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I ©iSfe?" k-- : OUIDA Kgy !*g£<csasai 'j&^zs-jssr v^mti: i am no Paris demoiselle,” said Cigarette, with a dash of her old acrimony. “Ceremony in a camp R' tev m lie stooped and kissed her, a kiss that the lips of a man will always give to the bright, youthful lips of a wom an. hut a kiss, as she knew well, with out passion, even without tenderness. With a sudden, impetuous movement, with a shyness and a refusal that had never been in her before, she wrested herself from him. her face burning, her heart panting, and plunged away from him into the depth of the shadow. And he never sought to follow her, hut threw himself into saddle as his gray was brought up. Another instant, and, armed to the teeth, he rode out of the camp into the darkness of the silent, melancholy, lonely Arab night. gray in the east when Cecil felt his charger stagger and sway beneath him and halt, worn out and quivering in ev ery sinew will! fatigue. He threw himself off the animal in time to save himself from falling with it as it reel ed and sank to the ground. “Massena cannot stir another yard,” he said. “Do you think they follow us still?” There was no reply. He strain ed his sight to oierce the darkness, but he could distinguish nothing. The gloom was still too deep. He spoke more loudly. Still there was no reply. Then he raised his voice in a shout. It rang through the silence, and when- it ceased the silence reigned again. A deadly chill came on him. had he missed his comrade? You will go back to your own some day, and men shall learn the truth. Thank Gcd! Thank God!” Then, with that light still on his face, his head fell backward, and with one quick, brief sigh his iife Ced out for ever. Cecil raised the body reverently in his nr rs and with long, laborious ef fort drew its weight up across the sad dle of the charger, which stood patient ly waiting by. turning its docile eyes with a plaintive, wondering sadness on the form of the rider it had loved. Then he mounted himself, and with the head of his lost comrade borne How : upon his arm and rested gently on his They ■ breast be rode westward over the great must be far apart, be knew, since no i plain to where bis mission lay. response was given to his summons. ! CHAPTER XVII Without a moment’s pause he plunged ! ~ * ' * , back in the direction he had come, ! pTpl HL& burdeEe<J T made hiS way for over two leagues. The CHATTED XVI. tsog^ss. J He stooped and kissed her. Pouf! You must have been a court chamberlain once, weren’t you? A great thing I have done certainly! Got you permission to go and throw a car tel at old King Death; that is all! There! Loup-a-griffes-de-fer is coniine to you. That is your summons.” The orderly so nicknamed approach ed and brought the bidding of the gen eral in command of the cavalry for Cecil to render himself at once to his presence. These things brook no sec ond’s delay in obedience. He went, with a quick adieu to Cigarette, and the little Friend of the Flag was left in his vacant place beside the fire. And there was a pang at her heart. “Ten to one he goes to his death,” she thought. But Cigarette, little mis chief though she was, could reach very high in one thing; she could reach love that was unselfish and one that was heroic. A few moments, and Cecil returned. “Rake,” he said rapidly in the French he habitually used, “saddle my horse and your own. I am allowed to choose one of you to accompany me.” Rake, in paradise and the envied of every man in the squadrons, turned to his work—with him a task of scarce more than a second — and Cecil ap proached his little Friend of the Flag. “My child, I cannot attempt to thank you. But for you I should have been tempted to send my lanee through my own heart.” “Keep its lunge for the Arbieos. my friend,” said Cigarette brusquely—the more brusquely because that new and bitter pang was on her. “As for me, I want no thanks.” “No; you are too generous. But none the less do I wish I could render them more worthily than by words. If I live, I will try; if not, keep this in my memory. It is the only thing I have.” He put into her hand the ring she had seen in the little boubonniere—a ring of his mother’s that he had saved when he had parted with all