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NINE SCORE YEARS OI,I>. An Aulnumlinu Story Tlmt l/cailn On« to Think A<l»m Anil Ktc May H« Allfo Mill. I>r. I/ovi K. fieorgo was interviewed the other day concerning the Moqui Indians of Arizona, whom li<> recently risited. Said he: "I will describe the particular tribe of the Moquis in which I discovered the most remarkable eases of long life. They arc called the Wakoyas and comprise about l.Vt peo ple males and females. <>f these there are only about 70 children) about <SO middle-aped persons, and the rest in clude at least 1.0 centenarians. 'They do not intermingle with the roving bands of savages, preferring :i fixed habitation in their little villape in tlk; valley of the Chausaka river, one of the hundreds of small streams tributary to the Colorado. They dwell in stone houses or huts, enpapo in aprieiiltural pursuits to a limited extent and enjoy many of the arts of civilization. 1 hey arc, neverthcle s, very secluded in their little punch-bowl of a valley. “f)ur visit to the place was made about six weeks apo. The chief prove 1 to he of an oldipirip disposition am. showed us all about the villape. Wo were followed by a crowd of young Wakoyas, and were preceded by the chief, while around us barked and howled a number of dogs, with which the villape abounded. After nrocced inp a short distance we paused before the door of a low stone hut, covered with a skin roof, the cracks in the wall beinp filled with brown adobe. Our leader entered without poiup through the ceremony of knocking. ‘Muskeo! Muskeo!’ we heard him shout repeated ly from within. Hut Muskeo was evi dently not at home, and the chief came back with a disappointed look on his dark face. Wo met the object of our search about twenty yards from his door and were presented to him in In dian fashion, lie appeared to marvel at our unexpected appearance, but his astonishment was nothing compared to ours as we gazed at his strange and unnatural form. His shoulders and limbs were clothed with deerskin robes, and his face, which seemed to be barren of flesh, was covered with dry, wrinkled skin; his lingers were ex tremely long and his palms and wrist were withered and shrunken, while his whole body, which was much attenu ated, was bent over until his back as sumed thoshanoof a half-circle. I had never seen such a specimen of aged hu inanity before.” *‘l)id you discover his age?” inquired the interviewer. •‘Our Moqui guide, who spoke Kn glish almost perfectly and whose verac ity we had tested on previous occasions, told ns, after making the necessary in quiry, that the man win 17f> years oh., and 1 have not the slightest doubt, nor would anyone have after seeing I lie an ciont Wakey a, that such was iud<«. his age. After looking at us for some few moments, during which ho rested his chin heavily upon the long stall which he clutched with one of his dried up hands, he mumbled a few words m answer to questions put by the chief and our interpreter, and then, raisin;; his head and stretching out his limbs.lie shambled oil toward his lint at a toler ably smart pace for a man t <.• M ars old. •‘Hut the greatest surprise was yet to come. We were ushered into a rudely constructed stone building of great, >• dimensions than those lieloru \isitcd in the village. It was almost dark inside, and tlk' room was ill-smelling and close. W hen our eyes became accus tomed to the dim light we saw a skin dad figure kneeling in one corner of the room and engaged in breaking light sticks of wood into small faggots. \\ <• were told that it was a woman theehie) had brought us to see, and that she had not noticed our approach, being blunt and deaf. The chief placed his hand on her shoulder, and she slowly turned around. 1 could not see quite plainly, and was at once struck with a feeling of repulsivoncss almost akin to the lior ror one fools toward visions seen in a nightmare when her hideous face and blank, sunken eyes met ray gaze. Her face was id a greenish yellow color, and what little there xvas left of flesh or skin dung to her bones as if stuck there by some adhesive compound. It bore n parched, desiccated appearance, like the outer flesh of a mummy. The low er jaw. w hich was dexoid of tooth, ob truded considerably beyond tile angle of her sharp, hooked nose. Her arms appeared to ho almost hare of any fleshy 1 tissue, and the skin covering them was dry and hard. She is tsi years old. This places her beyond the reputed age of the patriarch Isaac at the time of his death, and she must have first seen the light in 170‘2, or seventy-four years be fore I’ e signing of tho Declaration of Independence. “Did you learn her name?” “The people of the village call her Watsuma She has only one living relative, a great-grandson, who is St* years of age.” “How ha< the record of her years iicen kept ?” "In the immemorial fashion of this tribe by punching small holes in a piece of smoothly-polished lyorn at the end of each twelve month I express ed a desire to see the record of Watsu uia's age. At first 'ln' was very back ward at*out producing it. hut finally directed her young attendant in a slow, hoarse speech to go and bring it to her, which was done, and then, w ithout al lowing us to take it from her bony hu ger:.. she held u up for inspeeticn. The 182 holes were counted l*y our wonder ing party, and the ancient relic was replaced in its position in an inner re- , cess in the wall of the hovel.”