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M A HJOli Y MA Y.
Marjory '.fav came tripping from town,
Frt*b as a pink in her trim whip gown,
A picture was Marjory, slim and fair,
With her large sun-hat and her sunlit hair;
And down the green lane wln rc l chanced t<
etra y
I met, by accident, Marjory May.
Marjory May had come out for a ntr<#l.
Pact t/if gray clmreh and round by the toll,
Perhaps by the wood ami the wiahing-stone,
There wa>; gwe et Marjory tripping alone.
I come too? now don't «ay me nay.”
an you please / 1 laughed Marjory May.
tin it fell out that we went on alone,
Raimi by the wood and the wishing-Btone;
And where I whispered the wish of my Iffe—
Wnihed that sweet Marjory May were my wife,
“For I love you ao dear. la it aye or nay V
Coim, answer me quickly, sweet Marjory May ! r
Marjory stood; not a word did Hhe speak.
Only the red blood flushed in her cheek;
TJm-b «he look'd up with a grave, Sweet smile
(The flush dyinij out of her fare the while),
"I like you so much, hut not in that way,
And then there is John,” said Marjory May.
year* have rolled on since that fair summer’i
fitill ITu a bachelor, old »nd gray.
Whenever I take my lonely stroll
lb,noil by the wood, and back by the toll,
I pass by the house where her children play
I-or John has married sweet Marjory May.
TWENTY YEARS FROM NOW
You came to California in 1852. You
return home, for the find time, in 1872.
Your home, in an Eastern State, is Doze*
■ville.
For the last twenty years you have
persisted in regarding dozeville ns still
pons' •mb's! of all the attractiveness it had
for you in youth. Reflection told yon
it must have changed. People who had
visit's) Dozeville and returned boro book
gloomy stories of its dullness and monot¬
ony. But you had not scon this. You
could not realize it. There was for you
but one Dozeville -young Dozeville
always young, because you saw it last
in in youth. day-dreams, in river and bank
claims, picking and shoveling up to the by
middle, in mud, slum, and water;
your cabin door smoking the evening
pipe; on the sterile ridges of Nevada
pros,ixw,ting for “ledge," you have Doze in
imagination many limes visited
ville. You have shaken hands with all
its old citizens; you have been, for a
time, the newly returned lion of the
place. No matter that letter after letter
told vou how sires and grand.tfres and
matrons and blooming, brjgbt-eyi-d
schoolmates Inid dropped off; you would
nee yourself, on the first Hunlhiy bogie
at Dozeville, standing in the village
church; and with vvliat congregation
could you fill it save the one you hud
, i ,
Yli * dream ia realized; the continent
is crossed. you stand coming. bodily in Dozeville. night;
None know of your It in
the train lias stopped at (liedepot. The
railroad has been extended to Dozeville
nince you left—Dozevillians were talk¬
ing of building this road when you
were a boy. The “branch" is thirty
miles in length. They were thirty years had
talking it over. Old Dozevillians
lived and died talking of it. At last a
brisk New York speculator came along, built.
and in a few months the road was
There is a feeble effervescence about
the Dozeville depot when the train stops.
Compared with Hie roaring, hustling,
crowding bustle of a wide-awake town,
it. is as the languid pop of a stale cham¬
pagne bottle to the roar of a forty-two
pounder. You get in a coach and are
driven toward the family residence. It
is a cold, clear winter's night. You look
out; the wind is roaring through the leaf
ie«s sycamores; every street 1ms its old
curve; every house is in its old place.
