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garoeqiten tfeijvm#.
Hod tiflr tkerfmmpbdmtar* We claim It a j
tptollc, elrnplv. because the virus of alldleeaees
arieea from the Wood. Hi Nervine, Resolvent,
Alterative and Laxative properties meet all the
conditions herein referred to. It’s known wwW
lßv|EtC|oiHiQlUlE!Rlolß
It qalets and composes the patient—not by the
introduction of opiates and drastic cathartics,
but by the restoration of activity to the stomach
and nervous system, whereby the brain is re
lieved of morbid fancies, which are created by
* the causes above referred to.
To Clergymen, Lawyers, Literary men, Men*
chants, Bankers,Ladies and all those whose sed
entary employment causes nervous prostration,
irregularities of the blood, stomach, bowels oi
kidneys or who require a nerve tonic, appetizer
or stimulant,B*MAßi7AN NxnviNE is invaluable.
Thousands proclaim it tho most wonderful ln
vijrorant that ever r-nstalnedtlie sinking system.
*1750. Sold by all Druggists. The DR. S. A.
RICHMOND ME9. CO.,Propr - s,St.joßepk, Mnw
For testimonials and circulars send stamp.
Ohai. y. Qrlttnto, Agist tin York City. (M>
jfrttotincijs. __
THOMAS S. SMITH.
Solioitoi of Paten Caveats. - Trade-
Marks Copyrights, ,
WASHINGTON, D. C.
Office St. Cloud Buildin*, Corner 9th
and F Streets. Opposite U- B. Patent
Office.
JOHIH W. UADBOX,
ATrORMBV A1 Law
SUMMERVILLE, - GEORGIA.
Will practice 111 the Superior, Coun
ty. and District Courts.
W. M Henry,
Attorney at Law,
SUMMERVII.I.E, - - - - GEORGIA.
-XTILL practice In the Uome and adjoining Ctr
YV caiu. Collec * specialty.
F. W. Copeland,
Attorney at Law,
LaFayette, - - - Georgia.
WILL practice in the SJuperlorCourts, of Rom>
Circuit. Elsewhere by special agreement. Col
e.rtioiis a specialty. (Office up-stairs of Dickson’"
tore.',
H. P. Lumpkin
Attorney at Law,
LaFayette, - - Georgia.
ILL five prompt attention to all business
.intrusted to him.
t*?- Office in the MESSENGER Building.
“ “ Hebert lf.lL Glean,
Attorney at Law,
T.it'Aykttk, - - - - Georgia.
Will practice In the Superior Courts
of the Home and adjoining circuits and
in the Supreme Court of Georgia Of
fice on east side of square in building
with I>r. J. Hill Hammond.
a 35 3m.
ifiiacellaneous Advertisements.
“ DR-THILI HAMMOND,
Physician and Surgeon,
Office in L» Fayette on the east fide
of the square, immediately south of the
brick store, where lie caa be found at all
hours, day and ‘tight wiled nut profes
sionally engaged.
UR.J. S RHU A,
RESIDENT DENTIST.
RiNNGGOLD, - * Georgia.
jgJMSfc Off ers services io all branch
nfhis profession to the
citizens of Walker and Otoosa Ooun
tiea. W rk promptly done at moderates
prices.
. Ail wot k warranted. Office on Nash
villa street, First building west of W L
Whitman’s store.
New Boarding House
(Wtjg. <peotsia Hodges,
Cor- Market St., & Montgomery vnue
CHATTANOOGA, TERN.
Will furnish excellent raeala ai.J
comfortable lodging .it one dollar per
clny. Don’t fail to stop with her when
you go to Chattanooga. apl263m
Hamilton House,
D. B. RAGSDALE, Prop.,
CHATTANOOGA, TENN
Centrally loaM, Good Acwimmoo.
lion., Rn'r. Rra.on',ble,
Frss Omnibus to and From *ll Trains
apl M 6ni
Pain Killer,.
Cholera!
