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<Ihtt gcrald and ^dtr^rfiscr. Newnan, Ga., Friday, Jan. 27, 1888. "Written forTHE Hhk.u.d and Advertiser. MUSETTE. By Mrs. Bailie B. Boulstone. “Please excuse me to-day, mother dear, 1 am not in a church-going mood. I feel restless nnd impatient, and will saunter down to the ‘Glen,’ while you are offering a prayer for your wayward son, eh ?” “I am sorry, Tom, that I cannot in duce you to go, as Dr. Maynard, of A—, fills our pulpit to-day, and I am sure you would enjoy him ; then, too, there is that sweet feeling of perfect peace and comfort when you are seated by me in the family, pew, that is sadly lonely without you. That same pew, my son, has been in the Granville family for generations past, and it is my desire that it shall remain in it, as long as there is one of the name. So, you won’t go, dear?” “Just this once, mother chere, let me off, and I will do penance by being your most devoted the balance of the day. Ta-ta !” and Tom Granville ten derly handed his mother into the family carriage, and, gallantly kissing her dainty, gloved hand, lifted his hat courteously, for he loved her with the most sacred devotion. Tom Granville, (Doctor Tom, for he was a freshly emerged disciple of iEs- culapius) on this bright, Sabbath morn ing, with his fine physique, health beaming form, his clear blue eye, was a positive contradiction to his restless, uneasly feeling, for which he could not account. Drawing out a cigarette, lighting it and placing it between his lips, he wended his way to the “Glen”—more familiarly known to the village people as the mineral spring. “What is it ! what is it, Musette !” he suddenly ejaculated, as he patted his little terrier’s head, who was whin ing and wagging her tail in the most excited manner. She pricked up her ears, and started off, constantly looking back, as if to attract his atten tion to some object before her. Rapid ly, Doctor Tom followed in her wake, ascending and descending the steep steps on either side of the embankment, until he came in sight of the ‘Glen.’ Suddenly Musette stopped by the little pavilion enclosing the spring, turning toward her master with appealing eyes. Still, the object of her excitement was not visible, but Tom eagerly followed. Leading down to the spring was a flight, of steps, and he now stood on the top one, looking down on the object of the little dog’s anxious demonstration: “J3y Jove ! you did not mislead me, Musette !” he exclaimed, for there ly ing before him, prone upon the stone floor, was a black-robed figure, her white face upturned, her fair hair broken from its confines and falling in heavy waves to her waist, the long lashes sweeping the soft, round cheeks. Instantly Doctor Tom was by her side, bending his ear for signs of life, but failing, placed his hand upon her little wrist,' when he was gladdened by a faint pulsation. It. was the work of a moment to fill his straw hat with the clear, spring water and bathe her pale face, smoothing the soft hair from the blue-veined temples, saying to himself, “It is wondrous fair.” The lids still remained closed, and the form motion less. After repeated efforts, Doctor Tom was rewarded by the color coming faintly into the cheek, the quiver of the eye-lids and the eyes languidly opening, and gazing about with wild ularm she suddenly cried : “Oh, let me die : I can’t bear it !” and tears burst from the dark eyes. Tom wisely let the violent emotion spend itself, ere he ventured to ad dress her. The sobs finally ceased and she attempted to arise, gathering her shining .hair in her hands as if to con fine it again, when she gave a cry of pain, a look of anguish coming into her face. • “Are you in pain ? Do allow me to help you,” stammered Tom, anxiously, “My ankle—I must have sprained it; I can’t stand it,” she replied, slowly looking into Tom’s handsome face for the first time. * ‘How long have you been here? Something must be done to relieve you,” ventured he again, gazing at the fair girl. “Oh, sir, I don’t know. I was so tired, so thirsty, and I saw this cool, clear spring, and in my haste to reach it, fell and hurt my ankle, and the pain was so intense I must have fainted; for I knew no more until you bathed Aiy face so kindly, and oh, sir, you are so good. I can never repay you.” “Xot one syllable of that. Rut for my faithful little Musette, I should never have known of your sad acci dent,” lie returned, as he patted the dog’s head, as she stood, wagging her tail, looking up into his face. The suffering girl turned toward Musette, and said : “True and faithful little friend, why can’t the human creature be as loyal ?” half aloud to herself. Meantime Doctor Tom watch ed admiringly the sweet face, and won- tiered wliat could there be of sorrow in her life, then said : “Now, I shall leave Musette with you —she’s a faithful little guard-while I get a conveyance to take you to a place where you can have the proper atten tion,” and he started from her. “Oh, no sir, do not! do not, I I am a stranger, aud you know not who jou kre taking to some pure, refined Home, where they would shun me as a viper. Rut”—passing her hand across her brow in a confused manner—“I am in nocent, yes, pure as your mother or sister. 