Newspaper Page Text
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Volume LXL
1 f'uDF.iUL Union dstabllshedl n 1829. |
J-ionTHRHN Recorder “ “1819.1
Consolidated 1872 Milledgeville Ga., February 17 ? 1891.
Number 33
58
More
Biscuit
COMMUNICATED.
Our Double Natures.
Can be made * with each
pound of Cleveland’s Superior
Baking Powder than with the
same quantity,, of any other
pure cream of tartar powder.
Cleveland Baking Powder Co.,
81 & 83 Fulton St., NEW YORK.
Editorial Glimpses and Clippings.
A ground hog—the man who wants
the earth.
Claenliness is next totGodliness. It
is also next to an impossibility with
some people.
If therolling stock of thePennsylva
nia railroad were made up into one
train it would be 725 miles long.
Charles T. Jones, of Cartersville,
brother of the Iiev. Sam. P. Jones,
charged with murder, lias been ac
quitted.
It is satd that Governor Hill of New
York will remain at the head of the
State uutil next December, unless
tiie Senate lias an extra session.
Hon. Tom Grimes is happy. The
President has signed the Dill ap
propriating $100,000 for the erection
of a government building in Colum
bus.
Mi :s Amy : “I don’t believe in
throwing kisses.” Goslin : “Neither
do I. When yon have any for me
let me know and I'll come and get
them.”—N. Y. Sun.
Three prominent Southern edi
tors have died within the past few
days—James Phelan, of Memphis,
James A. Bonitz of Wilmington,
and Richard Bierne of Richmond.
Mr. Henry W. Grady, Jr., lias nev
er fully recovered from the injuries
he su tained In the recent wreck on
the Covington and Macon, and he
will be forced to relinquish his stud
ies in the university and return
home.
In thirty days the resolution to
bond the city of Athens for $200,000
will be submitted to a popular vote.
There is now a strong sentiment de
veloping among the city fathers to
call for the issuing of an amount of
bonds largely in excess of the pres
ent figures. The money will be de
voted to enlarging the hectic light
system and improving.our streets.
In reading the story of “Ben Hur,
1 A Tale of the Christ,” I was struck
j with the following idea or thought,
! I may say a trqjdi: “There ere few
persons who have not a double na
ture. the*real and the acquired; the
i latter a kind of addendum resulting
from education, which in time often
perfects it into a part of the being
i as unquestionably as the first.” Such
| is a truth which observation confirms
1 daily. Success in life changes a man’s
| character disposition and feelings.
Misfortune in life tvorks the suine re
sults. A person grows with his edu
cation, surroundings and success. He
changes with misfortune, and is
dwarfed into humility, and depen-
deuce.
The very polite merchant behind
the counter, weais a face and conduct
perhaps foreign to his real nature; lie
is being educated iuto the arts of
tact, policy and dissimulation. When
in time, he becomes independent of
tiade, he assumes his real nature,
rough, coarse, over bearing, dictato
rial and insulting in manner. How
often we hear the expression: “Suc
cess has spoilt that man or woman,
they need taking dowu.” But a long
hard education so grows upon some
that it becomes their real nature. Tt
lias been said that four good mothers
have given birth to four bad daught
ers: “Truth lias produced hatred;
Success, Pride; Security, Danger, and
Familiarity, Contempt. On the con*
trary, four bad mothers have produc
ed as many good daughters: Astron
omy is the daughter of Astrology;
Chemistry, of Alchemy*; Freedom‘of
Oppression; Patience, of Long Suffer
ing.”
One in swimming puts out strength
according to the current to be crossed.
