Newspaper Page Text
5P5
FBH1FY TOIIB 8L0BD.
Imparities la tiiu blood produce diseases.
Bodily and mental health depend upon''*
healthy condition of the blood. The blood,
particularly In the spring and during the hot
«u»mer mofttha. become* clogged with 1m-
purities, which poison It and generate dis¬
ense. A harmless blood purifier, without s
partial* of mineral poison la it, such as mer¬
cury or potash, is necessary to remove these
impurities end to restore the healthy tone of
mind and body. The best purifier and tonio
known to the world is Swift’s Specific (S.8.S.).
In regard to Its wonderful purifying and
tonic powers we gire a few testimonials at
follows:
Hr. Win. A. Slebold, with Geo. P. Howell ft
Co., W Spruce Street, New York, wrltee March
»tb, 1E8J: " 1 feel It my duty, for tho benefit
ef others who may be afflicted as I was, to
wilts you this letter, which you can use as
my testimony in any way you choose. I will
snswer any Inquiry from others In relation
to the fact* herewith stated. In February
last I suffered great pain and Inconvenience
from boll*, all over my neck j I could not turn
my bead without acute pain and my blood
was In poor condition. After trying all the
usual remedies In such cases, and finding no
relief, by the persuasion of Mr. J. W. Fears,
Manager of your New York Office, I used one
bottle S. 8. S, and a improved rapidly and
vary soon I ryas entirely relieved of my
“ Job’s Comforter*.” Now not a sign of my
affliction can to seen. I feel strong and cheer-
tub S. a. 8. is a fin® tonio approved in my
case. I sleep soundly and my appetite is food.
Dr. J. N. Cheney, a well-known physician
writes from EUgvUle, Georgia: “ I use 3. S. 8.
in convalescent fever cases with the best re-
suits. It will, hi my Judgment, prevent sum¬
mer dysentery, if one will take a few bottls*
In the spring, thus preparing the bowels for
tho strains of summer.”
Mr*. Scott Elston, 118 Zane street (Island),
Wheeling, West Virginia, writesi “Having
used S. 3. B. tor the blood, I can safely say
that it beais anything I have used to cleanse
the blood uud make a new being out of a per-
ftOjL*'
Mr. M. 3. Hamlin, Winston, N. C., write*:
" I use It every spring. It always builds (ns
up, giving me appetite and digestion, and
enabling me to stand the long, trying, ener¬
vating hot summer days. On using It I soon
become strong of body and easy of mind." -
Treatlso on Blood and Skin Diseases mailed
free.
TR SWtPi SreciMc Co., Drawer 3, Atlanta.Ga.
Ordir.c.ry’$ Advertisements.
/ t RDU.ARY’S OFFICE, Spalii in 3 Coitn-
V/ ix, Georgia, May 2Gth, 18S8.—Mrs.
Martha A, Darnall, administratrix ol Katie
lhtrnall, has applied to me Katie for letters of Dis¬
mission said on the ostate decased. of Darnall, late
of oounty,
Let all persona concernrd show cause tje
fore the Court of Ordinary of said county
at my office in 1888, Griffin, on the first Monday in
September, such letters shonld by ten be o’clock, granted. a. m., why
not
$6,15 E. W. HAMMOND, Ordinary.
( vKDINARY’S OFFICE, Spalding Coun-
V/ it, Georgia, Darnall, May 26th, 1888,—Mrs.
Martha A. executrix of TUos. M.
Darnall, has applied to me for letters of dis
mission from the executorship of said estate.
Let ail persons concerned show cause be¬
fore the Court of Ordinary of said county, at
my office in Griffin, on the first Monday in
September, 1888, by ten o’clock, a. in., why
u 'h letters should not bo granted.
$6.15 E. W. HAMMOND, Ordinary,
/'VRDIN.VRY’S OFFICE, Spalding Coun-
tt, Henley Georgia, June 4th, 1888.—Georgia for letters of
Ann has applied to me
administration on the estate of Nathan Hen¬
ley, late of said county, deceased.
Let all persons concerned show cause be
fore the Court of Oraiuary of said county,
nt my office in Griffin, on the first Monday
in July, 1888, by ten o’clock, granted. a. m., why
inch letters should not be
$3.00. E. W- HAMMOND, Ordinary.
