawl was lee tie potter,
laty. Vot you vant for bimF
i “I want a pretty vase," said Fanny.
I “Ahl leetle laty,” said the peddler, “I
makes no monish mit you—you too hard on
me,, Veil, veil, I takes de clo’s. Dey ish
worth nothing, most nothing, laty, and 1
give you dis vase. I make myself poor bar
gain, leetle laty. Ugh! 1 make no monish
xnit yon; ’ and with innumerable jerks and
moves and gesticulations he thrust a little
vase, with a very gaudy pattern printed on
the front, into the child’s hand and began to
gather up the articles from the floor where
he had dropped them.
Just then 1 happened to glance through the
window, and saw to my chagrin two of my
most fashionable acquaintances coming up
the street; and really, for the moment, 1
would uot have cared how much the man had
cheated me, so that I got him out of the
house before they came up. He did go at
last, although he came back after they were
in the hall to say:
P “Next time you has petter tings, laty; then
we make petter bargains. I make no monish
xnlt you this day, laty. Good-by. 1 come
next week—den you hash petter tings."
At which speech Mrs. Japonica rolled np
her eyes and asked me what the man meant;
and Miss Cornelia Japonica “wondered I
didn’t move nearer Fifth avenue, where 1
would not be r’bjectto the intrusions of such
people."
„ The Japontcas stood a good while and talk
ed away about all manner of fashionable
nothings—the last concert and the last party
at Mrs. Highflyer’s—how sweetly Screocho-
lini song, and how elegantly Miss Wilkins
Was dressed the other day. By the time they
went Clara and Rosa and Dick were home
from school, and Fanny was crying for l»neh
Bo my time was pretty well occupied for an
hour or more, and l forgot all about the old
peddler until Rosa began to fidget about the
room and rummage tay work box and desk
for something she had lost.
I “What are you looking for, Rosaf" I said,
rather impatiently, as she overset a box of
cotton. “I wish yon would be more careful."
1 “It’s all Fanny's fault, mo. I told her not
to touch it till 1 cams home," answered Rosa,
i “I don’t care,” said Fanny; “it was mine,
too.” -
i “It was more mine,” said Rosa, “because
I’m tho biggest—wara’t it, mai' 1
• “What are you speaking of!” I inquired.
“What w^s more'yours?”
i “by, the money pa gave us to play store
with,” said Rosa. “The bank bill, you know,
ma.”
Psalter had received a bad $5 bill some time
before, and, after marking it with red ink,
had kept it in his pocket book until a few days
before, when he gave it to the children as a
plaything. I had seen it in Fanny’s hand
that very morning, just before the clothes'
man passed the window, and the momentw
remembered that I guessed where thtf note
had vanished.
“Did you have it when you saw your little
vase in the man’s basket, Fanny P’ I said.
“OL, yes, ma.*’ said Fanny. “I recollect
now, I put it on the hall table when I opened
the doer- I’ll go and <ook there.” 0
Sne went, bat of course didn’t find it. I do
declare 1 had , to laugh when I thought how
disappointed toe old peddler would feel when
he found out that the bill was worthless. I
quite enjoyed it.
My merriment was shortened, however, for
not fifteen minutes after I discovered that a
new vest of Psalter’s, which ne had only
brought home the day before, and which 1
had laid upon my work basket until I should
find time to set the buckle at the back a little
farther forward, was missing.
1 searched everywhere, but the vest was
nowhere in the house. Such a beautiful
thing as it was, too, and Psalter had given
more for it than I had ever known him to
give for a vest before, because he admired it
so—to think that it should be lost through
my own foolish carelessness, for of course 1
knew that old peddler had it! I never felt
so distressed in all my lifeaboutsnch a thing.
I would far rather have lost my own velvet
bonnet, or even my best dress* 1 would
willingly have had my hair cut short off all
the way round, like .a boy’s, to have had it
back again, and I’m sure 1 couldn’t say more
than that.
Glad as I always am to hear Psalter’s step
upon the sidewalk, I almost dreaded to hear
it that night, for I should have to tell him all
about it; and though 1 knew he wouldn’t
scold, yet, dear me! 1 did feel so ashamed of
my stupidity.
