Newspaper Page Text
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THE OFFICE.
OITV PRICES.
WAYCROSS, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 24, 1892.
NO. 4
GREAT SALE.
PRICES.
Albatross, 40 in. at 45c. per yard
High Colors in Bedford Cord, 38-iu., 45c
Best Quality Silk Warp Henrietta, 4 6-in
at 9SC. per yard.
Dress Flannel, 42-in. 45c. per yard
Spool Cotton, 45c per dozen
Ladies’ Fast Black Hose, Herndoff’s Dy'e,
27c per pair.
Fruit of the Loom Bleaching 4-4, at 8c
Fine Quality Cambrics, at 7}£c
Yard Wide White Flannel, (best), at 44c
104 Sheeting, superior quality, at 25c
Ladies’ All-wool Uudervests, at 99c
Dress Ginghams, at 6 i-2c to 8c
Standard Prints at 4 i-2c
Lambs’ Wool Blankets, at $6-35 a pair
Beldiug’s 100-yd Spool Silk, at Sc.
A Complete Line of Black Dress Goods
at cost.
CONTINUES
Thirty days
J. V. NORTON,
THE BUSY STORE ON PLANT AVE.,
Is Offering Special Inducements to Bayers!!
IN ORDER TO CLOSE OUT OUR PRESENT STOCK OF
DRY
i, Fumisffing Gooffs, Sloes, Ms, Etc.,
TO MAKE ROOM FOR MORE NEW GOODS,
FOR THE NEXT THIRTY DHYS
Will Sell at Cost!
Now is The Time For Bargains!
Yon will save money by calling and purchasing your goods of us, as we are determined to
sell them at exactly wliat they cost.
IT WILL PAY YOU TO GET THERE EARLY
SO AS TO AVOID THE GREAT RUSH THROUGH THE DAY !
Orders by Mail promptly Filled.
REMBM33ER :
Our Immense Stock at Cost Tor 30 Days.
J. V. Norton,
Plant Avenue, Waycross, G-a.
SEE THE NEXT COLUMNS FOR PRICES.
GREAT SALE.
PRICES.
Check Homespun
Men’s Wool Pants, Good,
Best Quality’ Feather Ticking
Ladies’ Double Width', All-Wo
etta at 19c.
Silk Velvets,
62c
Dress Trimming,
at Cost
Corsets
16c
4-4 Brown Cotton Sheeting
4 I-2C
4-4 Sea Island Homespun,
4 C
Men’s White Laundered Shirts
40c
Men’s Wool Hats
25c
Men’s Suits
$2.20
Men’s Homespun Shirts
15c
Men’s Brogans
84c
Women’s Cowpen Shoes
63c
Ladies’ Dongola Button Boots
SSc
Men’s Congress Boots
1.25
Men’s Lace Shoes
99c
300 Trunks at Cost.
CONTINUES FOR
'Thirty Days.
JlbxJattv
Pure
A cream or tarter taking |»owdrr.
Highest of all in leavening strength.—
I/ttnt V. S. Qorermnent Food He/tort.
Horn I Kalins l’ow4t‘r Co.
IOC Wall Street, • - New York.
, -$300 Will be When
For any case of rheumatism which can
not lie cured by Dr. Drummond's Light
ning Remedy. * The proprietors do not
hide this offer, but print it in bold type on
.all their circulars, wrappers, printed
matter and through the columns of news
papers everywhere. It will work won
der*—one bottle curing nearly every
ease. If the druggist has not got it. he
will order it, or it will be sent to any
address by prepaid express on receipt of
price, $3.* Drummond Medicine Co. 48-
f*0 Maiden Lane, New York. Agents
wanted.
Tittle
LIVER
PILLS
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Jtst&jnssgss.
•«. •wnaTiumcSi’lia.
"Mistletoe be blowed, sir!" said the ma
jor; "mistletoe be blowed!”
He gazed sententious!y at his boots as
he spoke, and then, with a more mollified
intonation, remarked, "They leak, Sid, my
boy; they leak—leak Ukc sieves, sir; but
no matter.”
Then be wiggled a protruding toe the
better to emphasize his statement, and at
every wiggle the obedient sole leather
fluttered away from the upper and flapped
in softened resonance with the sound of a
muffled castanet.
