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STAWAJU) iti lOIMMS In complete form, by the best au thors —Novelists, Poets, Historians and General writers, almost given away. Printed from new type on good paper. OUR UNEQUALED OFFER. To all new subscib'ers to The Chattooga News (paying one year in advance) and to all old subscri- j bers paying their account to date and one year in advance, we will i send i-nee, any 20 books in the fol lowing list. We will also sell any ( of the books at the following prices : ’ Any 3 books for lOcts, 8 for 25 cts, 18 for 50 cts, or any 40 books for | sl. Sent by mail, postpaid, to any ■ address on receipt of price. Ad dress The News, Summerville, (la. ' SI Jack of All Tmflei. By Chablxs reatw. Tfte Wonderful trial* of an artisan who didn t stick to LU Avlfc Fall of comical situation*, funny incident* of travel U EAope and America, and thrilling adventure* as keeper gff a Wossal elephant. 84 I.oyß, Lord Berrcßford. By the’‘Duchess.’ l *TM* charming zociety story 1* one of the best from the pen ©f the popular author. It is spirited in action, and full of situations calculated to illustrate high life and give piquancy to the narrative. The work of a genius. 83. Clouds and Sunshine. By Charles Reade’. A happily told story of farm life, full of pretty rural pictures and pastoral sentiments. An ingenious plot, exciting narra tive, characters with passions and motives just like '‘city fblks " All in all, one of the most interesting and readable efforts of the illustrious author. 82. The Haunted House. By Sir E. Bulwor Lytton. This is one of the great author s quaintest conceits and happily told stories. Weird and thrilling throughout, ■verybody rends it with feelings of delight. 81. John Milton. When, Why, nn<l What ho Wrote, by H. A. Taine. Like nil of this brilliant author s Works, t 1 Information. It is frill of surpri ■, and one can get a bet ter idea of Milton, his Hui- s, style and works from its pages than from any other source. ! B*i Dr. Marigold. By Charles Dickens. Ono of Dickens' cri" and most ainusing -; • I sos a quaint and curious character. lo adable, laughnM'i, and a snro Wntidote to dull care. Ei <ry community needs its “ Dr. Marigold,” and all lovers take kindly to his prescriptions. 79. The Knightsbridge Mystery. By Charles Read". Uno of those ingenious y devised and thrlllingly told stories which immortalized Reade. The plot Is a work of art. Concealment is the artist's game, till after winding through a forest of mysteries, the fearful cloud hursts on the reader like an Alpine avalanche or ocean water-spout. 75. Allan Quatermain; the latest and befit Sovel from the pen of the popular 11. Rider Haggard. In this story of African adventure, the author surpasses the glowing descriptive vigor, startling situation and thrilling activity that mado " Mho” such a revelation in Action. No snore exciting romance has ever come to the surface in English literature and it must share the popularity of all bl# Other works. Part I. i 76. Allan Quatermain. Part IL * 77. Allan Quatermain. Part 111. **• 78. Allan Quatermain. Part IV. . 74 The Trial of Pickwick. By Charles Pick* n*. This is the first time the entire story of the Sallant Pickwick's adventures with the impressionable Mrs. ardell has appeared in connected form. It abounds la ludicrous situations and mirth-provoking incidents. 72. Duty Untn Death. or Life and Work ol Rev. George ('. Haddock, Apostle of Prohibition in the Northweßy his brother, John A. Haddock. The murder ©f this groat pulpit and platform orator and eloquent ten pion sent a thrill of horror through the Northwest and entire country. Tho work is an ably wrr.ten review of the man a-. 4 his career, and contains • graphic accountof his oj as.ination. Parti. 73. Duty Unto Death, etc. Part 11. / 70. The Coming Knee, or New Utopia. By Pfr E. Hulwcw 1-c i A thrilling hisiory of life among an Ideal people f>-. ; I in >' c-utre of the earth, where the bvnutifs are Arcadi.'n, tho form perfect, tho thought pure and motive free. A charming book; cheerful. Parti. 71. < >• . C*t••pia. Part II r uiirraßhk tie Murray. A-" by t >ll H .-y if human character, not a bit” overdrawn. Bulldogs and Butterflies are 'all k Aroundu \ 65. She; or Adventures in the Caves of Ker. By ’ n. Rider Hi.-'ar.l. This unique and popular story is a new departur ■ in tb • i: '.I •ffi.'bn. Is pro Iv.etion has carried the author iio fam? as a writer and artist. Tho vigor and variety of the make it especially charming; Its narratiie impart a pl> a ant thrill tn it glides through Wonderful Been*.s startling events. I’art I. 66. .she; or Adventures, etc. I’art IT.. 1 67. She; or Adventures, etc. Tart 111. ! 68. She; or Adventures, etc. Part IV. 61. Calderon the Courtier. By Sir E. Bui wor Lytton, (i:r<fths t cftl. r gr -t u irLor’a historic ■torics. Full of graphic situation.*, quick action, and rars information. 62. Stabbed in the Dnrk. By F. Lynn Linton. A Btronc, stirrlnq story <r tl :uM Neapolitan days, intricate situatiuus like a iaa..:ir. I;rt 1. 63. Stabbed in the Dark. I’art 11. 61 The Cricket on the Hearth. Bv Charles Dickens. Ot written by Did. •: All I. • /rit 3 beauty an t pathos, And it will bo prcsTvo l r.l r il )■ .ig r.ftcr sumo of his fnost imaginative works have L -u forgotten. 60. The Lndy of Lyons. By Sir E. Bulwor Lytton. This is tho lalv as seen In the celebrated play of the eamo name. It rank* in the prettiest picture or devo tion and Blnccrcst expression of tho “ tender passi.n ” ever placed on the stage. 59. Julia rind Her Romeo. By David Chris tie Murray. This author is always ingenious and racy. In •'Julia and Her Romeo ’’ he is particularly charming. The reader is held to the last lu a spell which makes him regret the end of the story. 