else and that he had put off his hand and into the box of Petit Reine’s gift the day he had entered the Algerian army. Cigarette flushed scarlet with pas- sious he could not understand and she could not have disentangled. “The ring of your mistress! Not for me, if I know it! Do you think I want to he paid?” “The ring was my mother’s,” he an swered her simply. “And I offer it only as a souvenir.” She lost all her hot color and all her fiery wrath. Ilis grave and gentle courtesy always strangely stilled and rebuked her. But she raised the ring off the ground where she had flung it and placed it back in bis hand. “If so, still less should you part with it. Keep It. It will bring you happi ness one day. As for me, I have done nothing.” “You have done what I value the more for that noble disclaimer. May 1 thank you thus, little one?” is very much like the blossom ing of a flower. Its beauty and perfection depends entirely upon the care bestowed upon its parent. Expectant mothers should have the tenderest care. They should be spared all worry and anxiety. They should eat plenty of good nourishing food and take gentle exercises. This will go a long way toward preserv ing their health and their beauty as well as that of the little one to come. But to be absolutely sure of a short aud painless labor they should use Fs*m$tiS egularly during the months of gesta tion. This is a simple liniment, which is to be applied externally. It gives strength and vigor to the muscles and prevents all of the discomforts of preg nancy, which women used to think were absolutely necessary. When Mother’s friend is used there is no danger whatever. Get Mother’s Friend at the drug store, #1 per bottle. THE BRADFIELD REGULATOR CO. ATLANTA, GA. Write for onr free book, “ Before Baby la Born.” Advertising rates liberal. m HE errand on which he went was one. as lie was well aware, from which it were a thousand chances to one that he ever issued alive. It was to reaeli a distant branch of the army of occupation with dispatches for the chief in command there, and to do this he had to pass through a fiercely hostile region, occu pied by Arabs with whom no sort of peace had ever been made, the most savage as well as the most predatory of the wandering tribes. “We must ride as hard and as fast as we can and as silently,” were the only words lie exchanged with Rake as he loosened his gray to a hand gallop. The first five and twenty miles pass ed without interruption, and the horses laid well and warmly to their work. They halted to rest and bait the beasts in a rocky hollow. “Do you ever think of him, sir?” said Rake softly, with a lingering love in his voice as he stroked' the grays and tethered them. “Of whom?” “Of the King, sir. If he’s alive, he’s getting a rare old horse now.” “Think of him! I wish I did not, Rake.” “Wouldn’t you like to see him again, sir?” “What folly to ask! You know”— “Yes, sir; 1 know,” said Rake slowly. “And I know—leastways I picked t out of an old paper—that your elder brother died, sir, like the old lord, and Mr. Berk’s got the title.” To his bitter disappointment, Cecil’s face showed no change, no wonder. “I have heard that,” he said calmly— as calmly as though the news had no bearing on his fortunes, but was some stranger’s history. “Well, sir, but he ain’t the lord,” pleaded Rake passionately. “He won’t never be while you’re living, sir!” “Oh, yes, he is. I am dead, you know.” “But he won’t, sir!” reiterated Rake. “You’re Lord Royallieu, if ever there was a Lord Royallieu and if ever there will be one.” “You mistake. An outlaw has no civ il rights and can claim none.” The man looked very wistfully at him; all these years through ho had never learned why his master was thus “dead” in Africa, and he had too loyal a love and faitli ever to ask, or ever to doubt but that Cecil was the wronged and not the wrongdoer. “You ain’t a outlaw, sir,” he mut tered. “You could take the title if you would.” “Oh, no! I left England under a criminal charge. I should have to dis prove that before I could inherit.” Rake crushed bitter oaths into mut tered words as he heard. “You could disprove it, sir, of course, right and away, if you chose.” “No, or I should not have come here. Let us leave the subject. It was set tled