“If you only knew them you'd come,”
persisted the younger man. ‘‘Why, major,
it's Christmas, you know, and—and—
well, they know you're a friend of'mine,
and they’re not so stock up as you say. and
if you'd only coma just think of the fan
you'd have. It would be just like the old
times over again. You'd fancy yourself a
boy. Pretty girt*, you know; joiliest sort
of a dinner; old fashioned as yon please.”
Major Mack ling was forty, and he looked
fifty-two. Where he came from or why he
came nobody seemed to know or want to
know. HU nose was long and pointed, hU
bristly mustache was gray, and hU hair
was thin about the temple* There were
deep lines from hU nostrils down to hU
chin, and around hU eyes were networks
of queer little crow’s-feet wrinkles. Still
he bad not a hard sort of a face, for though
them were lines between hU eyebrow* and
on his forehead tha eyes themselves were
soft and dreamy and gray, as if they were
always looking for something beyond the
heavens. And if .the troth be told those
gray ayes were tha Index to the major’s
character. He was a dreamer—a disap
pointed dreamer. And disappointed dream
ers, when they reach a certain age, begin
to get tired of waiting for the dream that
never comes true. Hence the lines about
the ayes and nostrils.
Cyril Thompson—they always called him
Sid—liked the major because he was his
own antithesis. Ha was only twenty-live,
but dreaming was not one of his rices.
Sometimes, of course, as boys will do.be
would paint himself pretty fancies of hap
py things in the future. But these fancies
were homely little genre sketches, so to
speak, when compared to the golden can-
a of tha major’s more trained and vivid
He placed his ideal in an accessible spot
near by; tha major’s never cams nearer
haunts of men than the loftier peaks of
the Himalayas.
The friendship of the pair was a _
case of mat by accident. While doing tha
town one evening Thompson had recklessly
traction, many times naa ne neara oi tne
poetic Bohemia which congregated itself in
such places, and he pined to see it at home.
At the same table with him sat an elder
ly man, with a long nose and grizzled gray
mustache. He knew how to use his nap
kin, and never let hU knife subserve the
proper ends of a fork.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” said he, with
the bow of a Chesterfield, "but can yon
oblige me with a nickel for these pennies?
1 like to tip Dominic, you see, sir,” he con-
tinned, “but pennies! you know, sir, pen
nies!” and he shook his head in a gesture
of ineffable contempt.
His manner was mildly patronaL He
oven seemed to be conferring a kindness in
joining hU new friend in a couple of glasses
of curacoa. But still he was charmingly
original and mild. HU demeanor invited
confidence, and he gradually drew from
Thompson hU entire genealogical tree. He
took fifteen minutes to learn that Thomp
son pere sold coffee on the wholesale plan.
Three minutes later he was aware that
Thompson mere had departed this vale of
tears when Cyril was still an infant. From
that it was but a step to infer that the
youth was an only child, and long before
they parted the major knew all about a
little darting, with bine, blue eyes and
gilt edged curls, who was altogether the
sweetest girl in this whole wide world, the
loveliest and the best.
“So?” said the major as Cyril told him.
“I knew that long ago, my boy. I've often
felt that way myself.”
And as they walked home together, the
youngster going a mile or so out of his
way to accompany hU new acquaintance,
they exchanged farther confidences at a
rata that was entirely in the old man’s fa
vor. Aathey neared the corner of a street
where cheaper lodgings abound the major
stopped to say gooaby.
“Bat you haven’t told me what yon are;
major. Where U a fellow to find you?”
“I live down here, my boy—top floor. 263.
What am I, you say? Nothing, my boy,
nothing. Only a dreamer—just a dreamer
—a dreamer of dreams—a disappointed
dreamer. Good night, my boy, good night.”
Ho disappeared in the shadows. Hewas
gone.
Bat somehow the lad got interested.
Professional dreamers of dreams were new
things to him, and the next day he again
hunted up the major. He found that the
old gentleman was the fortunate possessor
of $450 a year.
“Just ten dollars a month for rent, my
boy, oo* dollar a day for victuals, fifteen
dollars a year over for minor extrava
gances; but the clothes, my boy; d nth*
clothes! They must depend upon luck!”