Tlius in life a man's real nature is not
known, Ire is seen and judged by his
environments. No one really knows
himself until he is tried. No one
knows what latent power there is in
him; no one knows what he can or
will do until the time, the emergency
or necessity is upon him. Thus we
hear a jjreat deal about education,
claiming that education is everything;
when in fact it is nothing but a tool to
work with. A man may have a thor
ough military education, but at heart
he is a physical coward, and the pres
ence of danger and death will So un
nerve him that his education is but a
blank to him; he lias lost his head so
to speak. His education, training or
nature was that of courage; his real
nature is that of cowardice. To illus
trate: In the British army were two
o.Ticers, but of different natures, both
Colonels. A command was given to
and ran. The real nature or charac
ter showed itself in spite of education.
The real nature of Napoleon was
one of utter selfishness, wrapped up
in selfishness, regardless of the rights
and feelings of all others, and yet by
some of his acts, endeavered to puss
himself off as a man of noble and dis
interested purposes. He used his ar
my as Ids tool, not for the glory of his
country, its honor or happiness, but
simply as a ladder for himself to climb
to fame and glory. As Wellington
said of him when a prisoner at St.
Helena: “What be now says, is not
his real character, but what he wishes
to appear in history.” Napoleon is
au illustrative man from the greatest
to the lowest, who dissimulates. The
real character or nature is known in
success, not misfortune. He was ever
hard and tyrannical in his victories,
and ever complaining, and denounc
ing in his defeats. He took no respon
sibilities for his defeats, but laid them
on his generals, his yictories he ever
claimed as the result of his plans.
When our souls are freed from our
bodies, we will then assume in full, in
fact, in truth our true natures. There
will be no double natures then; our
educatiou like our bodies, will be left
behind, and then we will comprehend
in its fullness and startling truth and
significance the declaration: “He who
is unjust, let him be unjust still; and
he who is filthy, let him be filthy still;
and he who is righteous, let him be
righteous still; aud he who is holy let
him be holy still.” Our true nature
will follow us, not our educatiou.
The minister, the merchant, the me
chanic, tin* manufacturer, th<* monop
olist, tiie moralist, tlie medical, the
manipulator, all, all, who makea mer
chandise or trade of their religion or
show of piety, will lie judged by their
natures, not their professions or edu
cation. Naketl we came into this
world, and if there was any deformi
ty of person it was seen, and nuked
We will stand before the Judge of
earth, and if we are deformed in na
ture and that nature has been unjust,
filthy, evil .and unholy, we will receive
the sentence of the law be it what it
may. Duplicity can have no place in
the spirit world for there we will be
known as we truly are. Blessed will
he be who has been true to himself
and his fellow-man; whose hands will
be clean in the sight of God.
It. M. O.
Letter From Eleanor Kirk.
“A MAN WITHOUT A VICE.”
Feb. 11th, 1891.
Brooklyn, N. Y
This man does Dot drink, does not
use tobacco in any form, is not a club
man, never stays out nights, and is
devoted to the interests of his family.
In the eyes of his neighbors he is a
model man in every respect, but is he
always such in 4he estimation of his
family? The following letter furnishes
some valuable testimony on this sub
ject, and corroborates the related ex
periences of many relatives and in
one to charge a battery, it was done, I timates of viceless men. As only the
' the. Colonel commanding fell back jHogical, and those who like to mis
A Good Appointment.—The
Jacksonville Metropolis of the 7th
instant, has the following compli
mentary notice of Macoft's distin
guished townsman and popular cit
izen, Colonel R. E. Park, all of which
the people of this city cordially en
dorse :
In making up his military staff
Gov. Northen, of Georgia, lias hon
ored one gentleman who will not
only dignify the rank of colonel by
his soldierly bearing, but represent
tiie bravest of the youthful element
in the late confederate army. There
was no “boy soldier’’ who did bet
ter service than Captain Robert E.