long ago. My brother is Lord Royallieu. I would not disturb him if I had the power, and I have not it.” They were before long in saddle again and off, the country growing wilder at each stride the horses took. “It is all alive with Arabs for the next ten leagues,” said Cecil, as he settled himself in his saddle. “They have come northward and been sweep ing the country like a locust swarm, and we shall blunder on some of them sooner or later. If they cut me down, don’t wait, but slash my saber tasche loose and ride off witli it.” “All right, sir.” said Rake obedi ently; but be thought to himself, “Leave you alone with them demons? Hang me if I will!” And away they went once more in speed and in silence, the darkness of full night closing in on them, the skies being black with the heavy drift of ris ing stormelouds. They had reached the center of the plain when the sound tliey had long looked for rang on their ears, piercing the heavy, breathless stillness of the night. It was the Al- lah-il-Allali of their foes, the warery of the Moslem. Out of the gloom— whether from long pursuit or some near hiding place they could not tell— there broke suddenly upon them the fury of an Arab onslaught. How they were attacked, how they resisted, how they struck, how they were encompass ed, how they thrust back those who wore hurled on them in the black night, with the north sea wind like ice upon their faces aud the loose African soil drifting up in clouds of sand around them, they could never have told, nor how they cut their way through the foe whose very face they scarce could see and plunged away into the shad ows across the desolation of the plain, pursued whether by cue cr by a thou sand they could not guess, for the gal lop was noiseless oa the powdered soil, and the Arab yell of baffled passion and slaughterous lust was half drown ed in the rising of the windstorm. The first faint streak of dawn crew P. T Thomas, Sumterville, Ala,“I was suffering from dy-pppsia when I commenced taking Kodol Dyspep sia Cure. I took several bottles and can digest anything ” Kodoi Dys pepsia Cure ia the only preparation containing all the naturardigestive fluids. It gives weak stomachs en tire rest, restoring their natural condition, h. b MoMaster. leaving the charger on the ground to pant its life out as it must, and sought to feel his way along, so as to seek as best he could the companion he had deserted. lie still could not see a rood before him, but he went on slowly, with some vague hope that he should ere long reach the man whom he knew deatli or the fatality of accident alone would keep from his side. He had re passed the ground already traversed by some hundred yards or more, which seemed the length of many miles in the hurricane that was driving over the earth and sky, when some outline still duskier than the dusky shadow caught his sight. It was the body of a horse standing on guard over the fallen body of a man. Another moment and he was beside them. “My God! Are you hurt?” lie could see nothing but an indis tinct and shapeless mass, without form or color to mark it out from the brooding gloom and from the leaden earth. But the voice he knew so well answered him with the old love and fealty in it. eager with fear for him. “When did you miss me, sir? I didn’t mean you to know. I held on as long as I could, and when I couldn't no longer I thought you was safe not to see I’d knocked over, so dark as it was.” “Great heavens! You are hurt, then?” “Just finished, sir. Lord, it don’t matter! Only you ride on. Mr. Cecil. Ride on, I say. Don’t mind me. I never meant you should know, sir. I meant just to drop behind and die on the quiet. You see, sir, it was just this way: They hit me as we forced through them. I hoped you wouldn’t miss me in the darkness and the noise the wind was making, and you didn’t hear me then, sir, I was glad.” A great sob shook Cecil as he heard. No false hope came to him; he felt that this nian was lost to him forever, that this was the sole recompense which the cruelty of Africa would give to a fidelity passing the fidelity cf woman. “Don’t take on about it, sir,” whis- i pered Rake, striving to raise his head that he might strain his eyes better j through the gloom to see his master's j