Newspaper Page Text
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INDISTINCT PRIMT
Volume XXXIX.-I&f
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v4BjT\ ' / • #> BMMM —1 I IITilll 19L4V .wKi -i-M
ALBAXY. GA.. SATURDAY . AUGUST 8, 1885.
• — - -- , »i.u. amM,
I till ,*r»
Xihul I Vh’ri^i
l\ln>.*51 .*1*1
Price $2.00 Per Year.
everybody, including Brother Martin,
Is giddy for a ride.
Thk average 1<
the new
than a hundred
Atlanta and (^>lumbus are in earn
est about building the
- alt like sheep,** the ml toe a
la low aad rich and mellow t
-x.
Suppress t
“We all like sheep,** the b
The word ^carpetbagger?* iia* lie^
gun to play a part in Irish politics. It
is righteous to hope that the carpet
bagger may be cast out.
The Florida constitutional conven
tion has reached the watch and gold
headed cane stage, and this means that
its labors are about ended.,
It U reported Korn privati? source* t^b^ylf^ro’^uibnreT
that Santos has been released from
imprisonment by the authorities of
Ecuador. They did well to reconsider
their refusal.
Maybe General Sheridan will im
prove in manners now, inasmuch as
official business compels him to asso
ciate with gentlemen when lie goes to
Washington City.
Wk haven't heard anything yet of
that tax-assessment bill. It is high
time it had reported for duty, if it ex
pects to reach the third reading during
the present session.
Resolutions to fix the .dute of ad
journment are already being offered in
the House. What of that tax assess
ment bill V It will be inexcusable to
adjourn sine die, without a law, for en
forcing just tax returns.
Osman Digxa, too, is said to be dead.
As death Is getting to he common
among great military men it wonld
uot be surprising if Bill Chaudler, Jim
Blaine and Murat Halstead should*
soon be suhiinoued hence.
The Savannah News is urging on the
Atlanta Constitution an explanation of
Its recent change of front on the ques
tion of ‘‘protection.*’ And tor all its
Ashing in the sea of motive our Savan
nah contemporary fails to get even a
dimiuitive nibble. Spit on your hook,
neighbor, spit on your hook.
The negro is fast becomiug a tramp.
In this matter he Imitates his white
brother more closely than in anything
else.—Quitman Free Press. This Is
true. The negro is easily demoralized.
The next retrograde movement he
makes will be to invest in base hall.
Then he’ll not be worth his victuals
and clothes.
Written for the News and Advertise*.
Hie Banker’s Daughter.
“Kiss Agnes, your father says come
the library if you are at leisure.”
These words were addressed to Agnes
stain my honor. If it should be neces
sary for us to retire into hntnble ob
scurity bow do you think you could
"Sl’U—.“i-c.
Has becomes your daughter. It wouit
be honorable, father, and what is hon
est is right.”
“AhTmy precious child, bow like
woor mother you seem, God grant
that you may be shielded—” he did not
finish, but putting bis hand upon his
daughter’s bead, continued, inaudiblv,
a prayer for his motherless child:
. The tears fell from Agnes’s.eyes;
she resteal her head upon bis arm and
looking into bis sad eyes said, “Never
mind, father, we can'bear it all—even
the worst. Have you not often told
meliow my mother would trust all
things to God? Let us trust him; 1
believe he wQl bring all things right.”
~'r. Ripley felt his daughter’s wonts,
faf.
Thehk is greater unanimity among
the papers of the State on the subject
of adopting the whipping-post, as a
method of punishment, than on any
other subject. It would require an
amendment to the constitution, but
that could easily be effected in the
present state of public sentiment.
Meantime a great many people are
spoiling for a whippiug.
Our contemporary, the Augusta
Chronicle; seems of the opinion that
liquor, as a rule, is purer than drink
ing water, in the cities of Georgia, as
it inveighs more against the impurity
of the latter thau of the former. Our
contemporary takes too despondent a
view of the water question. If the
drinking water of Augusta isn’t clean
/ it ought to be washed.
Even the Northern papers, are be
ginning to kick at the fiunkyism and
disgraceful advertising turn that char
acterize the preparations for General
Grant’s funeral. Some cities have
wanted his body to He ill state in their
midst, to draw a crowd and increase
business! His body will be stolen
from the grave in Jess than a mouth
unless a heavy guard if kept over it.
The dead man is entitled to something
better at the hands ot his people.
The Local Option ists in the Legish -
ture h:lve acted with wise conserva
tism in the terms and in the advocacy
of their favorite measure. I f it should
fail, the question will become a leading
issue in the State elections next year,
and the responsibility will not rest
with them. Local option is a compro
mise measure; there will be no compro
mise in the alternative liquor-reform
wave that will sweep over the State,
“lie that hath- ears to hear, let him
hear.”
Dynamite is the agent which will
set at naught all the strength of the
iron-clad and the greatest skill of the
shipbuilder. An air-gun, that carries
immense dynamite shells, ha? been
perfected-in. this country. The shells
are projected . with great »-Ve>* v jind
explode eu contact with any Karti:
surface. No ship that has ever been
built could" resist for a niiimte the
force of the explosion of one of these
shells. The mere concussion from it
would destroy the entire crew.
The Macon Telegraph of Tuesday
announces that a Paris “mob attacked
a corpse of the Salvation Army while
it was parading with religious cere
monies on cue of the boulevards” ou
Sunday evening. We don’t believe a
word of it. Corpses sometimes go
through strange processes ami trans
formations in Paris, but we can’t be
lieve that one of them paraded around
hi that city, singiug hymns in broad
daylight. But its view on this ques-
tion is as rational as its pbsition on the
tariff question.
“Ibcv.” H. O. Hoffman, of Bloom
ington, Illinois, in a recent ‘^ermon”
stated that “it tiumilmted him to think
that Jefferson Davis should live to see
the death of Qrant.” This sentiment
of the old buck shows the exact extent
to which “sectionalism died with Gen
eral Grant.” We commend it to the
weeping souls of the Georgia Legisla
ture. As to Hoffman, he will be still
wocse “humiliated?’ , when he finds
himself, some day, in a torrid, wafer
less region, with a great gull betwixt
himself and Jeffersou Davis.
A feartul tornado or cydoue is said
to have swept through Maryland.
Pennsylvania, Delaware and New Jer
sey on Monday, carrying death and de
struction In its track. The North
fought the war to keep the trade of the
South, and won it. The Powers of
Nature have evidently concluded that
it must take the bad along with the
good, and so they give that section the
“first-choice” of Southern cyclones.
They were unknown visitors in the
conquering section of the Union before
the
b unsectiojbl enough to. please e
In
Ripley, the only child of James Rip
ley, the rich banker of the city of St.