July SpecialBailifi’s Sale
\\ ’ ILL BE SOLD BEFORE THE COURT
House door, In Spaldiug County, Geor¬
gia, on the first Tuesday in July next, be¬
tween the legal hours of sale, one bay mare
mule about nine years old, fifteen hands
high, nfimed Ida. Levied on by virtue of a
mortgage fifa from Spalding County Court
in favor of Connell & Hudson and agains'
Naomi C. Wigaers. Levied as the property
of said N. C. Wiggers, to satisfy said mort-
gagattfa. This June 4th, 1888 Bailiff,
J. II. MOORE, Special Court.
$3.00. Spalding County
July Sheriffs Sales.
\1/ILL BE SOLD ON THE FIRST TUES
VV day in July next, between the legal
hours of sale, before the door of the Court
House, in the city of Griffin, Spalding Coun¬
ty, Georgia, the following described proper¬
ty, to-witt
Bart of lot of land number 125, in 3d dis
sriet of originally HenVy thesontheast now Spalding coun¬ of
ty, Bifid the lot, same bounded being in the sonth by McIntosh corner
on
road, on the ea9t by lot of land now occu
pied by Ilenry Galhouse, on the north by
privite the west road by leading the Central to J. L. RR. Stapleton’s, right of way, on
the same containing 67 acres more or less.
Levied on and sold as the property of Wm.
Keller by virtue of a fi fa issued from Spald-
ng Superior Court in favor of James Beatty
vs. Wra. Keller. V. L. Hughes, tenant in
possession, legally notified.
$600. RI 8. CONNELL, Sheriff.
Rule Nisi
B. f!. Kinard & Son j
vs. j >
I. J. Ward & J. W, Ward,
State of Georgia, Spalding County. In the
v Superior Court, February Term, 1888.
It being represented to the Court by the
petition of B. C. Kinard & Son that by Deed
of Mortgage, dated the 16th day of Oct. 1887.
I. J.Ward&J. W. Ward conveyed to the
said B. C. Kinard <fc Son a certain tract of
land, towit; fifty acres of land lying in Akins
District of Spaldiug county, Bill Ga., bounded as
follows: North by lands of Wise, East by
Jno. Ward, South by Barney Maadox and
West by Zed Gardner, for the purpose of se¬
curing made by the payment I. of Ward a promissory fit J. W. Ward note to
said the said -J. 15th
the B. C. Kinard & Son due on the
day Dollars of November 1887, for the sum of which Fifty
note and Ninety-six cents ($50.96),
is now due and unpaid.
It is ordered that the said I. J. Ward fit J.
W, Ward do pay into this Court, by the first
day of the next term the principal, interest
and costs, due on said note or show cause,
if any they have to the contrary, or that in
default thereof foreclosure be granted to the
said B. C. Kinard <fc Son of said Mortgage,
and the equity of redemption of the said I.
J. Ward fit J. W. Ward therein be forever bar-
rt d, and that service of this rule be perfected
ou law said L J. Ward & J. W. Ward according News,
to by publication in the Griffin
or by service upon I. J. Ward & J. W. Ward
of a copy three months prior to the next
term of this court,
JAMES S. BOYNTON,
Judge S. C. F. C.
Frank Fiynt and Dismukc & Collens, Peti¬
tioners Alt’s.
A true copy from the Minutes of this Con
Wm. M. Thomas, Clerk S. C. 8 C.
3pr4oam4m
HAND TO HAND.
By REBECCA HARDING DAVIS.
'“•ooynjrhced.]
“Then Alealarrays sauow cheek began to burn.
I regret to say, Mr. Proctor, that you
must make your choice between the church
and your very boyish impulse. A clergy¬
man who makes an associate of so doubtful
a character is hardly suited to our society.
As for his good trait*. I know nothing. I do
uot know that the righteousness of the carnal
flesh is filthy rags.”
“And I know that courage and self-sacri¬
fice arc proofs of as good mettle to poor old
Standixh as in a church niember, and come
as direct from the Master of -both. I must
judge for myself in these matters.”