You recognize them all, as though you
had left but yesterday; yet ft gloom
(teems to bang about them, for you real
cot 11 meet t id
or that old neighbor, wlio-o daily coming
ana going from those gates seemed ;m
um-hnngc able ns the rising and setting
of yonder moon. You have met your
mother and sisters! you have almost
been obliged to prove to them yourideu- exactly
dlin'quality titv. It was a surprise, hoped but for. not They
yon were
hardly prepared to sea middle aged
man, worn by toil and i xjiosnre, The
fast photograph you sent home, ten
years youth. ago, implied still some dura, appearance
And after a few some
times' after a few hours, vou make a dis
co very; you are not acquainted with
your own mother and sisters. Twenty
veara is too long an absence, there
is a great gap. u whole lifetime of
incident mnl event between vou and
them. You are bound to a thousand
Californian sympathies and associations
of which thev know nothing. You be
trav them proving’ every hour. You are con
limtwliv now (hat you are back
at the‘old home, seated in ’the old arm
chair, ami on theverv carpet over which
-vou tumbled in vour babyhood, that
Lireo fourths of voiirheart is’back in the
iiuid of govs-rs. grizzlies, and gold. Hie
mother involuntarily sighs. This is not
the buy's ii heart that'left her twenty 'fi’ili wars
ago; is a strange man's heart, ..f
hope*, fears, pious, and remembrances
unknown to her. It is a heart recast,
remodelled. It was a IxMirdlcsH lx>y w ho
left her—from the cradle to that last
rting she had known his whole life,
but this is a bearded man who has re
tnris*il with dashes of gray in his hair,
with a different manner uud a different
voice He brings with him the volume
ot twenty years of life, 1 tit she cum o"
read it all at once, lie shows, care.. -
ly, * page here and there; but it s
broken and fragmentary to her. Her
ryes brighten when he speaks concern
mg at one event of his childhood: then
she i» upou familiar ground- that seems
« piece of her own sou. Hers, during
your entire absence, has been the quiet
life of De*'-ville, not making h*bfadv/i ;t
acquaintances; you have made httiulrt its
ia the same time, and you bring them
oil home with you.
There is a younger sister in the house,
She has held a dim recollection of you ;
oil her life has she longed to see the
mysterious brother in California who is
always writing home that he is on the
eve ot making a fortune. Hhe has painted
an ideal of him in mind, and often
toadied ap> the pucture w ith many pier
lections. And this-you, are the reality !
She will not, to hcrsell, own any disap
pointment; hut she did suppose him a
differently appearing man. In a crowd,
lie is not lire very last man she would
have singled out for her brother; but he
would not have been the first.
The morning after your arrival yon
behold Dozeville byday light. It ia very the
jjmeh the same as when you left;
woods, fences and corner posts are all in
their old places; the vacant Jots, fenced
in and not built upon when you left, are
till fenced in and vacant. A few veteran
trees upon the main street have disap¬
peared. Hix new houses in twenty
years! One church has been moved
from its former location. Consequent dissatis¬
,u the change, there was great
faction among the congregation; a part
seceded and joined another denomina¬
tion. It was all the work of a new min¬
ister, who had a mania for moving
churches wherever he settled. This oc¬
curred seven years ago; yon hear all
about it before being in Dozeville three
days. The unpleasantness has not lost
its first lustre; Dozeville, they pickle old conten¬ them
tions in and so
ready for use in winter, when tilings are
dull and the branch road snowed up.
Dozeville and the surrounding terri¬
tory seem to have shrunk. The day
journeys of your youth to Dong Beach
and Big Pond have dwindled to mere
morning strolls. For years, in the mines,
did you tramp two and three miles over
mountain and valley to the nearest store
for your flour, beans, coffee and pork—
sometimes after a hard day’s work.
Dozeville miles are mere rolling, parlor promen¬ rugged,
ades compared to Mexican. the Flat the
steep miles from to
Long Gulch store.
There are three hundred old acquaint and
an ees in Dozeville to be met,
shaken hands with. All, after the first
greeting, make the remark, “Growing
old, I see, like the rest of us.” This, to
omi : of thirty-five, from sexagenarians,
•ptuagenarians and octogenarians is
hard to bear. Thonext inquiry is, “How
have you been all this time ?” This is a
ilillicult question, also, to find an appro
priate and applicable answer lor fifteen
or twenty times a day. The long-wished
for welcome back to Dozeville proves a
fedions operation. The apples wither in
yi ir grasp, Finally, you deem it ad
visable to restrict the number of these
•M eetings to three per day. You cour'.
retirement, and avoid more the locality
nf the dozen stores constituting the
pulsating centre of Dozeville.