' ‘*” I j
qHOLERA MORBUS
CHOLERA INFANTUM
AatATIO CHOLERA
f ALL OHOLERA DISEASES
YIELD TO THE INFLUENCE OF
PqiiwsFiiiEito
Thi G*eat Remedy for every kind
of BOWEL DISORDER
CsAain tr* B tarn. of GoP.Krmigk.
„ 'Mk.ni<: "On.of ms raiior. wra«-l
* i c<! Mvsrely with er.olc.ra ir.orhus. Weac
* flur.istercd Pain Killer, and Laved him.
J. Bfriftteboro, “ J*
uta of choler.. HHvrhti* wi aodden -tracks
of sun flier I U-ve never found It
-a fall. '
«
ALL THE DRPGGISTS SELL IT
-THE BEST IS OMSAKSSI.»
(i'.mV.L
.-lessß-s3--i‘a*ißras23i' ras
Walker County Messenger.
VOL. VII.
THE MESSENGER.
LA FAYETTE, - - - GEORGIA.
Fate And The Future.
I can almost tee it yet, the long,
winding turnpike road leading up
the hill to thu school houso, dotted
on either side with white cottages,
with a fringe of silver maples that
formed a sort of arcade, from the
town pump in 'he valley to the tall
red house where, year in, year out,
with the exception of Saturdays
and Sabbath, grim old Mr. Nickel
by Glasgeow held undisputed sway
over an intantile domain which
recognized but one Dower superior
to his, and that the birch rod,
which he wielded regardless alike
of jacket and wearer; yet be was a
good, well-meaning squl, this Mr,
Nickelby Glasgeow,take him before
nine o’clock or after four, and I
I trust he rests well in the genial
shade of the very tr. es h 6 plunder
ed facilitate education.
The old school hous6 stands at
the head of the hill yet, and the
boughs of the silver maples inter
lace as tenderly as they did on the
day Mary Thorne and I walked
up the turnpike road for the last
time. Let me see: it must be ten
year? sgo, for I was sixteen and she
was a yezr younger. I remember
that I oarried her satchel, and that
she trudged along very close at ray
side. I talked very soberly of go
ing away, and she cried very scftly
behind a brown veil
“Going away!” she repeated after
me, with a pitiful attempt at in
difference. “Going away! When
and where?’
‘To dayl Mary,’ I made answer.
‘You know there is co home, for
me here since mother died —no
borne for me any where except the
one I shall make for myself and —
and you, Mary.’
She stopped and leaned against
the truriK of a maple, and looked
at me half quizieally from the
shade of the brown vei'; she eeem
ed to be laughing but there were
tears in the laugh, and tears were
trickling down her face.
‘But where are you go ; ng?’ A
pause between every other word.
‘I cannot tell you, but to some
place whore there is a chance for a
poor hoy; and it seems to me that
I ought to go a long distance from
here to find that.’
She was still leaning against the
tree, looking up at me.
‘Are you so very poor, then?’she
queried. I remember I laughed
at her question, and she aocepte-i
the laugh in reply, and continued,
‘Ah yes, you are, I know, and it is
terrible to be poor, iB it not?’
*1 trust you may never know just
how terrible it is,’ I said.
I saw her hand fumbling at the
pocket of her dress; by and by the
hand was withdrawn, and I saw
that the fingers were pressed tight
ly over a delicate silken purse, on
which her monog-am, ‘M T, ‘was
quaintly embroidered in a bright
shade of floss.
‘Here, Bob, take this,* she said,
pushing the puise nto my reluc
tant palm. ‘lt isn’t much, but it
will help you. Now don’t refine,
unless you went to make me an
gry,’ she said.
I did cot refuse; perhaps I did
wrong in taxing it, but it certainly
would have been a greeter wrong
had.l denied her wibb. Feeling,
however, I was wrong In accepting
the purse, the only chance I saw
to retrieve myself lay in making a
return of some kind. Mv store of
worldly effects was meagre, but I
had a ring which in her youth my
mother had worn. It was a quaint
device of Etruscan gold, curiously
wrought, and of marvellous beauty
if not worth. She bad iven it to
me just bef.re she died, as she laid
her hand on my head and bade me j
be tiue io my self >n» her,
‘Take this, mv son,’ she had j
said, ‘and some Jav, when you
have found a girl swe, t and good
whom you may love even better
than you do me give it, to her and
tell h-ir ot me, rd &*/ M, a. m
heaven I will w -t ~v<- r ~u by
a -d w.nt for , ' ci
8 Pel Iha : f- n.J to* ‘Sweet,
ood girl,’ and I slippe I the riDg
LAFAYETTE, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, AUGUST 9, 1883.
from my finger and kissed it, then
laid it in Mary’s hand.
