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THE CARTERS VILLE COURANT. VOLUME 1. WHO. From the New York Clipper. j Who j|r<:ac:hcth much and hard against the charm Of money fccttinK, styling it a harm. Yd halh for higher pay an itching palm ? The Parson! Who practlaeth *o care—perchance to kill— And. (jnite uncertain, gueeseth at our, ill. Itut certain, hit or miss, to send his hill ? Tha Doctor! Whoeonntcth “figures ’ blessing in disguise, An<i “corners,"e’en in grain, scarce otherwise, And looketh on the “margin” as a prize? The Broker! Who Bpoculatot.il high with others’ cash, Ami cuttoih for a time a royal dash, Then, sudden, goetli to demnition smash! The Cashier! Who looketh wisely from his lofty lair, CiiHscth to-morrow’s weather here and there: < l ies fair when all comes foul, and foul when fair: The Weather Quack! Who hath direction la our homes, and full, Ju ail concern# domestic hath “pull, And taketh hy the horns, as ’twere, the bull? The Mother-in-law! Who putteth on the housekeeper a head, As ’twere, when sendeth he his hill so dread Tor charcoal, solder, and a little lead? The Plumber! Who, of all mortals balding us in thrall In some way, on this ever-whirling ball, Lctteth us down the easiest of all ? The Undertaker ! COURANT CORRESPONDENCE. CITY COURT, For the Courant. There was a man in Stilesboro a few days ago circulating a petition for a city court for Bartow county, but from the report of the success he had on that line, he did not get much encouragement. In fact, the people of this part of the county are almost an unit in their objections to u city court, and especially are they so, when it is sought to oust the present pop ular judge of the county court, and have in his stead anew man and greater ex penses attached thereto. That man will Is* a hold legislator who, knowing the feelings of onr people, will vote to have a court foisted upon us against our will. It had been predicted that when ever there would be a change in our county Court, anew judge and netv offi cers would Ini asked for. And now it turns out to be just that way. The pe tition carries on its face a man other than tlie present judge of the county court. We repeat, the people do not want this court, and it has never been asked for, save only by a few particular ly interested in it. The whole tiling is gotten up, as we believe, to satisfy a very small part of our citizens, who know they have nothing to lose by getting up a squabble, and who hope that through anew deal something may turn up for them. This whole scheme has vox pop ull against it., and we cannot be per suaded to believe that our immediate representatives will support such a measure. 11. J. McCormick. I HOM TilK WIKE-UItASS REGION. Qiitman, Ga m Aiif,'. 22. Mr. Editor : We of the “Sunny South” have no complaint against the weather. Our summer lias been gener ally a very pleasant one. It is true that in July we had a few very hot days, but this month in the main has been pleasant, especially evenings and mornings. As for the nights, vve have had very few to be called warm ones during the whole summer. The highest “ooint reached in the hallway of the writer was 92° and 90° in the porch. These were the extreme points indicated by the thermometer dur ing the present summer. We have had some dry weather, but we had rain in time to save the corn. Southern Georgia never had a finer pro vision crop since its early settlement. Tins the writer knows, for he has been here since its early settlement. At the time ho made his debut here there we*e Indians in the land; the Creeks on one hand and the Serainoles on the other. Where are the Creeks now? Echo an swers, “Where?” while the Setninoles occupy the “Everglades,” and they tell the white man that they want their place and then they, too, may migrate. We have fine health here, although an occasional sick person may be found; but we have verv little malarial sickness la tins section of Southern Georgia. Up country men, as they are familiarly called, are in the main alraid to visit Southern Georgia for fear malaria may leap from name swamp or quagmire and shake them pieces. But chills are as rare a thi-sv* Jiere as In Middle Georgia. we have churches here as well as elsewhere, and some good meetings; we have religion, the ever-blessed gospel and the venereted and highly-prized Bible. Well might the venerated Collinsworth exclaim, “The Bible, the Bible! the re ligion of Protestants. A people that have the Bible never cau be slaves.” 