Lot us read the Dozeville signs ;
“William Barnes, Books and Station¬
ery.” This is your first youthful play
male. Twenty years ago you left him,
just launched in the Dozeville book¬
store; he keeps it still. Then he was a
ruddy-faced, lively young man, just mur¬
ried; now he has a shop-worn look of
age. For twenty years he lias stood
behind that counter, selling primers,
slab s, slate pencils, worsted and dolls to
little boys and girls. For twenty years
he lias trudged four times a day—break¬
fast, dinner, supper and bedtime—tolas
house, 800 yards up the street. This,
and a yearly trip to the city for pencils replen¬
ishing the stock of dolls, slates,
and primers, 1 ns been his voyaging.
What changes and during hurry-skurryings twenty
have boon yours these
years 1 Up to Cariboo; down to Ari
zona; 4ver the mountains to Nevada;
looking on tlia rise and bustle of new
mining towns—looking on them de¬
cayed, quiet, and deserted years after¬
ward ; living composed now in this community, sharp,
now in that, of keen,
clever men, gathered from the ends ot
the earth; witnessing their gradual dis¬
persion and dropping away—some to
new fields, some to the grave; forming
associations and collecting remem¬ ami
brances never to lie forgotten;
through nil this, William Barnes lias
clung to Dozeville, and Dozeville has
clung to him, and he has kept stationary.
“Samuel Scoy, Attorney-at-law,” an¬
other old playmate. Samuel Scoy was a
very troublesome boy iu the neighbor¬
hood. Ho does well to practice law
now, for ho was always breaking it in his
youth. He bells, was your partuer in ling
'"K d<»r changing signs, and rob
bing melon patches. He is now a sober
man of family. Yon are seated in his
parlor. Your conversation with Samuel
Scoy partakes not of the easy, hilarious
nature of former Jays; sonn how you can¬
not find the scapegrace of old. The
Satan in him seems to have entirely died
cut. Hut the door opens, and an ole
pant woman enters. Sum Scoy—no
Samuel Scoy, Esq., attorney-at-law, in¬
troduces his eldest daughter. Why, are
you surprised? You might have known
tliia. Sam Scoy was married before you
left home. Ihis is Samuel Scoy, attor
uey-nt-law, with whiskers inclining to
gray, and a manner rather stem and
severe; and this is his daughter. You
are old enough to be the father of that
self-possessed, elegant young woman,
Yon never thought ot that; yet were
she to visit Coyote camp, you and a half
« “Ptaring middle-aged bachelors would be
new suits from the “Bay.
" ll! “ * steady old worker is lime ! I ml
poles will grow to frogs; infants will de
velop into elegant women. And tins is
Miss Seoy, the daughter M !Sam Scoy,
' vh T ° W <mc f K» lthcml U P
h ? coftt ™>1 the baggy portion
(,f hu l pantaloons and chucked off the
eUi] , o! Llttl ° * ock wharf . for tampering
with his cel-,iota; and von arc nearly
old enough to be a grandfather. Now
begin to feel ’
you vour Years.
You are invited "to a Dozeville evening
deemed p irty. Being a single mmi, sort’of yon are
eligible for this thing,
There are present a score of old school
mates'daughters, Hut Bill just like Miss absent! Seov.
Barnes and Sam Scoy are
Thev renounced such parties years and
years They would ago — they are old family "playing men.
as soon be caught
marbles on the side-walk You prepare
to go, ami attire yourself with all
the care and anxiety of
youth. You go. and find yourself a
crowd worn, out-of-piace, aged bovine, amid a
of c.fives. The young ladies—
the Misses Scoy and Barnes—charming
olive branches’ of your scliool-feilows.
survey heard their you curiously. parents’speak Thev have often
of you. You
were young and gay along with their
sires. That period, by the glass in
which they survey life, was aces and
ages ago—coeval with the American
Revolution, or the discovery of America,
or the Flood. You are an “old fellow."