58. Doom I An Atlantic Episode. By Justin F. McCarthy. A powerful and thrilling story of life on an American liner Tim situations nr i atural, th J plot in visible from the " all aboard ’ at Liverpool, to the terrible landing at New York. 57. Willinin Sltnhsprnrc; How, When, Why and What he wrote. Uy ILA. Taine. There never ties been compressed into ruc’i brief space fa much about go Immortal "Bard of Avin” m in this work of the I llllant French author. It will open the eyes of the reader to a thousand things ha never dreamed cf 56. Rnssclns. Prince of Abyssinin. By Dr. Bsmuel Johnson. One of those immortal writings by a master mind which no one can afford not to read. It Is a •lory of the human heart in its happiest moods, earnest longings, and noblest aspirations. Part I. j 56. Itasselas. Prince of Part 11. 54. Money. By Sir E. Bulwor Lytton. Who •ver read Shakspcarc's rch--t of Venice ” should read Bulwer's " Money.” Under the above title you see the Coinage and jingle o' the full play. 52. Peg W«t?Thiglon. By Charles Reade. This masterpiece by The great novelln is one of these exquisite mosaics with which great mi-mis ornament their work. Not to know Peg Wellington is net to know Reade. Part I. .53 Peg Woffington. Part 11. 61. Mis# Tooni’v’h Mission. and I,addle. Two ©t those rarely conceived and charmingly told stories of home and duty which refresh and inspire. They ought to he read by every yoiyig pers. a who lia the world to face. 49. Paul and Virginin. By Bernadin de St»' Pierre. This elegant houst h> l 1 elastic renews its freshness •nd beautv with every reading. It h the ‘'story that seventies, told in the purest language and teudcrest style. | 50. Paul and Virginia. Part 11. .48. Cardinal Richelieu. By Sir E. Biilwer Lytton. The character of the wily, ambitious and brilliant French primate, ns sketched by Bulwer in his Immortal Lsy of Cardinal Richelieu, is the one which hits become stork. It is a mastcr-piece of dramatic composition. •47, Enoch Arden, and other grems. By Alfred aenuyson. For purity of style, genuine Hweetncns and touching pathos, the great poet has never surpassed ids F'Enoch Arden.” In this poem of human affection he is at bls best, and one cannot know tho pout-laureate without knowing It. 46. Romeo and Juliet. By William Black. An exqul.l'o sketch of two foolish lovers, who mingle tender •entiment with the ludicrous in away to make everybody •mile. This author's storks are always racy and full of Mtog points. FRAZER GREASE BEST IN THE WORLD. Its wearing qualities unsurpassed, actually outlasting two boxes of any other brand. Free | from Animal Oils. CiTGET THE GEN UINE. FOR SALE BST DEALERS GENERALLY. A PERSON! WANTED.' Male or Female in every township in ; this State to take orders for a standard historical work of surpassing b( auty, usefulness, and accuracy, which sells at sight. Liberal commissions. Particu lars on application. YOU can make SIOO to $250 per month. Full instructions Addres. PHILLIPS A- II TNT.- 2 Brcadwav N.Y " DR. HENLEY'S BLef&iro|l. A Most Effective Combination. This well known Tonic and Nervine if" gaining great reputational acure for Debility, Dyspep sia, and NERVOUS disorders. It relieves all langruid and debilitated conditions of the sys tem ; strengthens the intellect, and bodily functions; builds up worn out Nerves; aids digestion : re stores impaired or lost Vitality, and brings back youthful strength end vigor. It is pleasant to the taste, and used regularly braces the System against the depressing influence of Malaria. Price—sl.oo per Bettie of 24 ounces. EOII SALE BY ALL DRUGGISTS. LULLABIES, The afternoon is fair and Rtill-, Unveering stand the village vunps, The Sunshine Khjeps on L "f and sill And glances from in Tneighlior’s panes; A languid sense of slumber cheer Broods over all things, calm and mild, And low from o’er the way I hear A mother singing to her child. A mother’s love in measures thrills The silence of mid-afternoon; The baby’s pouting mouth it stills That will not ope to cry or croon; Soft folded to that tender breast The little head lies The songs drift o’er its dreams of rest— The mother sings onto her child. No other sounds are in the air, And softly fall those drowsy tunes Upon my heart like peace and prayer— , j A lullaby of childish rune*; And slumber strains more low and sweet Have never yet to sleep beguiled: “Rest, little head and bands and feet!” A mother singingwo her child. —A. W. Bellaw iu Yankee fclade. MR. BENONTS STORY. ■ “This is Mr. Benoni, ” said my friend Dr. Bar> . as a sudden turn in the gravel walk brought us almost face to face with a man seated on a rustic bench. “Mr. Benoni is a friend of mine, and is here on a visit.” This last was said byway of introduction in ?4r. Bononi’s bearing. h« having risen and advanced towards us. Ho was tall, proportionately broad, and his steel gray hair framed an intellectual face. “Mr. Benoni,” continued Dr. Banks, when we had sauntered up to the ■ bench and seated oursekes, “loves na ture. I venture to say that two houYs i liefore we were stirring he was wander ing through the garden listening to th" voices of the morning.” “Yes,” said Mr. Benoni, “I was out ; 1 early this charming morning: and where ' could <me enjoy it more fully than in this beautiful garden? Your friend”—ad dressing me--“made a fortunate choice? when he selected this site for a country place. One can roam for hours without tiring through the spacious grounds. Dr. Banks understands me. He knows that I love to commune with nature, and he. of.on leaves me undisturbed in tho soli tude of some shady retreat. There is: i but one objection to the place, and that objection arises through the doctor’s! ; own fault. I speak frankly and with out reference to yourself —he has i too many friends. The house is often full of them. He is constantly asking I people to visit him, and those who come ' usually stay a long time. They interfere ' with my enjoyment of nature. When I have found a solitary nook where I can ' remain undisturbed, one of the doctor's friends appears in view—more than likely Mr. Arundel, who is seated yonder j reading, and who seems to have a habit of getting in iny way. When 1 first vis ited tlie dixrtor here, ho did not have so ! many friends. Bui I suppose his con i stantly growing practice has brought him into contact with many people. I will not be so lie bad ' » \ 3 haye been here so long that 1 r<*gard the place somewhat as my own. Hence my frankness. 