Clair. Agnes arose from her easy
chair and laying aside her book, de
scended the richly carpeted stairs,
humming in soft tones the favorite
Scotch air, “Mary of Argyle.” She
entered the library, but perceiving her
father busily engaged with pen and
papers, did not speak, but quietly seat
ed herself on a low ottoman near his
side, and taking up her needles busied
herself with some worsted work. She
was dressed with the utmost degree of
simplicity that* was * consistent with
elegance. She wore no- jewelry, save
a large old-fashioned' cameo which
caught the soft, rich lace at her throat.
Her hair, almost black, receded froni
her forehead in gentle waves, aud was
coiled low upon her neck. Beneath
long, dark lashes her blue eyes beamed
with the richest expression of feeling,
bespeaking the heroism of her nature.
Her fdem was well moulded; every
motion was characterized liy a grace
ful dignity. She was somewhere be
tween nineteen and twenty, and as she
sat there with the warm glow resting
upon her cheek, her thin lips slightly
pressed- together, you could not "but
admire and pronounce her beautiful.
Agnes.was not unlike her father. This
evening as she sat by his side the ic-
semblance seemed more striking. In
person, Mr. Ripley was of medium
height, and of rather heavy build.
Having already lived a half of a-cen
tury, he bore some traces of age, for
his hair and heard,once black, were uow
sprinkled with gray, nis dark eyes
shone with energy and intellect, and
the finely shaped mouth pronounced
him to be a mail of decided character.
In manner, Mr. Ripley, was, calm and
gentleman-like, possessing a reserve
not cynical, but only diffident, which,
however, at least ■ at first sight, gave
him an air of hauteur almost austere.
But this was far from his real nature,
for the rich milk of human kindness
flowed through his veins. Countless
times had he been known to have
encouraged struggling humanity by
cheerful wiirds, soothed- the sorrowing
ones by sympathetic manifestations,
and relieved the distressed by ready
acts of charity. In this respect Agnes
was like her father. The oh! ladies of
the town who well remembered-the
banker’s wife, would often say to
Agnes, “You have your mother’s
features, but your father’s manner.
And Mr. Ripley would always add,
“My daughter, if you will only' be
like your mother in character then will
I be blessed.”
Mr. Ripley’s life had been a sad one.
He had married at the age of thirty to
Miss Agiies Hartwell, a woman in all
respects to be admired, but especially
for her true chrlARtn character. Their
union was most happy, but of short
duration, Mrs. Ripley Having died *a
short time after the birth of her daught
er, only a few years after her marriage.
Mr. Ripley was almost in despair at
the untimely death of his wife. But
the low, piteous wail of his infant
daughter aroused him; he lelt he must
bear up, though the future seemed* so
cheerless and dark. To-night as we
see them side by side, the motherless
child grown to womanhood, the mem
ory or his wife is cherished as tenderly
as "she was loved in the few shortyears
of their life together. Many an even
ing had the banker spent in telling His
daugfifer of the beautiful character of
her mother whose name she bore. How
auxiously he had watched over his
motherless child. Even from baby
hood had. she been his cqmfort, his
pride. Witli the care of a faithful
nurse, tfieinstrnction of an excellent
teacher, together with her father’s
tender training Agnes was, at the age
I to rely on the Giver of jin
The nlght-was far spent when, clos
ing the library doors, Agnes sought
her own room. How different her
thoughts when afee ascended the stairs
from those which a few hours ago bad
' '1 She reached her
i hei—
lose to him, >poke
. “Your mother’s
ears and sink into
my troubled heart. Oftentimes I heard
her say, “We secure the good at the
tatoJsofGod. and why notiheevil?"
The moment has come, my daughter,
if we hMre any strength to show it.
We must keep constant guard against
our feelings. They will ever he *r-
Ofien had In- heard his wife ! her fa
—J — Agni
ed especially sweet as she repeated
i"‘= *iei miner nail left her, besides the
-ingtt. Agnes’s low,rich voice sound-I plain furniture in the cottage home.
. .a — —-— — .t.tL . ■ — . — - ai —. i...w ■ . ■ — a - * • - :
of twenty, au accomplished’young
lady, and hostess of her father’s home.
This evening as we look into the libra
ry and see "the heroine of our little
stoiy we recognize in her expression
and' bearing the womanliness of her
-nature: ' • r -. *
i'hs not dwell farther on her
past life. * To* Cis, 'the history of the
banker’s daughter begins upon the
evening we find her seated by her
father’s side patiently waiting to learn
the cause of his message to join him in
the library. She sat some time before;
she addressed him.* Not until the clock-
on the mantel rang out nine solemn
strokes, which arresting Mr. Ripley’s
attention, did he look up, meeting hi?
daughter’s eyes. Putting aside her
work,'she rested her hands upon his
knees, as she was accustomed to do
from early childhood, aud said in gen-
Mp tnnps “Fnfhpr win 1/vtk iwmlunul
tie tones, “Father, you look perplexed,
and have for a week. What is the mat
ter? May I not help you, or can I?”
He raised his head and looking into
her clear eyes—so like her motlier’s-r-
said in anxious tones, “Yes, my
daughter, you may help me now as
you nave never-done.” , : -
Agnes looked at him in perplexed
astonishment, and was just going to
speak when her. lather said, “My
daughter, it may seem strange.to you;
I can not realize it myself, but ! am a
ruined mail. I have failed in my bus
iness. I know not what may come.
My only thought is of you.”
She did not seem to understand his
words, and looking into his perplexed
face asked in questioning tones, “Why
are you rained?”
My daughter, since our return
from abroad I have thought my busi
ness was not being m anaged just right.
I began to look closely into matters,
and fiud that my agent has failed to
execute ray orders, and that the invest
ments which lhad made,hoping and
lieving they would accrue much profit,
have proven a failure. If this be
known there will be an immediate run
on the bank, which would necessarily
compel me to close doors and stop pay
ment.”
Agnes’s womanly perception at once
realized the perilous position In which
her father was placed. She looked
steadily into her father’s face, and
asked,'“Is*there no help from any
source?” *
one. Wakening
began to make preparations to retire.
Her thought* were for hi
she might help him bear this great
trouble. She had always realized the
loss of her mother, nOt so much for
her own sake, as for her father’s sake.
Had he not, during her infaucy and
early girlhood,borne all trials and anx
ieties with no one to comfort him! She
fell upon her knees, and proved fer
vently that now she had grown to wo
manhood she might be able to help
him bear bravely trustingly ail the
sore trials. Near tli weary
with thinking, she fell into a heavy
slumber, and did uot wake-until the
servant coming into the room aroused
her. She jirose, and hastily makf
her toilet, joined her father in the
brory. Agues could see from his pale
and haggard countenance.that he had
spent a sleepless night. . Her heart al
most sank within her when she looked
into his face, hut she determined to be
cheerful, so not allui
fereiice of the evenii
In cheerful tones, “Ci
go to breakfast.”