You are introduced to one after another;
but there is no affiliation as in other days.
The gap o! years, crow’s-feet, and stray
(rling gray hairs, lies between yon and
them. They listen for a period cor,.-fis
tojit with civility to the cracked old love
song of this their fathers’ friend, and
then fly away to young Mr. Cock Spar¬
row, just returned from his first collegi¬
ate term. Cock Sparrow was not even
an infant when you left. Now, yon feti
older. More apples have withered.
ft is your first Sunday at Dozevifie.
and you sit once more in the family pew
, ,, .he old c.lurch. . , La. T> , the congre „
i. 0 a
f.on seems thin You miss many a
stately gray haul . Die eiders axe the
3 °ting men ofl.,2. Still1, tl e i
fee m for you tmckly peopled, but not
w,th the living. Ween last you sa here,
another, an older minister, preached a
lareweH and admonitory sermon to that
ar’^ra s&sa £
iSh“e,rk. brd ,l.«e -Setire-t.
OfcU at Uie expiration ol uiu-.ii ii.
liars to become wives, Most of then
tt in the choir. Home of their daugh
•rs sing in the choir to-day. But th
ithers of these young songsters neve
.-lit to California, and forgot the pas
>r’s admonitory sermon, while the;
uned, and traded, and drank, Ian am
nnbled, and fought, and talked a
uage half Mexican, half, English, death* ant
ii for ofhep. and died violent
and were elected to magnifleent shrieval¬ and
ties worth $20,000 per annum,
learned to bake their own bread, and
cook their own beans, and wash their
own clothes. They never “made their
piles” in the dry diggings, and lost them
in turning the bed of the river, or were
“broke,” “strapped,” or “panned “broke,” out”
at faro; then more piles, out” to he
They “strapped” or “panned Kern River, at monte. Gold
never went to
lllnffs, Frazer, Colorado, Montana or
Nevada. They remained at home; and
when those five years were up they
married the girls wearied of waiting for
the California adventurers, but few of
whom ever returned; and those who did
brought back sad tales of many who re¬
mained. Thomas Spring was a barten¬
der; William Dimple, a mute driver;
Teremiah Goodboy.a confirmed gambler;
and it, was whispered son,had that Isaiah been hanged Mwcet
briar, the Deacon’s
in Iho southern mines for stealing a
mule. So the girls became Mrs. Barnes
and Scoy, instead of Goodboy ami
Bweetbriar.
thickly All these memories come crowding
upon you, as you look on the
pew where the young men hound for
California sat twenty years ago. Are
no t Dozevillians impressed also by these
a nembrances on coming here every
j: nday? No; the change has been
gradual for them. They are not looking
now over the wide and freshly cut gap of of
twenty years. They are thinking
their dinners—of Monday’s washing—ol
the forthcoming the festival steeple! for What raising funds lofty
steeple to repaint that Now the u
was once ! vane
reaches up to the first limb of the right
hand “Sentinel” at the Big Tree Grove.
Some of the Dozevillians hold but a
dim remembrance of California’s grand
opening day-—the rush and gold fever of
1819, vet vessels, twenty-three their years ago,
currying away the pick of Doze^ilc ; ounce
men, Fraifciseo. sailed directly from and'proa), to
Sun But othef
events have since transpired. Califor¬
nia, to many of these Dozevillians, is
almost the California of thirty years ago
—a land remote and unknown. Some
of flicm scarcely knew of the existence
of the Yosemite Yallev orthe Big Trees.
You arc disgusted. Worse than this;
some of them have quite forgotten cer¬
tain of the young men born and bred in
Dozeville, long resident in California.
Yon speak of Tom Travers, who was n
"Dozeville boy." Half of California
knows Tom Travers. Here arc men in
Dozeville who shake their heads feebly
at mention of Tom Travers. “Why,
Uncle Abraham Travers’s son. next to the
edest. si iv you? Well, yes, ’pears ns it
bev do remember something of him.”