*—£<m Francisco Ckronirir. The Queen's private secretary is called upon by Life tor an explanation of the’statement that the Queen gave twenty-five dollars to Chief Superin tendent Haves, of tin Windsor }M*lice, for his services when Maclean shot at her, “There must be something unex plained about the donation.” says Lite; “the sum is quite disproportionate to the position and pay of the officer, and lamentably disproportionate to Her Maj iesty's dignity." The Superintendent evidently had no desire to keep the money, for he promptly gave it to the • Wesleyan Chapel at Windsor, tc pay for a tablet recording the Queen's ei* Bicb Actor*. Ootilp About the Farorltei of th« Slag#. There are very few rich doctors, say a a Now York letter, and fewer rich ac tors. John Oyvens was rich. He made his money by say ing, and lost it in speculation. Joe Jefferson made a for tune by saving. He rarely spends any thing; yet moro rarely gives. Edwin Booth is coining money. He had much at one time, sank it v<ith more belong ing to his friends, went into bankrupt cy, to the grief of his creditors, re-be gan to work and save, and is now hold ing on to every dollar with the grip of avarice. Charles K. Thorne, through the death of his wife';; father, will enjoy the income of a handsome (-stale, about SIOO,OOO, I hear. Hobson, having found a Ma yotte in the person of William H. Crane, has made and kept a small for tune. McKee Rankin ano his wife have a solid foundation. Maggie Mitchell and Lott a Crabtree are well o(T. The reports of Mary Anderson's money are exaggerated. She will have a forttino in time if sho saves her cash, hut shn hasn't it yet. Lester Wallaek would not cut up very fat. Now, what others are there with money? You can't tell them. I certainly can not. The im pecuniosity of literary men is well known, and an editor with a dozen new shirts would he a treat for sore eves. Actors spend their money freely nnd ac cept the stern behests of poverty cheer fully. It is absurdly claimed that they are overpaid. That’s nonsense. In the first place actors don't average $. r »0 a week, and in the next place they get that only in the season, which averages thirty-eight weeks out of the fifty-two. They really don't get more than or $-10 on an average the best of’em. I think they are underpaid. But if they are overpaid, how is it with the women? They get le-.s salary and have larger outgoes. llow so? Why, if an actor has a die -suit and three or four ordi nary costumes he’s well equipped for a season, hut the women have to dress •nch now part. A dress-coat is a dress coat in one play as well as another, but and adncan't wear a ball dress, or any other in fact, in two plays. Then, too, men’s attire costs less. Women must dress a la mode, and, as a rule, have a different costume in each act. The average actor is a hog. The average actress is a mule. How so? The average actor looks out for him self and cares for no one else. The averago actress supports from one to live people. Little a> I know, I could tell you stories of the rudeness, incivility, nnd thoughtless selfishness of actors that Would make you gape with amazement, and 1 could tell you tales of tho heroic devotion of the women of the stage that would make you silent in sympathy and uproarious in admiration. 1 chanced to meet two well-known ladies of tho stage la t week. < >ne has long been re cognized a- a bright and beautiful orna ment of profession and has held a lead ing position for at least eight or ten years. Tho other is younger, hut equal ly well Known, bright, elmrmilig, and full of chic! The latter 1 had heard xvas the sole support of quite an extensive set, hut tin- other I Imd thought perfect ly independent, and well off. Chance directed the conversation to Booth’s stieeein London and the expression of a wish on the part of both ladies that they had been able to spend the sum mer on the other side, “Surely,” said 1 to tho elder, “there is no reason xvhy you should not have gone. You had a lino position and a nig salary all last season. If you had cared to save any thing you could have done so.” With out answering me directly she turned to her companion and situpiy said: “How little ho knows the truth.” I subse quently ascertained that for ten years she had supported four