The first thing Fanny did when she heard
her father getting his latchkey into the key
hole was to run, with her vase in her hand,
down to the entry to show her bargain to
him, and, tripping over the rug, down she
came just as he opened the door, smashing
the china and cutting her poor little lip ter
ribly. There was an end of the vase, and her
lamentations over her broken toy and cut lip
were deafening, and while trying to soothe
her 1 forgot all about the peddler and vest
both for a little time. Peace was restored,
and I was just filling the teapot when Brother
John arrived, looking exceedingly compla
cent, and carrying a parcel under his arm,
which be laid upon the sofa.
“What is in that paper. Uncle John?” said
Fanny, inquisitive as usual, trying to untie
the cord which fastened the package.
“That is my new vest, Fan,” said John,
untying the string himself.
At the word “vest,” my heart sank like a
lump of lead.
“Oh, dear!" I thought, “the time is com
ing. I must tell now, very soon.”
“It is just like yours, Psalter,” said John.
“You know how I admired that. Well, by a.
rare piece of good fortune, an old fellow of
fered me just such a one this morning, and 1
bought it. I don’t believe you could tell the
two apart."
And he held np a vest so like Psalter's that
it seemed absolutely the same.
“The old fellow had a lovely shawl, which
he said was a wonderful bargain—only $5!
It is just the color of the one you were so
partial to, that was stained, or spotted, or
something, so 1 thought I’d -bring it' up to
you."
He held it toward me; but when I took it
in my hand, good gracious! it was—no, it
couldn’t be—yes, it absolutely was the very
shawl I had given to the old peddler man for
Fanny’s vase. The spots were taken out and
it had been brushed and ironed, but it was
the very some.
John did not notice my agitation, bat
went on:
“I think my vest came to less than yours
did. Psalter. Let me see. I gave him a $10
note and he gave me* this in change. I hope
it is good.”
And John drew from his pocket a note
marked with red ink on the back.
“Why, Uncle John,” cried Rosa, tho mo
ment her eyes fell upon the bill, “where did
yon find my money?"
“Your money, child?” cried John, aston
ished. “Your money?”
“Yes, uncle—my bad money that pa gave
me to play with. Don’t you see the red let
ters on the back—bad—that pa put there?”
John turned the note over on the other
side.
“The child is right,” he said. “What does
all this mean?”
While he was looking at the note with aU
his might I reached over and picked up the
vest, turned it on the wrong side, and there,
sure enough, were Psalter’s initials, written
In indelible ink by my own hands that very
morning.
“Of whom did you buy these things, John?”
I asked.
“Oh, didn’t I teU you?” said John. “An
old man who said he kept a large clothing
store, but being in poor circumstances was
obliged to peddle off the remainder of his
stock himself.”
“Had ho a nose like our parrot’s beak and
eyebrows that went up so?” said Fanny, mak
ing two little right angles with her fore fin
gers over her eyes; “because if he had, it’s our
old clothes man, and he got that bill off the
hall table.”
“Why—what—I can’t make this out,” said
John, completely bewildered. “What do
you mean by ‘our old clothes man,’ Fanny?”
“Why, a man came to the door with pretty
things in a basket,” said Fanny, “and ma
gave him a shawl and an old coat for my
pretty vase that I broke just now; and after
he had gone we found that he had stolen pa's
vest and my bad money, uncle.”
“Yes, John," I put in, “and he must have
gone straight down town after ho left me and
sold the articles to you, for that is the only
way in which I can account for the fact of
your having brought them up again just as 1
had made up my mind that I had bidden
good-by to them forever."
John’s astonishment beggared description.
He stood open mouthed, rumpling his hair
with both bauds, for more than ten minutes;,
and then—but no matter what he said. Suf
fice it to say that such invectives of ven
geance on the whole race of old clothes spec^
ulators were never before uttered, and that
those hurled on the head of the particular
one in question amounted to anathemas.
Every tale should have a moral, and re
member well the one affixed to this, all ye
housekeepers: “Never deal with old clo’ men,
for one peddler is a match for five ordinary
females.”—Mary Kyle Dallas.