1 love the doctor—he is the only man I love for only he. the birds and the Howers understand me.” Dr. Banks had been listening with a good nature*! look to Mr. Benoni’s strict ures on his liberality. “Benoni,” he said, “1 am sure my friend is another man who will understand you. if you will tell him your story. Be has traveled much, seen much and read much, bin I am quite sure he has nev r had or heard of a stranger experience than yours. IL is my best friend in strong sympathy with all my thoughts and opinions; and I am convinced that as I understand you, I so will he.” Mr. Benoni looked at me earnestly, and then bowed his head meditatively. Look ing suddenly up again and pointing to a lily which rose ma jest ieally yet gracefully above a bed of Howers, lie said: “That ; lily brings vividly before me a form of I grace and a face of beauty—the form and face of my dead wife. I hold the dixdor dear above all other mon, because hi knew her and remembers her beauty. I love nature, because in all that is beauti ful in nature 1 <*an see her. Hence 1 love solitude, because in solitude t can best coininiiiie with what is most beautiful in nature. “No one who never knew my wife can appreciate the shadow which her death has cast over my life, or form an idea of the grief and despair which since then has entered my heart. We had known each other since childhood, for we had giown up together. Our p.m-ent / homes wre adjoining. We romped i -ether with the children of the neiijiborhood. In those childhood games 1 --amid a kind of protectorate over her, in thos<* disputes iTi which dren’s sports not infrequently Bd I took care that she was Awver I wronged. I remember especially one I occasion when 1 was her champion. As I a child, already .Alice had a profusion of black hair. In the days when we played those romping games ic was bound by a single ribbon, from which it fell over hei shoulders and back. AA hen she ran, her motions were grace itself. Iler cheeks glowed with excitement, and her hair streamed in the breeze. One day a boy. who was running after her in one of orw ! games, in his eagerness to catch her, in | stead of waiting till lie gained on her sui-; ficiently to grasp her arm. caught her streaming hair. The check was so sud | don and so rude that she fell with a sharp ; cry of pain. AVliat followed 1 cannot tell of my own knowledge. Lookers on I tol l me that I throw upon th< i boy. and that a short but severe tight on- ! j sued -short because my blood was up— an<l 1 soon felled him. That incident drew Alice and myself closer to one an- I other, and our friendship soon became j proverbial among our companions. And so our childhood passed, and she entered i upon lovely maidenhood and 1 upon youth. The promise of her beauty as a ; child was more than fulfilled: the loveli- j ness of her face harmonized with the • maidenly grace of her form. In hei ; childhood I had been her protector, bid i now it seemed a$ though I relied more upon her than she upon me; for I laid aE my hopes and ambitions before her. and sought guidance of her. She would j listen to me with tender interest, and al vise me gently yet firmly. “Soon another bond of sympathy sprang up between us. AA'e had in com mon a love for beautiful music. Th: parents of both of us were musical, and as children aheady we had received les sons on the piano. But in those days we were more interested in our childish games. As we grew older, however, and more serious, and our emotions deeper, music gained a strong hold upon us. Not only did we hear the compositions of the i great masters performed at concerts, but ' we played arrangements of 1 hem as duets * on the piano. Thus we grew more and | more familiar with them, until we knew , them note by note. When we could play them technically correctly we tried to penetrate into their deeper meaning, j It was then I began to discover the poetry of Alice’s nature. Beauties which would t have remained hidden from me she dis- > covered, and for the inferpretation of every composition she had numerous poetic suggestions, And so we often reveled in a wealth of beautiful sound. Yet we were quite unconscious of the lx>nd of sympathy which united us until there came a time when we thought we ‘ should lie obliged to pnvt—for the first time since early childhood* Alice’s pa* , rents bad dcckted to take her I I ’urope for a year or two, in order thir reign travel might complete her educ; J remember, ns if it Wei’e but ye lay, i the afternoon when she told me ’ btir approaching separation. She spoke of it with mournful tenderness. I say • nothing. But I had a hbheF ■ than speech irt which to express the emo tions which welled up as she spoke. There is an impromptu by Schubert, which has been aptly entitled the ‘Elegy.’ It is a mournful melody, floating over a ; softly flowing accompaniment, like the voice of a lonely spirit over the water. i Gently I drew Alice to the piano; and seating myself at the instrument, intoned the -Elegy.’ Swayed by a feeling which I could not define, I played with the deepest expression of which I was. capa ble. As the last notes died away hot tears fell upon my hands. I looked up into Alice’s face. She was weeping. Flushed with the heat of sudden passion, I clasped her to my heart and kisse<l her. A moment later a thrill of joy passed through me as her lips touched my brow. Releasing her, I knelt before her. She laid her hands upon my head as though in blessing. Not a word bad* been spoken, but our stories had been told— we loved one another. “Alice di-1 not go to Europe. Our parents were not opposed to our union. Indeed, they had expect* d such an event, though not so soon. Still, they had so familiarized themselves with the idea, that., when opr love for one another was made known to Alice's parents, the trip io Europe was abandoned. We were not, however, to marry until the lapse of two years, when I would be 22 and she 20. Fortunately my parents were well off, and it was not necessary for me to earn my own living before I could marry Alice. All the same. I was ambi tious enough to work hard at the studies which were to fit me for the legal pro fession, a course in which she encouraged me. Need 1 tell how happily those two years passed? Os our loving exchange of confidence? Os the trust we reposed in one another? The sweetness and beau ty of Alice’s character became more and more apparent to me; and when, two years after our engagement, we were united in marriage, it seemed to me as if the climax of happiness had been reached. As 1 stood at the altar to receive her, and she came up the aisle clad in white, her face calm yet radiant, I could not but feel that I was receiving an angel into my Jif*'. Nor was I mistaken. But I had been mistaken when I had thought that the climax of happiness had been reached on our wedding day; for every <!ay of our married life brought new happiness. Alice’s face often wore that calm yet radiant expression it had worn on our wedding day. Her lips </len seemed to me about to part in a smile of happiness. When her face wore that' expression of quiet rapture it was loveli est to behold. I see it rising before me’ now! I put out iny hands to touch it! It has vanished! ’Ah! it was but the vision of a spirit! For, alas! Alice is no more. Three years of ever in creasing happiness, and then came a tragedy all the more terrible for the bli. which had preceded it. Ah. bitter memory of the hours of agony I passed at her bedside! Alas! will time never assuage tin* despair, the agony, of that hour when they told me her eyes had clos. d in death? I charged them with lying tome; for. as I looked upon her face as she la.y there so still, her lips, as so often before, seemed to me about to part in, a smile of happiness. Is it a wonder that, when they came to 1 ir her away to the tomb, I stood lil wiki beast at bay before her coffin : .red them to approach? Seized, ovei red by superior numbers, it was on t when they threatened to force me to remain guar led in that room that I desisted in order that I might be allowed to follow her remains to the tomb, and there be suffered to gaze upon her features. Fools, to think her dead! I knew better than they. Would her lips still seem about to part in a smile of happiness if she were dea I and lost to mo? 1 felt that when, at lb'- moment which others would think to be tho moment of my final part ing from her in the tomb, I called her by name, she would awaken from her trance anti el.'isp me to her bosom and return wiili me once more into the air and sun shine. At last that moment came. The dreary cortege had reached the tomb, the heavy portal had been thrown bac.<. and they bad borne the coflin into tlie sepul cher, and placed it upon the catafalque. I stepped forward to take what th- fools who had brought her there thought would bu- my last look at her. As I approached her I saw the dear familiar look of quiet rapture come over her face, her lips seemed about to part in a blissful smile, and I was sure I saw a slight tremor of the hand nearest me. I coukl not control my feelings. ‘- Alice! Alice!" 1 exclaimed, and rushing to the side of the coffin, 1 raised her and clasped her to my breast. “Tie is mad!’ I heard one of those behind me exclaim. A moment later 1 was seized by strong arms. I struggled with the strength of desperation. It availed me nothing. I was dragged from the tomb. 1 heard the clangor of the portal clo'ing upon my beautiful wife. Then I lost consciousness, “When I became conscious I found mvsclf lying on my bed at home, sur rounded by members of my family. The family physician was feeling my pulse. My face must have worn an inquiring look, for he said, soothingly: “ ‘You must remain here quietly for a while. You have been very ill. It is two weeks since you were placed uncon scious upon this bed.’ “ ‘Where is she?’ I asked. 1 “ ‘She? Who?’ “ ‘Alice! My lovely Alice! Where is i she?’ “The physician turned to the bystand ers, and shrugging his shoulders tapped , his forehead with one of his fingers. “ ‘Wretches!’ I cried, raising myself in bed, ‘you know not what you have done. You have left her alive in the tomb. I saw her hand move just before I clasped her to my breast. No power in the world can hold me back now. I will open the portal of that tomb or die in the effort!’ “The bystanders looked at the physi cian. •‘ ‘The exertion may be fatal to Mr. Benoni,’ he said. ‘On the other hand, : this excitement surely will be. Besides, j you tell me that in the tumult attending his removal from the coffin the lid was 1 not closed. That can lx? done, and Mr. ’ Benoni at the same time become satisfied ■ that his imagination has played him I false. It may have a wholesome effect upon him,’ was added in an undertone. ’ j “To get in readiness to start, to enter a carriage, drive through the town and into the cemetery, occupied barely an ’ hour. Yet, when* we drew up in front of thg tomfy it.seemed to me ws if yearfl had claimed. What wild fanbiea whirled through my brain during that dreary drive—my beautiful Alice rising in her coffin; stretching out her arms into the awful darkness of the tomb and piteously ( calling my name; calling it still as she . gropes her way along tin* damp walls to the portal: shrieking with despair ns she finds ft closed; tearing her flesh from het* fingers in her frantic efforts tb Idosd the iron lock Hrid free way once more along the damp walls only to find herself again at t}ie tinyield- i ; ing portal; mad with faiiiine, beating her head against tbej?ruei iron; ifi th” Hgoiiy | df irisiinity icaHiig out handfuls of net raven hair; in tho last desperation of madness grasping the lock again and fall- ■ ing with a moftn lifeless against the por- , tai! Do you wonder that beads of per spiration were on my brow when we reached the tomb? I snatched the largo key from the hand of one of my relatives who had accompanied me. turned it in the lock and pushed back the portal. It I opened slowly for a few inches. Then I something impeded it. Almost ITahtkS I i called upon those who had come with me to summon all their strength. With a great effort we made the portal yield enough to admit me. I rushed through the opening. When barely in tho tomb I stumbled and fell. As I fell, 1 clutched about mo. and felt one hand do c* upon •an arm. The others had followed me. They dragged me out, my hand still i clutching that arm. What was it they drew out after me? Alice? Oh,, horror! Lot me not call that hideous, distorted i vision of her by that name! ‘Villains,’ I shrieked, .as I gazed upon her lacerated, | bleeding form, ‘you are her murderers— | you who dragged me from her side and j closed the portal of tins tomb Upon her!' ” Mr. Benoni buried his face in bi; hards, and I saw that he was trembling with excitement. Dr. Banks beckoned to ■ Arundel. The latter approach d. and ' without further order took a sea! besid i the narrator. As Dr. Banks and I walked i away 1 asked: “Arc you not afraid to leave him with only Arundel to lo >k after , him?” “No. Benoni is not a raving maniac. . Indeed, he is one of the most tractable inmates of my asylum, and Arundel is a trusty keeper.” “Has his story no foundation of fact? Is it all tho offspring of his diseased 1 mind?” : “There is foundation for much of it. Benoni’s wife was a beautiful woman named Alice Mowbray. They had known each other since childhood, ftnd their ; union was singularly happy. Three years , after their marriage she (lied, during the • typhus epidemic here some twenty-five years ago. Her death unsettled his rea son. He would not believe that she was dead. In the tomb lie insisted on being allowed to see her face again. For fear of maddening him they complied with his wish and opened the coffin. It was then his mind gave way. He clasped his wife's dead form to his breast, and had to lie removed by force. He lias been hopelessly insane since then, his insanity taking the shape of a fixed idea that • some time after his wife’s death, as the / story lie told you ran. the tomb was ; 1 opened, and it was discovered that she had been buried alive. 1 had just opened this private asylum, and he was placed i in my charge, and has been here ever since.” Three years after I had hei d Mr. Benoni’s story I received, wiile I was traveling abroad, a letter from Dr. Banks, announcing the death of his pa tient. “You doubtless remember his wild tale,” he wrote. “I have something to add. Day before yesterday the tomb was opened in order that the catafalque upon which his rcnimns were to be placed beside those of nis might bo prepared. The cuffing iiy ju hicli Mrs. Benoni’s body lay closed the tomb, some twenty-eight years ago, was found to be open and empty. On search ing the tomb they found near the portal portions of a skeleton, and, clutching tho lock so firmly that they had to loose them by force, skeleton fingers.” Was Mr. Benoni afflicted with madness or gifted witli second sight?—Gustave Kobbo in Frank Leslie's. Gorman Artillery Experiment. The German artillery has recently been carrying on a series of successful experi ments in lighting forts by electricity, with a view to facilitate a bombardment at night. On the practicing grounds near Juterliogk thirty-six guns of all calibers ■ recently tired off 2,500 shrapnels and other missiles under the electric light, the distance leing from 2,800 to 3.80 C meters. The experiments took place in the presence of a’.xiut eighty officers, in : eluding six generals. Though the night j was very dark the elfect of every ball , could lie clearly seen. —Frank Leslie’s. The Charity Patient. ' I Young Student Physician (to charity ’ ■ patient)—l—l think you have a —a— some kind of a—a fever; but —our class : Iris only gone as far as convulsions. I'll : come in again in a week.—Popular Sei- i , I Subsisting Upon Potatoes. [ The only peojilo in the world who have i fallen into the grievous error of striving l: to subsist almost entirely upon potatoes i are the Irish. It cannot be doubted that > : nearly or quite all the ills that trouble , unhappy Ireland are due to the humble potato. The Irish are the meanest fed ] people living in a civilized land of which . we have any knowledge; they are in a . condition of semi-starvation, even when in their highest prosperity. Every visitor in Ireland is struck with the “pot bellied” appearance of the na tives, men and women. This abnormal distention of the abdominal walls is due to the enormous amount of potatoes they are compelled to consume, in order to maintain a tolerable degree of health. If this people would quit the cultivation of the potato, and supply its place with ; cereal grains, Ireland would soon 1 ecoma I a happy and prosperous nation.