adults, has educated and clothed two growing girls, and to-day hasn’t a dollar boyotul tho necessities of her enforced idleness uutil tho season opens. Tint War Effect in England. By the uncertainty which envelop* political event--in Lnrope on account of the Egyptian complications, and by the contingency which presents itself that England may have to stand alone in her attempt to untangle tho intrica cies of the war problem, the English markets have been plunged into a state of great anxiety and solicitude. For the moment all enterprise has been ta ken out of business by the risks and doubts created through the tendency of foreign questions to till the future with dangerous contingencies for trade. The likelihood is that tin* Suez Canal will remain closed to traffic for an indefinite period, disorganizing the ordinary course of commerce between India, Chi na and Japan and the British islands. Commercial intercourse with Egypt is already almost at an etui. Tho loss of the usual cotton crop from that quarter is expected to exert a profoundly dis turbing influence upon the English cot ton industry, and the absence of the wheat supplies commonly relied upon from the same source will have some efleet upon the prices of grain. There is also a looking for a decline itt tho trade with Turkey. Meanwhile the lo cal corn crop threatens to be less than an average, and. as is conceded, cannot exceed an average under the most fa vorable circumstances for the remain der of tin- season until harvest. Money is abnormally cheap in London in eon oqueneeof the temporary disinclination of capitalists to venture upon invest ment- in either industrial or specula tive linden-king-. Although the Bank of England rate is ;> per cent, the rate on tin- stive; may In* called 2 per cent for three months' be-t bills, with short tills of the same class fractionally low r. and to-day money can hardly be lent at 1 percent. This hesitation in business is eu ha need by the [sluggishness which ordinarily prevails in the first month or two after the half year. Affairs an* not expected to settle down into anything like a routine course until the war cloud in the East l*ecoine- distinctly defined nnd the complications of the future* can be forecast with some degree of strong probability . At least a fractional ri-e tu the discount rat, of the Bank of Eng land is beginning to be anticipated, be cause the reserve of that institution is still unduly small, the aggregate of coin and bullion >o its vaults i- slowly de creasing, and the pro-poet of an excess export of specie i- sufficiently indicated to amount to the significance of a warn ing index finger.— t,- icago JuraUi. I THE LICK OBSERVATORY. Itu Sit#* a Favored Spot -Suitable Atmoi* |>h«*rio Condition*. Before Mr. Lick changed his board of trustees he grew distrustful of the ! site which had been selected on the ; borders of Lake Tahoe, ami chose an other on what is now known as Mount Hamilton. The latter is a prominence , in the Coast Range of California, forty four hundred feet above tho level of | the sea, and some fourteen miles in a straight line east of fsan Jose. The view from the summit is one of the most commanding in tho United States. Through a ravine towards the west tho spectator sees the city of San Jose, its buildings dotting with white the beautiful plain in which it is situ ated. The view of the Pacific Ocean beyond is cut off by a range of moun tains., Toward the north the eye take in a vast region, covered with innumer able hills, half mountain and half field. In very clear weather the peak of Mount Shasta may he seen at a dis tance of more than two hundred and fifty miles. On the east, above the neighboring bills, a line view of the outlines of the Sierra Nevada range, one hundred and thirty miles distant, may bo obtained at sunrise. On the south tho view is bounded by another peak about the same height as Mount Hamilton. Between the two moun tains lies a ravine moro than a thous and feet deep. Snow and glaciers are wanting, so that the views do not com pare in magnificence with those ob tained in the Alps, but the clearness of the atmosphere partly compensates for this by the extent and variety of the field which the eye takes in. The astronomer is not concerned with the earth, but with the heavens; and an elevated station is of no use to him unless it brings some advantage in looking upward. Other circum stances come into play to such an ex tent that tho mere gain of going above a mile of the atmosphere is compara tively slight, and, as a matter of fact, many of tho lincst observations have been made at sea-level. Notwith standing tho clearness of the air, doubt was thrown upon the suitability of the sight for astronomical observations. Observers had reported a current of warm air rising up the side of the mountain at night sufficiently stroug to carry a sheet of tissue