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——Mi S —i 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