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Capital Sto>:k, $50,00.00 surp*us, $20,000.00
The Winder Banking Cos.
A name that stands for Financial Strength,
and that measure of Commercial Growth and
consistent with the Rules of
Sound Banking.
Under control of a Board of Directors compos
ed of representative business men, men of
Sound financial worth and moral integrity.
All business intrusted to us given prompt,
accurate and careful attention.
THE WINDER BANKING CO.
WINDER , GEORGIA.
Winder Lumber Company.
■We build anything. Sell every
thing. Does this interest you?
Phone 47. That’s all.
W. E. YOUNG, The Shingle Man,
Dealer In
Lumber, Lime, Shingles, Brick, Hardware Mantels,
Doors, Sash, etc. Agent for the Celebrated Rubberette Roof
i-n.y Warehouse on Candler Street.
c?
IDOLS OF TIIE HINDOOS
There Are Hundreds of Millions
cf Them In India.
THE FAME OF JUGGERNAUT.
This Idoi Has Been Worshiped About
Two Thousand Years, and His Na
tional Temple Is on the Sands of
Puri —The Three Monster Cars.
If I wore asked to describe India the
first remark that would spring from
my lips would be, “It is a land of
idols.” It would be impossible to com
pute the number of idols that there
must be at the present time in India.
The Hindoos pretend to have 333.000,-
000 gods, and these are represented by
innumerable idols, so that we are quite
bewildered with the thought of taking
the census of the idols of India. The
population of the whole Indian empire
is now about 300,000,000, and possibly
the country contains ten times as many
idols as people.
Benares is the great center of the
idol making business, though in all
parts of India the trade flourishes.
Potters the day through may be seeu
in the sacred city molding images of
clay for temporary use. Sculptors also
may be found producing representa
tives of the gods in stone or marble.
Carpenters, moreover, make great
wooden idols for the temples, and
workers in metal—goldsmiths, copper
smiths and brass workers—turn out
more or less highly finished specimens
in their respective metals.
When speaking of idols it should be
borne in mind that the images turned
out by the potter, sculptor, carver or
manufacturer are not considered sa
cred or fit to be worshiped until cer
tain mystic words have been uttered
over them by a priest. The ceremony
of “the giving of life.” as it is called,
to the image is a very solemn affair,
and when it is done the idol is regard
ed as holy and must ever afterward be
approached and treated with the ut
most reverence.
Out of the many millions of so called
gods in India, all of whom are counted
worthy of worship, three are regarded
as specially sacred and form the Hin
doo triad or trinity. They are re
spectively Brahma. Vishnu and Siva.
Of those it is stated the second per
son of the trinity only has been rep
resented on this earth by human in
carnations. Through one or all of these
gods the Hindoos believe they may ob
tain salvation. Brahma represents the
way of salvation by wisdom, Vishnu
by faith and Siva by works. It is
Immaterial which method is adopted,
as they all lead to the same goal.
Juggernaut is perhaps the most fa
mous name among all the Hindoo idols,
inasmuch as his fame has goue forth
into every land. Ilis temple is situat
ed on the sandy shores of Orissa, wash
ed by the. wild waves of the bay of
Bengal. The worship of Juggernaut
dates back nearly £.OOO years, and
Orissa has been the holy land of the
Hindoos from that time till the present
day.
feir William Hunter, who was one of
the greatest authorities on tilings East
Indian, says in a wonderfully graphic
description of tlie temple of Jugger
naut: "On the inhospitable sands of
Puri, a place of swamps and inunda
tions, the Hindoo religion and Hindoo
superstitution have stood at bay for
eighteen centuries against the world.
Here is the national temple whither
the people flock to worship from every
province of India. There is the gate
of heaven whither thousands of pil
grims come to die. lulled to this last
sleep by tHe roar of the eternal ocean.”
Well. I saw on one occasion that
marvelous sight, the dragging of Jug
gernaut’s car and the cars of his
brother and sister. The three idols
are inseparable, and ugly tilings they
are. being nothing but huge logs of
wood coarsely fashioned into human
shape, but without arms or logs.
Juggernaut’s car stands forty-one
feet high and has fourteen enormous
wheels. The oilier two cars are just
a little smaller. The great cars have
to bo dragged a certain distance—half
a mile or more from the temple—and
the god will not allow horses or ele
phants to undertake the work, but
calls upou bis faithful worshipers to
do it themselves. Immense ropes, or,
rather, cables, are attached to the cars,
and at the word of command from the
priests thousands of men and even
women and children rush forward and
seize the ropes and range themselves
in order and the next moment are
straining and pulling at the cumber
some conveyances, which at length
move with a heavy, creaking noise.