paper out of sight. Such a current would be fatal to astronomical observat ions, and it be came important, before commencing tho building, to have a thorough trial of tho atmospheric conditions made by a competent observer. The astronomers who were consulted united in Recommending S. \V. Burn ham, of Chicago, as the best available judge in the case. This gentleman, al though an amateur in the seiouce, has gained a world-wide reputation by the discovery, witli an eight-inch tele scope, of a great number of double stars which had escaped the scrutiny of the Herschcls and the Struves. Long practice at Chicago in all sorts of at mospheric conditions fitted him to rec ognize good conditions more quickly and certainly than one who had devot ed himself to more widely extended branches of the science. In tho summer of 1871) Mr. Burn ham accepted a proposal to proceed to California with his telescope, and spend several weeks in surveying the heav ens from the top of Mount Hamilton. Tho month of August found him in stalled in a little observatory which had been designed and erected by Cap tain Floyd. ')he results of his exam ination exceeded all expectations, and an astronomer has seldom had occasion to make so enthusiastic a report as that of Mr. Burnham. Not only were the atmospheric conditions of the finest kind, but night after night the astron omer enjoyed such views of the heav enly bodies as Chicago offered him only a few nights in tho year. 'The general experience of observers is that the very finest nights for seeing are few in number; the man who can se cure a dozen a year would be consider ed extremely fortunate. Even one of these favorable nights might not re main so for an hour. But at Mount Hamilton that steadiness of view which is so rarely to be found at less favored spots generally continued through tho whole night. Whether tho future as tronomer who shall scan the heavens from this unsurpassed spot with au un rivalled telescope will enjoy during the whole year such weather as occurs dur ing summer atul autumn can not be foreseen; but even if he does not, ho will be more than satisfied with tho year’s work which he can perform dur ing the favorable season. As bearing on this subject wo may cite the observations and photographs of tin* transit of Venus taken at tho Lick Observatory in 188:2 by Professor I>. I’. l'odd. These proved to be tho finest photographs of the transit ever taken. Tho skill of the astronomer was indeed very requisite to the work; but this would have availed nothing had tho condition of the at mosphere been unfavorable. Alto gether. we may assume that, so far as mere looking is concerned, no existing observatory i> so favorably situated as that now being erected by the Lick trustee-. Hinton .Wiccomb, in Harper's Maya line for February. Professor ami Inventor. The following i- a good story about a well-know professor, which may go to prove that even great physicists are liable to error: The Professor was showing a party of ladies and gentlemen over some large works at Birmingham, chiefly engaged in the manufacture of complicated op tical instruments. The party came across a very ingenious instrument, the working of which the Professor pro ceeded to explain. In the midst of his explanation, a roughly dressed young man. standing near, struck in. and civ illy pointed out that the man of science was quite mistaken in his notions as to the instrument in point. The Professor, w hose weak point is not an excess „f humility, angrily main tained his own view, but did not suc ceed in convincing his opponent, who finally shrugged his .-Moulders and w alked oft". “Who is that—that person?” asked th< Professor, indignantly, of a work man standing by. “O. that is Dr. ,” was the reply. “He invented that instrument you have been looking at." [Tableau.]’ BECKY HAPPY IN JAIL. She Han Hern There a Long Time, and Ifaa No Trouble* Except Aid. Farley. Miss Becky Jones, the obstinate housekeeper of the late Mr. Hamers ley. having been adjudged guilty of contempt of court for refusing to tell all she knew about her late employer, was sent to Ludlow street jail. She was put in a room about twelve feet square, on the first floor, just off the dining-room. The single, iron-barred window faces on Essex market place, which is kept alive by the soul-stirring imprecations of butchers, the screaming erics of children, and the occasional howling of half-starved dogs and cats. Miss Jones hung a neat white curtain over the window and then examined the bed. Wiorrificd her, and she made life entertaining for Warden Phil Ki r nan until she got things fixed. He mov ed in a marble-top bureau adorned with a mirror, and gave her a largo piece of carpet and two chairs. The first week Becky kept closely to her room and was seen only at meal times. She said she was ill and tho warden never passed a drug store for a