BABYLAND.
There's a wonderful country we all of us know
Where the strangest things talk, and the queerest
things grow.
Where the Fairies and Brownies guard everything
nice
And delight the small children with charming ad
vice,
Where there's nobody rich, yet there's nobody
poor.
For all are content, light of heart and secure.
And the name of this country, where all these
things be,
Is Innocent Babyland, land of the wee.
I’m sorry ancf glad
I lived In this Babyland, long years ago
(Wo all of us live there at some time, you know).
But somebody kept me one morning from play
And took me to school, as they called it, that day.
I sang as 1 went, for I guessed nothing then.
And thought myself wise with my book and my
pen.
Ah! little I knew as I danced on in glee
That I had left Babyland, land of the wee.
They taught me to read, and they taught me to
write,
They filled my head so, that it thought in the
night,
I wanted to go back to Babyland then
And have no more bother of thinking again.
But try as I would to remember the way—
"Twas lost, and forgotten forever that day.
For none may return ohee they leave it, and see
Their Innocent Babyland, land of the wee.
Oh, Uttl9 folks living In Babyland now,
Sing with the birds as they sing on the bough.
Dance with the blossoms that dance at your feet,
Laugh with each other wherever you meet,
Sleep, and in dreaming know naught of the care
Kept far away from your Babyland fair,
Know that our happiest hours must be
Whila you are at play, in your land of the weel
—Maud Wyman in Good Housekeeping.
A SINGULAR ESCAPE.
My twin brother Tom and myself took to
the sea at about the same time in 1812, al
though we did not sail in the same vessel
There is a feeling among sailors that it is not
well for brothers to sail together. It is a bad
sign, people say—a sign that one or the other
will die on the voyage.. Of course this is
mere nonsense, but then, aside from all su
perstition, we felt that, should any misfort
une happen to either of us while together,
it would be a dreadful thing to the other;
and so we thought it best to keep apart.
During the next three years each of us
went a number of voyages, and it happened
that we were never once at home together in
all that time. Whenever I arrived back,
Tom would be, perhaps, in Cronstadt or
Trieste; and whenever Tom was at home I
might be doubling the Cape of Good Hope
you have got here, too?
both at once.”
No matter what I said in reply. I had
found Tom, and even there, on the deck of
that floating prison, I felt for the moment
almost happy.
In less than a week the old Poictiers took
ns out to sea. We stood to the northward,
and the next day fell in with a French pri
vateer. The mountains on the island of
Martinique were in sight at that time, and
how Tom and I did wish for wings to fly
there I
The seventy-four crowded all sail in chase
of the French ship, and it could soon be seen
that she was gaining upon her. Presently
we could see that they were throwing over
board her guns and other heavy articles to
lighten the vesseL They cut adrift a large
boat, and apparently got rid of everything
they could spare.
After this it could be seen that she held her
own, and in fact she soon appeared to be gain
ing ground. The wind, however, had be
come very light, and neither vessel made
much progress.
We passed close by the drifting boat, but
our commander made no attempt to secure
her, probably not wishing to be encumbered
with such a thing. In the hurry and confu
sion of the moment the Frenchmen had for
gotten to stave a hole in her bottom, and had
even left a number of oars on board of her.
A few minutes later we entirely lost the
breeze, but the privateer still had a light
breath of air, and Tom and I were very glad
to see her make off, snapping her fingers, as
one night say, at the helpless old seventy-
four.
It happened tliatove two were often close
to each other, au^as wo cast sly glances
toward the drifting boat the same thought
was in both our minds.
, “Tom,” I whispered at last, “if the breeze
shouldn’t spring up again till after dark,why
couldn’t we make a dash for her?”
“The very thing I’m thinking of.” he an
swered softly. “The trade wind will be sure
to spring up soon, and that will take us
straight toward Martinique. I know it is a
risky piece of business, but I’m willing to
take the chances.”
We spoke to the other two men—the two
who had been impressed respectively with
him and myself—but they would not make
the venture. How should we be able to find
the boat in the darkness? they asked; and
what were we to do for provisions and water
in the event of reaching her?