1 could not help it—I did not know”—she muttered, to herself, her face the picture of despair. “You know not what you say ; you are not well. I will assist you. \ ou will not be afraid to stay with Musette until I return ?” “No, no, but” “lie did not remain to hear her words, hut hastened away, and a short time afterwards was seated in a phaeton driving rapidly towards the spring ; but when he reached the pavilion, his pa tient was nowhere to be seen, and he sprang in alarm from the vehicle, and looked here and there, but no signs of the young girl were visible. “Poor girl, she is in some sore distress, and her mind must be wandering. Her face is one of innocence and purity, and I shall befriend her, be she what she may,” said he with fervor. Presently Musette came barking toward him—at the same time he, spying a speck of snowy linen, and hastening toward it, found behind a large tree his charge, crouched down in the smallest possible space, her face pale and pinched with pain. “You are a naughty, disobedient pa tient,” said Tom, with mock reproof. “Don’t you know it is very imprudent to move about on that sprained ankle? Come, come ! you are now my patient and must obey orders,” continued he, cheerily. “Yes, but how can I repay you?” “I want no pay, my little patient, but strict obedience to orders. I have brought a phfeton and you must come with me, and I will soon have you com fortably ensconced, where you can have the necessary attention and care. Now, I will not take no. You must obey your physician, for,” with a smile, “lam the fortunate, or unfortunate, possessor of an M. D. to my name. Tom Granville, at your service, and your most humble servant,” with mock dignity. Without waiting for a reply, he took her ten derly in his strong arms, carried her to the vehicle, and placing her in it, then Musette, sprang in, and soon had her in his own home, comfortably placed in bed by the maid, and when his mother returned from church she found this charge in the hands of the old family physician, who was binding and treating the sprained limb, finally administering a light opiate, with in structions, “to rest and keep perfectly quiet.” Mrs. Granville was instantly inter ested in the unfortunate patient, aud particularly after the detailed account given by her son, whose pleasure was hers, whose interests were hers also. She soothed and symathized, as only a mother could. CHAPTER II. Day after day sped by, and the fair patient was able to be about. Down on the vine-covered piazza ; in the cool, dainty sitting room; in the elegant, luxurious library ; with Mrs. Granville her constant and devoted companion, with Doctor Tom most frequently as third party—for this fair stranger had walked straight into the hearts of one and all, the old doctor and servants not excepted—and her name, Agnes Claire, had already become a household charm, as had its bearer, beloved and revered. Not a syllable relative to the strange and incoherent sentences uttered by her on the day of her misfortune had ever been referred to, and she was as much the mysterious stranger as the first day she entered “Homeword.” Tom was daily revolving in his mind the singular allusions she had made, and was fighting earnestly against the wild infatuation that had seized him from the first, for her sweet image had from that memorable day swept his heart strings with a magic and fatal touch, until he now felt that there was aught in life without Agnes Claire. Doctor Tom had been reading to her from Browning and Tennyson, as she sat in her pure white muslin, in the vine-cov ered porch, and he thought as he gazed at her this clear June evening, as the golden sunset threw its soft halo over the earth, that never in all his twenty- seven years had he seen so fair a pic ture of feminine beauty. His heart had gone out to her freely, unreserv edly, and lie knew now that she was dearer to him than all else in life. His eyes spoke the most eloquent emotions, and his heart seemed bursting with the weig. t of his great love, and unable longer to control it said, as he drew near to her : “I am so happy that you are getting well and looking cheerful, for Agnes, my ” “Don’t, don’t, I