few days without buying a bottle of patent medicine fog, her. Becky got well, and the warden claimed the cred it of it. Finally Becky settled down into a humdrum method of passing the days, and seldom varies from it. She locks her door about 10 o’clock at night. If she is not very sleepy she draws her bedstead under the gaslight, and lies in bed reading a novel or a tract, if she happens to have one that draws a hap py parallel between a really good, and a very bad boy. She never forgets to turn off'the gas before dropping into sleep. She is up about daylight, and tramps steadily about the circular yard in the center of the jail forhalf an hour. Then she uses up considerable worsted in making tidies until breakfast is ready. Breakfast is passed in kindly conveise witli tier other unfortunates, who vio with eaeli other in helping Becky to bread. As soon as the meal is over Becky returns to her room and writes several pages of iier book, which will tell the world about her troubles. Then she reads a little, uses up a little more worsted, and receives as many of her friends as call upon her. She has be come attached to her homo now; tho only thing she dislikes about it is the name it bears. Warden Kiernan met a reporter at the door of the jail on Sunday and told him that Becky had issued orders a short time previously to have the first report er that came along sent to her. Becky sat near the window in a black alpaca dress. A little wooden trunk stood near the bureau. The top of the bureau was neatly covered with white tidies, on which rested a stubby black jug with flat sides and a small neck. The jug was painted black, and was stuck all over with little cupids with green and gold, and these letters “Been.” “They stand for Becca,” said Becky, as she shook the reporter’s hand. I was going to make it Rebecca, which is my name, but 1 couldn't find anything to cut the It and e out of. Sit down over there while 1 tell you what 1 want ed to see you for. “It’s about Aid. Parley,” she said. He has been tlirting with me in aw-ful. 1 told him if lie did not stop coming in here. I’d tell the reporters about him and now I’m going to do it. lie conics around and sits where you are sitting now, and goes on hor-rid. lie brought liis picture around here and gave it to me. Hero it is.” Becky showed tlie reporter a photo graph of the alderman with his smile and watch chain ail complete. It was hanging in t lie dark part of the room. Beckv pointed to a row of blue labels which were pasted on one side of the window casing. “I paste one of these up there every week,” slie said. I have thirty-three there now, but tho thirty-third week will not end until next Monday night lam willing to end my life here, and if the price of my release is to tell a i 1 know about poor, dear Mr. Hamers- Icy, 1 shall certainly die here. They say lam obstinate. If lam I suppose it is because l was born so near the fourth of July.” “Have you any hope of release?” “William H. Shepherd is my lawyer, and 1 believe lie is doing something for me. lam contented here, and don't much care. Everybody is kind to me. The Rev. Mr. Morgan, who preaches hero on Sundays, sent me a Christmas card, and so did his mother. Somebody else sent me a book full of prayers and a card full of verses. I've an awful lot of novels sent me. too, and such an aw ful lot of letters. You'd be surprised if I showed you some of them, but I won’t though.” “1 should think youhLget a cat or dog. Miss Jones, for company?” “Pooh! 1 hate them.” —Xao York sun. The Kuiure Novel. Now that Mr. Howells has made an achronism popular, the country may look for an improvement in literature. The following is a selection from a fu ture novel. “When Gregory arose, the sun was brightly shining. The cold wind, and tho drifting snow chill ed him, and taking off his coat to en joy the fresh air, he blew his frozen nose and raked the perspiration from his reeking brow. There was no time to be lost, and Gregory hurried on ward. When he reached tho rivtv, he was puzzled. There was no boat in sight, and lie knew not how to cross. The August sun beat fiercely down, and standing on the burning sands, Gregory failed to enjoy himself. After a while a bright idea struck him. He would cross tho ice. He heaved a sigh of relief when he reached tho op posite shore. The country was beauti ful. As far as the eye could reach, there waved the rich grass ot the prairie. Stopping under a large oak tree whose leaves waved an invitation, Gregory took an ax from his pocket and began to chop wood. The coating of sleet flew at every stroke. When he had kindled a tire and broiled an ovster which he had killed with a stick, he lay down in the cool shade and sank to sleep. How long he slept he knew not. He was awakened by a rainstorm. Risir -. he continued his course over the parched desert.”