11. W. S. KINGSTON CALLINGS. Pt, We are pleased to note the smiling face of Miss Carrie Rogers in our midst again. She is back on a visit to her aunt, Mrs. J. D. Rogers. Miss Carrie lias many frieuds here who are always glad to wel come her return. Some of our young people attended the ice cream festival given in Cassville last Friday night, but as we were not one of the lucky few who procured tickets, we do not feel ourselves competent to 'write up’ the occasion ; though, judging, from the commendation of the management, and expressions of pleasure from those who attended, we presume it to have been a successful undertaking and a most en joyable affair. We paid a flying visit to Acworth on the 30th, inst., and was surprised to find everything so active and bustling during this doll season. Her business men seem to be wide awake, accommodating gentle men, and we wish for them the success they deserve. During our short stay we were most hospitably entertained by Capt. R. M. Mitchell, one of Acwortli’s staunch est business, and a most hospitable, gen tleman. While there, we attended ser vices at the Baptist church, over which the Rev. (i. S. Tumliri is pastor, and lis tened to an excellent sermon, delivered by Rev. Mr. Dyar. llev. Mr. Tumlin lus been holding meetings at this church for the past week or two, and seemed to be in the midst of a glorious revival. Ou our return to Kingston we were pained to learn of an unfortunate accident by which our estimable friend and fellow-citizen, Mr. Z. W. Oglesby, came near losing his life. He was assisting in removing some gins from the gin shops of Oglesby & Bro. to a ware house on the opposite side of town. The gins being very insecurely placed upon the dray, Mr. Oglesby pro posed riding on the rear end, that he might be better enabled to hold them in position. While attempting to do so his feet slipped from tlieir hold, and he fell from the dray, face downward, and one of the gins, which weighs between three and five hundred pounds, fell upon him. He was badly bruised, and suffered great pain, though it is ilie opinion of the at tending physician that he is not injured internally. We trust that he is not, and hope ere many days to see him on our streets again. The old adage that afilic tions never come singly, seems to be veri fied in this instance, for on the following day Mr. Oglesby’s little son fell from one of tlie windows and broke his arm. The little fellow is getting on as well as could be expected at present. N. MAKING DEATH PAINLESS. The fact that narcotics were freely used throughout the illness of Gen. Grant to secure sleep, ease, and freedom trom pain, and were asked for hy the pa tient and promised to him openly by his physicians, in the event of their being needed, to procure a quiet and painless death, seems to have been accepted quite as a matter of course by people in gener al. Only a very few years ago, howev er, the idea of moderating the fear or as suaging the pains of death by the use of narcotics or stimulants w ould have been horrifying to the great majority of Chris tian people. This rapid and very mark ed change of opinion, whatever its cause may be, and however moderate the de gree of attention bestowed upon it by the public, has been very closely ob served by physicians, and in the belief of some of them, as stated to the reporter, will bring about an increased use of se dative drugs for distressed and dying pa tients. In discussing the matter physicians are necessarily drawn to its logical con sequences, and these may be summed up iu the question, “Have we a right under certain circumstances to cut short our lives?” In one of the recent articles on the subject by Dr. Amiek, in the Cincin nati Medical Journal, an abstract is giv en of the question as formulated by a prominent member of the Birmingham Speculative Club. The statement is in teresting, from the fact that it is accept ed by many medical men as being a fair exposition of the argument. The term euthanasia, or “an easy death,” is de scribed as intended to convey the follow ing meaning: “That in all eases of painless and hope less illness it should be tlie recognized duty of the medical attendant, whenev er so desired by tlie patient, to adminis ter chloroform or other anaesthetic, so as to destroy consciousness at once, and put the suffererto a quick and easy death, all needful precautions being adopted to prevent any possible abuse of such duty, and means being taken to establish beyond all possibility of a doubt that the remedy was applied at the express wish of the patient.” In defending the act the writer says: “Cases of this class abound on every hand, and those who have had to witness suffering of this kind, and to stand help lessly by, longing to administer to the beloved one, yet unable to bring any real respite or relief, may w'ell be impatient with the easy going spirit that sees in all this suffering nothing but ‘the appointed lot of man,’ and that opposes as almost impious every attempt to deal with it effectually. Why should all this suffer ing be endured ? The patient desires to die; his life can no