face. “It was sure to come some time, and I ain’t in no pain—to speak of. j Do leave me, Mr. Cecil—leave me, for ! God’s sake, and save yourself!” “Did you leave me?” The answer was very low, and his j voice shook as he uttered it, but ! through the roar of the hurricane Rake heard it. “That was different, sir,” he said simply. “Let me lie here, and go you on. It’ll soon be over, and there’s naught to he done.” The morning had broken now, but the storm had not lulled. By the fit ful gleams of day lie eouhl see the blood slowly ebbing out from the great gap where the lance head was still “I knew, I knew! I never doubted, j concealment was no longer possible. Cecil was the first to break the si lence. He moved nearer with a rapid movement, and liis hand fell heavily on the other’s shoulder. “Have you lived stainlessly since?” “Gcd is my witness—yes! But you— you—tliey said that you were dead!” Cecil’s hand fell from his shoulder. There was that in the words which smote him more cruelly than any Arab steel could have done. There was the accent of regret. “I am dead,” he said simply—“dead to the world and you.” Ee who bore the title of Royallieu covered his face. “How have yofi lived?” he whispered hoarsely. “Honorably. Let that suffice. Aud you ?” “In honor, too, I swear! That was my first disgrace and my last. You bore the weight of my shame! Good Gcd, what can I say? Such nobility, such sacrifice! We believed you were dead. They said so; there seemed ev ery proof, but when I saw you yester day I knew you—I knew you, though you passed me as a stranger. I staid on here. They told me you would re turn. God, what agony this day and night have been!” Cecil was silent still. He knew that this agony had been the dread lest he should be living. There were many emotions at war in him—scorn, pity and wounded love and pride too proud to sue for a grati tude denied. Loug ago he had accept ed the weight of an alien crime and borne it as his own. To undo now ail that he had done in the past, to fling out to ruin now the one whom he had saved at such a cost, to turn, after 12 years, and forsake the man, all coward though he was, whom he had shielded for so long—this was not possible to him. Though it would he but his owu birthright that he would demand, his hurricane never abated, and the blinding dust rose around him iii great waves. The horse fell lame. lie had to dismount and move slowly and painfully over the loose, heavy soil on foot, raising the drooping head of the lifeless rider. It was bitter, weary, cruel travail, of an Intolerable labor, of an intolerable pain. At last he drew near the caravansary where he had been directed to obtain a chan of horses. It stood midway in the dis tance that he had to traverse. The groups in the court paused in their converse and in their occupations and looked in awe at the gray charger with its strange burden and the French chasseur who came so blindly^invard KILLED HIS BROTHER. Fatal Mimlay Afternoon Encounter Near Macon. Macon, July 23.—Yesterday after noon in Bibb county, 7 miles from Ma con, on the Columbus road, Tony Cum mings shot aud kilied with a pistol his brother. Tig Cnuimings, in a quarrel about 75 cents. Recently Tony got married anti Tig loaned him 75 cents to help him buy the marriage license aud had never paid the money back. Yes terday the brothers commenced fussing a'oour the debt, with the result as above stated. Alter the killing Tony did not try to escape, bur, surrendered himself to the coroner wnen that official came to hold the inqust. The verdict of the coroner’s ■jury was murder. Cummings was brought to the city aud placed in jail. Cummings claims that his brother was advancing upon him with a razor and he had to shoot aim in self defense. SHOT BY H'S TEACHER. KoyatBcs.emr Hurt by Accident ,i Discharge of Pistol. 1 Bessemer, Ala., July 20.-AW Brown, the 17 year old brother of W. It Bush of Bessemer, was shot ami seriously wounded yesterday by p ro „. sor Isidore Bachman, a music teacher' The shooting was accidental Pro - - Bachman had gone ro the hom« 0 f* \j>' r Busk for the purpose of giving yourn a lesson on the violin. 9 While young Brown went intoanor-h ■ room ro get some resin the teachp pictteq up ?, revolver lying on the tel auo was examining it when rh young man entered the room t;! 