But we believed the stake to be worth the
risk, and our resolution was fixed. We were
| only afraid that the ship would get a breeze
; before dark.
j The boat was about three-fourths of a mile
• off, and as twilight gathered we saw that she
ATHENS CHURCH DIRECTORY.
or unloading a cargo of flour in Rio Janeiro.
Yet we had a great desire to meet, for we ' ° ,l > m * u us
. .... . . . ’ . i ranged exactly under a certain large star
ere as strongly attached to each other as , . , .. ,/. . .... . Jy,
J which it would be easy to distinguish from
all others.
As the evening advanced, a light breeze be-
were as strongly
brothers generally are, and I think even
more so. Mother would tell each of us how
the other was looking, and what he had said
and done while at home—and this was all I
knew of Tom, or that Tom knew of me. She
said that he had grown, as I had, and that
he was now a stout boy, whom all the people
he sailed with appeared to like. Poor mother 1
I suppose she was proud of us both, though
always in anxiety for us.
Finally, at nineteen, I arrived homo from
the Mediterranean with a full determination
to see Tom once more before again setting , . ....... .
foot on a shin’s deck. He was In the West ! tbat we were allow sometki
loot on a snip s deck. He was la tho w est , th d rift of the ^at, for w couid not s
Indies, and his vessel was expected back in a I ’, _ ,. .
month or two. Mother was greatly pleased
to think that both her boys were to be at
gan to fill the sails till the ship gathered
steerageway. There was now not a moment
to lose; and, dropping silently under tbs
bow, wo struck out for the boat. I have
siaco thought that this was a prodigious
thing to do, thero in the midst of the Atlantic
ocean 1 The picture we made as we dropped
from the bow of that big ship has often
recurred to me.
More and more the wind breezed up, so
something for
see her.
She must have moved a little to one side of
the star—and suppose we should miss her al-
home at the 6&me time, after so long a sepa- L.bJgethcr, w-e thought I
ration. 1 ^ kngtb 9oe med to us that we must
have swum more than a mile. We were very
tired and began to realize the fearful position
tatodown‘thrh£bor U How gtadTwti I if which " e iff °™* lves - Coaldw*
j ? c . ! have passed the object of our search? The
breeze increased rapidly, and the water dash-
The brig to which be belonged was called
the Columbia, and at last she was reported
METHODIST.
First Methodist, corner Hancock
ivenue and Lumpkin street—Rev. W.
D. Anderson, pastor. Sunday School
s) :30 a. m. Preaching 11 a. in. and 8 p.
m. Prayer meeting, Wednesday 5 p.
tn. and Thursday 8 p. m.
Oconee Street Methodist—Rev. If.
M. Quillain, pastor. Preaching 11 a.
m. and 8 p. m. Sunday School 3:30 p.
m. Prayer meeting, Wednesday 8
p. m.
East Athens Methodist—Rev. H.
M. Quillain, pastor. Preaching every
Sunday in the month, except first.
BAPTIST.
First Baptist, corner College ave
nue and Washington street—Rev. C. D.
Campbell, pastor. Sunday School
.) :30 a. m. Preaching 11 a. m. and 8:30
p. m.
Second Baptist Church—Corner E.
Broad and Poplar sts., Rev. B. F.
Elliot, pastor. Sunday School 9:30 a.
in. Preaching 11 a. ni. and 7 S. m.
PRESBYTERIAN.
First Presbyterian, Hancock ave
nue between College avenue and Lump-
ten street^j^r. C. W. Lane, pastor.
kin
■sunday Scf?Y?bl 9:30 a. m. Preaching
11 a. m. and 5:30 p. m. Prayer meeting
Tuesday 8 p. m. and Wednesday 5:30 p.
Hoyt Chapel, Barberville— Occas
ional Sabbath preaching. Sunday
School at 4 p. ui., A. G. Turner, Su
perintendent. Prayer meeting Friday
night 8 o’clock.
and 1 saw mother wipe away tears of joy
with tho corner of her apron.