longer be of use to others, and has become an intolerable burden to himself. The medical attend ant is at tlie bedside with all the re sources of -his knowledge, and could bring him immediate and permanent re lief. Why should his not doing so be recognized as a sovi reign duty?” To the objection that this would vio late the saeredne.es of life, the writer says: “Nature knows nothing of any such sacredness, for there is nothing of which she is so prodigal. And man has shown little sense of the value of human life when his passions or lusts or interests have been thwarted by his brother man, or seem likely to be forwarded by his destruction. A sense of the value of his own individual life man has, indeed, sel dom been defieient in; and, by a kind of reflex aetipn, this sense has slowly given birth to and always underlies the sense, such as it is, of the value of other men’s lives. But in Europe to-day the sac red ness of man’s life is thrown to the winds the moment national or political passion grows hot. Indeed, it is hard to under stand the meaning of the word ‘sacred’ when applied to life, except iu so far as it may signify the duty laid on each man of using his life nobly while he has it. The man who is ever ready to face death for others’ sake, to save others from grinding pain, has always been reckon ed a hero; and what is heroic if done for CAIITERSVILLE, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 3, 1865. another is surely permissablc if done for one’s self. The man who could volun tarily give up his liie to save another from months of slow torture would win everybody’s good word. Why should he be debarred from taking a like step when the person to be rescued is himself ? It is furthermore urged that the sacred ness of life is violated by existing medi cal practice, when in cases of extreme and hopeless suffering physicians admin ister drugs which give present relief at the expense oi shortening tlie patients life. If it is objected that submission to tlie will of Providence torbids the short ening of pain by taking life, by the same principle we should submit to the will of Providence, and not seek to escape an> pain.” Dr. Amick adds: “Some approach death with a calm countenance and a serene mind, others are racked with pain and suffering. For hours, and even days, they writhe and groan between life and death. It is in this class of cases in which it is propos ed to give the hopeless sufferer respite from his agony, and euthanasia is sug gested. A hypodermic injection of mor phia in such cases would result in gener al and lasting sleep, and as the irritation that existed in the body became lessened the mind would gradually relax its hold upon the system, and its departure would lie so easy and quiet that a spectator would scarcely recognize it was going until it was gone. Euthanasia is recom mended only in those cases where there is a continual pain and agony; where there is no chance for recovery and the patient wishes to be freed from his misery. Several New York physicians w'ere asked by a Sun reporter what they all thought about the foregoing article. They generally agreed that the princi ples contained in it were sound and hu mane. But when asked how tlie general adoption of such ideas was likely to ope rate in practice, they grew cautious and thoughtful. One well known doctor said: “This matter of allowing a doctor to kill a patient when, in his judgment, he is destined to have a long and paintul death struggle, is a very serious one. The doctor’s judgment maybe at fault, or the patient may, having an incurable disease, simulate so intense a pain that a weak doctor might consent to put him out of his misery. What would the in surance companies say to this? If Gen. Grant asked for aa easy death from opi ates, and thus a necessanly hastened one. the public paid no regard .o the fact that it was so arranged, because they had and have perfect confidence in his physicians. But suppose the practice to become gen eral, do yoiFsuppose that serious errors otdiagnosis would not be made? I cm tell you of hundreds of cases where the diagnosis of disease is directly contra dicted by tlie autopsy, and where the true nature of the complaint was not sus pected even when the patient was in ex tremis.” Another physician thought that hu manity required alleviation from pain, even where life was shortened by the use of sedatives. “But,” said he, “this is true only in those cases where the result will be death within a limited period, and the very wisest judgment must be used in the matter. Asa rule narcotic drugs shorten life, and the fact that a patient suffers pain does not in itself fur nish an excuse for using them. As for diieetly killing a man to save him from suffering, the responsibility is, in my opinion, too great for any