pray you !” she in terrupted excitedly, her cheeks scarlet with blushes, then blanching deadly pale, for she divined what he would say. Seeing his look of pain and dis tress she said hurriedly: "You must hear all my past, Doctor Granville, which I will tell this very eveiling, then”—and she looked straight into liis earnest eyes—“if you care to tell me what you now desire, I will listen, oh, so happily 1 and the deli- icate pink showed itself again in the soft cheek, and the dimples chased each other in chaotic glee about the sweet mouth. “I care nothing for your past, for I know that I but she placed her hand over his mouth and said : “Not another word that you would recall when you know all,” and she vanished : through the library door, leaving only a faint odor of s^eet violet^ as she dH- appearea. Doctor Granville seized his hat, and lighting a cigarette, (his panacea for all perplexities) went out into the spacious grounds, confused thoughts running in perplexed order through his brain. As lie passed her window a little slip of paper fluttered down to his feet, on . which was written in a cultured hand : j “Meet me in the ‘Glen’ at tw light and I ; will tell you all. A.” j His heart throbbed with delight, for j he felt that there was nothing in the ! wide world that could tear her from him, let her narrative be what it would. Visions of her sitting beside him, tell ing of her sad past, in her sweet, ir resistible voice, flashed through his head, and he could scarce bide the time till he should meet her. At dinner Mrs. Granville seemed the only one inclined to talk, and Alice was deferentially at tentive, never allowing her eyes once to meet those of her lover, fearing he should read her secret and the happi ness it imprinted on her face. A friend called to drive Mrs. Gran ville out, and soon after her departure Agnes strolled down to the “Glen.” As she reached it her appreciative eve could not fail to note the beauty of that lovely retreat. The sparkling water of the crystal spring ; the crim son glow of the dying sunset, as it bathed the whole scene with its mel low light ; the clear running brook, and the wide spreading trees, which cast their long shadows on the smooth greensward. She seated herself in the little pavilion, and gave herself up to the sweetest of reveries, and a silent prayer to Him above for giving her so much happiness. Thus she sat- await ing her lover, when the sound of foot steps broke the silence, and her heart began a most tumult nous throbbing, as she heard them draw nearer and near er ; then two strong arms were about her, and a deep voice said : “Aggie, dear Aggie, have I indeed found you at last!” and warm kisses were pressed upon cheek and mouth, and her arms were twined about the intruder’s neck as he said : “Oh, darling sister, I am free ! Am innocent! so you need not run away from me again.” “Hush ! hush, Jack, I never believed vou guilty ; hut they took you from me so cruelly, so basely.” As she was clasped closely in the em brace of her brother, she heard Mu sette’s joyful bark and whine, and knew too well who accompanied her. Looking about she saw standing in the full glare of the golden light her lover —Doctor Granville—as he stood regard ing the tableau. She endeavored to attract his attention by a motion of her hand but he had turned upon his heel and walked steadily away, Musette meantime whining and trying to coax him on. He did not notice her, but walked straight away, turning neither to the right nor the left. Agnes knew at once that he had seen the fond em brace and misconstruing it had left her, she feared forever. Turning to her brother she said : “I will go back with you, Jack, when you return to A , and rejoice in your acquittal and freedom, and may God bless you, dear brother, and keep you always honorable and good,” and she again twined her arms about his neck and kissed him fondly. As she did so, Doctor Tom had turn ed to take a farewell look at the golden haired girl he had loved so fondly, and saw the same fond embrace. Covering his eyes with his hands, he groaned his misery : “And I loved her so ! She was my life, my all !” and hurried toward home. His mother had returned, and as her son approached the pale, ashen hue of his set features frightened her, and she said excitedly: “Why, Tom, what is the matter? Are you ill, my son ?” “Yes, mother, at heart. My idol has fallen. It was not the beautiful, perfect thing I deemed it, hut mere dross. A beautiful image with a black, deceitful heart. Bah! all women are alike. Please have my portmanteau packed ; I leave in an hour.” The hard, cold words of scorn hurt the fond mother and she quickly asked : “What does this sudden departure