“Assuredly. But if your judgment in
points so essential differs so widely from
ours, I must beg leave, as chairman of the
committee, to withdraw tho call. Do not he
rash, my dear sir,” changing bis voice and
laying bis hand on John’s shoulder. “There!
don't answer me now. Think it over, and
by evening you’ll see that I was right. You
headed.” are young and—pardon me—a little hot¬
A friendly word disarmed Jack. He
laughed. “You’re right there, anyhow.
Let the matter go till evening. But I will
not change my mind.” And, nodding a hasty
good-by, lie ran down tho office stairs.
Now tho quality of loyalty to 'his friend*
was exaggerated in John Proctor. R^ yet
he was a young man, with all the amffitiou,
tastes and shrewd knowledge of the world be¬
longing to young men of the present day.
When he reached tho pavement he saw the
stately towers of the church in which he was
tStlled to minister, and beyond, the exquisite
parsonage, its picturesque walls draped with
ivy. Mr. MeMurray’s carriage rolled by
again, and soft, tender little Clara beckoned
! smiling to him with tier white jeweled hand.
It was a high path and a flowery one that
opened itself before him. No wonder
that tho doubt suggested itself to him,
as he stood hesitating, whether it was
worth giving it up for a bit of quixotism—a
romantic fealty to a boyish faney.
PART II.
Later in the afternoon the major stood
leaning against a pile of bales in front of the
ware house, loftily tapping his chin with his
pinchbeck headed cane and listening to Mr.
McMurrey. That gentleman, in his anxiety
lest the church should actually lose Proctor,
had resorted to the desperate remedy of an
appeal to Standish. The old man kept his
malicious eyes fixed upon him, and grinning
with enjoyment of his embarrassment, but
under the grin lie looked haggard and
anxious.
“So the boy has a mind to take the part of
his old friend ? He’d stick by the hulk be¬
cause it’s going down? Tut! tut! There’s
stupidity for you.”
“I do not talk in metaphor about hulks.
I only thought it likely, from my knowledge
of you, you might presume on your acquaint¬ Mature
ance with tho lad and his generous to
draw him into trouble, and I warn you what
the result will be to him.”
“It will ruin him to be known as even my
friend. I understand.”
McMurray hesitated. After all, why not
give Standish a hint of the detective on his
track? If he would escape, all difficulty
would lie over. “Inquiries of a significant
kind have been made for you this week, Maj.
Stawdish,” he said.
“So I have been told.”
“I do not know to what part of your part
jareer they refer.”
“And you’d better not ask too closely, Mac
Dan Standish has led a hot life, I tell you,*
with a vicious wink that made tho deacon
shudder from hat to boots.
“Well, I have irresolute discharged my duty,” he
said, after an pause. “It Is most
probable that young Proctor will come to
seek you this afternoon.”
“And if ho comes, I am not to see him?”
with an attempt at a jocular tone that had
more terrible force in it even to the cold
blooded hearer than any painful outcry.
“Why, man, I am pushed nearer to the wall
today than anybody knows. As for this boy
—well, no matter what he is to me. I gave
up something for him-once. It seems as if I
had the right to ask bis help now, when—
when death has me by the throat.” He
looked vacantly, quickly about him, at the
boxes, the ears rattling by, at the head of his
cane. McMurray thought be had been dunk¬
ing. “I am sorry I troubled myself about
it,” he said, with dignity. “Good day, Maj.
Standish.”
“Good day,” effecting a flourishing bow
with his unsteady hand. “Take old Dan to
point your next sermon, wjjl you? I’ve lived
by my wits. I’ve made myself the compan¬
ion of poets—of nobles, sir! And now when
the end comes, damn it, man, I haven’t a
friend!"
Mr. McMurray hurried nervously away,
picking his steps among the boxes and bales.
Standish stood a moment looking at the
ground, and then turned and stumped up the
narrow rickety stairs that led to the top of
the building. He did not know what especial
sin of old times was coming back to give him
the last blow, nor did he care. That was all
fair enough. It seemed to him sometimes,
comparing his life with that of other men,
that he had lived just like a beast from hour
to hour, out of whatever impulse was in him.
He was ready to meet any old abomination
of his past life and take the punishment.
“I’ve had the dance, and I’ll pay the piper,"
ho said, kicking open the door of his room
and going in.
“But—the boy?”