‘lt was mother’s,’l said. ‘Wear
it, Mary, as the seal of our betroth
al; wear it, and I kuow you will
always tbilli of me.’
Then in spite of her tears and
my heayy heart, wo both laughed
a little, and resumed our walk up
the turnpike road. We spoke nev
er another word until the top of
the hill was reached, and the school
house frowned upon us. Tnen I
drew back, and reaohing out my
hand, said, —
“Good-bye, Mary.”
I meant to be very cnlm, very
self-possessed ; tears were for wo
men, I thought, loftily, and repres
sion for men ; and I looked down
at her trembling little figure, vague
ly outlined against the red back
ground of the school-house wall,
then I looked down the road—the
road we might never walk again—
and thought of all that hnd been
and might be, and my heart seem
ed lo leap full in my throat and al
most choke me; and then I broke
down entirely, and we were crying
in conceit —and, well, 1 was but
sixteen, and she was younger.
The school-hou c e hell clanged
ominously,and rang an uncortsious
knell to uur friendship ; the mo
ment of parting had come.
“Good bye, Bob,” she said, softly.
•‘Kiss me, Bob.”
I bent and kissed her. I pre
sumeit Mr. Nickelby Glaslow was
looking, his sense of prudence and
propriety was outraged ; however,
I kissed her not once but twice find
thrice, and then—
“ Good-bye, Bob.”
“Good bye, Mar.”
We had parted.
That was ten years ago, ten years
of trial, privation, and final reward.
At the outset I Knew the woild
was against me, and that I was
against the world. But 1 was res
ilote, persevering an I above all
hopeful. There was many a strug
gle, a 1, ng, long series of disap
pointments—mom n'g when hepe
was all but vanquished and des
pair supreme. But I struggled on,
determined to conquer, not be con
quered ; and what is impossible to
youth, blessed with health, and an
ambition to succeed ?
I cannot bring myself to believe
that a r. tail of struggles, tempta
tion and final achievement, howev
er glowing, told by one’s self is in
teresting to others ; therefore I shall
not lengthen mine. Simply suffice
it to say that from the position of
office boy to a legal firm I advanced
to clerk, then toetudent, and finally
to junior partnership. AH this was,
of course, not accomplished as ea
sily as written. There was many
a lapse from the goal of ambition,
many a quiet heartache, many a
moment of complete discourage
ment. Bet nothing, however
great, beyond my energy. From
“Bob” I r se to the digni'y of Rob
ert,” from that to the high estate
of “yout g Ilalieck,” and. finally to
the pre eminence of "Robert Hal
leck, Esq.”; and ten years had
gone by sinie the May afternoon
when in the shadow of the school
house wall 1 had said farewel' to
Mary Thorne.
What of her, you ask? Well tr.
go back again to the outset of my
rareer I was then too miserably
p. or to indulge in the luxuty of
regulsr meals, to say nothing of a
correspi nd'-nce. But final.y I did
write a long letter, telling of my
bailies and begging a re| ly. A
mouth passed, but nono came ;
'hen I wrote, again and again, but
e»< h Liter met with a similar (ate.