Park, now one of Macon's most en
terprising, liberal and clear-headed
capitalists. Since the war, as an
educator and a farmer, he lias given
his best efforts to tiie promotion of
schools and agricultural interests of
vhe south, being a representative of
the American School Book company
and president of the Young Farm
ers ( lub of the Southern States.—
In addition to this he has long been
a prominent and active official of
the Georgia, State Agricultural So-
C ., e lttB frequently declined
political preferment, but never re
fuses to lie put into any working po
sition in the very front rank of any
movement that promises to help on
the development of his city, his
state, or the south, and his head,
hand and purse are always at the
public service. Captain l’ark was
a special friend of the lamented
Jefferson Davis, and when he died
Mrs. Davis selected him as one of
the distinguished pall bearers to lay
the mortal remains of the great
statesman in their final resting
place. Colonel Park is a gentleman
of fine military bearing, thorough
culture, liberal impulses and wide
spread’ popularity, and no member
of Governor Northerns staff will
more worthily wear the honors of
such a position or use it to more effec-
tuuliy i ;omote the public interests.
waving his sword urging on the
charge until he was out of danger.
Tiie battery was carried, and after
the fight the commanding officer
spoke of promotion to him. The Col
onel usked that he be allowed to re
sign from the army; and when aston
ishment was expressed at such a re
quest he frankly said he was not lit
for a soldier; for the credit he won in
taking the battery belonged to the
soldiers but not to him, and his fall
ing back, urging on his regiment was
to get out of danger. He was brave
enough to admit what was his real and
not assumed nature. * In the other
case, the Colonel was told to make a
charge with his cavalry. His nervous,
excitable nature, made liim tremble
all over, and his legs and arms shook
as if with the palsy. Looking down
at his legs he said: “Shaking are you?
Damn you, if you knew where I was
going to carry you, you would run
away.” He had courage enough, but
could not control his nervous tem
perament. There was no cowardice in
him, yet, outwardly, he showed ex
citement; his real nature was cour
age. ,
Our real natures are so blended
with our educational, that we have a
double nature, and it is a content
more or less, which we will give to
the public by which we will pass our
selves off and be known. Education
is one thing, character altogether an
other. The rabbit that had a game
cock for a second in a duel he was
about to fight, is illustrative of char
acter and education. The rabbit witli
all of the encouraging words of the
cock to be firm, to put on a bold look,
show an anxious spirit for the fight,
went to the field trembling, and
when he fired his pistol, dropped it
understand and misrepresent, will
rush to the conclusion that ineu with
vices are more desirable than men
without, it seems safq to publicly dis
cuss this matter. This is the coiumuni
cation:
“I am the wife of a man without a
vice, and as such I ought to be per
fectly happy. Instead of this I am
abjectly miserable. My husband not
only does not drink intoxicating
liquors or use tobacco, but he has no
patience with, or respect for the mau
who does. This critical attitude is not
always conducive to happiness in the
home, as some of my dearest relatives
and friends are vicious enough to like
goodcigars. My husband is the soul of
honor, and is always in demand as an
investor of widow’s mites, and much
sought after as an ^xecutor of wills.