Now the major’s cockloft was in reality a
garret room covering the whole sixth story
of the warehouse. The beams overhead, the
plastered walls, the half dozen squat dormer
windows, the pine floor, were as clean as
lime and scrubbing could make them. It
looked, in fact like a big white plain with a
little camping ground at one end, in which
was a grate with a good fire, a tent bed
neatly made, a table with pens and paper
laid in exact order, the “Men of our Day,”
out of which the major furnished obituaries
at ten minutes’ notice for The Camera, and
an odd volume of Appleton’s Cyclopaedia,
out of which he drew its supplies of science.
Great decency of cleanliness everywhere, but
nothing to eat. If there had been, perhaps
the major’s acts in tho next hour would have
been less guilty in the eyes of religious
people. But when it comes to looking out in
the world from a starving body, a man is apt
to slip the orthodox leashes and follow his
own notions of right and wrong.
Ho took off his black coat carefully,
hung it up, threw his braces loose
down his back, and sat down in his shirt
sleeves before the fire, his hands on his fat
knees. He wished, dully, Madeline was Here
to puzzle it out for him; remarking half aloud,
that if that girl undertook to write a leader
it would be bosh, but in every thing else she
never failed to hit the nail plump on the
head. There was a round roly-poly brown
crock in the window, in which bloomed a
buttony little rose, one of the Burgundy sort,
red, fresh and pungent. Madeline had left it.
It was like her somehow, the major thought.
Do what he would, his thought* would go
back to the girl and to the years she had lived
with him. instead of this question <>f life and
death wlncn must oe seuieti laauy.
There was the door to her little room ajar.
He always had contrived to pay the trifle of
rent for the room after she left him, liking to
think of it as her*. Ho remomteml the day
ho brought her there first. He had had a
tough siege nursing old Dttrbrow, her father
(an The Camera like himself). When he
was dead, the major settled up the estate:
there were $400 of debts, and for assets, one
trunk, empty; one suit of clothes, patched;
one watch, gold; a pretty lot of meerschaums ;
(tnd the little girl of 5, just over the measles.
Thd watch went to pay the debts, and the
little girl, of course, must go to an asylum.
But the major brought her home for a week,
to cheer her up a bit. He took her to the
theatre and circuses every afternoon; he
bought her a gay little plaid silk suit (tt wo*
a flush time with him just then); he Btuffed
her with oysters and caramels; and in tho
night, when she cried for her father, took her
on his knee in her white nightgown, made
her say over her prayer* again, and then
rocked and croaked over her some old ditty
about “Shepherds, have you seen my lovef”
till she fel 1 asleep. The other men, who missed
him nt billiards or aver their stews and ale
whnu the paper* were out toward morning,
used to unearth old Standish at this sort of
work, and joked him about it roughly enough.
But they were pleased when he kept her week
after week, and used to be coming in per¬
petually with scraps of anxious advice about
croup or nettle rash, and fell into the habit
of buying all sorts of expensive and useless
things for “poor Durbrow’s baby."
So it went on for years. There was always
a strong smell of cigars and printer’s ink in
the air the child breathed, and no doubt
when she came to be a young lady she learned
to think iha scrappy," itemizing, newspaper
way; but Madeline’s life was in fact as
cleanly, and sweet, and tender among these
men, as if she had been one of any rosebud
garden of girls, perhaps more so. Whatever
garment of lies the major chose to put on as
armor, or to perk and vaunt himself in out
among other men, he never wore it Into “the
cockloft.” Nobody could account for the
almost pathetic tenderness of his love to the
girl. It was more than seemed due for her
father’s sake, or even her own;
Once, however, he had said to her, “You
came to take the place of a child that I lost.”
That was the only time he had hinted at the
secret of his former life. He kept it hidden
even from himself.
It came to "him to-day, and would not be
thrust aside. In a few hours it would be
knoivn to all the world.
John IToctor was his son.
He remembered well now tho last day when
he had called the boy by that name. ’ It was
a dreary, rainy season in November, three
or four years before he took Madeline. He
sat by a hotel window with Jack on his
knee. It was a week since he had come from
Richmond, leaving the child’* mother dead
there. He had spent the week going from
one newspaper office to another, vaunting
and vaporing, and drinking hard, but with a
still cold conscieusnes8 all the time of stand¬
ing by her grave, on which the rain pat¬
tered, with her child’s life left in his hands
to do with it what he would.