Arm in arm the father and danghter
entered the spacious dining room.
Agnes dismissed the *ervant>£in order
that there might not be any restraint
to the .conversation, for they could talk
of only one thing, viz: the failure.
Mr. Ripley had spent nearly the en
tire ot the past night in examining the
books,, finding out just to what extent
was the failure. He inforfhed his
daughter Just,how i.natters stood, and
received from her many expressions of
willingness to meet all things, and in
every way assist him to bear the.rats-
fort.aie. But poor child, how little
she knew what would come! Gather
all 3 r bur .strength of mind, your endur
ance, your womanliness, dear Agnes,
for to-morrow’s sun brings sorrow,
distress, and poverty.
Mr. Ripley arose from the table, and
kissing his daughter godd-bye, bade
her keep a brave heart. He* went at
once to the bank, and there; with the
aid of the cashier, carefully re-exam-
iped the books, but found the figures
to lie the same as the investigation of
the night before had revealed. The
banker stood conversing with the
cashier as to the wisest course to pur
sue when suddenly a loud knock on
the outside door arrested their atten
tion. Mr. Ripley looked at his watch
am? found, to bis astonishment, that It
was two hours lieyoud the regular
time for the opening of the bank. The
banker and cashier stood face to face,
and ih uigh they spoke not, each was
asking the question, “What must be
done?” The decisive moment had
come. Mr. Ripley ordered the doors
to be o|iened. Many who were impa
tiently waiting outride ru>lied in at
once. The banker stood himself at
the desk. The first draft called tor five
hundred dollars. Mr. Ripley looked
at the order, his face turned pale, but
looking squarely Into the man’s face
be said, in decided tones, “I cannot
cash it, sir.”
The man looked astonished, and in a
hesitating maimer asked, “Why ?”
“It is plaiuly this: 1 havefaiied,and
-annot cash any orders.”
The reply cost Mr. Ripley much
pain, hut it was true and it must be
said.
The man turned, and casting a dis-
d (infill look at the ruiued hanker, mut
tered, “Yes, d——such failures.”
“One depositor after another ap
peared, but hearing the fatal hews,
tur.ied away, some bearing looks of
disappointment aud sorrow, while
others seemed to be angered, and in
insolent manners muttered words of
complaining scorn. It was hard for
the banker to stand there aud listen to
the unfeeling remarks, but he had re
solved to meet the public ^face to
face. He had the consciousness that
though he had failed it had not been
through dishonest, dealings, but
through misfortune.
raying before our eye* the'MtfMMsn-
ful past in contrast-with the,presefif,
— np every moment a thous-
associations calculated
to shake onr constancy. Whenever
we think of the past, let it be with
gratitude to God for having allowed us
such a long Interval of happiness and
prosperity.”
Mr. Ripley told his daughter the
plan .for the future. They were to
Ive up their handsome residence on
road street and take a cottage on the
Kskirts of the town. The several
nihlings in the town belonging to the
banker were to fcg turned oYer to his
depositors. Every thing that could
be turned Into money Was to be sold,
the proceeds of which were to go to
wards settling the different claims.
3Ir. Ripley owned a share in a trading
vessel that plied the waters between
Savannah and Boston. This property,
however, he deemed it right lie should
retain, in order to support himself ancT
daughter, and re-establish .himself in
business. He knew that the immediate
sale of the valuble property would sat
isfy the most urgent claims, and lioped
and trusted that as soon as he could
begin again his business that by de
grees he would pay the remaining
debts. He resolved to fritter away no
energy in feeble complaining,but meet
boldly all exactions. His whole thought
was for his daughter. She had always
been his pride, and though not extrav-
agant, he had granted her every wish.
Now she was a child of poverty . Urg
ed by these feelings, 31 r. Ripley deter
mined by streuuons efforts to rise above
this great trouble. But ah—
“Who knows when the daylight dies .
What waits the morrow 5”
The weekly papers chronicled the
“Ripley Failure.” The figures, show
ing the difference between the Indebt
edness and value of property, was
much in ^£r. Ripley’s favor. The}'
showed that a satisfactory settlement
could be made, if only time was allow
ed the banker. 31 any people com
mended the banker’s course of conduct,
givitig up at ornfe his property and
returning to humble life. Bur ah!
how the gossips rolled the affair under
their tongue as a sweet morsel! 3Iany
of the once envious young ladies won
dered how the “hauty banker’s daugh
ter” would receive her poverty. And
the young men once so eager to even
know Agnes Ripley, concluded that she
was not so attractive after all, while
a few, too politic to be considered in
sincere by anj* one, paid the unfortu
nate family “a visit expressive of their
sympaty,”as they termed it, hut to the
banker and daughter they were cold
and formal.
The week after the failure was one
long to be remembered by the banker
and daughter. It was spent in chang
ing from the palatial residence to a
cottage-home. Mr. Ripley had given
np his residence to a Mr. Wallace, a
depositor, who lost most heavily by
the failure of the bank. They were to
remove only such furniture as was
necessary. Mr. Ripley and Agnes had
consulted as to what furniture to leave,
and yet when they, looked around
them each article seemed especially
dear. How difficult, how very diffi
cult, it was to decide which' piece to
retain and which to leave! The last
day spent in. the elegant home was
filled with the saddest thoughts. Laic
In the aftornoon Agnes, weary with
the stir and bustle of the day, stole
out into the yard to visit for the hist
time the many favorite haunts of her
hildhood. As she walked around the
yard, through the summer bouse, her
fill
In the meanwhile, Agues was.umler-
going severe trials athome. She kuew
the extent of the failure and yet could
not realize the consequence. Her fath
er had told her, that there would lie a
change in .her life, but having never
knowu any life except one of ease and
pleasure, she could picture to herself
no condition or change. But she en
deavored to wait patiently, and as she
walked about the bouse her mind was
crowded with thoughts of the future.
Many visitors called during the day.
It was do hard for Agnes to entertain
them. Frequently she .would find herself
lost in thought taking no heed of the
remarks of her friends. They wonder
ed what could be the matter with the
banker’s charming daughter, but when
they were once again upon the street
they soon heard or her father’s failure,
ami could w ; ell understand Agnes’s
seriousness. At about noon the town
was ablaze with the sudden faiure of
the bank. The street before the bank
was crowded with depositors of all ages
and rank, who refusing to be satisfied
with tiie report, sought the banker’s
desk, and secured the inteligence from
his own lips. Mr. Ripley told them he
intended to withhold nothing, but to
turn over his property to his depositors
and try to satisfy the "claims.