Finally In sheer despair, I wrote to
Mr. Nickelby G asglow. ass'/ring
him in an apologetic sort of way
that I knew he wus anxious to
hear of my Welfare, and filially j
Concluding with a postscript much |
longer ihmi the letter it«lf, ini
which I inquired the whereabout*
ant fare of little Mary Thorne.
then I waited im patiently
enough for hia reply, which came
a; last, encased in a yellow emel-
I ope, addressed in lar-*> scholarly
i.iei >glvpbice. ar<' w s ‘ .to: i er
. r «.?<•; : i ep.-tU aMi Nickel* ’
,o > and Mr. Nickelby
‘jla-g ■ w alone could indite. He
wi/gUd to beer of my health tub
’ prosperity ; hoi ed I read my Bi ’c
regularly or. rising and retiring;
the former ceremony be trusted oc
curred not later than six o’clock a.
st., and the latter not later than
eight o’clock p. m. He feared I whs
wrong in leaving my native com
munity, and he assured me I was
greatly missed. Then he went on
to say that the School had nther
deteriorated of late J the scholars
were few and the pay irregular and
small. He hinted modostly that
the scholars, young and old —a
deep line under the last clause —■
were to make him a substantial
present nt the close of the term, and
then referred to the many years he
had labored for childhood, and the
arduous labor that it was. The
letter ran on to a ccnßiderable
length; he told me the village
butcher was dead, the apothecary
bankrupt, the little widow who
kept the millinery shop at th*
corner re-married, and then—just
as my patience had reached t e
limit of endurance —my eye caught
the name of Mary Thorne.
“I am very much grieved,” he
wrote, “to inform you that the
Thornes have gone, I know not
wbltber, the cause thereof being
the recent reverses sustained. I
kuow you will share the regret I
ex peri sliced at their removal; they
were excellent people, and Mr.
Thorne’s name was foremost in all
charities, of which the school fund
waß the principal one.”
I tosued the letter away, and my
heart and thoughts went out to tho
little girl struggling, perhaps just as
I was struggling, fighting the same
hard buttle bearing the same heavy
burden, only with less strength
than 1. I Iri dto find her, why
I do not know, unless I farcied it
wculd make both loids light'r to
feel the other near. But nil was
vain, and year glided into year,
and the yearning of my heart grew
less, though my love never did, I
laid the silken purse with its floss
monogram “M. T.” away, and laid
with it the sweet hopes and tmm
ories of the one I felt was lost to
me tin n I went b‘ick to the battle
oflife again, fortified and defiant.
Yet never a speech did I make
in crowded court room that it did
not seem to me the influence of
Mary Thorne insensibly and invis
ibly affected it. Nev< r a book did
I read but the purest, sweetest
character in it I. felt was suggested
by and suggestive of hers. Never
a fair face did I see but hers was
before me, in the full bloom of the
beauty whose opening lints re
raained in memory still.
And len years had come and
gone, and the snow* ot an early
winter lay upon the streets and
housetops, and shook from the
leafless branches of the trees as
they swayed to und fro with a dole,
ful sort of cadence, and sharpened
the already cutting air. Yet, spite
of this, the lights of the city shone
wit’i a brilliance undiminished,
and occasionally above the sigh
ing of the wind ro»e the echo of a
merry laugh, a broken song, or a
strain of music; then the wind was
uppermost again.
The clock in the old Trinity whs
striking twelve. Iliad passed into
Broadway, had buttoned my coat
tightly übou 1 me, and was waiting
.bra cab to carry ine home. You 1
see I ride in cabs nowaday?; they
are one of nuy favorite folliee, and
throw money ieto a good channel
of circulition. The last chime
from Trinity spiro hid died away,
and only the hotn of the clanging
hells remained. I looked down
the street in sesrch of my cab, and
straivtway looked hack again, at
sound of a low voice at ray elbow.
‘I—I beg pardon, sir; but can
you dirict me to the Bow>:y,
please?’
Looking down, I saw the ehr.nlt-!
Ing firm trf a w >rn in leaning
against the lamp post nt my side.
The voice was low and inexpressi
bly s*cet, and almost tost Pei eatn
tbeabawl th“l covered the head
and shoulder* so completely ib:.t
,n y the White outline of the face
W‘B vi-ib'e; yet 'here wos some- ,
thing about either the voice or the J
sane which attracted rue irreiisti
biv. j
'Tilt. Bow JO ?’ I repeated. ‘I :
can scarcely direct you it is so '
vtrj Gj !’jiu> Ltre.’ /
‘How far, picas,?’