Andtlipu they store for they are h*rd!y
cc ■rtain whether they do or not. It ie
not strange. Year after year in Doze¬
ville have they trotted around a little
circus-ring of life; sifting about the
- line grocery stove in winter, sitting in
the same chairs in front of that grocery
in summer, droning over the weight of
the last murdered hog, or the last
:range face seen in the village; review¬
ing all the Dozeville tattle, until all
■tiier recollection is beaten and stamped
>ut. The mental horizon of these Doze
i Ilians has settled thickly just outside
t heir circus-ring of thought. No wonder
that they should forget the well-known
Thomas Travers.
You call on Air. Scott. He was old to
vim when a boy. He lives *nd on
nooks. He lias traveled all over the
world in books. He knows California
well bv books. He speaks of the Yo-Se
ir.ite Valley, the Ca-lav-erous Grove ol
>'c- T Trees', and the Sim Joe-a-kloin
diver. 1 on venture to correct his pro
mciution. but he has his own laws for
•••:. ni.ci ,g California proper namt
will not stay corrected by a snip
• t.r.rfy live. There is another trh
:n,, ' k Harvey, Flat the pioneer res:
., of Vi insky named by and lo
nisclf. has done little in California f.»i
-»e last twenty years, save dig, drink.
."'f,*'. suit T'llZZJu 1.1 I (RUw. 'ni Dick 2*** was P one f CUt < '.
; ,ll4t pewf'd of young men, westwai
bound, who listened to the admoniton
sermon. Old Mr. Harvey, Dick’s
father, calls on you that he may learn
something of his son; he has not heard
directly Dick from him renounced in fifteen tome, years.
long since writing
:U1 '1 with it all idea of ever coming
home. Unfortunately, Dick. you know tot)
much of “What is he doing?”
Asks old Mr. Harvey. You believe he
mining and doing tolerably well,
Dick has been “doing” every one he
_
, * - A , STOKELY & MOORE.
COTTON FACTORS & COMMISSION IRfll tm
115 JACKSON STREET,
-A.TT GrTT STA, GA.
a
We give our personal attention to weighing and sale of C otton. * VSSTGN
MENTjASoUCITED. augS-Sm
could “make a rise” from lor years and
years. His best suit is a gray shirt and
a pair of blue jean overalls. He never
comes to camp without making a dis
turbance. He was once offered $50 to
quit the neighborhood and betake him¬
self to other parts but refused to leave
under $100-) With all this fresh in youi
mind, vou sit before old Mr. Harvey,
who longs to hear something comfort¬
ing from his lost and never-to-be-fonnd
son. You wish he would go because it
-; 8 hard work, in answering his inquiries,
equivocate, j and squirm, and sneak,
and odgI! ab ont the truth, which is not
t<> ^ ^ ftt ^ time8 about Dick .
y ne cer t ft jn opinion possesses all
m It is tliat anv man in good
• who h , 8 t year3 ir , the land
8 ’ And a {ortuue- Vainly
rea goI attempt some explana
.<* «.***
of the race so expensively cut through a
solid granite ledge; of the flume at Split
Bar, costing thousands, only to be
swept down stream by the fall freshets;
of the gravel which did not prospect a
cent to the cartload when you did get
into the bed of the river; of the tunnel
it took years to bore through the rim
rock of Table Mountain; of the high
prices paid for water, which took ail
the life out of your profits in the hy¬
draulic claim at Coyote Creek; of capital
you put into the Columbia quartz-lead,
whose rock assayed a cent per pound,
and whose actual returns fell a little
short of a cent per ton; of the fruitless
scrambles to Frazer River, to Colorado;
of the unsuccessful hunt for the Com¬
stock extension in Nevada, All this is
useless. Dozevillians have it firmly
rooted in their brains that when a man
goes to California it is his duty to get
rich. That he does not is an indication
of a loose screw in his moral machinery.