—Popular Science News. Inhale warm salt water through your nose if you wish to cure your cold, sayi an eastern doctor, Amateur Photographers’ Fad. A new fad of the amateur photogra phers, who are legion, is to take views on every occasion possible cf events they at tend, and preserve the same in an album instead of keeping a diary. Indue 1, the volume is called the “Album Diary.” The guests at a recent fashionable social gathering up the Hudson were sent by a young lady of the household photographs of almost every incident of the fete, taken at the time unawares. Couples were revealed in forest strolls, or seques tered tete-a-tetes, and in one instance a wife was shown in a quit! hallway tying her careless husband’s cravat. The ama ' teur photograph ( raze lias proved a per- L cl bonanza to the manufacturing trade I —LTu-w York Times. The ea .I v-y to find out a girl’s agf i is to ask some other girl, Brief and Fright, f; rniLADELPH!/, Oct 18< 1887. I Robert J. Burdette, Bryn Mawr, Fa.: Dear Sir—Some weeks ago I mailed you a let ter with check. Receiving no acknowledgment of it thus far, I am anxious to know if it reached you safely. Yours truly, Cyrus 11. K. Curtis. 11. Bkanville, Mass., Oct. 26,1687. It came and went Was cashed arid spent< part sos clothes and part sos rent. Yours as ever, Robert J. —The Journalist. A Cbld Fay* WJL W I i Pawnbroker's Cat (to summer clothing)—lt I wns a cold day when you were left.—Tid I Bits. | QUAINT SAYINGS OF CHILDREN. TTIF SHADOW OF COMING CARE. Mary to Alice Your doll looks very poorlv. What ails it) Alice—lt frets a good deal.' Alfred knocked out one of its eyes last week, .-.nd it lost n great deal of sawdust, and hasn’t been the same doll since. SHE HAD HIGH ASPIRATIONS. There was a strike in the family of an up- j town citizen the other day. Little Miss Edith, who has attained the massive age of (1 year.- has long been a light in the infant | class of her Sunday school, a company of | some thirty juveniles. On the particular day mentioned she refused to attend. ‘ I Hint going any more,” she said; “I'm tired of be ing with those kids; I want to be promoted.” She won.—Brooklyn Eagle. SCHOOL BETTER THAN HOME. Bobby—Ma, can I stay home rom school today?" Mother—Yes, Bobby, your father wants you to help him put up the parlor stove. Bobby—M ell; ma, why can’t Igo to school?—The Epoch. WHY BOBBY REFUSED. Minister—And so the little boys asked yon to play marbles on Sunday, Bobby, and you refused. Bobby—Yes, sir. Minister—Now tell me why it, was, Bobby, that you refused. Bobby—’Cause they wouldn't play for keeps. —New York Sun. ANNOUNCED FROM HEADQUARTERS. A little girl of 0, the daughter of a friend of mine, did a precocious and amusing thing the other day. She is possessed of a fiery bead of hair.' Getting into n street car with her mother, she noticed the glance of the passengers and their evident amusement as the same thought occurred to them. Climb ing on the seat she looked up and down the street, finally exclaiming as her eye rested on ' the object it sought: “Oh, mamma; there's j a white horse.” The laugh that went around the ear showed that the passengers appre ciated the little one's quick perception.—St. Louis Spectator. SPARKS FROM LITTLE ADELAIDE'S BRAIN. An influx of “over Sunday” visitors hav ing filled eight scats at, Adelaide's table with young measlie refused to eat. Being ques ; tioned the 4-year-old mite replies: “I am not I at all pleased at such a crowd of men being ! sent here. They take away my appetite!” (She seems likely to survive.) Pajia to Ade laide (whose mamma is away for a few days) I —We miss mamma awfully, don’t, we. Ade laide.- Adelaide (hesitatingly)—l don’t know, 1 papa; probably you do, but she fusses so, 1 think it tries my nervous system. At another I time a strange child was introduced to the I tiny hostess with injunctions as to his enter tainment With a superb dignity the sug ! gestions were cheeked by: “My dear, I have played with children all my lite.” American Magazine. TURNING THE TABLES. I Aunty-Here is an apple, Johnny; share it i with your sister in a Christian spirit. Johnny —How am I to do that, aimtie? Aunty- Offer her the largest piece. Johnny (hand ing the apple to his sister) —There, Sissy, you share like a Christian.—Life. HE KNEW ALL ABOUT IT. Old Lady—l’m sorry to hear a little boy j use such si >cking language. Do you know I what becomes of little boys who swear? j Urchin —Yes in. Dey gits ter be hoss car drivers.—Tid Bits. II is Predicament. Iler witching bonnet trimmed with lace, The sweetness of her upturned fuco Enchant me. Iler figure trim, modish, petite, Her slender hands, her dainty feet, They haunt me! I dream of her the long night through, And vow that bravely i will woo And win her. I know she’s good and kind and true; I love her better than I do My dinner. I love her fondly, yet I know I'd never dare to tell her so Or pet her. And while I'm wailing, I'm afraid Some other chap will court the maid, And get her. —Somerville Journal. Theory and Reality. First Editor—What arc you writing on, George? Second Editor—“ Mistakes of Financiers/ and I wish 1 was through with it. You’ve fin ished your article I rec. “Yes, min.' was on a simpler subject, ‘The Way to Wealth.’ By the way, George, lend me a quarter.” “Haven't a dime to my name, Jack.”