The day v wore nearly on until five
o’clock. Remembering bis promise to
Agnes to be at home at that hour,
the banker closed the doors, and drove
honie. Many, as he passed them, would
cast looks of reproachful scorn, mut
tering such words as, “ Ton look like a
ruined, man.” “I thought you were
speculating too high.” “There is the
man, who says, he has lost aU.” All
of these remarks did not fail to reach
the banker’s ears. He bit his lips in
anger, but endeavored to calm his feel
ings. He reached fils gate, and step
ping out of his, handsome carriage
walked slowly up the steps. Agnes,
standing at the library window, saw
her father coming*. She did hot wait
for him to enter, but opening the door,
greeted him with outstretched hands.
9e did not speak, but pressed her
hands, and looking into her soft eyes,
so full of sympathy, led her into the
library.
“Father, you look so tired; rest here
until dinner.”
Mr. Ripley looked ten years older.
The countenance, once so cheerful and
calm, was pale with sorrow;the noble
brow bore signs of perplexed care.
Agnes’s heart swelled within her, as
she saw her father sink almost exhaust
ed in his chair. She could stand it no
longer, and barsting into tears, she
threw her arms around her father’s
neck and sobbed aloud.
UP
to
liquidate the' claims. With my real-
estate, shares, stocks, etc., I may be
able to satisfy my depositors until lean
rise above this misfortune.”
Several moments of silence ensue*
r. BIpley resumed with much eari
iveryttitng on e*fth before
dtement
hufi
conscious of his daughter's
His thougbtsTORgJQUsMMlfggwife
—how in the days of their married life
she had strengthened him by words of
love. He longed to join her and free
bimslf of this great forrow, but Agnes,
his daughter, so gentle, so loving.
eyes were tilled with unshed tears—the
(>ast such a glorious thought, the
present a strange dream; the future so
dark and cheerless. She sighed
wearily, and with hands crossed over
her bosom she gazed with tearful eyes
into the darkening sky. A thousand
pensive and tender thoughts passed
through her mind, till warned by the
increasing chill of eveuing she entered
the bouse. She sought the drawing
room, and glancing around she found
she was alone. The fire gave the only
light. She opened the piano—a hand
some gift from her father on her six
teenth birthday—and sitting down lx»-
foreit, touched the keys, gently, as if
fearful of being heard. All! how many
associations were stirred up as she
played the soothing strains of “Last
Hope!” Her fingers glided over the
keys from one familiar air to another.
At length in a low aud tremulous
voice she begau to sing one of her
mother’s favorite hyinns her father
had taught her long years ago:
“My faith looks up to Thee.
Tnou Lamb of calvary.
Savior, diviue, now Iiea’r me while a pray.
Take all my guilt away;
O. let me from this dav
Be wholly Thine.*’
She sang the last line indistinctly,
and overcome by a flood of tender
recollections, sne ceased playing, and
leaning her head upon her hand,
shed bitter tears. At length she re
sumed—
“While life’s dark maze I tread.
And grief’s around me spread”—
Here poor Agnes’s voice quivered,
but she continued—
“Be Thou my guide—
Bid darkness torn to day.
Wipe sorrow’s tears *way;
Nor let me ever stray •
From Thee aside.”
She .felt comforted, as if a ray of
heavenly light had fallen aslant"her
pathway. She had not been alone,
however. Her father, hearing her soft
tones, had stolen in and seated himself
In the corner. He listened with a
sorrowful tenderness to his daughter’s
words. Several times his feelings
overpiwered him. When she had fin
ished, he approached her, and taking
his daughter’s hands in his, said ten
derly “God bless you, my child.”
Neither of them spoke further, but
quietly w*alked into v the library.
3fr. Ripley had intended to lei the
piano remain in Mr. Wallace’s keeping,
but after witnessing that scene be
ordered it to be sent to their cottage
home.
After several weeks of busy work
Mr. Ripley and his daughter were
fully installed in their finnihle home.
Agnes, with woman’s deft fingers,soon
made the little cottage look comforta
ble and attractive. With the instruc
tion fiom old Hannah, Agnes’s nurse,
who still remained with them, she
soon learned to lie her own house
keeper. During the day , when her
father was away she never allowed
herself to brood over her sorrow. In
the evenings, after the humble tea,
prepared by Agnes’s own hands, was
finished, she would sit with her father
in the small but cozy parlor and en
tertain *him with music, or reading
aloud. Mr. Ripley always found his
“ *r cheerfal. From morn till
night she busied herself with
keeping, and friends calling would
wonder at . the cheerfulness of . the
bankrupt’s daughter. Days and
weeks wore on until the' joyous
spring time came. 3Ir. Ripley endeav
ored to settle the claims satisfactorily,
but he found many of big creditors
bard upon him.
One Saturday afternoon, as he clos
ed his office doors, his countenance
seemed to be especially saddened. ‘He
walked slowly home, and with down
cast head looked perplexed and trou
bled. Jost as he reached the gate he
caught a glimpse of bis daughter com
ing around the gravel walk, and striv
ing to dismiss his troubled thoughts,
returned her cheerful greeting, -uncle or aunt. She
Agnes took his hat and looking into
bis face said, “Father, have you been
especially busy to-day ? You look so
tired.”
He smiled, and putting his arm
around her said in quiet tones, “Yes,
cealing .her anxiety, she made things
bright around iunv
After the simple tea she played and
sung many of. b<
solemn euergU*
That heaves cannot cure."
When she had finished she stole up
behind her father’s chair and rested
her hands upon his shoulder. The
clock struck II; they both looked up
surprised that it, was so. late. Both
were tired ont. Mr. Ripley had been
hairassed all day with new troubles,
and Agnes, still unaccustomed to
housekeeping! was worn out" with
Saturday’s cleaning. They" stood
talking a few moments, then kissing
her father good-night. Agues agent to
her room, uot until, however.jte had
visited her father's chamber Tf»ee If
aH things were in order: 8be
sleep well that night. Constanty-was
she awakened by, disturbing dreams.
WTien the raorniug came, she felt little
refreshed by the night’s reft, hut
dressing herself, went at once to the
sitting-room, where she always joined
her father, the two going together to
breakfast. When she entered her
father was not there, but she thought
notliing of it until old Hannah, com
ing to the door, aaid that breakfast
was waiting..
“My lather has not cgpip onftyet,
Hann ih. He-iTay not W
ing.”
Agnes rose and goiug softly to the
door of her father’s chamber called
him, but no answer came. She knock
ed gently, but heard no sound. Open
ing the door softly she entered. ’The
curtains - were still drawn, the light
burning, and before the table sat her
father, his back to the door. Agnes
was almost horrified, but rustling to
him exclaimed, “Why, father!” She
called him, but no answer. She touch
ed him, but lie was cold, motionless,
dead! She uttered one groan and fell
upon the floor. Old Hannah, hearing
the noise, ran into the room. What a
sight! Mr. Ripley, cold in death, his
daugiiter lying motionless at his feet.