But when the vessel came up to the wharf
I could not eeo Tom anywhere about the deck.
I had a dreadful misgiving that something
evil bad happened; and my fears were not
without reason. Two of her crew had been
impressed on board a British man-of-war—
and one of them was Tom.
I need not tell you what a house was ours.
It seemed as if death itself could hardly have
been worso than what had taken place. It
was a torture to us night and day.
Nevertheless, after some weeks I prepared
for sea again. I must go, of course, for it
was in tho way of my profession. I shipped,
by preference, for the island of Barbadoes;
for, although reason told me how shadowy
such a hop© must be, I could not resist the
feeling that there it might be possible to learn
something of Tom.
Our brig, the Amelia, arrived out in due
time, and from tho moment we entered the
port l was all eyes and ears. I knew that
Tom had been taken on board the Poictiers,
seventy-four guns; bnt although there were
several men-of war anchored in the harbor,
sho was not, os 1 learned, among them.
But one day wo saw a big ship coming in.
Oh, how she loomed up! And when she
came to an anchor her yards were almost in
stantly black with. men. Her sails were all
furled at one and the same time, and then sho
lay swinging at her chain, although too far
off for us to distinguish the faces of those on
board.
Somehow I had the feeling that this was
ed iu our faces. Of course the boat most
now bo drifting very fast, and probably we
had not made allowance enough for tho wind.
Throwing ourselves upon our backs, we
rested awhilo to gain strength for further
eflfort; but such effort must now bo feeble at
the best. The dash of the waves confused
us; and as to the stars, we had by this time
got them sadly mixed.
Suddenly Tom flopped over upon his breast
and uttered some kind of an exclamation.
“What is it?” I asked. “Db you see her?”
“No; but 1 see something else. Look! look!
there’s a vessel’s topgallaut sails against the
sky!”
Sure enough, it was as he said. Close upon
us rose the canvas of a square rigger, tower
ing through the darkness like the form of a
great tree.
We shouted as loud as possible; and soon
“creak, creak” wont her mainyard as it
swung around till the sail was laid to the
mast. —
A boat was sent for us, and we were taken
up almost speechless. What was my surprise
to recognize in tho crew of the yawl the sec
ond mate and two of the hands of the brig
Amelia, the very craft from which I had
been impressed.
They took us on board the vessel, and had
we descended there from the sky her good
captain and his men could hardly have been
more astonished at our appearance. The
Amelia, they told us, had left Barbadoes im-
i mediately after ourselves, and had not at
any time been entirely becalmed.
EPISCOPAL.
Emmanuel Church, corner Lump
kin ami Clayton streets—Rev. J. C.
Davis, rector. Morning sefvice and
sermon at 11 o’clock. Evening service
at 6 o’clock. Prayers Wednesday eve
nings at 6 o’clock. Holy Communion
oh first Sunday of every month.
Sunday School 10 o’clock, Prof. C. P.
WiUcox, Su >erint#ndent, the Rector
assistai t Sup rintendent.
St. Mary’s Church, Oconee street
near bridge—R. L. Bloomfield, reader.
Sunday benool 9:30 a. m. Preaching
11 a.in.
CHRISTIAN.
Christian Church, corner Pulaski
and Dougherty streets—Rev. D. R.
Riekins, pastor. Sunday School 9:30
a. m. Preaching every fifth Sunday
11 a. m.
CATHOLIC.
Catholic Church,corner Prince ave
nue and Pulaski street—Rev. Father
Semmes, pastor. Services every fourth
Sunday 10:30 a. in. Sunday School
9:3Q a. m.
HEBREW.
Synagogue, corner Jackson street and
Hancock avenue—Rev. Dr. Rosenstein,
rabbi. Services, Friday 7:30 p. m. and
Saturday 10 a. m.’
Y. M. C. A.
Young Men’s Christian Associa
tion—Mr. E. E. Jones, president, in
vite you to their devotional meetings for
men at the rooms of the Association,
corner Broad street and College avenue,
up-stairs. Services, Sunday afternoons
at 4 o’clock and every Wednesday night
at 8 o’clock, Prayer meetings every
day (Sundays excepted) from 12 to 12:30
o’clock.