Mary’s boy would have grown into a truth¬
ful, God fearing man if she had lived; a
gentleman, too,' the class which Standish,
with all his taw'dry bragging, watched far off
with jealous awe. Now— What could he
make of tho boy? He took the little chap’s
hands in his, and pulled him closer, trying
with his bleared eyes to penetrate the future.
Like father, like son; it was so always. For
(jimself, whether it was the taint of the
butcher shop or some flaw in his make up he
did not know, but he was labeled everywhere
for contempt. Even here, where he was a
stranger, ho was marked already, he saw, ns
disreputable, vulgar, a frothy bubble, of a 1
man.. He was sore and galled by the snubs
he had met with today. He sat quiet in the
gaudy hotel parlor, holding Jack close while
the servants lighted the lamps and people
came and went; he looked steadily at tho cost
of what he meant to do.
“Til take the weight of your old father off
of you, Jack,” he said at last, stooping to kiss
the fat, red little face. “Good-by, my son.”
He did take it off. He entered the boy
under the name of Proctor at a fashionable
boarding school, setting aside the entire sum
he had saved with which to start a paper in
Philadelphia. “I can scratch for myself,” ho
said.
“Let the lad have everything ho wants,” he
urged his governess one day. “His father
had the best blood in Virginia in his veins,
madam. And teach him religion. His
mother”— but he broke down her. “She’s
yonder,” he said quietly at last, glancing up.
The governess nodded, and understood him.
So the feint succeeded. Of what it cost
himself, he said nothing; it had lifted the boy
at once, he thought, into a pure region at
fashion, and refinement, and salvation. The
glories of thd Proctors, in the course of years,
grew and multiplied readily in the major's
handling. There were times when he became
confused himself, so real had Jack’s illustri¬
ous family grown. “Remember your father
the general, lad!’.’ he would cry, when urging
the boy to manliness or courage. “Noblesse
oblige!”
“Damned - I know whether there was a
Gen. Proctor or not!” he would mutter |>er-
plexed to himself afterward.
Well, there was the end of it all now. The
lie had been played successfully for years,
yet now all Jack’s world was to know it was
a lie. Sitting by the fire in his shirt sleeves,
tapping his knees with his clumsy fingers,
the major went over it this afternoon.
“There’s nobody who knew me in Virginia,
and knows my name is Richard and not Dan,
that can’t tell about the boy.” He saw no
way of escape. “If to call himself my friend
was ruin to the lad, what will become of him
as my son?” And to-day, Jack’s fate stood
in the balance, as MoMuiTay had said.
Again and again the major reasoned round
the dreary circle.
“On one side the charge of a great church,
wealth, and the woman he loves; on the
other—me." There was nothing beyond
that. To-night must aid it one way or the
other. The drumming of his fingers grew
slower on his knees, till he sat like a block
staring in the fire. The gnawing hunger
tearing at his flesh made his brain clearer.
He was to be hung on his boy like a mill
stone to drag him down, till one or other of
tnem died? What if he were dead now!
Great gain would follow; and as for loss-
The major rose mechanically, the eyes un¬
der his grizzly brows growing strangely keen
and glittering. “I don’t know that I’m of
much account—If one took stock of me.” He
passed his hand with a queer chuckle over his
big, hungry, rheumatic body; then glanced
hastily toward the pile of MSS. on which
no publisher had drawn for months, proudly
conscious for a moment of the genius which
had been his birthright “I never made my
mark, though,” he muttered. He repeated
that once or twice.
The stock was taken.
He stood quiet a moment, and then sopped
his face with his ragged white handkerchief.
It was strangely composed and grave. He
went to a closet and took down from the or¬
derly shelves a bottle full of dark brown
liquid, from which he half filled a goblet,
which be placed ready on the mantel shelf;
then, as though doubting its efficacy, be took
out a tiny vial full of white powder, and hid
It in hi* pocket. Unlocking a desk, he took
out an old leather covered Bible, yellow with
-re. and began turning over the leaves, to
I f Hh
“Born, Jaw. 31, John, only child of Richard
and He Mary Standish ’
rend tt over, as he had done every day
since he gave the boy up. He fancied God
came as near to him in thoao words ** ha
could in any other* to that book. It
was the only page which hoover read. She
had written them there.