In a momen* help was called in, Agnes
was lifted from the fictor, and by quick
applications was soon restored. She
lay upon her couch pale with sorrow.
31 r. Ripley’s body, prepared for
b trial, was placed in the parlor, where
only the evening before he had kissed
his daughter good-night. His half-
brother, 3Ir. Graves, being in the
neighboring State, was immediately
dispatched for. Upon the table in
3Ir. Ripley’s room was found the fol
lowing letter scarce begun:
“31y Dkak Robert—To-nigLt I feel
strange forebodings of death. You
have some knowledge of the condition
of my affairs. I know* not what may
come, but in case of uiy tleatii, I com
mend unto you my daughter, Agn—”
Here the pen bad fallen from his
hand, and the soul of James Ripley
met its God. The physician pronounc
ed the cause tf his* sudden deatu to
be heart disease.
All the day and night following her
father’s death Agnes lay upon her bed
stricken with sorrow. Well has it
been said, “There is uo grief like the
grief which does not speak.” When
it was kuowu that the bunker was no
more, universal reverence was testified
to his memory. He had always been
respected by the citizens of St.' Clair,
and since his recent failure his gener
ous conduct had only intensified their
regard. 3fany friends followed his
remains to the grave. Poor A,
was iudeed left motherless and father
less, and a child of poverty. Pale as
death, dressed in deep mourning, she
stood by the open grave. She could
not realize that he was gone. Resting
upon her uncle’s arm, she heard the
minister read the solemn service. She
knew they were putting her father
away from her. in wailing voice she
murmured, “Oh, God, why this great
sorrow!”
Let us dwell no longer upon this
scene of suffering. Thou, too, must
learn, dear Agnes, that the sublime
mystery of Providence goes on in si
lence an.I gives no explanation of it
self, no answer to our Impatient ques
tions.
It was decided that as soon us Mr.
Graves could arrange matters, that
Agnes should go and live with her
uncle and aunt. Mrs. Graves, who
had come with hl*r husband, had been
very tender and kind to her bereaved
niece. She resolved that in her own
home Agnes should receive the same
care as her own daughters. Yet
Agnes luited the idea of being depen
dent; she knew her father had left; her
almost nothing. All her- womanly
pride and independence revolted at the
mere idea of her going to her uncle’s
home. .e ; said nothing, however,
but secretly resolved to make an
effort to »ap*port herself.
One even lug several days prepara
tory to her departure, Agnes sat in her
room reading the letters which the
day’s mail had brought—letters from
friends expressive of their sympathy
and love for the orphan girl. * Some of
them were written by hands unknown
to her, but friends of her father. They
were kind,' they meant well, but be
tween tlieir words Agnes could read
the pity they felt for ner that she was
left not only an orphan, but penniless.
She sighed wearily, and pushing the
letters aside sat there a long time lost
in thought. Her mind was dwelling
on one letter in particular, one writ
ten in clear, distinct style, the writing
of Edwin Palmer, a rising young law
yer in the neighboring town. He had
loved Agnes ever since he had known
her, and had wooed her when she was
the rich banker’s daughter, when she
was the bankrupt’s child, and now
that she was a penniless orphan his
very heart dfeled for her. No wonder
she dwelt so long over, this letter;at
was full of sympathy and love for the
bereaved, and heartbroken girl. Agnes
again took up the letter and read, “It
may seem cruel for me to write thus at
a time when your heart is deeding for
your father ;*but, Agnes, in remember
ing the dead, forget not the living. It
distresses me to hear you plead pover
ty. What do I care for money? Oh!
Agnes, God ; knows what days and
nights of anxiety I suffer. Why can
hot I persuade you?” Here Agnes
dropped the letter, and walking to the
window looked out upon the dark
night. Here was a home offered her
by one whom she knew loved her. If
she would only cousent to become the
wife of Edwin Palmer she would no
louger be dependent. The future, now
so cheerless and uncertain, would be
come bright and full of happiness.
She stood questioning her own heart.
“No, T cannot. I refused him when
I was a child of fortune, now that lam
poor, I will not eyen seem to be mer-
uncle and aunt assured her that
she was most welcome to their home,
if she didn’t have a cent. Agnes,
though comforted by their kind words,
could not refrain from tears. She re-:
solved to go to her uncle’s home, but
as soon as possible to get a position so
that she might maintain her own sup
port. They were all to leave the next
day an d as‘Agnes had yet some pack
ing to do she soon bade her uncle and
aunt good-night, anil started to her
room. Just as she was leaving her
ancle*said, “3Iy child, please pardon
an old man’s forgetfulness, but here is
a letter I neglected to give you at
Agnes took the letter, and
it was from
Hamilton. Her heart bounded with
jtfyt roSn 1 and
hWrtifigfflWi wijtulr to*!
“Misa Agnes Ripley—
Dear Mias:—Your application of the
ffth inst. received. In reply permit
me to say you. have been elected as an
assistant in the Primary Department
of tfa* Hxmfltotf High School.”
Agnes could read n6 farther. She
buried her face in her hands and burst
into tears. She w as so glad, so thauk-
ful, so hopeful. Early next morning
she sought her ancle’s presence, and
showing him the letter, declared her
intentions to go at once. It could be
mauaged well enough. She was in
readiness to go to her ancle’s, and as
Hamilton was on the route to 3Iobile,
her uncle’s home, there w*ould be no
delay in the arrangements. She could
go that far with ner uncle and aunt.
Mr. Graves, at first, would not consent
to her teaching, but considering his
niece’s feelings, gave way. Agnes as
sured them she would always consider
their home her home, and w'onld spend
her vacations with them. When old
Hannah knew that her “child”-^ she
always persisted in calling Agnes—
was going out “to make her own liv
in’ ”, she was truly distressed. Agnes
assured her that she would often write
to her, and tell her all about her new
home. But when the time came for
parting the scone was truly sad. Agnes
threw her arms around old Hannah’s
neck, and laying her head on her
nnrse’s shoulder, where many times in
her childhood she had been lulled to
sleep by gentle pats, burst into a flood
of tears. It was too much for old
Hannah, who sobbed out: “The Lord
bless my child. He’ll take care obyou,
honey. You trust him. I knowd you
wus not going to do nothing. ‘You wus
always a mighty high-sperited child.”
Agnes smiled through her tears, and
bidding old Hannah farewell, boarded
the train.
We cannot follow further the bank
er’s daughter in her eventful life.