single medical nan to assume.” An old practitioner related a case in which a young Boston physician had given a patient heavy doses ot opiates for quieting and “shortening” a case of painful and, as he believed, incurable disease, and was surprised to find that the patient got well. He lived for seven years alter he had begged to be allowed to died from euthanasia. “And the most ciuious part of the matter,” said the doc tor, “lay in the fact that the opiates cured him. In so clear and carefully treated a case as that of Gen. Grant eu thanasia was perfectly proper, but in more obscuie cases of disease, in the hands of less eminent physicians, there would be elements of danger.” A physician of large general experience said that s s x.y per cent, of the patients who die while under the treatment of able modern physicians are at the time of death under the direct influence of nar cotics or alcoholic stimulation. “Many persons,” said he, “who would not give their direct consent to the killing of a sick friend, and it is killing, cannot find it in their hearts to permit him to die in agony; they know that the doctor is giv ing the needed narcoties, and they ignore the fact. To my mind the doctor would neglect his duty did he fail to give the sedatives called for in the case; if doctors cannot cure a man they should make death easy as soon as they are convinced that the case is hopeless.” Two of the doctors thought that the practice of “effective stimulation,” as they called the hastening of death by narcotics, had grown so rapidly that there was dauger that it might be used without due consideration. They thought the advice of at least two consulting phy sicians of recognized ability should be had before any course of nar-yitics de signed to end in death should be entered upon. They held that the practice was already carried to its full limit, and thought that the unquestioning attitude of the public concerning the opeA stimu lation of Gen. Grant, however proper it may have been, would encourage doctors of incautious or inconsequential habits to go too far in the matter. One of our oldest physicians thought that one of the chief difficulties in the practical use of euthanasia was to decide where and how to limit it. “In the ar- tide you have shown me,” said he, “a requisite for the practice of anaesthesia consists in the consent of the patient. But suppose the patient to be an insane person, who is about to experience long and agonizing death. He is incapable of assent or dissent. Would you, for chat reason, deprive him of the benefits of euthanasia ? And how long would it be before your euthanasic principle would be extended to the hopeless para lytics who are, as your writer says, of no use to others and a burden to them selves? Would you kill them, also? And where does tlie law come in ? If you shorten a man’s life you kill him. lias the doctor a right to kill a man any more than you have? I have often felt it with in my line of duty to give narcotics in hopeless cases, while knowing that they must necessarily and considerably short en the life of my patient. 1 have often asked myself how far I would be legally responsible for doing so should I confess the act. I have often thought, also, since the practice of deathbed stimulation has become so common and doctors so nu merous, that cases might easily arise where an unscrupulous physician would be tempted to help a man rid himself of ills wife—cr his mother-in-law.” “What method would you propose,” asked the reporter, “for keeping eutha nasia within justifiable limits?” “Oh, I dont know,” said the medical man. “llow would it do to get two med ical certificates stating the certain ap proach of death and a judge’s permit to kill a dying man with narcotics?” Very Remarkable Recovery. Mr. Geo. V. Willing, of Manchester, Mich., writes “My wife has been almost helpless for five years, so helpless that she could not turn over in bed alone. She used two bottles of Electric Bitters, and is so much improved that she is able now to do her own work.” Electric Bitters will do all that is claimed for them. Hundreds of testimonials will attest their great curative powers. Only fifty cents a bottle, at D. W. Curry’s. 2 CLAY AND CRITTENDEN. A Philadelphian Tells of His Visit to the Homes of the Two Distinguished Ken tuckians. Hon. Morton McMichael, of Philadel phia, writes the following reminiscences to one of the newspapers of that city: The affection of Philadelphia for Henry Clay was far more ardent than any man since his day has inspired. When he vis ited the city the place was agog, and day or night crowds gathered wherever there was a chance to get a glimpse of him. A particularly memorable visit was made in the early part of IS4B, when the de monstration was most imposing. Over a thousand gentlemen on