There was a rnuto appeal in the
voile, and it seemed for nn instant
to magnetize me. I caught a
glimpse of bright, dark eyes shin
ing behind the shadow of the
Bha 7I es mechanically I re
plied.- -
‘At least on hour’s walk. Is
there anything I can do for you?'
‘No -yas—no; I must find the
Bowery.’
’At this time of the nighl? It is
very cold, and there are many
dangers.’
‘Cold! What is cold, when the
brain is aflame? What ure dan
gers to a starving wretch like me?’
She stepped back against the
lamp, post for support.
‘Pardon me. sir, for speaking so,
for speaking at all; but l must
find—’
The voice died away entirely now,
and was lost in a great, convulsive
sab (lint shook the lithe figure es
the beating of the storm dots a
reed, urd carried me back in my
life lo the old turnpike road, with
its arcade of maples, and the little
girl who was bidding me good by.
A spirit of tho lost one seemed to
pervade me, at d p'aiing m v hand
on the shrinking figure I said. -
“If you are in neeJ I will assist
you.’’
“In need!” she repeated. “Oh,
sir, the words are feeble, I am
starving,sir! We are starving—
mother, the children and I at home
I am no beggar., hut wo must have
relief, and if I could find the Bow
cry I would pnrt with this —his
ring.”
She slippe! something from h«r
finger and at the same tune the
shawl dropped trom her face. Il
was I who staggered bat kwnrd no-,
and clung white and trembling to
her arm, forgetful of- ever) thing
Out the one lope that possessed
me. I did riot speak—l could no 1
—and she continued, holding oul
in the moonlight a thread like hand
of go’d wliote quaint design I knew
full well, —
“Here is the ring, sir ; will you
huy it ? What will you give?’’
I caught her in my arms like a
crazy man.
“My loye—my life—everything
I have Mary !”
The r ng fell frou. her grasp, and
she sprang hack with a ocream of
joy.
‘ Bob—Bob—o Bob !
“And she was crying nn my
breast, just as she hud cried u doz
en years before, and just as she
will never cry again, Gud willing;
for rhe is mine now, all mine, for
there was a solemn' and beautiful
wedding next day, and wo are hap
py as tho days are long, Mary and
I. —Exchange.
Why he
Last year the old man Hastings
settled down in a village on tie
ether side of the lluHloii to ei joy
old age and lend money at twelve
per cent', hut he has closed cnt
husintss so far as the lending goes
He lent SHY) at 12 per cmt. per
annum t- r four moi.tt s, and when
the note fell due and the mao came
to pay it Hastings was alone in
the house. He called up all his
kniwledge of arithin- lie, guff out a
sh'ngle ami a 'end pencil, h' daficr
figuring away for hell an lo ur,
without any satisfaction, he called
out to a man who was passing in
buggy. “Hey, jou! How do you
figger 12 per cent, interest?”
"I take 820 off thec»; ilal,” shout
ed the man as he drove on.
• The old man figured away *Oll
the new theor, and by-and-hy he
wiped the sweat off hia brow, and
sai. ;
"Hee lure.Hmith. this coin.s out
rnig't queer You re bad in y money
four moults at 12 p-r cent., und
yet I si; - in to owe y u uin.vt four
dollars. Here—take your old note
sri-1 give me 1860 and we’ll c II it
square, and if 1 lend a'y more
money around loro i’ll bargain
for a calf "r a1 ng for the inti rest
and drive lie blamed brute borne
in advance.”
A tvraco e gnoe, pad j » I
own way until he s' , 1 ham im 1
buck saw. Then be was way
laid with a club and s.erit up for
sixtv days No ghost has ant
bUMJJe.-s with a buck as -r a up-.
NO. 3.
Wren and the Carpenter.
Philip W ooii wan a village car
penter, who had developed nil un
common skill in wood carving, and
had made some striking figures for
the adornment of his sweetheart’s
bouse, a lass shove himself in rank
and fortune. In the hope of im
proving his circumstances, and
thus the disparity be
tween them, lie went to London,
where bo sought work iu vain, un
til bis store of money wus reduced
to a single guinea.
The hugj dome hf Si. Paul's was
then rising nbovo the smoke of
London. Philip Wood applied to
the foreman for work in carving
the wood for tbo interior. Repuls
ed by him, he lie unted the place
day after day, and at last attracted
the attention of the great Sir Chris
topher W ren himself.