You cannot alter their minds. They
have locked in this conviction for twenty
years, and the wards are too old and
rusty to be turned back without dangei
of breaking to pieces. dear old Dozeville
You remain in your
a couple of months. Would you stay
there for life? Would you call it your
home now ?
No, no, no! There is another land,
near the setting sun, which claims you
for its own. You are longing now for
San Francisco, with its afternoon gales
and mosaic of nationality; for the sight
of the Contra Costa hills, flecked in the
springtime with-their thousand shades of
green, and cleiud, and sunshine; for
Talmapais at eve, with avalanches of
white fog rolling down its side; for the
great inland plains, walled westward by
the dimly bine Coast Range, tipped eastward Sierras; for by
the far away snow
the dark green chaparral and foothills, the scent
of pine and balsam in the with
their rich fruitage and heavy laden
vines. Dozeville is dear, but it is not
galvanic enough for you. You require
earthquakes, grizzlies and periodical
gold fevers. Dozeville is pleasant, calm
and quiet, but it seems the calm and
quiet of a well-kept churchyard. It
abounds overmuch with widows, care¬
fully husbanding the property of de¬
ceased partners. It is outflanked by
too many rheumatic aunts with lame
i lacks and Dutch docks. Dozeville is
dear because it was your boyhood home.
But the lively Dozeville of your youth
no longer exists. The realized Dozeville
of 1872 has passed Prentice away forever. Mun
obd.
Domestic Recipes.
Stewed Corn and Tomatoes.— Cut
two pounds of fresh pork in half inch
pieces, and brown it in a saucepan con¬
taining a tablespoonful pork of browning, smoking peel hot
butter; while the is
and chop one onion, and one green pepper,
rejecting the seeds, one. pint of toma¬
toes. and grate six large ears of corn, or
a dozen small ones; when the pork is
brown add the vegetables, together with
sufficient boiling water to cover them,
and a palatable seasoning of salt; cover
flic saucepan, and simmer its coutents
for half an hour, or until the pork is
tender, and then serve the stew hot.
Corn and Tomato Pddding. —Put a
quart of milk over the fire to heat; mix
a tablespoonful cold of milk; corn peel starch and with slice half
a cupful of a
pint of tomatoes, and grate enough green
corn to fill a pint measure; beat six eggs
smooth, and then heat with them the
corn-starch dissolved in cold milk; next
add the grated com and tomatoes, to¬
gether with four heaping tablespoonfuls
of sugar; put the mixture at once into a
buttered earthen dish, and bake the
pudding in a moderate oven for half an
hour; serve it hot.
Fried Corn, Concord Style.— Peel
and slice n pint of tomatoes, put them
into a frying-pan with a table-spoonful
of butter, a level tea-spoonful of salt,
and quarter of a salt-spoonful of pepper,
and place them over the lire to fry,
stirring them often enough to prevent
burning; if the flavor of onion is
liked a small one may be peeled and
chopped and fried with the tomatoes;
cut the grains from into six ears of cold
boiled corn, put them a frying-pan
containing a table-spoonful of butter
made smoking hot, season them with
pepper and salt and stir them uutil they
•ire brown; put the fried tomatoes in
the middle of a hot platter, and the
corn around them, and serve the dish
very hot.
“I understand that you referred to
me as a pig, sir, ” remarked a pompous
elderly gentleman to a young mau who
had spoken disparagingly of him to a
third person. “You have been misin¬
formed. sir,” replied the young man, “I
hope I kn'w better than to refer to a
parson of yonr advanced age as a pig.”
- Rochester Repress.
W. U HOWARD, C. H. HOWARD, S. P. WEISIGER
W. H. Howard & Sons,
Cotton Conupi^ioit • Merc I| kilts,
So. 20 Seventh (McIntosh) Street. TillSTA. (i t.
Consignments of Cotton and other Produce Solicited. Orders for baggin
and ties filled at lowest market prices. aug 8-3m
J. II. Sl’IvATpB,
Colton Factor and Commission lerotiant,
Iknliouse and Salesroom, 101 McIntosh Street, for. Reynolds,
AUGUSTA, GEORGIA.