After many years of earnest labor she
was promoted to the position of Assist
ant principal. All her pupils loved
and honored her. Many young char
acters received Instruction from her,
and she not only trained their minds'
but in a sweet, persuasive manner, led -
them gently in the path of love and
duty. Her every day life was a ser
mon to them.
But she did not always teach. In
one of the pleasant homes in a popu
lar Southern city there sits a lady,
busy with her needles. Her face is
freshened by living springs of feeling,
and enriched by tender sorrow and
earnest thought. Look closely and you
will recognize Agnes Ripley, now* Mrs.
Ed win Palmer. She is happy in her own
home, tenderly loved and cherished by
her noble husband. Old Hannah, her
head whitened with age, walks about
the yard, “seeing to things,” and every
now and then, when she looks at her
“child,” she shakes her head and says.
“I knowed de Lord neber forgets his
children.-” - — —
This story is not without some foun
dation. 1 hear you say: “Agnes was
too good. People do not bear that
much/’ Gentle reader, think for a
moment. -In our Southern homes,
how many wives and mothers are there
w*ho, when adversity came, bore with
patient fortitude all the sorrows, and
with w’omanly efforts did their part,
nay, more than their part, to
rise above them. Ah! how-
much of sorrow and care would
be lifted from burdened should
ers and anxious hearts if our fair
Southern daughters would think less
of self and pleasure, and more of tired
aud anxious parents.
Who is Agnes Ripley?
13 CUSTER’S MISTAKE.
m *' Mft TTK, ^Kiihta
ailtal. BUI Tail. About the In.
Alan nuiacre—Tlir Part That
SiltiUK Bun Ployed In It.
Philadelphia Times. ' C-W.io ,W<- -
Buffalo Bill brushed his long hair
back out of his face, aud, fixing hi* big
sombrero tightly on his head, told, as
he sat on a cot in kb tent, about the
death of Gen. Custer at the hands of
theSlonx, under Sitting Bull, ou the
Little Big Horn rWer. in 1876.
’•I would like the publle to know
about the 1S76 fight*” be began, “es
pecially how that: SUtlog Bull is here.
Ldon’t want to take the Indian’s part;
I jnst want to tell you the simple his
tory of the whole trouble, which has
rer been published aw It really ori
ginated, and I rekroo I ought to know
something about It, for I killed the
first Indian that wfcfkfiled in the fight,
TICE IN GOTHAM.
Bud Enough, But Not So Bud uo In
poor, I. will not even seem to be mer
cenary. if I loved him I would not
marry him iioi.” Such was her decis- . ■ -
ion. She resumed h«r seat, and taking conscripts but volunteers.
up a paper lying on the table began to
read, she knew not what. Her eyes
wandered over the page, but the wosds
bad uo meaning to her. Finally her
eyes rested upon the words—
WANTED.
A young UdytOMbt tattle Primary De-
instruction
.mu-st be competent to assist in'
of the rudiments ot music. Applications
sent to G. 8. BAT, nincipaL
Agnes turned the paper over and
saw that it was of the day’s date. A
thought flashed across her mind—she
would apply for the position. She had
never taught, but her education had
been thorough. Hamilton she remem
bered well enongb. A pleasant town,
the home of one of her father's friends.
She remembered once to bare stopped
there with her father on one of their
visits North. Without further reflec
tion she took up her pen and in a full
round hand wrote her application, re
questing immediate response if accept
able. The next morning she posted
the letter without sayir ‘
New York letter to Indianapolis News.
The uppermost topic in New York
Is still the revelation of the London
wickedness by the Pall Mall Gazette.
There is a general sigh of relief over
the fact, quite indisputable, that no
counterpartof those aristocratic En
glish atrocities exists here. Feature
after feature of the revelations have
been investigated as to duplication in
this city, but with the finding of only
isolated cases bearing a resemblance.
For instance, the Gazette tells of a
systematic iuportation of shamefully
deceived girls from Belgium, Germany,
and France. New York gets more im
migrants from .these countries in a
year than England does in ten, and
and with the multitude come many
vidions young women, but they arc not
kidnapped or inveigled, ahd are simply
adventuresses, though in some cases
they may be ignorant and coarse.
Nothing in New York viee is more as
tounding to our police than the
the great number of French and
German girls who claim deliberately
entered upon evil lives for the sake of
gain. They may coolly explain why
they left their respectable homes in
in order to make a fortune in this land
of reputed wealth for everybody, in
tending to return in a few years with
a competence, marry some sweetheart,
perhaps already chosen, and settle
down for life. As a small sum consti
tutes a fortune in a French or German
village, many of these singular' crea
tures are able to earry out their shock
ing program. It is not uncommon,
so the police say, to find sisters and
cousins in the same house. They lead
temperate lives, as a rule, and save
every possible dollar. As to t
recruiting of vice’s army among na
tive-born American girls, the jartic-
ularscan not be politely given; but
it may be said, conclnsively, that no
system remotely resembling that which
has been exposed in Loudon is prac
ticed, in New York. They are not
Do you suppose that 1 aqi whitewash
ing New York. Vice flaunts her feath
ers, fills the air with music, grabs at
men in the public streets, and
shock the vision of decent women.
Nobody can -interfere except the po-
_ lice, and they are. paid not. to do
she so. Occasionally .they make a
a word to her
not possibly
hear in four days, even if she was so
fortunate as to secure the position.
She feared,- because "she bad no testi
monials, no experience, which shefrank-
ly stated in the . application, but she
- evening she sat with her ancle and
aunt in the
had jnst
share was wrecked on the
North Carolina and was worth noth-
forntude, but that fortitude stood the j from the piano her father asked her to ing. Agnes knew what this meant;
when I had a duel with Yellowband,
a Sioux chief, on .Inly17,1876. When
I killed him I sang out, ‘First scalp
for Custer.’
“In 1888 Gens. Harney, Terry and
Augur made a treaty with the Sioux;
givitig them all the lands west of the
Missouri river, North Platte, east of
the grand divide of the Big Horn
Mountains and south of the Yellaw-
stone river. The treaty was to last for
thirty years, but in 1875 Gen. Custer
made an expedition into the Blacl
Hills with the Seventh Cavalry am
d'seovered gold—that is, discovered
gold in paying quantities, and so re
ported in his official statement. Then
the miners commenced to flock into
the hills contrary to any law or agree
ment having been made with the In
dians, thus breaking the treaty of 1868.
The government, knowing that this
was violating the treaty, sent out
troops to arrest and drive out all the
miners found in the Black Hills coun
try.
THE CAUSE or THE MASSACRE.
“The troops arrested several parties,
including'Gordon’s party, destroying
the miners’ property and imprisoning
quite a number of invaders, hut this
did not check others from going into
the Hills, and they went in such large
numbers in 1875-76 that the govern
ment found it impossible to keep them
out. An Indian doesn’t care about
soldiers invading bis country, because
he knows they won’t stay, but he
knows that the miners come to stay
Consequently the miners came
in contact with the Indians There
was a little skirmish between
the Indians and miners, and
a miner was killed and then the ci
was raised: ’Another Indian war
The Sioux are on the warpath.