He always knows to the uttermost
fraction of a mill the amount of money
ho spends, and is equally well posted
as to my expenditures. I cannot
deny either his generosity or his jus
tice, and am continually impressed
with tlie feeling that I am a miserable
sinner, and deserve a good Calvinistic
blaze to punish me for my feeling. I
always have a nervous chill, when,
with his clock work regularity he
asks to see my account book, and
sometimes I would gladly die to escape
what seems to me like a veritable in
quisition, though I know it is not. 1
cannot tell you how tiresome, yes,
how maddening it is to be forever
telling one’s other self that the blame
lies at home. Of course I should keep
my accounts with neatness aud ac
curacy, and be glad to have my hus
band add up the columns, and enumer
ate with an occasional ominous pause
and a subsequent practical interroga
tive, my purchases for the week. But
I am not glad, and the worst of it is,
that I more and more dread and re
sent it as time goes on. My husbaud
is a clean tuan. He is a refined and
cultured man. He is also a man who
believes in overcoming all the weuk-
Aiesses of the flesh. He is perfunctori
ly kind in illness, because his sensitive
conscience causes him to clearly show
that he disapproves of sickness. With
nervous troubles he has no patience
whatever. My last and most over
whelming grievance would probably
be laughed to scorn by all my neigh
bors. But here it is, and in it lies my
reason for writing to you. Since a
severe attack of malarial fever, the
sound of a clock ticking in my room
at night, almost drives me crazy. But
uiy husband insists that I shall over
come this weakness. This insistence
is always an appeal to my common
sense, my “better and higher self” as
he calls it? and he makes it so plain
that I ought to be ashamed of myself,
that the result is invariably a nonces
sion to his will. But my nights nre
purgutorial. I have stuffed my ears
with cotton—waiting of course till my
bed-fellow was asleep—but all to no
purpose. The cloek was there, and
this device seemed only to intensify
the auguish by giving to the inonoton
ous tick a muffled’sound which was
simply devilish. Excuse the word
but that is what I mean. In tiie
morning my husband is always cheery
and usually remarks that lie knew
should get the better of that clock at
ter a whijp. As I know, or more
strictly speaking, as I ought to Know,
that I shoujd get the better'of that
clock, and us 1 ha\’e very definite
views concerning the duly of a wife, I
have up to date allowed these t'ace-
ticious and hair liftiugremarks topics
without oral notice. In order to keep
from breaking down entirely, I go
into a darkened chamber, where
there is no clock, and sleep an hour
or two every day. This is a stealthy
performance as you’ may imagine.
My neighbors would Eay, and perhaps
you will also, that my husband is
right about the clock. But how shall
I go to work to mend my way6? I
have bought various nerve remedies
which for evident reasons have not
been entered into my account book,
and inconsequence I have been driven
to out and out falsehood. I am not a
liar by nature, but I must constantly
conceal, and occasiouajly lie, if I
would prevent a quarrel. I know
that neither argument nor entreaty
will ever cause him to excuse or con
done a weakness, and as I am the wife
of a man without a vice, what shall
1 do?”
What reply would the average wife
make to this graphic and interesting
communication? There are women,
and not very far away at this writing,
who after a fair trial with that clock,
would have thrown it out of the win
dow if therohad not been a more de
cent and amicable way pf disposing
of it. This husband is not a man
without a vice. He is a thousand
tinfes more vicious than the man who
smokes or even drinks in moderation,
who loves Ills wife and cares first of
all for her comfort. He is a crank, a
tyraqiAa conceited, iiuffed-up fool,
who imagines that lie knows it -ail,
and that his wife must accept him as
the ruler and arbiter of her destiny.
Such a wife is very seriously handi
capped, for she realizes that her hus
band’s reputation for perfection would
effectually shut her out from all sym
pathy in the event of an assertion of
her independence. To leave the bed
of a man so opinionated, so determin
ed that the wife’s will shall bend to
his, would necessarily bring about a
state of affairs that could not easily be
kept secret. And to leave it because
she could not bear the ticking of a
clock.
Those who know from, experience
the indescribable anguish that can re
sult from such small tilings, will sym
pathize with this wife, and in every
case advise her to look out for herself
if her husband is so inhuman as to
insist upon her endurance of au un
necessary annoyance.
There ar6 cares and trials that can
not be dodged or hidden. But it isan
easy matter to dispose of a clock. In
talking with a celebrated nerve
specialist of this city, the writer wa%
told that clocks should always be ex
cluded from bed-rooms. This gentle
man also said that he had two men
patients under his charge who could
not ensure the tick of a clock in the
day tiine. “If they were compelled to
listen to this sound at night, in less
Highest of all in Leavening Power.—U. S. Gov’t Report, Aug. ij, 1889.
ABSOLUTELY PURE
than a week they would both be pad
Tled-rootnand straight jacket patients, 1 '
he added.