Never shall I forget the sight The
road was filled with tens of thousands
of lookers-on. all wild with excitement,
and the fanatics who held the ropes
were dragging the cars along with
frenzied zeal. Every now and then
there would be a stop that the men
might rest I supposed, but instead of
resting they took to jumping in the
air and to whirling themselves around
like dancing dervishes and shouting
at the top of their breath: “Victory!
Victory to Juggernaut!”
Once on a time infatuated worship
ers would throw themselves under the
wheels of the mighty car that they
might be crushed to death, counting it
a privilege and a joy thus to perish.
Some might do it today if the paternal
British government did not provide
against such catastrophes by taking all
due precaution.—John J. Pool. B. D.,
F. R. G. S.. in Los Angeles Times.
Yellow Fever.
The first appearance of yellow fever
Is said to have been among the sol
diers of Columbus in 1193.
The Dahlonega Nugget has come
out against the disfranchisement
amendment. There will lx* a light
on it fro xi many unexpected quar
ters. —Marietta Courier.
oliiioUs
Hfternoon Off.
By CECILY ALLEN.
Copyrighted, 130S, by Associated
Literary Press.
It was t!u' proud boast of Mr. and
Mrs. James Kogan that their flower
like daughter, Elinor, had never set
foot in that plebeian vehicle, a trolley
car.
To be sure, there had boon a time
when James Regan would have wel
comed the chance to drive one of the
good, old fashioned street cars, but
those days belonged in the dark ages
of Regan family history along with
the momentous Sunday when that
same flowerlike daughter had been
christened plain Mary Ellen.
Today, thanks to a pocket of gold in
the Sierras and a few lucky specula
tions made possible by those same glit
tering pockets, the fair Elinor had at
her disposal a variety of private ve
hicles, from a tiny electric runabout to
a sixty horsepower touring ear, from
a smart trap on their Long Island es
tate to a correctly equipped victoria
for her daily drive in Central park.
The men who were glad to ride be
side the girl in motor car or trap were
equally glad to acknowledge their
friendship with the blunt, shrewd Irish
capitalist, for, though the Regans were
counted among the newest of the new
ly rich, they were not of them.
A strain of royal blood had surely
filtered through t lie dark ages of Re
gan family history, for both genera
tions took to the newly found luxury
a 3 ducks had taken to the mud holes
behind their cabin in the Sierras.
From the moment they had come
east Elinor had been surrounded by
irreproachable governesses, compan
ions and chaperons. Her comings and
goings liad always been attended by
chauffeur or footman or groom. And
there had been times when, watching
other girls flit fearlessly and unattend
ed from ferry to trolley car, she had
felt an odd twinge of envy.
Some things of life she had missed,
and this something was vaguely rep
resented by the trolleys in which she
had never ridden, the city streets on
which she never set foot unattended.
Even more vague was her feeling that
somehow her doting father had not
quite played fair with her about Regi
nald Schuyler.
it meant something, of course, to
marry into one of the old Knicker
bocker families. Schuyler always let
her realize this fact. Lie allowed his
blue blood, which showed little enough
in his pallid face and deep ringed eyes,
to do his wooing.
The other man he was, like them
selves, new as to wealth, fresh and
vigorous in every vein—he might have
been so different if given half a chance.
Sometimes she wanted to give him the
chance. Sometimes she wanted to
please her father. And neither of the
two men in the case nor her father
dreamed of the vague unrest in the
girl’s heart.
All this to explain why Elinor Re
gan's eyes fairly danced when she
stepped from the door of the ferry
house and reviewed the long line of
public vehicles. Belden, the punctil
ious, was nowhere in sight.
Elinor’s companion. Miss Greenleaf,
was young, but keenly alive to her du
ties and very anxious to retain her
pleasant and lucrative position.
“Something must have happened. I
am sure I worded the telegram very
carefully. Shall I call a hansom or
an electric cab?”
Elinor shook her bead.
“I've heard you can get smallpox
riding in public vehicles. Don’t they
use them for funerals and that sort of
thing?”
She was watching her companion
from the tail of her eye and wondering
just how far she might go.
Miss Greenleaf looked worried.
“Perhaps I had best telephone to the
house.”
“Oh. no,” interrupted Elinor quickly.