That’s what started the Indian war of
1876. The first fight that occurred
was in the winter of 1875-76 with Chief
Crazy-Horse and his band, who were
camped on the Powder river. The
whole village was destroyed, and in
the following spring three expeditions
were organized to fight the Sioux.
Gen. Terty commanded the Dakota
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Sold only in cans.
ROYAL BAKING POWDER CO.,
106 WALL STREET,
novtd&wly Nxw York.
/UrJ
COLUMN.
troops, Gen. Crook had charge of the
troops of the Department of Montana.
Gen. Custer was under command of
Gen. Terry at the mouth of the Pow
der river, where it empties into the
Yellowstone.
CUSTER’S GREAT MISTAKE.
“Gen. Coster first struck Sitting
Ball’s trail there, and Gen. Terry or
dered Custer to take bis regiment, the
Seventh Cavalry, and follow up the
trail, and use his own discretion in re-
gard to his movements,- but to commu
nicate with Terry as often as possible.
Caster followed this trail by forced
marching np the Rosebud river and
across the Little Big Horn for three
days. Then he found Sitting Bull in
camp with 9,000 Sioux, of which num
ber 4,000 were warriors. Gen. Custer
only had 300 men with him, and he
thought he was attacking a village,
and he found he was attacking a big
city. He was a wonderfully brave
man. Sitting Bull sat in his tent and
directed the fight. The Sioux had to
fight to save their women and chil
dren. It was human nature to do this,
Custer made a great mistake in not
Irnoa’ltinr tlio elvn rtf 1X1111*11
show of reform—they are doing so at
present—but the worst imaginable
public resorts are ouicialiy protected,
and whatever fantastic and diabolical
shapes these evils have taken in Lon
don they may take here whenever ft
will pay for the vieions to introduce
them. The police will sqe that they
flourish, until the reforn ‘
ties interfere. To tfiese
backed' by philanthropic money
ent. New York owes the di
of decency which we enjoy. It is a
significant fact that the police have
never yet closed an infamous dance
honse or concert garden. The prosecu
tors have ail been these societies.
socle-
knowing the size of Sitting Bull
army. That's the simple story,” and
Buffalo Bill got np and paced about
the tent, excited by what he had been
telling.
IN DEFENSE OF THE INDIANS.
Speaking of the Indians, he said:
“Gen. Sheridan gave me credit for
doing a great deal of good work in
1876, but I felt I was doing
fight the Indians. I’ve nvi
Indian country for thirty years and
I’ve never known a treaty to be kept
by the whites yet. The Indians have
been driven from the Atlantic to the
Pacific. They are badly treated. I’ve
been present at most every treaty that
was ever made for the past five years.
I was chief of sconts for the United
States Army for fifteen years, and I’ve
been iu more Indian bottles than any
man living, and I know all about the
Indians. If they were given land and
allowed to keep It they’d be quiet and
peaceable and become civilized. There
are 75,000 Sioux and I’ve alwavs found
them honorable. An Indian is a man
of fine instinct and deep feeling. It
you make him yonr friend he becomes
your slave. Bnt if you make him a
promise and don’t keep it, never mind
how trifling it is, he’ll never forget it
and never forgive you and he’ll never
tritst yon again. I’m not defending
the Indians because I’ve gut Sitting
Bull and a lot of his chiefs with me;
I’m only saying that they have been
and are badly treated by the whites.
Why, the only treaty with Indians
that was ever kept by the whites was
the treaty made right here in this city
by William Penn. If there was an
other Indian war to-morrow and the
government wanted my services I’d
fight the Indians again.”
srrriNO bull a great general.
When asked what he thought of Sit
ting Bull as a warrior, Mr. Cody
“Sitting Bull Is a wonderful general
—the greatest of all Indian chiefs aud
comparatively a greater war general
than any white man I know of. His
tribe of6,000 warriors and their fami
lies starved almost three years because
he said, 'No; the time has not come
when we must asked charity of the
white man.’ I don’t know of any
white general who could get from
6,000 to 10,000 people to follow him on
the verge of starvation for three years,
when all they bad to do wa-> to cross
the line and agree to the government
terms. He would put them off by say
ing: ‘Wait till to-morrow; we toay
kill a buffalo, then tbere’U be plen
ty J ” Sitting Bull has eleven chiefs
with him. He has just turned 50 and
looks upon his engagement with
Buffalo Bill as a great bigholiday. AU
the old chief can say in English is,
/‘You bet your boots,” “Good even
ing,” “Good,’.’ and when be sees a pret
ty woman his
admiration
When he wus asked last night, through
his interpreter, how much he was
worth he said, with a good'deal of
dignity, in the Sioux tongue, that he
was worth 72,500, and it took him
nearly half an hoar to coant on hts
fingers the twelve ponies be owns. In
St. Louis,"while the Wild West Show
was there, he gave a beggar woman
$3that be had just made m selling his
autograph, and turning around to
Gj , OIIU ■* —AAAA 1,1V - - — -J It jtl LI
his way of expressing bis
is to say, “I like yon.”
be said, through his in
ter that it was a shame that the
people let theirpoor beg, adding
that he didn’t let his people beg. Sit-
ting Bull ha* h-en in seventy-six bate
ties, he says. He has a cruel eye and
a hard month and smokes cigars in
cessantly, bnt does not drink
Young Lair «* Boarding School.
At some of the French boarding
schools in Paris, the girls are fed on
weak soap, two or three degrees
than hot water; meat, irom
learlyaU.the nourishment is
extracted by boiling; coarse veal. They are Not Sorry,
watery carrots and gray, sour bread. There is one thing nobody ever re-
The young lady who comes home after grets—that is. the day they first adopt-
a few terms of this sort of diet may be ed Parker’s Tonic as theirregular fam-
very learned, but is pale and poor- ily medicine. Its range is so wide.
•hip in which Mr. Bipley had a large looting, lacking vigor, and health, aitdits good effects so sure, that noth-
‘re her Brown’s Iron Bitf ■• - -
of Give
best tonic in the world for
dies - with impoverished
Bitters—the ing else, except good nursing, are
trial. He roused himself, and draw- sing the hymn, “Come ye Dfaconso- she knew that this was all the property bring the rosesinto her cheeks.
la- needed in a great majority of
Buy it.-try it, and afterwards it
not require and praise from ns.
will
PILLS
25 YEARS IN USE.
Xki of n** Agi!
SYMPTOMS OF A
TORPID LIVER.