The spring bad gone by and the aoi
mer, and the strange friendship had grown
stronger. Then the fall came, and Cyril
did not ass tha major quite so often, and
when ho did so It was to talk of nothing
bat a little girt with, shining gold curls
and bint, bine eyes.
And oo those occasions, after the boy had
for hours and hours on his bed, and
his head In his hands. meditate half
through the night. Then he would lower
the gas and crawl in between the sheets.
matter now? They areal! Inst, all buried,
—all, even the dreams!”
And the panorama of a dead decade
would sweep past bis eyes ere ever they
closed in restless slumber. The sonny
plantation iu the south, the girl that loved
him, the marriage that the sun smiled on,
the honeymoon in the west. Then the
dreams of a dreamer, the thirst for bound
less wealth, the schemes, the great specu
lation, the burst bubble, the weak remorse
drowned in worthless dissipation, the de
serted wife, the divorce.
The clippings.were ail therein that little
der who had gone to smash and vanished
five years before.
And that was all ten years ago.
Christmastide had come around and Cy
ril Thompson had brought an invitation to
the major. How was he to know that his
strange friend feared the face of society as
a scalded cat dreads water? ne only knew
that he pitied him, and in hU pity hoped
that some day he might kick a little ambi
tion into the major’s dead soul.
“You see, major, I’m going to marry her
anyhow,” be had explained, “and when
we’re married you’ll have to make friends
with her, so It’s just as well to do so now
•slater.”
The major shook his head.
"I know you’re a misogynist, and hate
women, and all that sort of thing,” per
sisted the boy, "but you’ll have to love
Louise if you care for me, and—well, as 1
said, it will only be a family party. Ldu’S
a half orphan, you know, but her mother’s
a brick and her cousins are awfully nice
people, and you’re sure to like them all.
We’ll only ourselves be there, and it will
be a regular Christmas dinner, with holly
and ivy and mistletoe.”
Oh, how the major bated Christmas, its
-and its festivities! The very
memories .of those bsppy Christmases of
the dead past accentuated that hate and
imbittered it. It was on Christmas day
that he had first dared to kiss the woman
he had afterward deserted. They had
brought down from New York the mistle
toe from the other side of the sea. He had
dared to snatch the kiss she was dying to
give as she stood beneath its white berried
CHRISTMAS GREENS.
he had built the first of his dream castles
as he sat besideber and kissed and caressed
^UtaUcame back when Cyril mentioned
the mistletoe. There she stood in loose
white muslin, the sunny beanty of the
—’■’'sssiWit&afKr' '
Christmas eve; By a dim lamplight
A woman sat far into the night.
Mending a child’s tom dress.
Her fingers were weary, her eyes were red,
Red with the weeping of tears she'd shed,
■ighed when she saw the little brown
head
That lay in the scantily covered bed
In sweet forgetfulness.
The little patched dress was laid aside.
The tears from the woman's cheeks were
dried;
And her heart grew cold, her soul rebelled.
When she looked around and her eyes be
held
The baby’s stocking a baby hand
Had left for treasures from fairy land;
For in it a doll with an ugly face
Was all that the woman had to place—
An old rag doll in a calico dress
For Santa Claus to come and bless.
Late in the night when the woman slept,
On the pale, worn face the shadows crept.
And the lines were deepened that care had
made,
For the cold, hard look on the free had
stayed.
While she dreamed of wealthy people's joys,
And of happy homes that were filled with
toys.
When morning came the woman lay dead.
Cold and still by the little brown head.
To the paupers’ home the child was sent;
To the potters’ field the woman went.
The care-worn lace lay under the sod.
While Charity preached in the house of God.
There was no one left who would possess
The old rag doll in its ugliness;
And the trash man hauled it off one day
To lie in the rain and mold away.
In the early days of this century
French cooks became rich. Very was a
millionaire; Achard bad immense wealth;
Mme. Sully, of the Palais BoyaL made
$200,000 in three yean.
Many a man is hurt more in a football
fight than be caret to admit, and eo be
makes light of it and plays on for the
sake of the college or team and firpm
self sacrifice.
The cultivation of the pineapple in the
Bahamas is a vary profitable undertak
ing. At twopence each an acre of pine
apples returns $200 to $250.