There are men who do not use to
bacco, who do not drink or stay out
nights, who are splendid citizens and
desirable neighbors, and who are guilt
less of vices in the ordinary acocepta
tion of the word. They are also not
vain because of their virtues, and are
not overbearing and cruel in the I
home. But it Is a fact that this con
dition of perfection is sometimes ac
companied by conceit and a crouic
know-it-all attitude which makes
them vefy uncomfortable persons to
live with. With such the timid and
nervous wife is sure to haye a hard
time.
Viewed in this light it is not difficult
to sympathizea little with tin* naughty
woman—the wife of ti man without a
vice—who wlieo asked what she was
crying about, responded with a sot),
“Oh, I would give anything in thV
world if Charlie wouid only come
home drunk once in a while.”
Eleanor Kirk.
Look at the prominent in’en it has car
ried off, and Is taking off every year,
for while many are dying apparently
of paralysis aud apoplexy, they are
really victims of kidney disorder,
which causes heart disease, paralysis,
apolexy, etc. Nearly every week
the papers record the death of some
prominent man from this scourge.
Recently, however, the increase haa
been checked and I ^attribute this to
the general use of uiy remedy.”
1 “Do you think many people are
uliicted with it today who do not
realize it, Mr. Warner?”
“A prominent professor in a New
Orleans metrical college was lecturing
before his class on the subject of
Brigtit’s disease. He had various
fluids under microscopic analysis and
was showing the students what the
indications of this terrible malady
were. “And now, geutlemen,’ he
said, ‘as we have seen the unhealthy
indications, 1 will show you how it ap
pears iu a state of perfect health,’ and
lie submitted his own fluid to the
usual test* As he watched the results
his countenance suddenly changed ; —
his color and command both Eft him
EXCITEMENT IN ROCHESTER.
Tlio Commotion Caused by the
Statement of a Physician.
h*« said:
P ouful
a of
year
ioilica-
siiotild
to any
An unusual article from the Roches
ter N. Y., Democrat and Chronicle,
was recently republished in this pa
<per and was a subject of much com
ment. That the article caused even
more commotion in Rochester, the
following from the same papershowe:
Dr. J. B. Henion, who is well known
not only in Rochester but in nearly
every part of America, sent au extend
ed article to this papfft a few days
since which was duly* published, de
tailing his remarkable experience and
rescue from what seemed to be cer
tain death. It would be impossible to
enumerate the personal enquires
which have been made at our office
as to the validity of the article, but
they have been so numerous that,
further investigation of the subject
wus deemed necessary.
With this end in view a representa
tive of this paper called on Dr. .Hen
ion, at his residence, when the follow
ing interview occurred: “That article
of yours, Doctor, has created
quite a whirlwind. Are the state
ments about the terrible condition
ycu were in, and the way you were
rescued such as you can sustain?”
“Every one of them and many ad
ditional ones. I was brought so low
by neglecting the first and most, sim
ple symptoms. 1 did not think I was
sick. It is true 1 had frequent head
aches; felt tired most of the time;
could eat nothing one day and wus
ravenous ttie next; felt dull pains and
my stomach was out of order, but. I
did not think it meant anything seri-
“The medical profession has been
treating symptoms instead of diseases
for years, aud it is high time it ceased.
Tl e symptoms I have just mentioned
or any unusual action or irritatiou of
the water channels indicate the ap
proach of kidney disease more tliau a
cough announces tiie coming of con
sumption. We do not treat the cough,
but try to help the lungs. We should
not waste our time trying to relieve
the headache, pains about tiie body or
other symptoms, but go directly to
the kidneys, the source of most of
these ailments.”
“This, then, is what you meant
when you said that more than one-
half the deaths which occur arise from
Bright’s disease, is it Doctor?”
“Precisely. Thousands of diseases
are torturing people to-day, which in
reality are Bright’s iliseaft* in some of
its many forms. It is a Hydra-liead-
ed monster, and the slighest symptoms
ehould strike terror to every one who
has them. I can look back and re
call hundreds pf deaths which phy
sicians declared at the time were
caused by paralysis, apoplexy, heart
disease, pneumonia, malarial tever
and other common complaints whioh
1 see now were caused by Bright’s
disease.”