“We can reach home by trolley while
they are sending down the car for us.”
Miss Greenleaf hesitated—and was
lost. A few seconds later she was
swept, golf clubs and bags, into a
crosstown car. it was crowded with
suburban women bound for the shop
ping district. Elinor swung blithely
from a strap and enjoyed Miss Green
leaf's discomfiture.
“If Mr. Regan ever hears of this!"
thought the worried companion. And
just then they alighted to change cars.
Evidently there was a delay far down
the street, for the two women stood
some minutes on the corner, and then
Elinor spied a drug store whose win
dows were filled with garish adver
tisements, beyond which loomed a
soda fountain. Miss Greenleaf never
knew just how It happened, but she
found herself, feebly protesting, be
fore a mahogany topped table which
a white coated boy mopped up with a
damp cloth.
“Chocolate ice er< am soda for both
of lit” was Elinor’s calm order." "Now,
don't scold, dear,” site added to her
companion. “Even our maids have an
afternoon off. Why not their mistress?
I'm having the time of my life.”
The white coated lad studied his
stunningly gowned customers with
profound interest Never before had a
young woman asked him to put 5
cents’ worth more of ice cream into her
soda. Then she had asked bor com
panion, now entering into the spirit of
the thing, whether she would have
more soda or more ice cream. She
might spend 5 cents more!
“Gee," said the boy as he dipped out
the extra cream, “they act like two
kids on a lark!”
As they sallied forth once more Eli
nor clutched her companion’s arm.
“Lei's make an afternoon of it. Miss
Greenleaf. I've never, never ridden in
the subway please.”
Something in the girl’s tones made
Miss Greenleaf turn suddenly reckless.
“We will, we will," and then she
/hied under her breath, “if I lose iny
place for it.”
In the subway Elinor turned a trifle
serious. The noise, the confusion, tlie
shouts of the guards, the crowding of
the mob bound for a hall game, the
flashing white pillars beyond the open
windows—and this was how the girls
who worked for their living rode back
and forth each day. She thought of
her trap and her runabout, her victo
ria and her touring car, and then she
studied the faces of the women around
her. A mau had risen instantly on her
entrance, and she hail sunk behind a
row of newspapers. Itut there were
other women, older women, more
plainly dressed women and more tired
looking women, who swung from
straps.
She leaned forward and peered
around the screen of afternoon papers.
Oh, that tired looking woman with
gray hair and arms filled with bundles,
who clutched desperately at a strap
and swayed resignedly with the move
ment of the ear! Elinor half rose in
her plate to offer the tired woman her
seat, and then she sank back. Behind 1 '
the screening newspaper directly in
front of the tired woman she had
caught sight of a face, a face she
knew, Reginald Schuyler’s.
And that man behind the paper was
*he real Reginald Schuyler, who could
sit behind a paper while a tired wo
man swayed before him!
Elinor did not reason consecutively
or logically. She had simply a vague
feeling that if ever she became less
radiant, less charming than she was
today Reginald Schuyler was not tiie
man who would forgive her defects.
Reginald Schuyler would be a delight
ful companion so long as no sacrifice
was demanded of him.
It was a subdued Elinor who a few
stations farther along signaled to Miss
Greeuleaf that she had had enough of
the subway. She slipped out of the
car in dread fear that Schuyler might
lay down his paper and see her.
Once more in the fresh air, she bade
Miss Greenleaf hail a passing taxi
cab. Miss Greenleaf laid the girl’s
sudden quiet to the foul air in the sub
way and berated herself for yielding
to her charge’s nonsensical scheme.
That evening James Regan felt that
never before had he fully appreciated
his daughter’s beauty and charm. She
was so wondrous tender and woman
ly as they sat alone in his “den.”
“Daddy,” she whispered, her arms
crossed on his knee, her face uplifted
to his—“daddy,” she repeated very
softly, “if I were to ask you to buy tlie
crown jewels of Patrovia or some oth
er tiny kingdom for me to wear you’d
get them, wouldn't you?”
Her father nodded and smiled down
on her.
“And If l wanted to buy a prince
and a palace I could have them?”
Regan frowned. He hated monar
chical institutions. Then he smiled and
patted iier head. “I guess, yes—sure,”
he said.
“Or anew sort of orchid—and you’d
send to the heart of Africa for it?”
"Now, what are you driving at, Eli
nor, girl?” demanded her father, his
shrewd eyes twinkling.
Elinor flushed beautifully and grip
ped both his hands in hers.