horseback ac companied Mr. Clay from the station to his hotel, and wherever he passed the streets were packed with uproarious ad mirers and the windows filled with ladies waving flags and handkerchiefs and de monstrating in every way they could their enthusiasm. Effort af.er effort was made to take the horses from the carriage and drag it by hand, but to that Mr. Clay would not consent. A reception, under mutual direction, was given the following daj’ in Independence Hall, and as ladies dared not venture into that crush, a subsequent one for ladies at the Chinese Museum, where some 5,000 of the softer sex listened to a short speech on “Women’s Real Rights” from their favorite. In that same Chinese museum a few month later (June, ISIS), the Whig con vention gave a death blow to Mr. Clay’s well-founded hopes by nominating Gen. Taylor to the Presidency. The hall was a large one, very long in proportion to width, with galleries. The seats of dele gates filled the main floor, and the crowd jammed the gallery and shouted tumultu ously whenever Clay was named. But, spite of a gal’anf struggle and immense outside pressure, expedience and Gen. Taylor triumphed over “Harry of the West.” There was downright grief felt in many a home that night, quite differ ent from mere political chagrin. The fact is, Henry Clay was not only a born political leader, but he had that sympa thetic nature which magnetically attracts friends and can “grapple them to your heart with hooks of steel.” lifthe autumn of 1817 Mr. Clay deter mined 'to arraign the administration of Mr. Polk for the conduct of the Mexican war in a set oration, which should at the same time formulate his own opinions and views for the coming Presidential campaign. Partly, it may be, to talk over the forthcoming speech, Mr. Clay wrote a warm invitation to Mr. Mc- Michael, of Philadelphia (my father), to visit “Ashland.” It was my good for tune to accompany him. There were no such things as through trains forty years ago, and the journey to Lexington was a complicated one enough. We took steam boat from Philadelphia down the Dela ware to Newcastle, there got into a train of old-fashioned English coach-cars, which ran some sixteen miles to French town, on an arm of the Chesapeak# Bay, where we changed to a steamboat for Baltimore. From Baltimore there was rail to Cumberland, Md. At that point we look “Concord” coaches with six horse teams across the mountaias and to Wheeling, Va. The ride over the national road was delightful, and the drivers told blood-curdling tales—mostly lies, no doubt—of accidents and robbers. There was no b übt, however, about the inter est of meeting lines of Conestoga wagons with flue teams, either stretched out in Indian tile or in pairs, but always carry ing bells, which jingled musically and couid be heard afar off. These lumber ing vehicles were used in 1847 and earlier to transport, between waterways, a large part of the produce coming East and the merchandise going west, and the team sters constituted quite a class. A much less pleasant thing to meet, though it was Ia pretty frequent experience, was a drove of hogs, as the animals crowded the road and were anything but savory, as they slowly carried their own pork to market. When we reached Wheeling we had to wait some time for a good boat going down to Cincinnati. A steamboat was advertised to start at once, but kept de laying trom time to time in hopes of get ting more freight and passengers. Fi nally the last bell did ring, and we steamed down the river, very deliberately but in comfortable quarters. At Cincin nati we took another boat for Maysville, Ivy., and thence completed the journey to Lexington bj r stage wagons. Mr. Clay’s pdaee, “Ashland,” near Lexington, wasa thoroughly comfortable home, but by no means a grand resi dence. The house was moderately large and well appointed without being at all luxurious. The grove of trees about the bouse was fine, and gave ample and de lightful shade, and tlie outbuildings and quarters were in excellent order. The largest room on the first floor was the library, which had that air of homeliness only to be seen in rooms lived in by a family—little indications of occupancy by men, women and children. Besides an ample supply of books and current literature, thepe were many interesting o v jeets and especially some mementoes from the battle-field of Buena Vista, where, only a few months before, Mr. Clay’s son and namesake had been killed, gallantly fighting. Adjoining the library was the large dining-room. The apart ments up-stairs were such as one met in a gentleman’s countrv house a genera, ion ago. Mr. Clay was tall, rather spare, and then carried his sixty-five years very well, walking with rather a youthful step, and hardly looking his age, spite of his recent