Will continue the business in its various branches. Advances of Bagging
and Ties and Family Supplies Produce at lowest market prices. Liberal cash advan¬
ces made on Cotton and other in store. Future transactions in Cot«
ton, Stocks and Bonds done through my New York Correspondents when
desired. Consignments of all Field and Farm Produce solicited. Personal
attention given to selling, weighing, sampling and storing all consignments.
aug24-’83
JOHN W. WALLACE,
COTTON FACTOR.
At the Old Stand of Warren, Wallace & Co., 729 and 731 Reynolds Street
Augusta, Georgia.
.Strict Personal Attention given te Weighing and Selling Cotton. Bagging
and Ties, and Supplies furnished at Lowest Prices. Also agent for the cele¬
brated
HALL GIN.
Priceg and Terms Satisfactory
McCord & Foster,
Cotton.Facte it Commission feints,
Office and Warehouse, Campbell Strret,
Retwoen broad and Reynolds, AUGUSTA GA.
Near the store of X. McCord it Son J
Consignments solicited. Personal attention given to business. The instruc¬
(aug3-3m) tions of Consignors promptly obeyed.
FOR SALE!
---o
Several second-hand engines, 4 and 6 horse power, in good order, prices
extremely low. Gullett and Barrett cotton gins, new and in perfect order, at
$2.50 per saw, a reduction of one dollar per saw to close out stock. Two 50
saw Van Winkle gins, $2.00 per saw. One 50 saw Sawyer gin, $1.50 per saw.
Gilbert Steel Brush gins, $1.50 per saw. also a splendid power press, price
S140. Irons for power press, $110. Grist mills, 30 inch, $150 or 36 inch,
$190, other sizes in proportion. Agency for Ames engines. Address,
aug3*3m 0. M. STONE, Agent, Augusta, 6a.
J. M. BURDELL. CHAS. F. BAKER
J. M. BUUDELL & CO.
Coin Mb Pi Csiiisii Mull
—Continue Business as Heretofore at the—
, L(afge l^ife-Pfoof Wkfel\ott^e.
No. 19 McIntosh Street Augusta, Ga.
Strict Attention to ail Consignments and Prompt Remittances.
aug3-3m
S. D. NILES. FRANK TRYON.
BILES & HOT,
Successors to 33 . H. BEOOMHEAD & CO
—wholesale and retail dealers in—
Isms, SaslJlMs, Harflwars, lial Pails
36 DECATUR STREET, ATLANTA, GA.
The CHEAPEST House in Georgia. We keep always on hand a full line of
Builders’ Material ot all kiuds. We are headquarters for everything Taliaferro in our
line and sell at Rock Bottom Prices. We solicit the trade of coun¬
ty and Middle Georgia, If you need anything in the building line write to
us for prices. NILES & TRYON,
rep28-hm ATLANTA, GEORGIA.
W. N. MERCIER.
COTTON FACTOR
... ......
COMMISSION' MlvltCUANT.
ISTo. 3 Warren I31ock,
AUGUSTA, GEORGIA.
*£?- Personal attention given to business. Liberal cash advances made on
Consignments. Close attention to Weights. Prompt Sales and Remittances.
A FURNITURE BOOM!
JOHN NEAL & CO.
—WHOLESALE AND RETAtr. DEALERS IN—
FURNITURE!
^Atlanta, Georgia.
Constantly have in stock and are receiving dally, everything in their line. Bed
steads. Bureaus of all kinds, Parlor Sets. Bed-room and Chamber Sets,
Walnut, Mahogany and Imitation Woods. Mattrasses, Spring
Beds, Chairs, Tables, Sideboards, Looking Glasses, and
other things too numerous to mention.
When you want any artcle of FURNITURE, and want it good and cheap call
on us. We keep> the best sroods and se 1 at close marzins.
JOHN NEAL & CO.
ep2S-om road. Street. Atlanta, Gx.