mean? Explain yourself,” and he straightway related the whole matter,, concluding— “I never dreamed that she had a lover, but was foolhardy enough to flatter myself that she cared for me.” Mrs. Granville saw through it all in an instant. Deeming it wisest to hu mor her son, she only said : “This man, my son, may not be a lover, but some dear relative, and you will find that Agnes will explain It all to your infinite satisfaction, if you will only give her a hearing. Depend upon upon her face, as the relation of this young man was made known, and she said to herself : “I knew she was as innocent and guileless as a child.” “Now, my dear friend,” began Ag nes, “in the presence of ni) r read for her, and they sat in the beau tiful library, as cozy and as snug as of yore, but there was a great pain tugging at Agnes’ heart; for she felt that she would soon be far away from these sur- the presence of my only j rounding* that had become so dear to brother, I will tell you of my past life, , her. Nine o’clock came, ten, and as I leave with him to-morrow. We eleven, and no arrival of the younti were left alone in the world two years j Doctor. Mrs. Granville said : ago, with but little save superior edu- “You have been a very martyr, Aggie, cation to maintain us. lie secured a j and I now release you. It is late, and lucrative and trusty position in a bank, JI cannot impose upon your good nature and I became governess in a family, longer.” more noted for wealth than aught else.) “You know, dear, there is nothing I The president of this bank had a pro- would not do for you, and I have been fligate son, who cordially disliked my j so happy here,” and she kissed ten- brother, because he had won the love ; derly the handsome old face, for she of a girl who spurned him, and by way [ felt that she might never see it again, of revenge he tampered with my broth- Mrs. Granville had been in her room er’s books, stealing various amounts j scarce half an hour, when a tap at her and making the evidence against Jack i floor surprised her, and answering it, very criminating. The crime was open- , was clasped in the loving embrace of lj'published to the world, branding my I her truant son, who, a trifle thin and brother a thief, and the evidence was j tanned, she held off at arm s length so clear against him that Jack gave up ' and said : all hope of being able to prove his in- “Poor, dear, impulsive boy ; all this nocence. They took him from me and tramping and journeying* around for placed him in jail, and I in mad frenzy i naught, leaving his old mofher all flew to this summer retreat, away from | alone, who knew best from the begin- those I once knew so well, although 1 5 and—,” but-before she could finish her knew that my brother was not guilty, j sentence, he caught her hands in his In the meantime, the porter and watch- j a ml questioned eagerly : man came forward and proved that j "What, mother dear, do you mean she he had seen, this same son at various j j s rea lly here? is really with you ?” times, in the still hours of the night,! "What she are you talking about?”— at my brother’s desk, and, suspecting J evading him. “You are positively something wrong, watched him closely ! enigmatical in your language,” with an and thus cleared my brother, placing | insinuating smile. the guilt upon Hugh Warner, the real | "Don’t tease—do tell me—is Agnes criminal. The amount was made good ; ) iere ?” bv the president, to shield his guilty j "j did no t sa y so. Now, he calm, son, my brother was re-installed and his T onlt and tell me all about this fool’s salary raised, and here he is, a free, in nocent man. And now, my dear friend, you have my past, in full.” Mrs. Granville’s arms were instantly about Agnes, and she was drawn in a close embrace, and the kind, loving words fell on her ear : “I knew you were good and pure, my child, and now I want you to stay with me and comfort me with your bright companionship. Won’t you let me have her for awhile, Mr. Claire ?” But before he could reply, Agnes said: “Indeed, dear friend, I ask no sweet er boon than to be with you always. I must be about seeking a situation, as my brother’s salary is scarcely suffi cient to maintain us, and allow him to accumulate anything. And as a love ly girl is only waiting until he can make her his wife, I prefer to be inde pendent.” “Be my companion, my comforter, and I will pay you, dear girl, wliat you will. I am so lonely, and with my son off on a long journey, perhaps, I will need you. And now, won’t you stay, dear?” The knowledge of her son’s absence, and that indefinite, decided Agnes at once, and placing one arm lovingly about Mrs. Granville’s neck she said : “I will stay, best and dearest of