COLORED CHURCHES.
METHODIST.
Pierce Chapel, A. M. E., corner
Foundry and Hancock streets—Rev. J.
A. Cary, pastor. Sunday School 9:30 a
m. Preaching 11 a. in., 3:30 and 8:30
p. m. Class meeting, Tuesday 8:30 p.
m. Prayer meeting, Thursday 8:39
p. m.
Zion A. M. E. Church—Rev. J. W.
Fishborne, pastor. Sabbath School 9
a. m. Preachihg 11 a. m. and 3:30
p. m.
just in the nick of time to save us seemed a
An Important Sammons.
Valet (ringing np the doctor at 11:30 p. m.)
—Councilor M-— sends his compliments
and desires you to come to him at once.
Doctor (en dishabille) — Good gracious!
What is the matter with him?'
Valet—Ho wants a fourth hand for a rub
ber of whist—Humoristiscbe Blaetter.
Visitor—That engine acts very queerly, it
seems to ce. ^ | ,
ite likely, sir. It has an ec-
jred—Harper's Bazar.
ing a harbor boatman, we were told that the
vessel was tho Poictiers.
It was Sunday, so that we had our ensign
flying, and 1 knew that this would attract
Tom’s attention provided he still remained on
board tho ship.
I thought it likely, too, that ho might rec
ognize the Amelia, as I knew that he had
once sailed in her liimsfelf. Ho would see the
Stars and Stripes displayed-from a vessel be
longing to his native town, yet all the while
bo helpless to escape.
1 almost wished that I, too, could be with
him ou board the English ship. It seomed to
me that together wo should bo able to con
cert somo plan of escape, as two heads are
better than one. But I little thought how
very soon my half wish was to be fulfilled.
In a short time a boat put off from the
soventy-four, pulling directly for our vesseL
Wo well knew what that meant. His ma
jesty’s ship was in want of men—and she
would have them, too!
The officer who came on board of us said
that ho was in search of English sailors, and
was happy to perceive that our captain had
at least two such among his crew—indicating
as he spoke one of my shipmates and myself.
“They are Americans," said the captain,
“and have protections, as all my men have.
They can produce”
“Never mind the producing,” was the an
swer. “Here, you fellows, get up your dun
nage at once and step into that boatp’ And
his armed crew drew close about us, as if to
enforce the command.
My shipmate was very pale, and I could
not wouder at it; but as for myself, I felt
that 1 was more than half willing to go—I
did so want to see Tom!
A ring of marines, with fixed bayonets, soon
hustled us into tho boat, and in a.few mlrnitoa
we were standing on the wide, sweeping deck
of the seventy-four. What a ship she was
in comparison to the little craft we had just
left! Beside the Amelia she was a castle com
pared with a cottage.
1 had just time to observe this and to get
out from under the noses of the officer and
his marines when a stout young sailor sprang
forward and grasped my-hand.
surprising thing Indeed.
We arrived home after a short passage,
seeing nothing more of the old Poictiers, and
whether or not her commander ever knew
what had become of us is more than I can
tell. But 1 am sure of this, that a drifting
boat in the night, in the midddle of tho At
lantic ocean, is a very uncertain thing to
swim fori .
George H. Coomer in The Argosy.
Tho Cumberland Silver Treasure.
Tho greflt feature of the exhibition of plats
and jewels aS the palace Schvrarzenberg, in
Vienna, is the contribution of the Duke of
Cumberland, who has sent a largo portion of
tho celebrated “silver treasure” of the house
of Hanover, ^which includes the entire fur
niture of a saloon in solid silver—chairs,
tables, cabinets; and mirror frames. There is,
besides, the dinner service which belonged to
the bishops of Hildosheim, and also an im
mense silver arbor, with hanging flowers and
bunches of grapes, all of silver. This was
manufactured at Augsburg in 1763. There is
a huge cloth of solid silver and a number of
vases and tankards,and the table ornaments
of pure gold. The Duke of Cumberland’s
family plate is said to weigh twelve tons al
together, and his hereditary jewels are valued
at £300,000,' besides those which were be
queathed to him by the Duke of Brunswick.-*
London World.