“What have you been Used to in
carving?” atked the architect.
The carpenter in the rx'remitv
of I.is agitation, cell'd only stam
mer out:
•‘Troughs, your worship,"
"Troughs I" said Sir Christopher;
“then carve me ns a specimen of
you skill a sow and pigs—it will
he something in your line —and
bring to me this day week.”
The poor fellow shrank away
from the daughter of the workmen,
and returned to his lodging in des
pair. Rut tic had a friend in his
landlady, who advised him to tauo
Sir Chrislopln rat his word, and
carve the best soar el d pigs he
oculd in the time allotted.
With his lust guinea lie h uigl t
a block of peir wood, nod try
using hie u most diligence (ioislie I
the work in time and took it lit -
dcr his apron to the appointed
place.
T e architict. was ibere, and
beckoned the trembling carpenter
to approach. Upon inspecting tbo
beautiful work, S.r Christopher
sad:
engage you, young man; at
ttnd at my ollice to morrow.’
A few hours after, Sir Christo
pher came to the carver ar.d said:
‘Mr. Addison wishes to keep
your carving and requests me to
give you ten guineas for it.’ Then
he added:‘l fear 1 did jou some
injustice, but a great naliona! aura
is intrusted to me, and it Id ity
solemn duty to mind that up part
of the wi.i k falls into inefficient
bunds, mind and atteud mo to
morrow.’
It is a pleasure to Know that the
young artist did much of the carv
ing of St. Raul's, and married the
girl of his heart, who could no'
have been sorry to change such a
name as she had-—Hannah llay
hi tile.
Anohj ct, however trifling, will
turn the bullet from its true course
Tins was shown one day at the re
moot camp in Pleasant Valley,
ihey had a 'hu 1-pen’ there, in which
about 600 hourly jumpers and
hard cases were under guard.
Once in a while one of these men
would make a break for liberty.
Ev«ry sentinel in position would
open fire,and it did not matter in
the leant if the man tun toward the,
crowded camp. On this occasion
the prisoner made for the camp,
and as many ns six shots were fired
at him without effect. One of tbe
bullets entered the tent of a cap
tain in the Twelfth’ Peunsylvanit
cavalry. He was lying down, and
the course of the bullet would liuye
buried it in his ohißt. Fortunately
fir him, a can lie by which he was
reading sat on i stand hetwesn
him and where the bullet entered.
This wjb struck and cut square in
two, and the lighted end dropped
to 'he floor with ul b>in< snuffed
out. The I a'l was deflu ted, and
buried in tiie pillow under the
ndicer's h< ad, puet out of that bi d
thiougii fus lent, into the one be
hind it,passed between two men and
brought Up against a comp kettle.
Thera is in Uetroit, a nun
who was w out.dec five Urn- a in it •>
'than ten inn.ip ":, at Fair Oi -
Ti i fir-4 indict’ nteiv'l h ■ left .-ran;
l 1 i sC-cond gave d,’:i a sculp wound;
ttse ihiid hit in the fool; the nirth
bur-ad it •••If i hi» ah-u!d.-:, ‘be
filth entire If: rig't ! c. Wr.ib
tie wss beio-r oirrie I to'tha rear,
ihe crav.jM*o 'unit why ‘etnirvt
were killed. While hie wiuuds’
were being dtessed, an exploded
shell almost buried him under an
avn'unohofdf.’t. 11l being removed
further lo the rear, a runaway aro
b ilmine horso carried litftl half a
mile and dimpled him out, and
yet he is seemingly hale and hear
ty, and walks without a limp<
• ——
Solid Facts Will Tell.
A farmer came into a grocery
atoro the other day and exhibited
to the ayes of an admiring crowd
an enormous (tgg, about six inches
loop, which ho avowed to have
been laid by one of his own hens.
He Imd it packed in cotton, and
wouldn't allow anybody to handle
it for fear of breaking the phi horns
euon. The grircerymaij examined
it with the r»st, and, intending to
chaff the country man, Bald.