“She knows whether I’ve loved her and
you, Jack," stooping to kiss the faded *.i writing.
“Your old father shall never be —right on
you, boy.” He opened a kn,,\- ; cut the
leaf. It was loose now; b< i :• it In hi*
hand and stooped over the lire irresolute.
After all, his real hold on life for a good
many years had been through that page; as
it began to crisp, he glanced up quickly at
the goblet, then out of the squn dormer
window. Light* were beginning t gleam in
tho houses beyond the Sclmylki;', the sky
warmed red as cinnabar to the frosty sun¬
set, while wisps of feathery smoke from some
passing steamer wavered across it The
world gave him a friendly look—for the last.
He threw the paper in the fire, put out hi*
hand for the goblet—when there was a sud¬
den soft flurry behind him, and two nervous
little hands were clapped over his eyes. The
next thing was a hearty kiss right on hi*
mouth.
“Why, Madeline! child! is it you!”
“Of course it is not me I there are so many
pretty girls stealing in to kiss you without
leavel Oh dear, I’m quite frozen, Uncle
Dan?”
She looked as if she were; her chubby,
dimpled face was blue, and the rimy drops
stood in her eyes. She perched herself up on
the major’s chair, beating her hands in their
woolen gloves together. “If you only could
unlace my boots? My feet haven’t had a bit
of feeling for an hour. Five miles did they
tramp. I didn’t want to break the note for
car fare. It’s the half yearly pay day, you
know. Just look at it," fumbling in her
bosom under her sack and bringing out warm
and crisp a bright new note. “I couldn’t
sleep until we’d Jt»oth seen it and—gone
halves!” winking with both eyes and laugh¬
ing all over in tho most ridiculous, lovable
way. The major had taken off her shoes,
and stood with them in his hands looking
down at her. She was so alive with beauty,
She teas so alive with beauty.
warm blooded and happy! She seemed to
come to him like sudden youth or summer in
this last desperate hour. There hung about
her even the faint scent of roses. It seemed
so easy to come back to sit down beside hi*
little daughter, who loved him with all her
honest heart, and be happy and jolly and
alive as always.
But he knew what ho l ad to do.
“How long are you going to stay, Maddy?"
“Until to-morrow—unices you would rather
I vrraM go quickly.
“Yes, I would rather. I have some busi¬
ness—there will be some men here after
awhile—it wouldn’t be best for you to stay.”
“Very well,” Maddy nodded, turning her
stockinged feet about before tho fire. She
never asked questions, but she gener- *
ally fpund out alt that she wanted
to know without them. “How long can I
stay, Uncle Dan?” taking off her hat.
“In two hours will liq time enough. Let
me have you long as I can.”
“Isn’t that a lovely hat?” poising it on her
little fat flst, and looking over it steadily into
his gaunt, changeless face. “The brown
plume is just the shade of my hair. Been
hard at work on The Camera lately, dear?”
“They’ve needed nothing for two weeks."
“Oh!” She was quiet a minute. “Just put
that hat carefully away In my room, won't
you? and bring me my slippers. They’re in
the lower drawer. You have the keys.” She
sat motionless until the door closed behind
him, and then like a flash she was in the pan¬
cupboard, which was empty, as we know,
and back again by the fire. 8he took up the
goblet and smelled it. The major, coming
back, glanced at it jealsusly, but it stood
where he left it, and Maddy was leaning
lazily back in her own low chair. She was
pale, and the water stood in her eyes.”
“You’re uot well, child?’
“No. Sit down by me, Uncle Dan. I’m
tired and I’m hungry, that’s all. I ordered a
miraculous little supper as I came along. It
will be here presently.” She took bis big
hand as he sat by her, Angering it over, hold¬
ing it now and then to her cheek. Some¬
else than longer had been at work with
him. They were both too old soldiers to be
beaten, as he was today, by a little whole¬
some fasting. But what was the sore? She
did cot know whereto thrust her probe.
“They've raised my salary, Uncle Dan, did
you notice ?’
“No, I did not. I'm glad of it, my dar¬
ling. You can go through the world alone
well now, Maddy?'