Sum* Suggestions M to tho Disposition
and Arrangement of Them.
As a rule the brunches of holly that bear
many branches upon them will not be bo
fresh and full of leaves as tha others. Buy
a few branches that are well filled with
berries; then be generous with the greener
branches. Pile ail hut a few as fiat as
possible, putting on top those having ber
ries. Cover these with the plain branches, r
and tie. When you get them home, sprinkle I
wetland place on the cellar floor. They will \
keep fresh for a week or two. If you buy
Jaure), put the bunch in a pail of water f
and sprinkle; then place in the cellar.
It U best not to put up the decorations |
until the afternoon before Christmas. The
halls, sitting room, diningroom and library j
are the most appropriate places for the ;
holly. Place large branches over mantels i
and sideboard and some of the pictures. ‘
Fill the fireplaces with large dishes con- ;
tainlng holly and laurel, unless you are to |
have a fire at once. Have long sprays of
English ivy in small, wide mouthed liofc-
tles which can lie hung behind picture
frames. Twine the Ivy around the sup-
pacting wires and the frames. Do not hang
the greens near a fire or over a register.
They curl and wilt very quickly when ex
posed to dry heat.
At least a week before Christmas get at
the florist’a about fifty cents’ worth of the
green staff called “Wandering Jew.” This
will fill several bowls and vases. Arrange
it gracefully in the various dishes and HU
with water. After wiping the outside of
the receptacles perfectly dry, place on the
corners of mantels, bookcases, etc. Change
the water every other day. To do this do
not disturb the plants; simply hold the
vase under the faucet and let the fresh wa
ter ran until all the old is displaced. In a
week’s time the vines will have grown iuts
a graceful, luxuriant mam, and with care
they can be kept in this condition for
THE RIGHT TO THE ROAD.
Like dreams the changing years have fled
The loveliest green clad, leaf crownod apace
Through woodland sweet with the flowering
thoru,
Came riding up f roue his fields of corn.
General Washington's coach of a
Bound for Cambridge, had reached the lane:
In it the general, grave, sedate.
Sat planning the coarse of a great campaign.
** ’uggle possessed the land.
For a t« _ ..
And the fate of a nation was in his band!
Riding before cauie horsemen twain;
they were young a
igth. In the narrow
d on bia fragrant load.
General Washington rides this way!
lor the coach!“ cried they
He was still In congress the last he heard!
He turned —looked back through the vlete
No sign of the uncrowned king was seen.
These were playful youths, it was very plats
He would meet their sport with acaludiMiain
And bia right to the road to the end uiaiataia.
A droll procession In truth they made
That summer day fa the green arched glade!
A frowsy colt waa the first in view.
Vanguard of the rustic's retinue!
A white mare next, then oxen four
(“Five cattle team,” the name it bore);
Then the peasaut prince, who a crown would
High ou hit throne of fresh cut corn;
The baflled horsemen behind him came.
And last of*]] rode the one m-Lum name
Was yet to conquer the pride of kings.
statuary; but the expense puts them outnf
the reach of the majority of people. There
la a hardy wild fern which all florists keep
now and sell for about ten cents a dozen
sprays. Bay a few dozen of these and
place them on the cellar floor. Sprinkle
well and they will keep for weeks, A large
bowl filled with these and a few flowers
will make an effective piece for the center
of the dinner table; or the bowl can be
Placed on alow table in any of the rooms.
These suggestion* are for people with mod-
estpursee.—Maria Park* in Ladies’ Home
Loyal U the Last.
VThsn Christmas day hath gone and left ua.
Of all her gladaoms Joys bereft us.
Aft those who*ve suffered from hsr t
r the cuacb of surer
“Make way, n *ke way
Again they cried in a »t
He plodded ou till, whip in hand,
lie calmly got down at the river's 1
To let the mare and (he oxen drink
He turned—and then, ft
While the scouta to their e
tailed,
s right!” w
» good a riL .
-Ernest N. Bagg In Youth's Companion.
A well known ifrenen physician as
serts that the bilious fever so character
istic of tropical countries is due to a
special bacterium, which, though mo
tionless itself/is accompanied by num
berless moving spores.