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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 : .