“Such a littje thing, daddy—and it
will cost you just 3 cents.”
The old man turned serious.
“Out with it. darling.”
“I —want—you —to telephone Jack
Boardinan to spend the week end with
us at Grey Towers.”
For a few seconds silence reigned
in the high ceiled room. Then Regan
laid his hand tenderly on her bright
hair.
"Elinor, it’ you want that more than
anything in the world”—
He hesitated, and the girl said soft
ly, “More than anything in all the
world, daddy.”
The man flung back his shoulders
and said firmly:
“Then I'll phone him now, before I
change my mind.”
For Jack Boardman was—the other
ma;i!
Anyway, the* man who lias no
friends never disappoints them.
Occasionally a woman buys a hat
that looks like one.
He Had Left the Cards All Right.
The high-born dame waa break
ing in a new footman —stupid but
honest.
In her brougham, about to make
a round of visits, she had forgotten
her bits of pastel>oard. So she sent
the man back to bring some of
her cards that were on the mantel
piece in her boudoir, and put them
in his pocket.
At different houses, she told the
footman to hand in one and some
time a couple, until at last she told
James to leave three at one house
“ Can’t do it, mum.”
“How’s that?”
“I've only got two left —the ace
of spades and the -even of clubs!”
One of tha Fish*
“Doin’ any good?" asked the
curious individual on the bridge.
“Any good?” answered the fisher
man, in the creek below. “Why,
I caught forty bass out o' here
yesterday.”
“Say, do you know who I am?”
asked the man on the bridge.
The fisherman replied that l e
did not.
"\* <■!! I am the county fish and
game warden.”
The angler, after a moment’s
thought, exclaimed, “Say, do
you know who 1 am?"
"No,” the olliecr repli and.
“Well, I'm the biggest liar in
eastern Indiana." said the crafty
angler, with a grin.—Recreation,
Why the Congregation Tittered.
Tin* story is told of Helen Hunt,
the famous author of “Ramona,”
that one morning after church
service she found a purse full of
money and told her pastor about
it.
"Very well,” be said, “you keep
it, and at the evening service I will
announce it, which lie did in this
wise:
“This morning there was found
in this church a purse filled with
money. If the o\vm ris present he
or she can go to Helen Hunt for
it.”
And the minister wondered why
the congregation tittered*!
The Clock Was Wrecked.
Biway—Use an alarm clock nowa
days? Jigsup—No: never tried one
but once. Biway—How was that?
Jigsup-Well, you see. the first time it
went off I didn’t exactly know what it
was. aril so I said, “Oh. for heaven's
sake, Maria, shut up!" Maria hap
pened to be awake, and—well, that is
how it was.—Liverpool Mercury.
Chivalrous Chicago.
In Chicago more than in any other
place is woman regarded in the light
of a thing of beauty and a joy forever.
There is hardly a man in Chicago who
does not esteem feminine loveliness as
something beyond price—something to
live for, to strive for. to suffer for and
if necessary to die for.—Chicago Inter
Ocean.
A Historical Mystery Solved.
The man in the iron mask explained.
“I let my wife cut my hair,” he
sobbed.
Herewith all tendered him respectful
sympathy.—New York Sun.
All There.
Old Lady Goodyear laid down the
paper, with a sigh, and looked over her
spectacles at Grandfather Goodyear.
“I feel quite ashamed when I remem
ber our humble marriage notice,” she
said.
“‘Married In the First Congregation
al church of Harborville, Abel Good
year to Mary Lawton,’ ” chanted
Grandfather Goodyear. “It read well,
to say thinking.”
“Yes, for those days, but not for
present times,” said his old wife. “You
know Anastasia Cummings’ daughter
Laura married a Toby, aud their
daughter has just married Sophy
Leavitt’s grandson. Ilis mother, So
phy’s child, married a Wilson.”
“Well, what of ail that?” inquired
Grandfather Goodyear, rubbing hia
forehead in great confusion of mind.
“It’s the fashion to keep all the fam
ily names,” said Old Lady Goodyear
severely. “You hear how grand it
sounds:
" ‘Married, at the home of the bride’s
mother, Mrs. Frederick Cummings-
Toby, by the Rev. Harold Bowden
Ivlrkbright, Edith Sraythe Cummings
to George Broune Leavitt-Wilson.’
“Now, there’s something for old
Grandpa Broune and Grandma Smytha
to be p oud of—if they were alive.”
“M-m:" said Grandfather Goodyear.
-Youth's Companion.