—-ir kansato Traveler. Fashionable Grief. The Mourning Widow’s Second Tear. Dressed in thedeepest and blackest of crape, in the richest of silks and the most coquettish of widows’ caps, says the London Journal, the bereaved one finds that her lost husband has mado but little difference in the routine of her daily life. Probably the principal change she feels from his loss is one in her in. come, and men have ere now been known designedly to curtail the finances in such instances in orderto ensure that the} - should at least be missed in some degree. But if the fashionable widow is easy in purse, she is rarely sad at heart. She knows that she is, for the time, at least, a prominent point and an object of at tention in her own circle. She is aware that her cap becomes her, and that sho looks younger in her weeds than she had looked for several years before. — She is not long before she looks round her for some diversion from the strict retirement that her world is supposed to enforce upon widows. It is, in real ity, far from strict. She can go abroad with a few chosen spirits, and who ttiat sees her laugh and chatter, flirt and amuse herself, as she does, could im agine that she is a widow of but a few weeks’ standing? Even if she remain in England, she is at no loss to find ways and means of entertainment. Her cavalieri serventi have by no means all disappeared, though some few have taken fright, who were very nervous as to matrimony. They are afraid she might marry them. Her suite is thus reduced, but those left are all the choicer spirits, and there is invariably a friend who, being married, has her own set of admirers, and be tween them the two ladies can usually muster a very pleasant party. There are visits to the play, paid incog., the incognito in this instance consisting of leaving the widow’s cap and heavy crape at home. There is a music hall or two much frequented in a quiet way by fashionable London ladies. Our. widow makes her party, and goes to these, accompanied by her frisky friend. “Poor Harry would never hear of my going.” she says, “anil this will bo an excellent opportunity.” There are trips to Brighton, and pleas ant little evenings there, unsuspected by the world. Places further afield than Brighton are visited, and a little quiet gambling helps to make the months lly around. The year of deepest weeds and strict seclusion is soon over, and few who have seen the quiet face in public, under that most proper if most coquettish of caps, could have guessed how merrily, for the most part, the days have gone. The second year is that in which the widow is really happy. The sombre depths of her mourning cast aside, she enters the world again and reopens her jewel-case. Even with a very becoming widow’s cap on, life is more or less a blank to a woman if she cannot wear her jewels. Now, however, the dia monds, pearls, and opals may reappear, and with what renewed delight are they not worn? Visions of dressesin delicate half tints, pearl-grays, soft lavenders, mixtures of white and gray, or black and white, float before her mind, soon to be realized. Her year’s absence from balls and parties and crowded rooms lias renewed her beauty, and the same retirement has brightened her eyes and tinged her cheeks with the freshness of enjoyment with which she prepares to reenter the world. Now indeed is the fashionable widow a dangerous and seductive crea ture. She knows that she is prettier' than ever, and the consciousness, mak ing her more certain of coming victo ries, gives a gentle softness to her mau ner. Beware of widows in the second year! Always dangerous, they are then more so than ever. There are, of course, widows indeed, whose grief does not wholly consist in yards of crape, jet jewelry, and a white crimped cap. These are apart from those of whom I have been writing, and with them the fashionable widow has nothing to do. While they brood over their loneliness, she revels in her free dom. They look. on into the coming years with a blank sense of dreary loss, while sho looks forward to the future with as much happy anticipation as she ever could have done to her mar riage. Light-hearted as a girl, she feels younger every day, and from her own point of view there is no more enviable being to be found in this world than a young, handsome, rich, and lively wid ow, whose heart is not inconveniently soft, nor her feelings too acute to pre vent her going through life “well pleas ed and careless,” and extracting from it as much of the pleasure and as little of the pain as may fall to the share of any mortal creature. In Melville’s account of tho search for the Grcely party, he gives his own plan for reaching the North Pole, and getting back without loss of life or property. Franz Josef Land has been explored to latitude 80, and is known to stretch northward at least 1 degreo farther; and it may be much farther still. By this land