bereavement, which was a great one to him. His appearance was striking, and the most unobservant must have been impressed with his fine head and face. His forehead was very high, his ey "S expressed courage and kindness as well, and his large and mobile mouth was capable of great expression and a most winning smile. His voice was both sonorous and sympathetic,land more than once I have seen numbers of his auditors affected to tears as well as wrought to enthusiasm by his oratory. On the occa sion of the great gathering on the market place at Lexington, w’hen half Kentucky seemed assembled, it was natural enough that eloquent allusion to the brave young Kentuckians who fell at Buena Vista should move tlie listeners to tea r s, but I saw the same effect produced on an audi ence of strangers at Cape May. Mr. Clay was a born leader of men, full of confidence in himself, and, with abil ity to back it, he never lost courage. His manner was frank and cordial, but above all courtly. In that characteristic way lie was probably unequaled. As evidence that his courtliness arose, as to be genu ine it must, from true gentleness, I men tion a personal incident. It happened that Mr. McMichael and inyseJf arrived at “Ashland” only a yery short time before dinner, to which a considerable number of Kentucky magnates had been invited to meet him. Thinking it more than likely that a boy of my years had not been counted on at table, my father suggested nre not going down, and so, nothing loth to get off, I kept out of the way until the party were seated and then Had a fine time at the barn and quarters, where the darkies professed decided ap proval of late Philadelphia fashions, the bare-footed little “nigs” especially ad miring a pair of patent leather pumps. I had hardly returned to the house when dinner was over and the gentlemen came into the library. The moment Mr. Clay saw me sitting there he expressed pro found mortification, said lie had been most remiss to a guest, and had telt con scious tkat one was missing at table, and spite of all protestations insisted on tak ing me to the dining-room, where he sat while I was served, drank a glass of Ma de s ra with me, and talked most charm ingly—not down to a twelve-year level, but about early Kentucky history and some exploits of Gen. Leslie Coombs. A long time alter, being present when Mr. Clay was the “observed of all observers,” he called me to him and putting his arm about my shoulder, he said to those about him: “I was once extremely remiss to this young guest of mine, and wish to re peat the apology I then made him.” His auditors evidently thought his slight oversight had already been amply atoned for—quite surely his “young guest” did. After enjoying the proverbial hospi tality of Kentuckians at Lexington, Mr. McMichael and myself went on to Frank fort so see Mr. John J. Crittenden. His home was on the well-shaded main street of the town, a two-story double brick house, which was and still is known as the Crittenden mansion. The Senator’s office was in his house, and he was just as cordial as all the other Kentucky Whigs. He was altogether a man of the finest parts, and lived long enough to be well known to his generation, whereas his greater friend, Mr. Clay, dying early in 1852, has become an historical charac ter to most people. None who witnessed it will ever forget tlie solemnity of the scene when one night Henry Clay’s fu neral cortege, escorted by many hundreds of torch-bearers, wound its solemn way through the streets of Philadelphia, the city which loved him so well. It is no Sgure of speech to say that there were thousands of mourners, and hundreds of men and women who wept as the coffin was borne past. Has your Child got the summer com plaint? Set its liver straight anil it will get well, anil don’t All its little stomach with dregs when nature made innocent herbs for its relief. Try Curry’s Diarrha-a and Dysentery Specific and watch its smiles return and its cheeks grow red once more. Fruit Jars at panic prices, at V. L. Williams & Cos. HAL’S BABY. It was a bleak December night and the wind blew. Hal and I boarded the limi ted express for New York at Chicago and were enjoying a cigar in the smoker. Hal had fallen asleep and I was busily absorded in my own reflections,! glanced casually and with little interest at the scenes through which I was being rapidly whirled. It was only when twilight shut out visible objects and tlie lowering clouds grew black I awakened to the conciousness that it was night and that Hal had been sleeping an hour. “Come, old fellow,” I said, shaking him, “wake up!” “Hello!” he exclaimed, rousing him self and looking a little stupid. “Nice sociable chap for a companion, I must say.” “How long have I been asleep?” sit ting upright and looking around him. “About an hour, I