good friends, and ask naught at your hands but your sweet companionship; but you must give me the privilege of ex ercising my own judgment about how long I shall stay, eh?” “We will see,” said Mrs. Granville. So Agnes remained at “Homeword,” and her life then was one constant round of happiness and perfect content. At times the memory of the stalwart, handsome son stole into her heart, and the sad regret that he should misjudge her marred the even and blissful tenor of her young life ; but she would as speedily dismiss it, and hope for the bright ending. CHAPTER III. Months had now passed and only a few straggling and unsatisfactory mis sives came to Mrs. Granville from the wanderer. g-foe wrote him finally, in brief, of Agnes’ story, after allowing him to saunter about listlessly from place to place, and in her own language, “ounishing him for his impetuous, un reasonable conduct.” This last ex planatory epistle, however, had the de sired effect, and now he was speeding home as fast as the iron-horse could bring him. Not one word of his coming did she intimate to Agnes; for she knew hei spirit would be instantly up in arms, and thereby she would lose her. She was concocting a plan to keep her with her always ; for it was her fondest desire to have Agnes for a daughter, and now she was scheming toward that end. It was one of those cool, crisp days in November that Mr: errand upon which you have been. And mother and son sat hand in hand, and he was soon in the blissful knowl edge of Agnes’ presence in the house. When he kissed his mother good-night, he went below to the library instead of his own sanctum, and throwing him self himself in a large arm-chair turned off the gas, and sat in happy thought of how he would meet his own beloved on the morrow, and right the wrong he had done her. He sat for some time in this sweet reverie, when he heard light footsteps, and then the door softly opened. He did not move, but waited patiently the development of the in truder’s purpose. There was now only a faint light from the dying embers of the wood fire pervading the room, and he scarcely allowed himself to breathe. Agnes meantime, all unconscious of his arrival, had donned her traveling suit and bonnet, and leaving a note of fare well on her dressing table, had stolen down to take a farewell of her favorite haunt, and stood in the library. She did not see its occupant, but stood gaz ing at each familiar article—the massive book-case, the Persian rugs, the inlaid floor, the filmy lace draperies, the fragrant exotics in the costly vases, and last a portrait on an easel of the mas ter of the house—Doctor Tom’s own smiling, handsome face. Tears filled her eyes and she leaned toward the portrait, as thongh taking in every feature of that dear face. Tom mean time had risen to his feet, and seeing the graceful figure of the object of his thoughts, could scarce repress a cry of joy. However, he made not a motion, not a sound, but watched her eagerly’, and as she stooped and kissed his own image, lie was instantly by her side, two strong, loving anus about her, and her shining head npon his breast, as he said : “My own darling., my wife, can you forgive me, and do you really love me?” Poor Agnes was filled with conflicting emotions of joy and fear, as she looked up into his beaming face with alarm, “When did youcoiaae—and how long?” she questioned confusedly, trying to free herself from his embrace. “Never mind that, love. You were trying to steal away from me, and you stole right into my anns. No, you cannot go until you say I may keep you always, and that you love me bet ter than anybody and all the world. See, how greedy I am, love ?” “Oh, Tom, you ,” but before she could continue,, the original was enjoy ing the kiss of betrothal, intended as one of farewell to the portrait. “And Mussette, and mother dear, will be so happy, love.” Xailroab Sc^ules-. atlanta&west point r. r. January 15th, 1888. Up Day PassengerTrain—East. Leave Montgomery — J ?0 a m ffiSKR? 5 l £ SS&&*.::...... «\t ?