Jacob’s • Pharmacy.
Marietta and Peachtree Sts
P. 0, Box 357,
ATLANTA, - - Gi
Job^Printing^
oe ,® ® ver y variet,,
JOB PRINT®
have
We ..ave m st
. large and varied
assortment
—of—
! r °,u u he c hea Pess |
*° best, fromt^
best houses in n“
timore
and oth er |
cities, such as
BILL HEADS,
LETTER HEADS,
NOTE HEADS,
Business Cards,
Visiting Cards,
Enyelopes.
HAND BILLS,
PAMPHLETS,
DODGERS,
Etc., Ele,
Our business men
who contemplate
having JOB PRINT
ING done will do
well to see us and
get our prices. We
guarantee work to
be as good as the
best and our prices
as low as the low
est.
We have a very large
assortment of
SEW mi
of the latest styles, en
abling us to please the
most fastideous tastes.
The Moon.
Those who hold to planting in special phases
of tho moon and shearing of sheep in the in
crease of the moon will be interested to know
that such notioua are general among semi-
barbarous people. A recent writer gives,
among other rules from the south Slavs, the
following: Cucumbers must be grown three
nights in moonshine. Trees for house timber
must be felled in the full of the moon, or
some one of the family will soon die. Sheeps’
wool is longest and most durable cut in the
increase of the moon. The sam^ is true of
swine, that they are fattest killedin the wax
ing of the moon. There are also the tame or
.mi • , ... .. _, . similar notions about wet moons and dry
L °. h * John .l moons.—St. Louis Globe-Democrat. 7
B. B. B. - -
Genuine AllcQke’s Plasters
Pemberton Wine Coca - . - - '
Ilorsford’s Acid Phosphate
Hood’s Sarsaparilla - - -
Hop Bitters - - - - - 1
Bradycrotme - - - -
Cashmere Bouquet Soap'
Lubin’s Powder - - -
Warner’s Safe Cure - -
Nerve and Bone Liniment
Persian Insect Powder - 115 25
Lemon Elixer
Brown’s Iron Bitters
Harter’s Iron Tonic •
Magnolia Balm
Blue Castile Soap, bar
Colgate’s Extracts, oz.
M. and L. Florida Water, large
Seidlitz Powders, full wt. 12in. box
Pear’s Soap, 3 cake box
Domestic Ammonia, pint
Certain Catarrh Cure - - - 80
Exerything in proportion. Out ot
town customers will please remit by
money order, postal note or check.
Our Pressm
Three in Number, are
all NEW and of the
latest and most
i m proved
makes,
and all work
done on them
. shows to the best
advantage possible.
JjqWELL C03BET AL VS. THE NORTH-
eastern Railroad Co., the Richmond and
Danville Railroad Co., the Richmond and Wert
r°i,t Terminal Rafiway and Warehouse Co. ,
nnd the Centra’ Trust Company of New Ynrkf
Petition for relief and cmceliatlou
bonds. Clarke Superior Court.
5,0 0 o
It appearing to the court that the sheriff has
not served the Richmond and West Point Ter-
minalanfl Warehousei company,andt!ie Cental
Trust com anles of New York, parties defend
ant in the above stated case, because they do
not reside inClarke county or the state of Geor-
ria, or have agents or officers in said state, and
[hat they resiue out of the state, it is ordered
by the conrt that service be perfected by publi
cation upon said parties in The Athens Ban
ner tor at toast two months before the next
l e f m o{ . ii\ arke .wl pe J r l9 r court, 2d Monday iu Oc
tober, 188J, and that they then appear to plead
audmake defense. n. l. HUTCHIN
July, 25, 1889.
,c. D. VINCENT,
Clerk C.S.C.C.
We make no promises
that o we know we
cannot KEEP,
hence our
patrons
can depend
on the promises
we make. All work
guaranteed the b
ORDERS from
filled with as w
promptness and
curacy as city
orders.
^%G!VE US A TH iAL i