She made a grimace. “If one only cares
for hard work and money—ye*. But I’m
tired of being alone. I mean to either come
home, or you must come to me. Though a
man of your talents would be wasted in a
Jersey village like that. They have only one
You could not go there."
“Only cate newspaper, have they?’
There was silence, “Jack is nt home.” he
at list.
{VO 3E <X TIVCED.
The Stops of an Orange.
With such important functions as the liver
are disturbance- of course productive When of serious its bodily
it relaxes secretive
and distributes activity, bile gets into the
blood and tinges takes skin and white oo the
•yes with yellow, the bowel* becomes con¬
stipated, the toDgne coasted, the breath sour.
Then come headaches, vertigo and conges
tlon of the organ, accomplished with pain
in its vicinity or under the right sholder bla¬
de. Shall blue pill be the remepy psmiciouB. sought?
No, for mercury in any form is
What then? Experience indicates Hostetler’s
Stomach Bitters as the true remedy relaxes for in¬
activity of the liver. It not onlfi the
bowels without pain bat has a direct stimu¬
lating eflect upon the hepatic gland All Reels,
the seat and origan of the trouble. malar¬
ial contplaint involves diaoreer of the liver,
and of these the Bittere is the most popular
curative. It also conquers kidney dyspepsia, trouble*. ner
vousness .rhumatism and
Dr. Usftitt’sTEETWIU ffcethlsg Pottos)
Rowan. Altar* Irritation, Aid* the Digestion, Child.make* ttegalatMthe Teething
Bsprua strengthen*
it safe and sure. Try It sad yos will never he
without TKETH1N A a* ton* u there ar* child¬
ren la the Moo--. Aik your Itraggift.
. ... ..._________
WKAK II
ftinesS
K!l
|g£j
I9A
ORBS Nervous Prostration, Nervous Headache.
-----Neuralgia, Nervous Weakness. Stomach ^
sad Liver Diseases, Rheumatism, Dvs- *
Vpsla.snd WELLS, RlCHARQjfOMACOl _
all affections of tho Kidney*. P Top’*
VCRUffOTCM, Tt.
1
PIANOS 1
ORGANS !
tine, at
DEANE’S ART GALLERY
WHIPS, WAGONS, BUtMK
AND HAP NESS
—w- -
Studebaker Wagon! White Hickory Wagon I
Jackson G. Smith Wagon I
Jackson G. Smith Buggy I
old And Buggies the COLUMBUS Specialty. BUGGY at the Lowest Prices possible. Repairs «
a
w. H. SPENCE,
,u^8d*w6m . eor.Hin*Twlor«h^.MtOTni, ek
WE HAVE JUST RECEIVED!
Afresh lot of preserves,
Jellies, Apples,
Oranges,|Bananna«,
Cocoanuts„
AND IN FACT EVERYTHING A H0USKEEPPER WILL NEED:
State of Georgia Bonds.
FOUR AND ONE-HALF PER CENT.
Executive Office, Atlahta, Ga., J une 1st,
1888.—Under the authority of au act approv
ed September 6th, 1887, authorizing the Gov
ernor and Treasurer to isaue bonds of the
State to an amount, not to exceed nineteen
hundred thousand dollars, with which to pay
off that portion of the public debt maturing
January reeoeived 1st, 1889, scaled proposals will bo
at the office of the Treasurer of
Georgia, up to 13 o’clock m„ on July 6tb
next, for one million nine hundred thone
and dollars of four and one-half per cent,
coupon bonds (maturing as herein set forth)
to be delivered October 1st, 1888.
One hundred thousand dollars to mature
January hundred 1,1898.
One thousand dollars to mature
January 1, 1899,
One hundred thousand dollars to mature
January One hundred 1, 1900.
thousand dollors to mature
January One huudred 1,1901.
thousand dollars to mature
January hundred 1,1903,
One thousand dollars to mature
January 1, 1903,
One hundred thousand dollars to mature
January One hundred 1, 1904.
thousand dollars to mature
January 1, 1905,
One hundred thousand dollars to mature
January One hundred 1, 1906.
thousand dollars to mature
January One hundred 1, 1907. thousand
dollars to mature
January hundred 1,1908.