“ Palmetto 75- SS? Arrive at Atlanta 1 -o p m Down Day Passenger Train—West. Leave Atlanta 2 5:1pm 3 IT pm 3 30 p m 3 to pm 7 20 pm Palmetto.. •• Newnan " Puckett’s “ Grantville Arrive at Montgomery Up Nigiit Passenger Train—East, Leave Selma « ‘>0 dS ^ ve KS ery ? iS £ .. j»;; :: SKSSa.::::::::::::::::::::::: | g Arrive at Atlanta 3&oain Down Night Passenger Train—West, r^ave Atlanta I? « 5 m “ Puckett’s ™ „ Hi “ Grantville Arrive nt Montgomery “ ” Arrive at Selma 9 30am Accommodation Train (daily)—East. LuGrance 8 a m Gran tvi 1 le , ix a U 1 Puckett's 7 10 a m Newnan Z"^ am Powell’s ' ■{” a 111 Palmetto H 00 a m Atlanta 9 Id a m accommodation Train (daily)—West. Leave Atlanta 4 45pm Arrive Palmetto “ Newnan b 30 p m Puckett’s 8 j* P 5? “ Grantville 7 00pm “ LaGrange 7 4o p ni CHAS. H. CROMWELL, Cecil Gabdett, y Gen’l Pass. Agent. Gen’I Manager. Leave Arrive S, G. & N. A. R. R. No. I— Leave Carrollton ArriveAtkinson, T. O. Banning Wliiteslmrg.. Sargent’s Newnan Sliarpsburg.. Turin Senoia Brooks Vaughns Griffin 515 a m (iOPaiD f> 15 a tu 0 20 am 6 50am 7 14 a hi 8 05 am 8 12 am 8 82 am 9 05 am 9 27 am 9 50 am No. 2— Leave Griffin Arrive at Vaughns Brooks Senoia Turin Sharpsburg Newnan Sargent’s Wbitesburg Banning Atkinson, T. O. Carrollton M. S. Belknap, 12 01 pm 12 18 p m 12 36 pm 1 10 pm 1 35 pm 1 50 p in 2 28 p m 3 25 pm 3 48 pm 4 00 p m 4 23 pm 4 50pm Gen’l Manager. A one-armed boy in Augusta saved four persons from drowning; but Dr. Bull’s Cough Syrup has saved its thous ands from consumption. A flock of blackbirds that must have Granville re- j been nearly two miles in length was ceived a dispatch from her son to the | seen by the passengers on a Pennsylva- „ . . . , ,, , . . .i, nia railroad train recently. The birds effect that he would be at hone t a. | were so numerous that they darkened very evening. Agnes, however, was | the sky for a few minutes, and present- kept in perfect ignorance, until late in j ed a most novel spectacle, the afternoon, when she accidentally . . , . , overheard Mrs. Train nL tell the ma ; food and alcholic drinks are the pre- she must dress the dinner table m the j disposing causes of gout. When aware choicest flowers, that her son would of its presence lose no time in procur- it, she could not be capable of a treach-| dine w ith her, but to say nothing of it. j ing Salvation Oil. It kills pain. 25 Her heart beat tumultuously, for the ! man she loved with all her strength 1 Some time ago Queen Victoria presen- back ; would be near her; i ted her servants with splendid liveries erous, deceptive act. Although in utter ignorance of her past, I am a good reader of human nature, and particu larly of my own sex.” But Tom could not be convinced that he was not correct in his decision, and insisted upon leaving. “Well, if you will go, my son, I shall soon have you back, with the sweet knowledge of her perfect innocence and constancy.” He, however, left on the first train that left N , leaving no message, no word for Agnes. She, however, with a heavy heart had returned to Mrs. Granville’s, ac companied by her brother. As she eame up to the porch where sat her friend, she introduced him, who was kindly received by Mrs. Granville, and a pleased, half-amused smile settled ... o ".TT it. , "" r‘“,r’ i in honor of her jubilee year; but she she would hear Ins "voice again. Lut , now informs them thatthecostofthe.se no, no ; I cannot stay ; I will leave this j liveries will be deducted from their place ; I could not have him think 1 j wages, The old lady is opposed to remained to see him,” and she began ; ^quande mg h«-i surplus. will t planning for her departure. “I A Gnicago lawyer advertised for a leave a note for Mrs. Granville, and she j bov, and got a letter reading as follows: will not need me, now that he will be j “I am twelve years old. I ain’t got no ; with her.” She knew that she would j farther nor muther. I ni an orfan and be forced to meet him at dinner, but ■ 0 - u - e — - ete3 liel how she would leave while he and his moth er were enjoying a private chat, later in the evening. Dinner was served at seven, instead of the customary hour, six—and still he had not come, aud she congratulated herself that she could hard times is.” The boy was given the situation. Mullein Better than Cod Liver Oil - Dr. Quillian, the leading authority of Great Britain on lung troubles, gives his opinion, based upon experiment, that mullein is better in consumption than Cod Liver Oil. Taylor’s Cherokee possibly leave before his arrival. After j R eme d y G f Sweet Gum and Mullein will diuner, Mrs. Grauville asked her to j core coughs, colds and consumption. FOP -AND- CONSUMPTION- vior OF SWEET GUM MULLEIN. T2w sweet Rum, as gathered from a tree Of th* saoaa name, growing akmg tSe small »tr«am« in the Southern States, eontolns a stimulating ex pectorant principle that leoeesm the pfclegm PHS ducing the early morn-lne eongh. ana stimulates the child to throwelT thefatse membrane to eroup and whooping-cough, when combined with the healing mucilaginous principle In the mullein plant of the old fields, preeentain TAYLOR’S Cherokee Remedy op sweet and MUt- lkin the finest known remedy for Cou*h», Croup, Whoopinff-conffh and consumption; and bo para- table, any child is pleased to take It. Ask your dnuuriBt for it. Price and Sl.M. WALTER A.TAYLOR.Atlnata.Ga. 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