route Mr Mclvillo believes the Pole can be reached, and he proposes to get there himself, and find out about the flattening of the earth and all the other scientific secrets that -e supposed to cluster round that mysterious point. As Siqurd broke through the circle of lire and won Brynhild, not for himself, but for an other, so >Tr. Melville is determined to force the defenses of ice that guard tho alluring mystery of the highest north, and touring back the results of his conquest for the good of the wondering world. For Handsomest! Cheapest! Best IKON ROOFING. SIDING, CEILING, 6en t for rhnOrattrt I'atalosue and Price* of CINCINNATI (O) CORRUGATING COw »Mn - ■ -1 - , M , ,| |MM ▼ i»iting c*rdi with you P $ a Mcie neat v nriated lOc iu*. u Br St **' q l Lhrooxo with rzamt m 25 c*nts. _ 9 E ezant tin? cards, gilt or fancy m B 3 ge, with cam*, 60 cents. /yj Orand Hidden Name cards, with name, 63 cents. ad7 of tb* above jpnt st-paid on receipt of pr oa. The Tlowbor Co~ EMt Paiot. Gflb A QUESTION ABOUT Browns Iron Bitters ANSWERED. The question has probably been naked thousand* of timee, “How can Brown's Iron Bitters core every thing” Well, it doesn't. But it doea cure any disease for which a reputable physician would prescribe I*o E Physicians recognize Iron as the beet restorative agent known to the profession, and inuuiry of any leading chemical firm will substantiate the assertion that there are more preparations of iron than of any other substance used in medicine. This shows con clusively that iron is acknowledged to be the most important factor in successful medical practice. It is, however, a remarkable fact, that prior to the discov ery of BROWN’S IKON BITTERS bo perfect ly satisfactory iron combination had ever been found. BROWN’S IRON BITTERS&&, f £S£ headache, or produce comtipstion—all other iron medicine., do. BROWN’S IRON BITTERS caret* Indigestion, Biliousness, Weakness, Dyspepsia, Malaria, Chill* and Fevers, Tired Feellnir.General Debility,Pain in the Side, Rack orLimbsyllFadarhf and Neural gia—for all these ailments Iron is prescribed daily. BROWN’S IRON BITTERS, minute. Like all other thoronjrh medicines, it acts slowly. When taken by m*n the first symptom ot benefit is renewed energy. The muscles then become firmer, the digestion improves, the bowels are active. In women the effect is usually more rapid and marked. The eyes begin at once to brighten; the skin clears up; healthy color comes to the cheeks; nervousness disappears; functional derangements become regu lar. and if a nursing mother, abundant sustenance is supplied for the child. Remember Brown's Iron Bitters is the ONLY iron medicine that is not in jurious. Fht/ticiana and Druggists recomnund it. The Genuine has Trade Mark and crossed red lines on wrapper. TAKE NO OTHER- Tto Globe Ciitoi aiS Corn Planter AND Fertilizer Distributor. Highest award at International Cotton Exht hilon, Atlanta, Ga., tba Arkansas State F air th, Ntlonal Cotton Planters’ Aasoctation, the Great Beuthern Emoaition, LouiiTitle, Ky., and the World’s Exposition, New Orleans, La., and which has NEVER failed in any contest, has been atili further Improved, and la now fully adapted to any character of toil and the moat unskilled labor, twa atyles and siaea being now made. It la the moat durable Planter made, and will Save its Cost Three Times Over IN A SINGLE SEASON. As it plants from eight to ten acre* per day. with less than one and one-half bushel* of •eed per acre, and opens, drops, distribute* fer tiliaers and cover* at one operation, saving TWO HANDS AND ONE TEAM. The price has been reduced to suit the time*. Send for circular giving full description and term*. Globe Planter M ’fg Co., 226 Marietta Street, Atlanta. Ga. STEEL PENS. PATRONIZE HOME INOUSTRY. Wo are now offering to the public STEEL PENS of our own manufacture. Our Plowboy Eagle Is the best business pen in the market, 75 cent* per gross, postpaid to any address on receipt of price. And for line writing our Plowboy Favorite Surpasses any pen yet made, SI.OO per gross postpaid, on receipt of price. Samples on ap- THE PLOWBOY CO., East Point, Ga. THE PLOWBOY CO. IS PREPARED TO DO NEWSPAPER WORE Os Fvery Description In THE BIST POSSIBLE MANNER. And At »he Slic rtest Notice. We Furniak READY PRINT IKSIDES OR OUTSIDES Por Newspapers, OF THE Hiilust (Mer ot Kicelletce. NEWSPAPER HEADS M into to Order from tie Latest Style of Typo, Publishers who desire to furnish theii subscribers with the greatest amount es reading matter at the least coat, will da well to communicate with us at once, We will print the inside or outside, 01 the entire paper, if desired. Kamplee of Ready Prints sent on ap plication, and prices quoted that ait surprisingly low and defy competition. All we ask i an opportunity to servt our fellow publishers, confident that wt can give satisfaction. THE f LOWBOY 00. E«t Poiiti Qo