— ; Omaha World. Preparations for a Fust. Bagley—l have concluded to fast for o week in order to sec if I can’t tone up my j system. Bailey—How arc you going about it? Bagiev—l’m going to hire my meats at some one of our big hotels, and have the re port spread, so that the waiters will hear it, that 1 am violently’ opposed to tips. —The Judge. Another Mystery Explained. Boston Man—l think people must be be coming honest. I have carried a valuable silk umbrella for five years and no one has over touched it yet. Omaha Man—Got a lock on it? “No; it’s just like any othci handsems umbrella. I bought it from John L. Sulli van. His name is on the handle.” —Omaha World. San Francisco's Liberty Statue. The statue of libcr+y which Adolph Suti-o is erecting on Mount Olympus, San Francisco, Cal., is the work of a 1 Belgian artist named Wiertz. It was on exhibition in Antwerp and received high praise. Adolph Sutro saw the figure and thought that it would be an' embel lishment to the entire Sin Francisco peninsula. The torch in the npstretched arm of the goddess will be of 10.000 can dle power, ami the light will be furnished by the city of San Fram.i co. The torch will illumine the'Lay'and Golden Gate par!;.—Chicago News. BOOKS,THREE CENTS EACH! Thd following books aro published In heat pamphlet form, printed from good readable type on good paner and many of them handsomely illustrate'!. They aro without exception the cheapest books ever pub lished in any land or language, and furnish to the? masses of the people an opportunity to secure the best literature of tho day at the most trillin'' expense. In any other series these great works would cost man; times the price at which they are here trtferdd. Each one is complete in itself: Wonder, of tlio World. Natcsac ask Con- tnliiN il-fi-i Iptionx nnd Hlu»tr»tion» of the m<'*t wonderful win ks of nature and of man. Very Intcreßtlng and instructive. Wonder* of the Hott. A description of the many wonder ful and beautiful things found at the bottom of the ocean, with profuse illustrations. “A PlciiMiire Exertion, ’ nnd Other Sketches- By ‘•Josiah Allen's Wife." A collection of Irresistibly lunuy Sketches by the most popular humorous writer of the day. The Aunt Kcslhli Pnpers, by Clara Avodbta, author es "The Riigit Documents." A most ridiculously fuuny book -Mnnvei v way equal to "Widow Bedott.” ChrUtnia* Nlorlc*. b? Chari ks Dickens. Contains a dumber of the triristcharming Christmas stones ever written t/y the greatest writer who overlived. Earh one is complete. Round the Eveninc Lamp. A of stories, pictures, puz.r.lenan l games, for the little folks at liotne. Popular Recitations nnd Dlnlocue*. humorons. drama »l ort'i patlmtic, in'lnding nil the Infest, best and most popular. The .•’elDmttdc' Men of .Modern Times. traits and biographies «t tn mon* self-made Americans, irom tne time of Franklin to the present. .... , , ~ Fnmillnr Quotation*. ContaihiW origin and anthor ihipof many phrases frequently met in rending and conversa tion. A valuable work of reference. Low Life In New York. A series of vivid pen pMWW «!i»wing tlie dnrk side of life in the great city. Tlhistraleti. The Road to Wealth. Not an advertising circular, tint a thoroughly practical work, pointing out away uy which all may make monev. easily, rapidly and honestly. One Hundred Populnr hong*. sentimental bathetic ind coinfc. Including most of the favorites, new nnd old. Sir Xoel's Heir. A Novel. By Mrs May Aonks Fleming. A Bartered Life. A Novel. Bv M arion H miland. An Old Man’s SacrUJcc. A Novel. By Mrs. Ann S. ■ ’•' L oni Ro \ 1) LAW. Can the road b»w of ( battooga county be executed according to its I letter and spirit? Can we !>»«■' such . roads as the enforcement of the | law would supply? Iu other words j is our road law practicable? Let us state in general term/ the road law. Tlie roads are under ol’ e control of a Supervisor who is paid bC”' 1 1(11 general and extra servi •■>. H• m have th ■ roads worked under public i or private contra”', these contracts j i specifying the kind and anioiint ' jof work to be done, and contracts under bon 1 to comply with their • obligations, ('.mtraet r/s have four days labor or its equivalent in'mon ey of all parson- subject to road I duty and an ad litional amount of 25 per cent on state tax, less Super visor’s salary and expenses. De- I fault in labor is subject to lino or imprisonment, default in tax is j subject to execution. Supervisors; jas well as contractors default is; I subject bfith to line and partial or i . total forfeiture on bond. In what respect is th” law defect- i ive? Has not the Supervisor three ; hundred 'lays and can ii•• n “ pass over ev ry mile of piblin rind ini ’ the county, at least on • ■ a month i during that time? What is a g >o I ro id ? T int which iis termed a first class r> id should be thirty feet wide an t clear ’d of . I all obstructions above an 1 below, ever hanging !::nb«, pr j"-'ing ; roots, stones, stump; and logs as dwell as true’, b: di ’ an I hnl-s. . j The roa 1 b ■ 1 sho il.i !> ■ fr > n six to '! eight feet wid ■, t'r' > v i up in the i center of th ? rial gently s! , >:;ig ; from the cent o’’ th ■b ■ 1 i,i ' L > direction, to drain th ■ be 1 L i ; i her ' extreme of the road sid”, where wa- ■ ter in.l7 b ■ carrie lin a tr.?neh, with 1 no shoulder next to th ■ roa I, to s<s*n - low pl l . - * an 1 thmice trans ' mitted by ditches, pr iperly bridged ■ if across th • road, to alja • mt field ' or w > >ls. Bri I j’S wli ’t'i”r of ston ■ or of sawn timber, shrill b 1 six teen feet loitg with abn'en'mts of • durable material. Swamps, bogs, ; and moist places should likewise be thiar.vn up and th -bl mac idamis ed. Hills should be cut down and with this dirt hollows should be raised, so that no hill should have an acclivity of over one foot ascent in thirty feet of distance. The same discript.ion will apply to sec ond class roads, save that they should be twenty feet wide anil bridges twelve feet long. If 'moun tain roads are not to be of either of these widths they should have nu merous turnouts. The roads should be put and kept in this condition luring the entire year, due allow ance being made for unusual storms ’ of wind or rain and repairs to be thereafter made as soon as practi ■able. Can our roads be put and ® kept in this condition? This is to ask, can th? law be enforced? 