9 weapon was accidentally dischareYa the builet striking young Brown side. It is possible for the youuY to recover, though he is badly h n 7- man Jane os Whitt*. * ntsvilh, lad. Wirt’s Witch Haze! Saivt healed running e.o Loth leg* He h i i surf re ’ 0 years. Doctor !■' hd;) lurn G*i DcWitl’. Accept no irritations h b. MCMsster rSST: two. head, and Rake’s eyes, smiling so brightly and so bravely still, looked up from under their weary lids to his. “I’d never let you take my hand be fore, sir. Just take it uow, wiil you, while I can see you still?” Their hands met as he asked it and held each other close and long. All the loyal service of the one life and ail the speechless gratitude of the other told better than by all words in that one . farewell. A light that was not from the stormy, dusky morning shone over the soldier's face. “Don’t grieve that way. Mr. Cecil. If I could just have seen you home again in your place, I should have been glad, that’s all. You’ll go back one day, sir. When you do. tell the King I ain’t never forgot him.” There was a long silence, a pause in which the windstorm ceased and the clouds of the loosed sands sank. In that momentary hush as the winds sank low the heavy eyes, half sight less now, sought with tlieir old wist ful, dogiike loyalty the face to which so scon they would l>e blind forever. “Would you tell me once, sir—now? I never asked—I never would have done—but may be I might know in this Inst minute you never sinned that sin you bear the charge on?” “God is my witness, no.” The light, that was like sunlight, shone once more in the aching, wan dering eves. “I knew, I knew! It was”— Cecil bowed his head over him, lower and lower. “Hush! He was but. a child, and I”— With a sudden and swift motion, as though new life were thrilling in like a man feeling his passage through the dark. Cecil moved slowly on into their midst, his hand on the horse’s rein. Then a great darkness covered his sight. lie swayed to and fro and fell senseless on the gray stone of the paved court. When consciousness re turned to him, he was lying on a stone bench in the shadow of the wall, with the coolness of the fountain water bub bling near and a throng of lean, bronzed, eager faces about him. Instantly he remembered all. “Where is he?” he asked. They knew that lie meant the dead man and answered him in a hushed murmur of many voices. They had placed the body gently down within in a darkened chamber. A shiver passed over him. He stretched his hand out for water that they held to him. “Saddle me a fresh horse. I have my work to do.” He knew that for no friendship or grief or suffering or self pity might a soldier pause by the wayside while iiis ] errand was still undone, his duty unful- ! filled. Ho drank the water thirstily; then, j reeling slightly from the weakness | that was still upon him, he rose, reject- ! ing their offers of aid. “Take me to j him,” he said simply. They under stood him. i He motioned them all back with his hand and went into the gloom of the chamber alone. Not one among them i followed. j When he came fortli again, tlie reck less and riotous soldiers cf France turn- | ed silently and reverentially away, so : that they should not look upon his j face, for it was well known througb- | out the army that no common tie had j bound together the exiles of England, i and the fealty of comrade to comrade I was sacred in their sight, j The fresh animal, saddled, was held ■ ready outside the gates. He crossed ! the court, moving still like a nm:i with- I out sense of what he did. The name | that some of the hurrying grooms I shouted loudly in their impatience jbroke through his stupor and reached i him. It was that of the woman whom. the utter ! hopelessness. He turned to the out- j rider nearest him. ! “You are of the Princess Corona’s | suit? What does site do here?” “Madame travels to see the country j and the war.” 1 “The war? This is no place for her. The land is alive with danger, rife with death.” “Miladi travels with the duke, her brother. Miladi does not know what fear is.” “But”— The remonstrance died on his lips. He stood gazing out from the gloom of '.the arch at a face close to him, on | which the sun shone