‘l'shan! I’ve got something in
the egg line that kill heal that.’
‘i’ll list you five dolfatS: you
haven't.’ said Hie country man, get
ting excited.
‘Take it up,’ replyed the grocery
man’ and going behind the counter
ho brought out a wire egg-beater.
There’s something in the egg line
that will beat it, I guess,’ said ho
renchitig out lor the stakes.
‘Hold on there,’ sft'tl the farmer)
'let's »ee you b >nt it,' and lie bend
ed it to the grocer. , .
T ie hitler held out his hand for
it, but dropped it in surprise upon
the counter. Where it broke two
soup pIHtCS and a platter. It was
of s lid iron, painted White.
‘Some folks think they're dftrna
tion cuts,'muttered the farmer as
he pocketed tbe Htakes and lit out,
‘but ’tairt no cso buckin' against,
the solid fants.’—Ex.
Standard Advice.
Ifyou would keep your rosy
complexion wear thick-soled shoes.
Ifyou would enjoy qirot content,
drop all airs and pretenses.
II you would have others respect
, your opinions, huld fast and never
ditown them yoursdf,
If you would baye good health,
gi out 1n the sunshine. Sickness
io worse than freckles. *
1 f yon wottld respect yourself,
k op your heart find body clean.
If you would retain the love of
frith < is, do not be lefhhly exuct
w
If y on would gain tli • eonlidenre
of business men do not try tosun
p>rt the s vie of your employe?.
If you would never be told a ho,
do notask persons quettions.
Ifyou would sleep well and
have a good appe'ite, attend tu
your bustnl’HH.
Ifyou would linvo tie respect of
m iiikiml. never permit yourself to
iiidu !ge invulgar con versa! ions.
AIIVICtC TO MOTIII lls.
Are you disturbed at night and of
ycur rest by a sick child suffering
and crying with pain of cutting teeth?
If so, send ut once and get a lot tie
cf Mrs, Winslow's Southing Syrup
Fur Children Teething Its value
is incalculable. It will relieve the
poor little sufferer immediately.
Deperd upon it, mothers, there is
no mistake ahoet it. It cures dvs
-nlery and diarrhoea, regulates the
stomach and bowels, cure* wind col
ic, s- liens the gums, reduces iuflaiu
matCn and gives tot e and euiriy
to the whole system. Mrs. Win*
slow’s Soothing Syrup For Chil
, dreu Teetb’Ug is pleasant tothc taste
end is the pieicripMon of one of the
oldest and lest female physicians
; ar.d purses in the tin tied States, und
is for sale bv nil druggists through*
inf the v.orld. Riice *o cents a
bottle,
‘Jibe*,’ ssid Ins wife sharply,
‘that man you ?ired Inst, week is
down with the li ck-jaw. Now I want
to ki ow if tints enj thing ketih
in'?’ And Jsbcx looked at her
with tenre in his eyes and said, iu
mournful tones: ‘Oh, no. No.
Alas, no; t int ketch in.’ And he
says, ah hough she won’t helievo
it, that he dosen'l know what made
her so outrageously mad a tout it.
A firm -r's wile in lowa, once
being much troubled with ‘rats,
stealing her pies and nil es her
husband sol a spring-trap lor the
o lenders, and caught the hired
HI • 11.
Uiruiv’s Saw sc Avetuent la a white
powder, and when placed in water,toauis,
sparkleund tastes just like soda water.
It Is very cooling and pleasant, acts
gently u|ion tlio bowels, relieves consli.
patiou, cures sink headache, sour atom
ach and beurtburn.
Eviliott '/eh ,i i Bit • as icnd* r» I
etrengi*.! to b< muscles, by giving an j
appetite, aiding digestion. aed ImfiiliLjf'
up tiio cy.teia, Ait sickly women ‘vjfo
geed „ _‘:ver.faii.ns fun,. ln regulator,
will be delighted .d* at proaipt aua
refiat !e action.
“Toujjh on Chills, ’ ,
Cor>>so -■ o-ft ■', j-c: .-•'"J't'or sump
MsjftM by/f'.hu I‘arUas-. Ad-ntu. y : .