'Ti’.ey “ can be gradual'y put in this condi- tion if the work done from year to ' year is permanent in its nature. What authority or power has the | Supervisor, or how can he control road working? His power ia mak ing r.iad contracts is almost unlim- I ited and herein is the great secret 1 of success. Let us suppose a case: j suppose the Supervisor, who has four months notice of the duties of I his oflic” previous to his entering m their discharge, passes over the | roads, thoroughly inspects them 1 and notes down wliat each section of road fails of filling the descrip tion herein given, estimates the cost : distinctly makes these specifications 1 in his several contracts, covering every foot of road therein, and re- a part of the work to be compretffd in time to review tin 1 roads and Finite reporu thereof to the of .S'.ip’rior Court, and in a f >?!■- iture of con- c■■ t 1 b. Teen r< ci: ” c w, t■ .• f The Forcclllnl Ruble*. A Novel. By M. T. CAi.nore, The Old Oiil.en < he*t. A Novel. By Sylvancb Cobb, Jr. The Pcurl of the Ocean. A Novel. By Claba Auuusta. Hollow Ash Hull. A Novel. By Mahuamet Blount. Hlugtrateft. tllflc House. A Novel. By Ett aW. PiKjirn. * I nder the Lilacs. A Novel. By tho Author of “ Dor» * Thonie." The Diamond Bracelet. A Novel. Ty Mn. Hxxvt Wood. Illustrated. The Lawyer’s Secret. A NovcS. Ry Ml«* M. E. Rraddow. The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll und Mr. Hyde. A Novel. By R. L. Stkve.nron. A Wicked Girl. A Novel. By Mary Cecil Hat. Lndy Walworth’s Diamonds. A Novel. By “Tns Dt't'HESS.” Between Two Sins. A Novel. By the author of •• Dora Thorne." Illustrated. The Nine of Heart*. A Novel. By B. L. Farjeon, DoHh’m Fortune. A Novel. By Florence Warden. A Low Marriage. A Novel. By Miss Mulock. Hint, The Guilty River. A Novel. By Wilkik Collins. The Pol-oii of Asp*. A Novel. By Florence Marryat. Mont Grange. A Novel. By Mre. Henry Wood. Forging the Fetter*. A Novel. By Mrs. Alexander. A Piny wrlght’a Daughter. A Novel. By Mr#, annig Edwards. Illustrated. Fair but FiiJac. A Novel. By the author of "Dora Thorne.” Illustrated. Lancaster’s Cabin. A Novel. By Mrs. M. V. Victor. Illustrated. „ . Florence Ivington’s Oath. A Novel. By Sirs. Mary A. Denison Illustrated. The Woman Rater. A Novel. By Dr. J. B. Koi ixson. Illustrated. . , The C alifornia Cabin. A Novel. Sr XL F . . <-r..x. j tember term, with like forfeiture, 1 and the whole road to be thus kept j until the first day of the ensueing January. Let his contracts be ad vertised and let out early in Janua ry, so that work may commence in 1 that month and so that he may have ; the capital ion tax all collected be fore he makes his report to the March court. Thus hands can . work at-a leisure time as under the old law and tax will bo due when work is due and when the peo have the money. i g ose a Supervisor should evert spcvilication ; compliance a itu • , L < , ,~1 nforce punish- 111 his contract arid <>. 1 ment against rill defailltb. Ino certificate of labor wbiv.' 'l'' l not specify four days labor and 1 1 porting tile condition of the roa<U twice a year to the Grand Jury. What would bo the result at the close of tlie year? Would not even good citizen sustain him? Would I not a healthy public opinion ami the law commend him? Or if al) 1 these failed, would not the Snper , visors know that the time and labor of road hands had not been wasted ! and that his own salary, as well as tlie amount paid to Contractors, had been faitlifully and justly ear j ned? Finally, would we not have such roads as the law cont 'nipliites and all goad citizens desire? These I views are written, not to reflect Oil any thing done in the past, nor to 1 dictate to any officer for the future, certainly hot to provoke any con i troversy or discussion relative to our road laivorib ' Xecut ion. Tax I’ai‘eh. FREE COLUMN FOR FARMERS. Mr. Louis Rhinebeart wants in j formation of a 2 years old muley heifer, smooth crop oil'left ear; last | seen near John Elder’s. Strayed I -L’b'. I). Crumley wants information of a two-year-old heifer which strayed from his house last June. Its head and sides are black and back and breast white, umarked, • muley headed. 1 Tlie ladies arc invited to call at J. S. Cleghorn <Sr Go’s and get one of those French Imported Patterns, with printed directions, to cut their new dress by, if the}’ want the cor -1 rect style. A. J. Henderson, of Chattooga . ville, wants information of a two I year old bull which strayed from his place two mqntlis ago. Red, i-1 with white back, crop and half un der crop off the left ear. [ Strayed from Lookout mountain 1 some cattle branded on right side . with J. C., smooth crop off both ears 3 and a label in the end of right ear ■ | with ray address on it. Any infor . ; mation thankfully received. My ■ postoffice address is Duck Creek, , 1 Ga. J. M. Ci.akksox. I will sell cheap for cash a good. -1 irentle work-horse, six years old; . 1 _ 1 ™:i .1. also a number one good milch cow : witn second calf. I 'wish to rent I land to some one who can furnish themselves and their own ( stock. Land sufficient for two horse ' crop. My post-office address'-is ! Teloga Springs, Ga. E. M. Story. Strayed on Lookout mountain 1 - mule colt about one and a half ■ years old—horse mule, light bay, or some would call it sorrel, will; black or Brindle stripes on his legs, ! branded with the letter H on left shoulder. When last seen was be tween Wat Ellison’s and where Win. ■ Kellett was killed. I will pay $5 ,to any one who will take him up : and notify me. My address is Sum merville, Ga. J. C. Hutchins. BRrtS BFAPW ►‘AHOY COODS, Rhk i!jSY'A RT novelties, EaWIfaSWPTI CHRISTMAS CARDS, Albums Pocket Books, Pictures. Bronzes. Bisques, ri.-L lake.uids.Portfolio*'.PeachßlowGlatt-.Bronze FIIEE byxn..il or osprey LUDDEN & BATES So^ r A n^ u A^^ uso