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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*