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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.