should judge.” “Well, between you and me, Will, I needed it. I didn’t go to bed at all last night; so much to be done, all at the last moment.” “That’s a fine excuse for you to give,” I said, dryly. Hal laughed. Ho was the best-natured chap in tlie world. A big, strapping fellow, standing six feet high, with merry blue eyes, clear-cut features, and fair almost to womanliness, lie was a great swell, too, and a univer sal favorite. “Abominable night,” he muttered, a little irritably for him, “and confounded ly cold, too. I had just about half enough sleep, Will, and if you don’t mind I’ll get to bed,” “That suits me,” I replied. “1 am witli you.” We crossed the platform and stepped into the other car. A gust of wind and snow whizzed past as wo opened the door, which called forth another grumb ling imprecation from Hal relative to the weather. Decidedly he was sleepy. There were not many passengers on board, and these the invariable travelers one is sure to encounter. First came a garrulous old gentleman, very thin, with white hair, who occupied four seats and essayed to read by uncertain light of the railway lamp, which was of no more use than those lamps unually are, and quite as ornamental. Then came tlie commer cial traveler, who was disposed to take things as ho found them, and wore an expression rather bland than otherwise. A portly old lady with a bird-cage and several bandboxes next attracted my at tention. A spinster who sat upright in a most rigid position, and an insipid miss of 17 or thereabouts traveling in care of the conductor, together with a short, stout, thickset man of uncertain age and occupation, made up the list of passen gers. No, there was another; I had quite overlooked him. lie came on the train while we were in the smoker. A tall, dark man of about 40 years, with a pale, haggard face and hollow, sunken eyes. His berth had been made up and he was seated on one side of it, his head resting on his hand, wnen Hal and I entered the car. A shrill little voice which echoed through the silent car caused every one to turn round in the direction whence it came. “By all that’s unlucky,” groaned Hal, “a baby.” “Not a doubt of it,” I agreed. “xlud good lungs it has, too,” he went on, pettishly. “I wish it would be quiet.” But the baby hadn’t the slightest no tion of this. To speak the truth, it had not begun yet. The shrill cry continued growing louder and louder; the passen ger commenced staring hard at the berth •nd harder at one another. The garru lous old gentleman laid aside his maga zine and remarked, sarcastically: “This is pleasant.” The portly lady opened her watery eyes as wide as she could and exclaimed : “Dear me!” The spinistor wore an air of virtuous triumph and said nothing. I dare say she congratulated herself upon her lucky escape. Tlie commercial traveler looked wicked. Hal, lam say, swore and tumbled into bed in no very enviable frame of mind. Presently every one sought his or her resting-place, the lamps were lowered, and the porter made himself as comforta ble as the rules of the company would permit. But through it all that baby cried. The storm raging without was mild in comparison with the storm rag ing within. “By Jove!” exclaimed Hal,* “ted is a mockery. Of all the nuisances I ever came in contact with this takes the palm. What do the parents mean by letting it scream like that? Why don’t they attend properly to their business?” At tills he opened the curtains, looked out, and calling to me said: “Will, the father has it, and he’s hold ing it upside down.” The tall, dark man was striding up and down carrying, and most clumsily at that, the child, who appeared to be about two years old, and who beat him with her lit tle fists and struggled to get on the floor, all ‘he while crying lustily. The dark gentleman was perfectly unmoved; he paced the car in a mechanical way, pay ing not the slightest heed either to the baby or many uncharitable remarks he could not fail to overhear. An hour passed, and still the night was matte hideous by those piercing screams. “Thunderation!” roared Hal, “will the little beggar never have done?” Seemingly not, for at that very moment she burst into fresh and more vigorous cries. “Pitch her out of tlie window,” sug gested the stout gentleman. “Do something,” murmured the com mercial traveler. “Let her cry; it’s likely to kill her,” put in the spinster, complacently. “In the name of heaven,” exclaimed NUMBER 31. Hal, springing out of bed in desperation and intercepting the dark gentleman in his march, “why don’t you giyo that child to her mother? That is what she wants. Give her to her mother and be done with it.” “Sir!” said the dark gentleman, stop ping and speaking deliberately, “and you all, ladies and gentlemen,” turning and addressing the heads bobbing from behind