full, a face unseen j for 12 long years and which a moment ; before laughing and careless in the j light changed and grew set and rigid | and pale with the pallor of an unntter- i able horror. Cecil brought his band to his brow in military salute, passed with the impassiveness of a soldier who passed a gentleman, reached his chargor and rode away upon his errand over the brown and level ground. He had known his brother in that fleeting glance, but lie hoped that his brother would see no more in him than a French trooper who bore resemblance by a strange hazard to one long be lieved to be dead and gone. The in stinct of generosity, the instinct of self sacrifice, moved him now as long ago one fatal night they had moved him to bear the sin of his mother’s darling as his own. Electric Bolt Strikes Church. Jacksonville, Fix. July 24.—A ter rific electric storm visitid i'au Antonio, Fix The Catholic church on Magnolia Street was struck by lightning and par- tially wrecked. Father Benedict was serving in tee confessional as the time and fell over unconscious from the shock. It was at first believed lie was dead ana a great rauic was precipitated. Miss Gcrnir, who wa? kneeling near the entrance, was severely shocked, as were several others of the worshippers. Tbe interior of rhe church was greatly damaged b - flames. mi man cured in 00 minutes by i'-aniiKiy l otion. Tills never fails U.McM-sl-r. Iiruggist. •Toh Printing of nil classes. Advertising rare-: libera! A Pals Face is a prominent symptom of vitiated blood. If covered with pimples, the evidence is complete. It's nature's way of warning you of yourcondition. Johnston’s 'Sarsaparilla never fulls to rectify all disorders of ttie blood, slight or severe, of long standing or recent origin. Its thirtv years record guarantees its efficacy. Sold everywhere. Price S1.00 per full quart bottle. Prepared only by UICHIKAX llKCG COMPAN Y, Detroit, Mich. i For =?;<• lit 11. 15. MrJ|:»*.lKR, p Distillers cf PURE CORN n m M m M Whiskies. Guaranteed qual tv p;k1 proof, ner Gal Si SO. nd Beer, Jt'G TRADE OF BUB KB Soiiciti KEAR8EY & PLUMB, 126!) Broad Street, AUGUSTA. Ga. m ,V? ig it , i , ... , ■ however madly, he loved with ail th bedded, with its wooden shaft snapped i „ * . , . . „ ,, * , strength of a passion born out of utte m twn rra could see the drooped 1 "If I could have seen ycWhome again.” him. Rake raised himself erect, his arms stretched outward to the east, where tbe young da.v was breakim* Within six and thirty hours the in structions he bore wore in the tent of the major whom they were to direct, and he himself returned to the cara vansary to fulfill with his own baud to the dead those last offices which he would delegate to none. It was in the coolness and the hush of the night, with the great stars shin ing clearly over the darkness cf the plains, that they made the single grave under a leaning shelf of rock, with the somber fans of a pine spread above it and nothing near but the sleeping herds of goats. The sullen echo of the soldiers’ muskets gave its only funeral requiem. When all wa3 over, Cecil still re mained there aloue. Thrown down up on the grave, he never moved as hour after hour went by. To others that lonely and unnoticed tomb would be as nothing—only one among the thousand marks left on the bosom of the violat ed earth by the ravenous and savage lusts of war—but to him it held all that had bound him to his lost youth, his lost country, his lost peace. Suddenly he started with a thrill of almost su perstitious fear as through the silence he heard a name whispered—the name of his childhood, of his past. He sprang to his feet, and as he turned In the moonlight he saw once more his broth er’s face, pale as the face of the dead and strained with an asmntetno' a..