One thousand dollars to mature
January 1, 190%
One hundred thousand dollars to mature
BOne January hundred 1,1910.
thousand dollar* to mature
January 1, 1911.
One hundred thousand dollars to mature
January 1, 1913.
One hundred thousand dollars to mature
January hundred 1 1913.
One thousand dollars to mature
January 1,1914. •
One hundre 1 thousand dollars to mature
January 1,1915.
One hundred thousand dollars to mature
January 1,1916,
The bonds to be in denomination of one
thousand dollars, with semi-annual coupons
due on the 1st day of January and July of
eaci T. year principal respectively. and
a interest payable In the
city .£ New York, at such place as the Gov¬
ern. r may elect, and at the office of the Trees
nrer of the State, in the city of Atlanta, Geor
gia. Bids
mart be accompanied by eertified
check or checks—certificate of deposits of
some solvent bank or bankers, or bonds of
the State of Georgia for five per cent, of the
amount of such bid, said checks or certificate
of deposit being made payable to the Treae
nrer of Georgia.
Bids will be opened by tha Governor and
Treasurer and declared by the sixteenth of
July next, the ail State reserving the right to
reject ’The any or of said bids. bonds
State will isssue registered in
lieu of any of the above named bonds, as
provided in «r-i-J act, at any time on demand
of the owner thereof.
Copies of the act of the General Assembly
authorizing this issue of bonds will be fur
nished on applidation to the Treasurer.
JOHN B. GORDON, Governor.
B V. HARDEMAN, Treasurer.
ju:ie6-3aw-4w
Notice to Debtors and Creditors.
AH r”r- ns indebted tothe estate of Mary
deceased, L. Bm.i late hereby of Spaffiing notifivd County, to call Georgia, the
arc on
Undersigned and make settlement of such in
debtedness atones; and uB persons having
demands against said ustaie are notified to
present their J. W. claims BUTLER, properly Administrator. proven.
may Twff.—$3.70.
i’IU3 PAfEH,
vtwrU-- .Mf Burner- {(0 SjvnKv, I
>•**/ ’ r— '*
Rnle Nl8 >-
Duncau,Martin & Perdue }
W. T. H* Taylor.
It being . e iiruary Term, 188 , .
of Duncan, represented to the k Court by tire pe-
Martin Perdue that by
of Mortgage, dated the IStii day o
’ 1887,W.T.H.Taylor lLTavlor oon eon veyed,to ve ndtoati said
Martin Martin fit k Perdue Perdue “ft “» sertftiu certain panel ra ritl
“ * . ......
land containing thirty (SC) acre* Mug
of lot No, flfi in the Mi District of
my own hands, taidMamd, thirty yrea, b e-
of securing the payment of a pr e mia
said 4 da^i.^atS.^ Du bythe said W 4 T. H-Taylerto
1st
Hundred and Forty Ehtfit and 6*-108 Dollar*,
is internet due an<Tattorney* and unpaid. Sms, which
now
It is ordered that the said W. T. H. Taylor
the’flrst day of the
. . terest ana easts,
and mortgage or show cause
suy he has to the contrary, or that in de¬
thereof foreclosure be granted to tho
said Duncan, Martin & Perdue of said Mort¬
and the equity of redemption 0 f the
said W. T.HTaytor therein be forever bemd.
and said that W. T. service H. Taylor of this according rale be perfected to law. 00
JAMES 8 . BOYNTON,
Judge 3.0. F. C.
Beck k Cleveland, Petitioner* Att'ya.
I certify that the foregoing I* a true copy
from the Minutes of this Court, this Februa¬
ry Term. 1888. Ww.fM. TnOKtf,
fcb36oam4m Clerk 8. C. 8. C.
IAN WANTS BUT UTILE
Here below, but be Wtnts that HtUd
mighty quick. A
or a big one it promptly RIM by ad¬
vertising in thd Daily dr
Weekly r NEWS.
ADVERTISERS
:an learn the exact cost
>f am proposed line ol
advertising in American
papers by addressing
(ieo P. Rowell & Co.,
A<<-ortamg Pufwa,
to r t±r>" A., New Y«4 l
' luO-rteae
n>-
t„r* sa*
a*A re Mala —
4 *. ««•-* n*m*