the curtains “I beg to apologize for the disturbance my little one has caused, and the great annoyance you have been forced to endure. Believe me, l would have done anything in my pow der to prevent it. You” to Hal, “sug gest I give h“r to her mother. Sir, her mother is in the front ear in her coilin. I must do the best I can.” No one spoke a word, and every head disappeared in bis or her curtain in a trice. Hal stood dumbfounded tor a mo ment, then drawing himself up and speaking manfully said: “I humbly beg your pardon. I ought to be ashamed of myself, and so I am. Go to bed and give this young lady to me.” “But do you think you could ” “I think so, if I tried.” “Thank you. A little rest will be a great boon.” “Come here, miss,” said Hal, holding out his arms. “Come along, or I’ll take you anyhow.” To this utter amazement the tiny hands were immediately outstretched to him, and with a little sigh the baby nestled against his shoulder. “By all that’s mysterious, Will, look at this.” Miss Baby’s arms were tight around his neck, Miss Baby’s cheek was pressed against his own. I saw Hal start, and then he clasped the little creature closer and kissed her dimpled hands and face, and held her tenderly in his great strong arms. “Will, come and see her,” ho called, .“she’s prettier than a picture.” And when I crept out and stole a look at the fairy there she lay asleep in all her baby beauty with a sweet smile curv ing her rosy lips, and her golden hair falling in tangled curls over her little flushed forehead. “She is pretty,” I admitted. “Pretty!” echoed Hal. “Well, I should think so. Will, you may not be lieve it, but I’d give a good round sum if she belonged to me; I would, upon my word.” And when he looked up there was such earnestness in his face I knew he meant it. ne held her so all night, scarcely breathing lest lie should disturb her, and when he parted with her in the morning there was a tear glistening on baby’s white hand, and I knew it was on the one Hal had kissed last, before he gave hc-r back to her father. HIGH-PRICED CIGARS. “For twenty-five cents eeh,” said the proprietor of one of the largest cigar stands on upper Broadway, “you can buy as good a cigar as o_ne wants to smoke. The difference in llavor between that and one that costs one dollar is too slight to be noticed almost. “You can’t make a great many young men believe that, though. I used to have a wealthy young customer, who quar reled with me once because I didn’t keep cigars that sold for more than fifty cents apiece. “I told him I would order some for his especial benefit. After he had gone I took fifty of the twenty-live cents cigars, wrapped them carefully in tin foil, and put them in an old box with a tag stat ing they cost $1 each. “The next day he came in, and asked me if I had filled his order. “I told him that at great personal in convenience I had done so, and then I handed him out one of the one dollar brand. “He took five, and never could be in duced to smoke any others. “ ‘They cost a great deal,’ he used to say, ‘but the flavor is so fine they are more than worth it.’ ” “I want a medium strong cigar,” said an old gentleman who now entered the store. “Yes, sir,” responded the cigar man, as he handed out a number of small ci gars. The old gentleman laid down a quarter on the counter and took six ci gars. “That isn’t the kind of a man who pays a dollar for twenty-five cents ci gars,” we said. “No,” answered /‘He leaves that sort of folly for his son. He is the father of the rich young man.” A Wonderful Discovery. Consumptives and all, who suffer from any affection of the Throat and Lungs, can find a certain cure in Dr. King’s New Discovery for Consumption. Thou sands of permanent cures verify the truth of this statement. No medicine can show such a record of wondefful cures. Thousands of once hopeless sufferers now gratefully proclaim they owe their lives to the Ngw Discovery. It will cost you nothing to give it a trial. Free Trial Bottles at D. W. Curry’s. Drug Store. Large size SI.OO. 2 CURE FOR PILES. Piles are frequently preceded by a sense of weight m the back, loins and lower part of the abdomen, causing the patient to suppose ho has some aflection of the kidneys or neighboring or gans. At times symptoms of indigestion are present, flatulency, uneasiness of the stomach, etc. A moisture, like perspiration, producing a very disagreeable itehing, after getting warm, is a common attendant. Blind, Bleeding and Itching Piles yield at once to the application of Dr. Bosanko’s Pile Remedy, which acts directly upon the parts effected, absorbing the Tumors, allaying the intense itching, and effecting a per manent cure. Price 50 cents. Address, The Bosanko Medicine Cos., Piqua, O. Sold by D. W. urr.y ( f . CURRY’S COUGH CURE, For Cocoas, Colds, Hoarseness, Etc.