“And did all these cases have sim
ple symptoms at first?”
“Every- one of them, and might
have beeM cured as I was by the time
ly use of the same remedy. I am get
ting my eyes thoroughly opeued iu
this matter and think I am helping
others to see the facts and their pos
sible danger also.”
Mr. Warner, who was visited at his
establishment on N. St. Paul street,
spoke very earnestly:
“It is true that Bright’s disease had
increased wonderfully, and we find,
by reliable statistic*, that from ’70 to
’80 its growth was over 250 per cent
ami in a trembling voici
‘Gentlemen, 1 have made
discovery; 1 have Bright's. 1
the kidneys;’ and in less than
lie was dead. The slightest
tious of any kidney difficult'*
be enough to strike ten*
oue.”
“You know of Dr. Henipn’scase?”
“Yes, I have both read aud heard of
it.”
“It is very wonderful is it no‘?”
“No more so than a great many
others that'have come to inv notice
as having been cured by the same
means.”
“You belfeye then (hat Bright’s
disease can be cured.”
“I know it can. I know it from my
own and the experience of thousands
of prominent persons who were given
up to die by both their physicians and
friends.”
“You speak of your own exoerience,
what was ii?”
“A fearful one. I had felt languid
and unfitted for business for years.
But 1 did not know what ailed me.
Wfieri, however, 1 found it was kidney
difficulty I thought there was little
hope and so did the doctors. I have
since learned that one of the physi
cians of this city pointed me out to a.
gentleman on the street one (lay, say
ing: ‘there goes a man who will be
dead within a year.’ I believe bis
words would have proved true if I had
not fortunately used the remedy uow
known us Warner’s Safe Cure.”
“Did you make a chemical unaiysis
of the cise of Mr. H. H. Warner some
three years ago, Doctor? wus asked
Dr. 8. A. Luttimore,.one of the an
alysts of the State Board of Health.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Whit did this analysis show you?”
“A serious disease of tiie kidneys.”
“Did you think Mr. Warner could
recover?”
“No, sir, I did not think it possi
ble.”
“Do you know anything about the
remedy which cured him?”
“1 have chemically auualyzpd it and/
find it pure arid harmless."
The stand ng of Dr. Henion, Mr[
Warner and Dr. Lattimore in the con
muuity is beyond question, and thl
statements they make cannot fori
moment be doubted. Dr. Henion’i
experience shows that Bright’s disea
of the kidneys Is oue of the most de
ceptive and dangerous of all disease/
that it is exceedingly common, bU.
that it can be cured if taken in time. 1
“Not as I Will.”
Blindfolded and alone I stand
With unknown thresholds on each band.
The darkness deepens us I grope,
^rald to fear, afraid to hope;
t this one thing I learn to know
Each day more surely as I go,
That doors are opened, wayf are made,
- ial '
Burdens are lifted or are laid
By some great law unseen and still
Unfathomed purpose to fulfill,
“Not as I will.”
Blindfolded and alone I wait;
Loss 6oems too tdtter, gain too late;
Too heavy burdens In the load,
And joy is weak and grief is strong,
Aud years and days so long, so long;
Yet this one thing* learn to know
Each day more surely as I go.
That I am glad the good and ill
By changeless law are ordered still,
“Not as I whl.”
“Not as I will;” the sound grows sweelf
Each time my lipsth * words repeat.
"Not as I will”.—the darkness feels
More safe than light when this thought
steals
Like whispered voice to calm and bless
All unrest and all loneliness. ,
‘Not as I will”—because the One
Who loved us first and best has gone
Before us on the road and still
For us must all his love fulfill—
“Not as we will.”
—Helen Hunt Jackson.