IaOM of appetite* Bowel* costive. Fain la
the head, with a dall sensation in ths
hack part. Pain under the shoalder-
blade, Fullness after saline, with a dis
inclination to exertion of body or mind,
Irritability of temper* Low spirits* with
afeelineof having neglected some duty*
Weariness, Dizziness, Flattering at the
Heart, Dots before the eyes* Headache
over the right eye. Restlessness, with
fitful dreams. Highly colored Urine, and
CONSTIPATION.
TUTT’S FILLS aro especially adapted
to each cases, one dose effects such a
change of feelingaa to astonish the sufferer.
They Increase the Appetite .and cans* the
body to Take oa Flesta,thns the system
now risked, and by their Tonic Action <
WHOLESALE & RKTjUL
AT PRICES TO SUIT THE TIMES ANDTHE
PRICES TO FIT THE SHORT CROP
AND LOW PRICE OF COTTON.
Dry Goods Department
IS NOW
tho DlcestlveOnrana.ItecularStoolsarp
godnced^^tlCTaSe^gyKgJgySLMjlfjY.
TOTI’S EXTRACT SARSAPARILLA
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fir CAPITAL PRIZE. $75,000
Tickets only S5. Share* in Pro.
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ly and Semi-Annual Drawings of ’1 l-S
Louisiana State Lottery Company, ana
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goo** faith toward all parties, and we au
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Commi ssioners.
Incorporated in 1868 for 28 years by the Leg*
ialature for Educational and Charitable pur
poses—with a capital of 11,000,000—to which u
reserve fund of over *580,000 has since beei>
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By an overwhelming popular vote its Iran-
made a part of the
e present State
r 2d. * -
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Constitution adopted December id. A. D., 1879.
The only Lottery ever voted on and endorsed
by the people of any State.
IT NEVER SCALES OR POSTPONES.
Its Grand Single Number Draw
ings will take place monthly.
A SPLENDID OPPORTUNITY TO
WIN A FORTUNE. EIGHTH GRAND
DRAWING. CLASS U. IN THE ACADEM1
OF MUSIC. NEW ORLEANS. Tuesday.
AUGUST 1 ITU, 1885—183d Montim
Drawing.
CAPITAL PRIZE $75,000.
100,000 Tickets at $5.00 Each.
Fractions, in Fifths, in Pro
portion.
LIST OP PRIZES.
1 CAPITAL PRIZE |75,00(/
} H ;, 4
1 “ “ io,ow>
2 PRIZES OF *6,000 JiOOL
5 “ 2,000 10,(HA
10 “ 1,000 I (LOW
1°0 “ 200 4o,OM
300 ~ 100 30, Wn
WOO “ 15 25|0W
APPROXIMATION PHIZES.
9 Approximation Prizes of |750.... 6,750
0 “ 500.... 4,50
0 - “ 25 .... 2,250
1967 Prizes, amounting to 1265,50
Applications for rates to clubs should be
made only to the office of the Company in New
Orleans.
For further information write clearly, giving
full address. Postal Notes, Expresr
Money Orders, or New York Exchange in or-
dinary letter. Currency by Express (all sum;
of |5 and upwards at our expense) adores* '
M. A. DAUPHIN,
_ „ New Orleans, La.
or M. A. DAUPHIN,
607 Seventh Street,
,, . - Washington, D. 1%
Make P. O. Money Orders payable and ad
dress Registered Letters to
NEW ORLEANS NATIONAL BANK
New Orleans. La.
FULL AND COMPLETE
EMBRACING EVERYTHING KEPT IN A
FIRST-CLASS DRY GOODS STORE
SUCH AS
Prints,
Checks,
Sheeting,
Osnabnrgs,
Notions
LADIES 7 DRESS GOODS
Fine Silks,
Trimmings,
Laces of all Kinds
SHIRKS.
LADIES’ AND MISSES UN-
DERTESTS, Etc.
A FULL STOCK OF
WHICH WILL BE SOLD LOW DOWN.
Onr Stock of
Is now complete, and was pm-chased wifi'
great rare, if you wish to buy s Nice Suit for
a Small Sum of Money come and see us and
we will nave you money.
O. Z. C,
STANDS PEERLESS IN THE LIST OF
Blood Remedies
It is the original, the oldest and the best. It
is a vegetable preparation containing no mer
cury or other mineral poison. An excellent
tome and appetizer, eminently adapted to
* “ *—woman. It is an absolute-
for every known form of
Hood Disease and Skin Disease arising from
blood taint.
The following are fair samples of hundreds
of testimonials we can producer
case of scrofula of eight years’ standing, am
am fully restored to health. I cheerful!
• it to gufferers.from blood db
8. W. Smith.
Macon. Ga.—I have known some marvelous
cures of blood disease by O. I. C. Amour
others I now recall, waa a case of Syphilis of
ten years standing, that come within my per
sonal observation. The victim had tried al-
very known remedy and made repeated
to Hot firings without benefit. O.I. C.
visits to Hot Springs without benefit. (J.LC.
effected a permanent cure. W. H. O’Pkt.
I had in my family a case of Poison Oak that
for ten years defied physicians. O. I. C. made
a permanent cure. It is without doubt the
“Gem of Blood Purifiers.’* • 8. D. Rodgem.
Agent C. R. R M Perry, Ga.
O. I. C. IS A PERFECT BLOOD Ft-XIPJES.
It purges the liver and all its tributaries and
branches, and is a specific, an infallible cure
for all diseases for which it is recommended by
the company. It never fails to make a perfect
and permanent cure. FfiED A. Toombs.
A. B. A. M.andM.D
Price «A0 per bottle.
THE O. I. C. CO.
Perry, Ca.
ISOLD a 1X3 A NY 3T
WELCH & AGAK and
W. E. HILSMAN & CO.
aug'29-dly
>1 j«ircMt»-
Sold bjr Draczisu.
Wee. «l.t*
W. E. HILSMAN St CO.. AGENTS^
We are prepared to meet all competition. AU
we ask is for you to come to see ns and price
pur Shoes, and you will be sure to buy. We
bought our Boots and Shoes to sell and we are
going to sell them.
Farr-rs and the
rur Gi
FANCYl
We buy onr Groceriee In car load loto and
eni rave yon money In the purchase of all
kinds of goods.
FLOUK !
We handle the Best Brands of Flour shipped
to this market, and only buy by the car load.
.FURNITURE!
One ear load of Bedsteads, Chaim aad Fine
Bedroom Sets just recited. Cel! and examine
quality and prices and be convinced.
TRTJ2TZSS J
Onr
of TRUNKS and SATl HELS
are complete.
FCome and see u
prompt and polite
» and you will receive
attention from our Sales-
Despeetfully,
ll/lJ
Albany, Ga., September 51,1883.