™a "Have you lived stainlessly since? own justification that he would estab lish, it would seem to him like a treacherous and craven thing. All seemed uttered, without words, by their gaze at each other. He could not speak with tenderness to this cra ven who had been false to the fair re pute of tlieir name, and he would not speak with harshness. The younger man stood half stupefied, half mad dened. “Bertie, Bertie!” he stammered. “On my soul I never doubted that the story of your death was true. No one did. If I had known you lived, I would have said that you were innocent. I would. I would have told them how I forged your friend’s name and your own when 1 was so desperate that I hardly knew what I did. But they said that you were killed, and 1 thought then—then—it was not worth while. It would have broken my fa ther’s heart. God help me! I was a coward! I am in your power—utterly In your power,” he moaned in his fear. “I stand in your place. I bear your title. You know that our father and our brother are dead? All that I have inherited is yours. Do you know that, since you have never claimed it?” “I know it.” “And you have never come forward to take your rights?” “What I did uot do to clear my own honor I was not likely to do merely to hold a title.” “But, great heaven, this life of yours? It must be wretchedness.” “Perhaps. It has at least no disgrace in it.” The reply had the only sternness of contempt that he had suffered himself to show. It stung down to his listen er’s soul. “No, no!” he murmured. “You are happier than I. You have no remorse to bear. And yet—to tell tbe world that I am guilty!” “You need never tell it. I shall not.” lie spoke quite quietly, quite patient ly. Yc-t he well knew and had well weighed all he surrendered in that promise—the promise to condemn him self to a barren and hopeless fate for ever. “Let us part now and forever. Leave Algeria at once. That is all I ask.” Then, without * another word that could add reproach or seek for grati tude, he turned and went away over the great, dim level of the African waste, while the man whom he had saved sat as in stupor, gazing at the brown shadows, and the sleeping herds, and the falling stars that ran across the sky, and doubting whether the voice ho had heard and the face upon which he had looked were not the vi sions cf a waking dream. [TC BK CONTINUED.] A CUSTA Dental Parlors, L r we- Cr,; .v niM.Kis ranu Pi ice*; \!l Work i a:,U Bridge Work ■< !«Y unran' e; POORS & WOODBURY’"" " 821 Broad St.. Augusta, Georgia. Bel Plioue, 52J. m m n m m m On improved Farms in Burke aud Jefferson Counties. No Commissions. Lowest Rates. Loner time or installments. ALEXANDER & 705 Broad, Street, AUGUSTA, Xx g m c.N, i Wt g FURNITURE!! We have the largest and best stock o Furniture ever brought to Augusta, and oar prices are as low as the lowest. Elegant 7 WAUjy ; PAELOE CHAMBER SETS, SECRETARIES, BOOKCASES, 8H Couches, Sideboards, Bedsteads ht ' I BUREAUS, WASH STAN PS, Rocking Chairs. Straight Chairs, IRON BEDS $3.75 UP. Mattings. Rugs, Etc. Eaeli department in our business is full and complete, and every article is the very tee that can be had ior the money. Wo do not hesitate to assert that no other Furniture houss is quite so lull of beauty, elegance and st :3 as ours. When in Augusta be sure to call and SGG US. 0 FLEMING &c BOWLED, 904 Broad Street,. AUGUSTA. GA Suit Against Brunswick. Brunswick, Ga., July 29.—Deputy United States Marshal Cason has served papers in a suit brought against the ettv by Attorneys Crovatt and Whitfield for the Brunswick Light and Water compa ny, in which the company seeks to re cover $7,267.40 for water furnished in flushing sewers from Jan. 1, 1896, to date at the rate of 28,800 gallons daily. Negro Murderer Arrested. Brunswick, Ga , July 27.—William Jenkins, a negro, wanted for murder at Jacksonvilie, nas been arrested here. m m m m M m m m m 'if This Ts An Advertisement. If you are looking for a laxative. Dr. Caldwell’s Syrup Pepsin is IF The convenience and merit of this valuable remedy will be explained to your satisfaction by h b McAlis ter, Waynesboro; H Q. Bell, Miller, Call on in when In the city. («60»f0»m°fflMRD»PMBiMST [»] For your Car den Seed, On ion Sets, Early Rose and Bliss frish Potatoes. We have just received a |§U fresh supply of D. M. Ferry & . * Co’s Seeds. They are noted for putting up the most reli able Seed sold. Their seed are always fresh and gives the best results. Orr prices are as low as the lowest. jj olso remember we carry a complete j .lice f DRUGS and everything generally | kept in a first-class Drug Store. We have a competent Druggist who has j had 15 years experience. } BUXTON & HAESELER GIRARD. GEORGIA. I i s M $ S % ivl s t % § $ % $ a $ '4